#and THAT'S how you control your anger folks

[kelstral]

Drawing Scott smajor the way God intended him to be.

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[painom]

Enneagram for Character Analysis

Before I start, let me warn you. This will be a long post and a lot of reading, but I'll do my best to simplify things as much as possible in a way that will make sense to most people. 

The Basics

At its core, enneagram follows this basic principal. When you were a young child, you were basically, in one way or another, told something that had a profound effect on your psyche. From this unconscious childhood message, you developed a core fear and a core desire. In attempting to resist your core fear and achieve your core desire, you become a self-fulfilling prophecy that makes your core fear come true. These unconscious childhood messages, core fears, and core desires are below. 

The Triads

Though there are many ways to separate the enneagram, the three main ways are the main triads. These triads represent the three main things each subgroup of the enneagram are concerned with. When it comes to typing characters or people, this is what you want to start off with. 

There are three triads: the instinctive (gut) triad, the thinking (head) triad, and the feeling (heart) triad. Each triad is associated with a core emotion: rage (instinctive/gut), fear (thinking/head), and shame (feeling/heart). Each triad is concerned with different things: control (instinctive, gut), support/guidance (thinking/head), and self-identity (feeling/heart). Three types belong to each triad. And these types will deal with their core emotion and desires in three different ways. They will focus outward, focus inward, or do both. 

I will go into each main triad and the types associated with each, but for a general overview, you can read the box below. 

The Instinctive (Gut) Triad

The Instinctive Triad includes types 8, 9, and 1. They seek to instill their will upon the world without being affected by it. These types will attempt to put up a wall between themselves and the outer world, so as to say, "this is self, and this is not self." When things threaten to cross this line, aka their boundaries, this results in rage. Now let's go into the types. 

Enneagram 8 - The attention of 8s are focused outward. 8s try to protect themselves from the influences of the outside world so that nothing can get too close and hurt them. As a result, their mentality is, as one reference puts it, "Nothing's going to get the upperhand on me. No one is going to get through my defenses and hurt me. I'm going to keep my guard up." However, because 8s are focused outward, so is their rage. They WILL fight anything that ever comes too close to hurting them. They are not afraid of raising their voices, their not afraid of displaying their anger. They will attempt to scare and fight off anything that comes too close. Realistically speaking, you see most type 8s having abusive childhood upbringings. Being an 8 is a rare type and most people will not be that type. I may be wrong about this, but I think the only 8 is Wanderer.

Enneagram 1 - The attention of 1s are focused inward. 1s refuse to be affected by the influences of their internal world. Their rage is focused inward at themselves. They constantly are holding back from their internal impulses so as to say, "I don't want that feeling! I don't want to have that reaction or that impulse!" Because of this, they have the reputation of being perfectionists, holding themselves and others to high standards. They repress their inner desires and are rule-bound. It makes sense why they fear corruption. Some examples of type 1s are Diluc, Eula, and Cyno. 

Enneagram 9 - The attention of 9s are focused both outward and inward, in other words, they try not to be affected by influences of both the outer and inner world. In a way, one can say that they ignore their rage, completely under the delusion that it doesn't exist. 9s are primarily concerned with being at peace no matter what the cost, even if this means ignoring the world around them or giving up their wants and desires. Examples of 9s include Kazuha and Alhaitham.

There are easy ways to point out an Instinctive Triad type. Typically speaking, they are not the most emotional of people. They don't get affected by things emotionally as most people do. In my experience, they give off 'leave me tf alone' vibes. Not in the loner sense. But they dislike being obligated/manipulated to feel a specific way or act in a specific manner. They desire to have full control over themselves. There's always a wall between themselves and the outer world. 

The Feeling (Heart) Triad

The Feeling Triad includes types 2, 3, and 4. The Feeling Triad is primarily concerned with the development of a self-image. Because they don't know who they truly are, they don't feel they are worthy of love. They feel they are worthless, which results in their core feeling of shame. The Feeling Triad essentially feels that there is something missing from their core. And once they are able to find it, they will come to have self-worth and love. 

Enneagram 2 - The attention of 2s are focused outward. 2s look outside to others for validation and a sense of identity. They want to be wanted, so they act in ways which attempt to make this possible. They try to be helpful, friendly, and good to others. However, because they're so focused outside, they often do not know how they are feeling themselves. They often feel underappreciated and have feelings of resentment because of it. Mom friend types are almost always 2s. I am unsure of which characters would be a 2. Maybe Amber? Possibly Yoimiya?

Enneagram 4 - The attention of 4s are focused inward. They try to make a self-image based upon their feelings, fantasies and stories of the past. Namely, they try to create an image on what separates themselves from others, aka what makes them different, but because of this, they often feel estranged from others. They are often moody and have victim complexes, assuming they are the way they are because of the way they were treated in the past. An example of a 4 would be Fischl. 

Enneagram 3 - The attention of 3s are focused both outward and inward. Like 2s, 3s need the positive feedback and affirmation of others. They do this by striving for success and accomplishment. By creating an accomplished successful image, they feel they thus become valuable. However, they are like 4s because they need a lot of internal self-talk, attempting to create and sustain a consistent internal picture of themselves. An example of a 3 includes Lyney.

The Feeling Triad are hands down the easiest to type. These people are typically the most depressed and the most insecure. They always have some self-proclaimed self-image they are trying to project, and if you do not validate their false self-image, they can and will get mad at you before getting depressed once more. LOL Long story short, they are a pain in the butt. Are they of the most annoying types? Surprisingly, no. But they are damn easy to point out in a crowd. 

The Thinking (Head) Triad

The Thinking Triad includes types 5, 6, and 7. This triad is primarily concerned with finding an inner sense of guidance and support. They focus on the future, wondering "What's going to happen to me? How am I going to survive? How can I prepare myself to keep bad things from happening? How do I move forward in life? How do I cope?" Their minds are constantly active, and their core emotion is anxiety and fear, fear that they do not have the resources to ensure their future. Let's go into the types.

Enneagram 7 - The attention of 7s is focused outward. They charge into the world, adventurous and seemingly not afraid of anything. Where their fear is, however, not of the outside world, but the internal. They fear they do not have the resources to navigate their internal world. They fear being trapped in emotional pain, grief, and especially feelings of anxiety. So what do they do? They focus so much on the outside world that they ignore their internal. If they keep active, their anxieties will not surface. Examples of 7s are Itto and Gaming (I think). 

Enneagram 5 - The attention of 5s are focused inward. I'm going to take this straight from a book that "Fives believe that they are too frail and insubstantial to safely survive in the world. The only safe place is in their minds,so they stockpile whatever they believe will help them survive until they are ready to rejoin the world." The anxiety of 5s is what keeps them from external action. 5s are most commonly stereotyped for being bookworms. Although I am not completely sure about this, I would guess and say that examples include Kokomi, maybe Kuki Shinobu, and maybe Mika.

Enneagram 6 - The attention of 6s are focused both outward and inward. As one book says, "Sixes feel anxious inside, and so launch into external action and anticipation of the future like Sevens. But having done so, they eventually become afraid that they will make mistakes and be punished or overwhelmed by demands on them, so like Fives, they 'jump back inside.'" Then they continue doing this in a pingpong action-like manner. I also may be wrong about this, but I feel that an example would be Collei. 

The easiest way to point out the Thinking Triad types is that they are all avoidant in one way or another. There is always something they're trying to avoid. Now, DO NOT MISTAKEN ANXIETY DISORDERS WITH THE THINKING TRIAD. While there is correlation, they do not generally do not experience anxiety in the same way people with mental disorders do. 5s fear action, 6s fear trusting their support, and 7s fear their internal world. 

Conclusion

There are other aspects of enneagram to go into that give color to the types. These include wings and instinctual variants, but I won't go into that. One important thing about Enneagram is that the theory does not exist to make you feel good. It's the "this is why you're pathetic" personality theory. You will see the most of enneagram when someone is immature. When someone is grown and actualized, you will not see a lot of their core fear or core emotion. This is doubly so when the character in question would not exist in real life (think Luffy or Naruto). Take everything with a grain of salt, but it will help you to get a better view into characters. 

[five-bi-five-mind]

PLEASE MAKE SUGAR MOMMY!WANDA. It can be when she already left Westview and is now living a lonely life alone missing her children. Then there goes new neighbor R who just left home and is struggling financially OMG!

I loved every single one of your Wanda fics and I'll never shut up about it 👀

Everything Again

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff & fem!Reader

Genre: Smut & Dark-ish fic

Words: 8K+

Summary: Wanda has nothing in her life that brings her joy once she let go of Westview, but then she meets you. She makes sure to be everything you want and need, and you’re all she needs… for a while. But what happens when some of her wants from Westview come creeping back? Can Wanda suppress it or will she do whatever it takes to have everything she wants again?

Warnings: light stalking, not the healthiest relationship, Wanda is controlling, toxic!Wanda, mind manipulation, top!Wanda, bottom!R, rough sex, magic strap-on, slight breeding kink, degradation, magic restraints, light choking, slight dubcon, maybe possibly unknown risk of pregnancy but no actual pregnancy.

A/N: I hate this title but I couldn't think of a better one... Anyways I kinda took a dark turn with this request that's my bad. Enjoy folks!

When Wanda saw you, she knew she had to have you. It was like the stars aligned all of a sudden and a splash of color came into her bleak world for once since leaving Westview. She’d been wandering all over since that… incident. All she felt for months was this horrible, nagging, hollowness and she had no idea how to solve it. Part of her wondered if she filled this void with something to at least stave off the boredom, maybe it would be better. But so far, her only method of occupying her time was figuring out the scope of her power. And every time she dabbled with that it just felt like the hole inside her ripped open even deeper. 

She had made her way to a small college town when she bumped into you. Or, more accurately, when you smacked into her, your eyes glued to your phone at the time. When your body collided with Wanda’s she felt anger bubble inside her for a moment and that familiar tingle at her fingertips as she decided how she might act in response to your inconsideration.  But when your panicked eyes looked up at hers, suddenly it was like the fuse inside her was doused with ice cold water. 

Wanda couldn’t help but smirk at your immediate apologetic response once you realized you were now fully pressed against an utter stranger. At the time, you were so panicked over the email you had just received that you forgot to look up. But when you felt strong hands bracing your elbows as you hit another person’s body like hitting a brick wall, it brought you crashing into reality. The guilt and embarrassment you felt were burning on your cheeks, but the eyes that met yours were only angry for a brief moment. After yours locked with hers they shifted from anger to surprise and then, curiously enough for the both of you, to intrigue. 

“I– I am so sorry,” you sputtered as you attempted to take a step back. Key word there was attempted. To your confusion, the woman in front of you didn’t seem to want to let go. 

It surprised Wanda too, but not in a bad way. The moment she heard your voice things lit up even more. That splash of color turned into a sea and she didn’t want to let go just yet. Her hands wrapped tighter around your elbows and for a moment she didn’t even care that it could possibly startle you. She just knew that for some odd reason, having you, this wide-eyed, terrified random girl she bumped into on the street, was bringing part of her back to life in a way. 

“Are you okay?” Wanda still didn’t let go. If anything, she pulled you ever so slightly closer as she swore she could feel your heartbeat like crazy against her own chest.  

“Oh, um, yes.” You again attempted to take a step back. “Thank you, um…”

“Wanda,” she replied and finally dropped her hold on you. It didn’t go unseen– the disappointed frown she had for a moment as you took a wide step back. 

“Wanda,” you echoed. “I’m sorry about that. I should’ve watched where I was going. Are you alright?” Your head tilted and your eyebrows scrunched as you asked her that and Wanda was taken aback for a moment that you even thought to ask. It had been so long since she was asked anything if she were being honest.

“What made you so distracted?” Wanda ignored your question and chose to ask one of her own. She didn’t even know you, but she realized she suddenly wanted to learn everything about you, starting with what had you so wrapped up in a tiny screen that you ran straight into another human being. 

“Oh…” Your eyes dropped to the ground and Wanda took note of the way you shuffled nervously in front of her. “Um, nothing just– It wasn’t something that should’ve distracted me like that. I’m sorry for running into you.” You were trying to go at this point. The way this stranger was looking at you had you anxious and you had no idea why. The fact that she was also asking you this rather than just going on her own way also made you feel self-conscious and scrutinized by the woman before you. 

Wanda just blinked back at you, the frown on her face showing yet again for a moment. Your eyes searched hers and the confusion in them grew. Did this total stranger really want to know your business? If you were to say it out loud to her, surely you would seem pathetic. But she still stood, waiting for you to answer what was so important that you completely missed the person standing still as you walked right into her.

“Okay,” you sighed, “I got an email about my funding. I’m a– Or I guess was a student here. My funding got pulled. No funding means no grad school… So I have to figure that out, I guess.” 

There was a moment of silence as Wanda just stared down at you. Her facial expression was impossible to read for a moment. It was pensive, almost neutral and you waited for any sort of response to her. 

“I’ll figure it out,” you continued for whatever reason. Trying to fill the silence as Wanda just kept staring. “There’s other programs, other schools. I can apply again.”

“I’m sure it will all work out,” Wanda finally said. She put her hand on your shoulder for a moment, trailing it over you as she finally began to walk past you. When her hand left you and she went her own way, you just stood there stunned. 

You thought that encounter with her would plague your mind for days, but as if a switch had flipped suddenly that strangeness that was filling your mind faded into nothing.

—---------------------------------

That encounter may have left you utterly confused, but to Wanda it made things so clear. She finally had a plan, something to do. She was wandering aimlessly since Westview with nothing to fill the time. She had said she would find her children again in some dimension, somewhere, but for she had no real leads. She was losing hope, she was spiraling– That is until you bumped into her.

The gears in Wanda’s mind began to turn the minute you confessed to why you were so distracted that fateful day. And ever since then, she was going to put a plan into motion. First, she had to learn just a little bit more about you. But it wouldn’t do if you suddenly left the place she had found you in, so she tweaked some things. Starting with an anonymous donation to your department (of which she found quite quickly from just a few days of watching you) so that they might be able to fund their graduate students– Specifically you– and that you might be able to stay and continue your research and studies while she worked on a way to draw you closer to her. 

After a few weeks of watching you, she quickly learned that despite her donation, they didn’t give you enough funding to comfortably live on. You ran from job to job when you weren’t on campus studying and Wanda quickly decided, if you were to be her new fixation, then having multiple jobs would not do. You had her undivided attention, so now she wanted the majority of yours. She decided you could have your studies, but the rest of you… The rest of you she was going to make hers. 

It only took her a few more weeks after watching you carefully to approach you again. One thing about her new powers was that, rather than captivating a whole town like she did with Westview, she could easily– and with a lot less catastrophic damage– erase a small part of people’s memories. Namely, their memory that Wanda even existed in the first place. It wasn’t possible for the whole world to forget her, but a small college town she definitely could handle. Just another reason to keep you inside this town and not let you wander much further. With her handle on this new aspect of her own power, she took it one step further with you, erasing the very first day you two met. That day would always replay in Wanda’s mind, but she knew it confused and frightened you and she needed to paint herself in the best light possible when she finally approached you face-to-face again.

It was quite easy to approach you this time too. She posed as a professor in your own university. She twisted and turned the minds of the university until it was as if she had been there a long time. An established part of a university department outside of your own. She knew your schedule too, so she knew that you would always sit at the corner of the university coffee shop for about an hour in between classes. That’s where she finally approached you– or, to be more accurate, she made you approach her.

She almost felt bad about it, but at the same time she knew it would be her way in. She knew your eyes would be buried in a book as you walked to your usual spot and she used that moment to use an invisible force to trip you. And, like the knight in shining armor she wanted to appear to you as, she swooped in front of you and caught you skillfully. 

The first look you gave her was back on your face this time too. The panic and embarrassment that burned in your cheeks as you looked up at your savior was evident on your face. Wanda gave you the best, charming smile she could muster, but if you were being honest it made you feel almost as if you were a fly that landed right in a spider’s web. 

“Are you okay?” Wanda said the same line to you and you nodded, immediately trying to apologize like last time. 

Wanda knew by now that this was your personality. You were shy and anxious, but also patient and kind. All the things that were the opposite of how she considered herself and all the things that had her captivated by you. 

“Yeah, I– I’m good,” you again tried to step back and this time Wanda let you. “I’m so sorry! Thank you for catching me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Wanda chuckled as her hands fell to her sides. “What are you reading? Must be interesting.” The crooked smile she gave you was what finally drew you in. It was charming and warm and the way her eyes sparkled had you wanting to see more. When Wanda took in the wide, curious eyes looking back at her she knew she had you. 

And that was really all it took for her to wrap you up in her web and never let you go.

—------------------------------------------------

In the following months things happened rather quickly. After the day you had officially met Wanda, you saw her way more often. She would always sit near you at the coffee shop, or bump into you on other parts of campus, until finally you two established a date. And from that date things happened even quicker. It was like you blinked and suddenly your whole life was wrapped up in Wanda’s. You quickly said goodbye to your rundown, tiny apartment and moved into Wanda’s extravagant house right outside of town. Instead of taking the city bus to and from campus, she was driving you whenever and wherever you needed to go. There was now a lot more free time in your life to focus on both your studies and this new relationship you found yourself in with Wanda, as she had insisted you quit your job. That she would take care of every single one of your wants and needs. And how could you say no to that? Although, it was all a little too fast for your comfort, if you were being honest, but at the same time it was Wanda… You couldn’t picture your life without her from the very moment you met her and she made it clear that she intended for you to never find out what it would be like without her in it. 

She took care of you, she took care of everything. You needed only to focus on two things: her and school. Wanda loved the passion you had for studying, so she let you keep one thing outside of her. But she was still near, even if you weren’t aware. She was always near. 

But as months stretched on and her attachment to you became even stronger, things shifted a bit. She was feeling… anxious. The life she had back in Westview began to pop up in her mind again and she felt that hole inside her chest once more– The one that you had filled when she first saw you. There was only one part of her Westview life that kept running through her mind though. It wasn’t Vision. No, it was never Vision. Not when she had you. You were a brighter light in her life than Vision ever had been. A deeper love that felt soft and gentle, even if she had orchestrated a lot of events in order to make the two of you happen. 

Vision wasn’t what kept her up lately. It was her boys. There were dreams of them, flashes of them in her daily life. It was almost as if the more she loved you, the more she missed them. You had healed this wound, but in the nights that you wrapped your arms around her and fell asleep, she felt that familiar tug she had in Westview– the one that longed for a family. A life of peace and completeness. That made the wound feel fresh again. 

So Wanda began to withdraw. She wasn’t going to let you go, but for now, as she contemplated these feelings and how to fix them, she needed time and distance. Each time you smiled at her, each time you kissed her, that tug in the pit of her stomach felt stronger and stronger. The longing grew– The thought of recreating a Westview with you was tempting. But she knew how well that worked out last time. 

Late at night when this longing grew particularly strong, Wanda would sneak away when you were fast asleep to contemplate her options. She had hoped that you wouldn’t notice her withdrawal, but when your whole world was Wanda… How could you not? 

As these days of dealing with a withdrawn Wanda stretched on, you were getting restless. Something was clearly bothering Wanda and it was causing a rise of anxiety in you. At first you tried to approach it gently, but Wanda iced you out. The problem grew and Wanda warned you not to poke at it, but you couldn’t just leave it be. 

With your life being filled with Wanda now– Her withdrawing left you painfully lonely. So you began pushing unspoken limits Wanda set for you. Fights started and time and time again Wanda would shut you down. 

The more she did so, the more it felt she was putting you on the shelf. Like you were her little play thing and she was bored of you. There was an ache in you that you didn’t quite understand and the more confusion she left you with the closer you were to being utterly done. How you could even live without Wanda, you weren’t sure, but you were almost a little tempted to figure it out. 

There was no way you could ever leave Wanda, though. You didn’t want to, even if she was withdrawn, you still loved her deeply. But you wanted attention, acknowledgement, anything. 

Unfortunately for you, the only way you knew how to get that was to push her buttons more and more each day. 

You had no idea what was going through Wanda’s mind, but she had been particularly aggravated lately. What you didn’t know was that Wanda was stuck in trying to find the solution to the feelings that were plaguing her. She had played with an idea, but knew that in order to do so she would out her true nature and risk the memories she took from you to come flooding back. What would you do then, if you remembered who Wanda was? Her name was all over the news and the whole world knew she had fallen far from where she was when she helped the avengers. That was so long ago to Wanda. It was a different time, a different her. One that didn’t know her potential and didn’t know her own heart until she finally found all the pieces. 

The problem was, she’s never had all those pieces all at the same time. She wanted you and her boys. She wanted the picture perfect family that she had in Westview, but she wanted it with you this time. She wanted you as her little housewife and mother of her twins. In the past week she had been engrossed in ways to make that happen. She had a theory that if she tried to create her children again it would be the same children she once had. All she needed was to share her DNA in some way with you and a little bit of magic to add to that. Then, all would be right in her eyes if she had them in this way. For whatever reason, she felt that that was the true way the universe was meant to be. If she built this family with you, then it would never be taken from her ever again. The tricky part was actually creating them with you in a way that didn’t have you questioning how it was even scientifically possible. That would have you questioning a lot about who she is and what she could do. And she didn’t want to ruin what she established with you just yet. Even if the more you pushed at her the more she was tempted to say let go of her control.

She knew you were getting fed up with it too and the more you pushed her the more she contemplated letting her resolve slip. She tried her best to keep you at arms length while she tried to figure out her predicament. But she was feeling stuck with no alternative other than to reveal herself and what she could do. She kept going in circles to feel less stuck, but the more stuck she felt with this problem the angrier she was. And unfortunately, the angrier she was the easier it was for you to push her buttons. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, it only took one final push for her to actually snap. When you thought of Wanda breaking, you thought it would mean she would be forced to talk to you. Never did you expect the outcome of your plans that night. 

Your classmates had invited you out for drinks and, since you met Wanda, your answer was usually no. But tonight things were different. Wanda was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she didn’t pick you on campus. She was kind enough to warn you to take an Uber and she would pay, but you were still angry about it. So when you were invited out, you said yes. 

Saying anything other than no would’ve already irritated Wanda. Even a maybe. She didn’t like the idea of you going out to bars, especially without her. Usually if you wanted to do something with anyone else you’d at least ask her and she would be nearby to make sure you were safe and no one was tempted to take advantage of the time she was allowing them to have alone with you. But this time, you weren’t even going to ask. You were just going to go. Something you hadn’t done since before Wanda.

You knew what you were doing. It was all entirely intentional. Right down to the outfit you picked and the way you walked past Wanda, making just enough noise to get some of her attention. Even if she didn’t look up at you.

“Where are you going?” Wanda asked as she flipped a page of a strange book she was reading.

“Out,” you muttered. Even if Wanda wasn’t looking at you, you wanted your tone to register that you were rolling your eyes at her. The fact that she didn’t even look up just pissed you off even more. 

“I’m not planning to leave the house tonight.” She still wasn’t looking at you and that just made your hands ball into fists as you got more and more offended by her lack of attention. 

“I know,” you scoffed. “I don’t have to go everywhere with you.”

Suddenly, an eerie silence filled the room. You watched Wanda’s face as she kept her eyes glued to the book she was reading. There was a slight change in it, a tightening of her jaw, but she still didn’t look at you. 

“You know that’s not how this works,” Wanda’s response was calm, but you could tell you were starting to get to her. Never had you been defiant to her. She gave you everything you wanted and you did whatever she asked. There was an unspoken rule to go where Wanda goes, be where she wants you and an even deeper unspoken rule to not question or defy any of the other arrangements you two have made. But tonight, as you watched her jaw clench and unclench and realized you were getting under her skin, you decided to push more. 

“So?” You shrugged and that silent uncomfortable feeling in the room felt like it intensified the very second you uttered that one word. “I don’t see the harm in going out just for one night on my own.”

Wanda’s eyes slowly slid from her book to your face the moment you uttered the phrase on your own. That definitely wasn’t something you should’ve said to her. There was an understanding that anything you did “on your own” was something that Wanda would be nearby for. What you were asking for was a night completely away from Wanda, and it was breaking the biggest unspoken rule she had for you. This was new waters you were treading, but you were so sick of her lack of interest that you didn’t care. Any attention from her was a change from whatever was happening now. 

“You’re not going,” she ordered as she snapped her book shut and stood up. 

You just snorted at that, anger boiling in your blood as you stood your ground. “Why not? You seem preoccupied with just about anything other than me. What’s the harm?”

She was right in front of you now, her jaw was clenching and unclenching like it had before, but this time you looked down for a brief second and noticed her fists were doing the same. Still, though, you wanted to keep pushing. 

“With you dressed like that,” Wanda warned, “I think you know exactly what harm it could do.” You knew what you were doing when you got dressed. A tight, cropped shirt and even tighter short shorts to match. It was something meant to catch the eye of others and definitely something you knew would get an extra rise out of Wanda to add to that. What you didn’t know was what exactly Wanda meant. She was already picturing in her mind the droves of people who would come trying to pick you up at whatever trashy bar you decided to go to. And when she pictured people trying to touch what was hers, she also pictured all the ways in which she could make them suffer so much as daring to think they could have you. 

You were playing with fire and on some level you knew that, but something in you couldn’t stop pushing her buttons. Even if you didn’t know what exactly you were getting into, even if you didn’t know to the full extent how possessive Wanda could be of you and how much of a monster she was capable of being when provoked. 

“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.” You shrugged again and Wanda’s eye twitched as you kept challenging her resolve. “At least someone will appreciate it.”

If you thought the tension was bad when Wanda stood up, now it was suffocating you. Wanda just stared back at you, her eyes burning with anger. In fact, she looked so angry you swore you saw a red flash in her eyes.  For a moment, you kind of just stood there, waiting for Wanda to respond, but on her part she was trying to calm the possessive rage that you just caused to boil over inside of her. 

Part of her wanted to force you to your knees and have you beg forgiveness for defying her like this. You hadn’t even done anything yet, but just the idea and threat of disobeying her wishes had her furious. She was so close to figuring out how to have everything she wanted and now of all times you were trying to defy her? Trying to let a pathetic stranger swoop in on you at some dive bar when you know you’re hers? No, this was unacceptable to her. Never have you done anything other than be good for her. The way you so easily obeyed her is a small part of what drew her to you in the first place. And she did realize she had been neglectful, but couldn’t you see it was for your own good? For the good of the family Wanda was trying to rebuild with you? The more she had you the more she wanted. She had you completely already, that was true, but she wanted you in a way she wasn’t sure you were ready for. In a way that would show you exactly who Wanda really was. 

So in order to find a solution to the raging beast inside of her that wanted to claim you and have her family back, she thought it was best to withdraw.Clearly she over calculated and now here she was. But as you stood with your arms crossed over your chest, daring her with your eyes to do something, suddenly that’s when all her control just snapped. You felt the shift too, even if you didn’t understand it. It was like the calm before the storm. Wanda took a sharp, deep breath through her nose before exhaling and taking a step into your personal space. 

“Okay,” Wanda growled. “That’s about enough.” In a blink of the eye you were thrown over her shoulder. The way you yelped as you felt yourself hoisted off the ground echoed through the room. You knew Wanda was strong, but you didn’t know she was that strong. She had you thrown over her shoulder like it was nothing. Your hands grasped at her shirt, terrified she would drop you at any moment, but it was as if she had no struggle at all. 

“Wanda, what the fuck?” You cried as she walked towards the bedroom. With a grunt, you landed hard on the mattress. You couldn’t even begin to sit up before she was already on the bed with her legs on either side of your waist, essentially pinning you down onto the bed with her body.

“Language,” she hissed as she started to pull her own shirt off before immediately reaching for yours. 

“How did you- What- When did you get so strong?” You couldn’t collect your thoughts. They were scrambled up by the display of sheer strength and also maybe a little bit by the fact that Wanda was sitting on top of you without a shirt. 

“You wanted attention and now you’re questioning how I give it to you?” Wanda’s voice was dripping with irritation as she began to yank both your own shirt and bra off of you. 

“I– No, but…” You were now naked from the waist up beneath Wanda. Her eyebrow arched as you struggled to find your words. You definitely knew your little stunt would piss her off, but you didn’t expect this outcome. 

“Now tell me,” Wanda’s nails began dragging down your chest as she spoke, “why would you want anyone else’s attention, when I’m all that you need?” Her nails dug down a little harder as they reached your stomach and you hissed at the slight sting of the red marks they left behind.

“Tell me,” Wanda ordered again as her hands made their way back up to your chest. “I give you everything you could possibly want.” The way she was palming at them was rough, but still it had you squirming underneath her. “So why,” she took your nipples between her fingers and pinched just a little harder than she usually would, causing a slight pain as she spoke, “would you ever think about anyone else?”

You winced as she palmed at you even harder, but you couldn’t help the flood of shame at the arousal it sent straight to your core. The way she was handling you, like an object— like something to be owned— was new. Sure she could be intense when she touched you, but she was never intentionally rough like she was being right now. She never purposely caused any kind of pain, even if right now it was mild and (to your surprise) enjoyable. 

“It– it wasn’t like that!” You were stumbling over your words as you began to feel Wanda grind down into you. It wasn’t slight or subtle, the way she was moving her hips. She was pressing your body harder into the mattress as she dragged herself against you from where she was straddling your waist. 

“Hm, then what was it like?” Wanda’s tone was degrading. She was practically seething on top of you as she spoke. “Because to me it sounded like my little toy wanted someone else to play with her?” 

“I–” You couldn’t stop the wince at her harsh words. She had called you that before, but still there was a loving inflection in her voice when she did in the past. This tone she had now, the way she said, it was filled with nothing but rage. “Wanda, I don’t want anyone else. No– No, I… I just wanted you to-“ 

“Oh look at that,” Wanda interrupted, her tone utterly condescending. “Now you’re trying to cover your tracks.” You watched curiously as one of Wanda’s hands left your body. “I thought you understood when we started that you’re mine. I can’t have a single ounce of doubt in your mind about that fact. Now I need to remind you of who you belong to. Who owns you.” She hissed that word and your eyes widened as you watched her fingers twist and twirl in the air, a red glow following them as they moved. In a blink the rest of your clothes just vanished. Your eyes widened for a moment as you stared up at Wanda. But then, in another flash of red you felt your hands fly up and pin themselves above your head. No matter the struggle, you felt a constant, unwavering invisible force hold your wrists in place. 

“Wanda, what— how did you do that?” Your eyes shifted from above you, then to her fingers and finally to her face. Now you definitely noticed the matching red swirl in her irises. 

“I think it’s time I properly taught you just how important it is for you to be good, so that we can have everything we want.” If she heard your question she was clearly ignoring it. Your mind was racing trying to keep up with what was going on top of you. Her words definitely confused you too, but you didn’t get the chance to question them again. 

Wanda looked down for a moment and saw the look in your eyes before rolling her own and pressing her glowing fingers to your temple. In a split second you suddenly realized exactly who she was. Your heart raced and you gulped, but oddly you weren’t as terrified as you were just shocked. 

The Wanda Maximoff was on top of you telling you that you belonged to her. You should be running and screaming for help, or at least attempting to. All the news headlines and stories flooded your memory and you knew exactly how they painted her. She could end you in a second; you should be afraid. But for some reason, you weren’t. Instead, seeing this powerful woman on top of you and thinking back to all the times she told you she loved you, that she would take care of you, that she wanted only you. Knowing the truth, it stunned you, but not in a bad way. 

“Are you scared?” Wanda’s tone was still the same, taunting and demeaning as it was before. Only this time, you saw a little beyond that. There was a seriousness there. A curiosity of what your reaction was. Wanda thought if you reacted badly she could just go back to how it was. Wipe your mind of her existence entirely yet again, restart with you, and enjoy the dynamic you two had again. Was it a healthy plan? No. She would have to start from scratch again. Get you to fall for her once more. But Wanda’s obsession with you has gone far beyond the point of return. She would do what was necessary.

As if to purposely test your limits, Wanda reached for your throat, pressing ever so slightly. “Are you?” She repeated as she leaned down to look you in the eye.

You swallowed hard for a second, already feeling the slight strain on your throat as you did. “No,” you breathed out lowly. You weren’t at all. You realized all you wanted was her attention and finally she was giving it to you. Was this secret that kept her so withdrawn lately? “No, Wanda, I’m not.” 

You were nervous, but you weren’t scared. No matter what Wanda was before, no matter what she has become now, you were hers from the moment you crashed into her. A memory that was returned to you. If she hadn’t wiped that one, you would’ve still been drawn to her and fallen for her just as hard as you did when she was posing as a professor. 

Wanda knew your acceptance was true and took your answer for what it was. This moment right now opened so many doors for her. The void she had been feeling, it could finally be fixed in the way she wanted to fix it. Things in her life were falling into place. As Wanda sat atop of you she finally— for the first time in her entire existence —felt like she was winning. Not once did she ever feel so powerful until this very moment.

“Now that you know the truth…” Wanda trailed off in a low voice. She was thinking aloud more than she was talking to you. Her eyes stayed locked with yours but you could tell she was pondering something. When you saw the now familiar swirl of red in her eyes you began to question what Wanda has in store for you. 

“Do you love me?” Wanda now spoke directly to you. Her eyes were still glowing red as her hand finally relaxed against your throat.

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly. Wanda’s face melted at your admission. The harsh, contemplative look she was wearing shifted into a soft smile finally. It was perhaps the first time in weeks she gave you a glimpse of her softness and you reveled in it. 

But after just a split second it was replaced with a bigger smile, one that gave you that feeling of being prey caught in a trap again. It was a feeling you weren’t unfamiliar with. And, if you were being honest, you enjoyed the thrill you got from seeing it. “We’re going to try something,” Wanda purred as she sat back up, but remained on top of you. “Something that we’ll both thoroughly enjoy.” 

You looked at her with curious eyes, squirming underneath her only slightly as she shifted and began to move between your legs. 

“It will give us both what we’ve been wanting,” Wanda continued as she now knelt between your legs, holding them open for her as she spoke. Her eyes raked down your body, from your flushed cheeks all the way down to the wetness that dripped from your thighs. She couldn’t help the satisfied hum at the sight, thinking this might be a lot easier of a task than she thought it would be. 

With another swirl of red in her eyes and a matching red shimmer around her twirling fingers, you followed her eyes down as the rest of her clothes disappeared and something materialized. Wanda’s smile grew as something you couldn’t fully see appeared between her legs.

You strained your neck up as best you could from the pillow, but with your arms still pinned above your head it was difficult. You caught what looked like shimmering, deep red straps resting around her waist and could only imagine what those led to. 

When Wanda leaned forward and you felt a cool, silicon tip pushing between your folds, your suspicions were confirmed. The contact made the both of you shiver, and as you felt Wanda run the toy slowly from your entrance to your clit and back down, you could see her taking sharp, deep breaths.

“This is going to be… incredible,” Wanda practically hissed. “I’ll be able to feel everything, to feel every part of you when I make you cum.”

Wanda hadn’t even begun fucking you and the idea of it turned you on so much you couldn’t stop the moan that slipped from your lips in a response. 

“And then,” Wanda lined the tip up as she spoke, “I’m going to fill you with my cum and hopefully it will work.” With that she pushed forward and you both took a sharp breath at the feeling. 

Wanda eased in as slowly as she could while fighting her every instinct to just ram into you and fuck you until she felt you fall apart. But she knew that at least for the start of this, she should go slow. This was, after all, the first time she’s fucked you using her magic. It was the first time she’s fucked you using something this big too. For all she knew, you’ve only ever had experience with her fingers. She didn’t want to break you— not completely. But as her cock sank into you inch by inch she was beginning to slip.

“God this feels better than I imagined,” Wanda hissed as she bottomed out inside you. “Why didn’t I do this sooner?” 

Your teeth were digging into your lip as you tried to stop yourself from crying out from the sheer feeling of being so full. To have Wanda fill your pussy in a way she never has before, it was taking all your willpower not to turn into a moaning, whining mess before she even really began to fuck you.

Wanda’s hips were currently completely pressed between your legs and you were taking her so surprisingly well. You were tight, but the way you squeezed Wanda’s magic strap was delicious. There was a pause for a moment— just a brief second for you to adjust to the size of her toy. But it was all she could manage to give you. The sensation of actually feeling you in this way had her head swimming and she needed more. 

She pulled the toy out slowly, so much so that only the tip stayed inside you. Her chest was already heaving as she looked down at you. The way her eyes were filled with hunger made you shiver as you looked back up at her, restrained, helpless, and thirsty for more. Your legs spread open for her even more without her prompting you and she groaned at the sight before her. Your wetness smeared on the parts of the toy that she could see, your arms still pinned over your head. It was all too much. She couldn’t help what she did next. Her hips snapped suddenly and her cock pushed deep into you. 

The cry you let out echoed through the room and Wanda swore she’s never heard a prettier sound. Her hips pulled back again until just the tip was left in you. Again she snapped them forward hard, making your eyes screw shut as you cried her name. 

“Fuck, if I knew it would feel like this…” Wanda groaned as she began to pump inside you at a brutal pace. Her hands were on your thighs, nails digging into your skin as she kept your legs spread open. Your hands were balled into fists above your head as she fucked you. You couldn’t stop the moans and cries that fell from your lips even if you wanted to. 

As Wanda kept fucking you, she fell forward, her entire body pressed against yours, as her lips captured your own. You whimpered into the kiss as her tongue filled your mouth much in the same aggressive way as the way she was currently fucking the toy into you. 

Wanda’s hands still had a hold of your thighs as she hoisted your legs over her waist, giving her a better angle to fuck the toy into you. You struggled to keep up with the way Wanda was licking into your mouth and biting at your lips. Her cock was hitting a spot inside of you, you didn’t even know would feel as good as it did. Your knuckles were turning white as your whole body began to shake from the sheer pleasure she was giving you. Even though you felt as if your whole body was on the brink of exploding, Wanda just kept going.

When Wanda began to moan more and more against your own mouth, you knew neither of you would last much longer. Wanda couldn’t keep kissing you anymore, and instead buried her head in the nape of your neck as she hoisted your legs higher onto her hips and fucked you even deeper. Your eyes had rolled back and cries of Wanda’s name fell from your lips nonstop as she picked up her pace.

“I can feel how close you are,” Wanda groaned as she pumped particularly harder into you. “But you’re going to wait. I want you to cum when I do.”

All you could do was whine in response as the sensation of her fucking you made it impossible for you to let out any coherent words. 

“You’re going to look so pretty,” she moaned against your neck, “filled up with my cum… and even prettier after.” Wanda’s movements were becoming erratic as she spoke. The words hardly registered to you as she kept fucking you harder and faster. 

“You wanna cum, baby?” Wanda purred in your ear. You nodded desperately, your whole body trembling as you continued to take her. Her teeth grazed against the most sensitive part of your neck as she felt you nod and she could feel her own body tremble from how close she was. “Then come with me,” she ordered. Her hips pumped harder into you and after a moment you felt a sudden warm rush of fluids inside you. The sound of moans filled the air even louder than before and you weren’t sure if they were coming from you or her. 

The moment you felt her cum inside you, you followed after. Your body arched off the bed and you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Wanda’s forehead was pressed to your bare chest as she came. The way your pussy tightened around her magic cock was intoxicating. Neither of you had felt so good in your entire lives and Wanda made a mental note to fuck you like this often. 

When she felt your body finally collapse against the mattress she did the same against you. You realized quickly that your wrists no longer felt restrained, but you kept them above your head either way. Too exhausted to even lift them yet. 

“That was…” you couldn’t find the words. You had never felt so amazing on so many different levels than you did tonight. Your body felt spent and sensitive, but all you wanted was more. More of that, more of Wanda, more of everything she had to offer now that you knew who Wanda was. 

“Yeah,” Wanda didn’t need to hear you finish your sentence to know she was feeling the same way you were. Her head rested on your chest, listening to your heartbeat begin to slow as you came down from the high Wanda gave you. 

“Can we… do it like that more?” Your face was flushed as you asked. 

Wanda lifted her head and gave you a beaming smile. To anyone else it would be dazzling, but curiously, to you it gave you that feeling again— the one where you were nothing but a sheep caught in a wolf’s clutches. 

“Of course we can, baby,” Wanda purred as she looked up at you. “As many times as it takes.” 

The word choice was odd. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked down at the woman on your chest. Her eyes were dark as she looked back up at you and something about the way her fingers traced up and down your stomach made you shudder. 

“As many times as it takes?” You echoed Wanda’s words back to her as a question, but she just gave a small hum of agreement as she placed a few kisses on your skin. 

“Until I have everything that I want again.” Her voice was low suddenly, almost threatening. You looked down at her eyes and saw how they darkened as she continued to trace her fingers against your body. “And nobody will take it from me again.”

Her words felt like a threat to an invisible entity. You knew it wasn’t directed towards you, you had no idea the source. But you knew she was serious, even if you didn’t quite understand why. Her words felt as much as a threat to someone as they did a direct promise to you. 

As Wanda laid on your chest and recovered some of her strength she thought about how she was one step closer. She could have her perfect family; her happiness. She didn’t need to control a whole town, she didn’t even necessarily need to control you. Once you did understand, she knew you would be accepting. Shocked, maybe, but ultimately accepting and even happy to build the dream Wanda had. She would have her boys, she would recreate them again with you. And then it would be the four of you, forever. 

For your part, you didn’t know what Wanda meant exactly. It wouldn’t be until later that evening, when Wanda decided you recovered enough to go again, that you put the pieces together and realized exactly how magic Wanda’s new toy was. She was right in her assumption of your reaction, shocked but accepting. Just like the good girl she knew you would be. Whatever Wanda wanted, you decided you would give it to her, knowing she would do the same. Wanda was one step closer to her happiness and it finally felt as if she was building it on solid foundations. There would be no one to take you from her, no one to stop her from building a life again with you. And there was a silent, chilling understanding between the two of you that if anyone were to ever threaten her happiness again… they would not get very far.

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[velmiraa]

Astro Observations – II

Mars in the 1st House People with Mars in their 1st house often struggle with anxiety or anger issues. They might even have a noticeable scar on their face. This placement can make them really energetic, but sometimes that energy comes out as irritation or restlessness.

Pluto in the 1st House Natives with Pluto in their 1st house usually go through intense transformations—both in their appearance and in their overall character. Think of someone who’s super religious for years and then suddenly becomes an atheist. They often have mesmerizing eyes, too, the kind that practically hypnotize people!

Mercury in the 2nd/3rd House If Mercury in 2nd doesn’t have many hard aspects, these folks usually have a beautiful speaking voice. If Mercury’s nicely aspected by Venus, they’re often great singers as well. Having a beautiful speaking voice is also connected to Mercury in 3rd house, since it's the house of communication. But the 3rd house is also tied to talents in writing, painting, handwriting, crafts, or even cooking—basically anything involving skillful hands. People with strong 3rd-house energy just know how to control their hands.

Mars–Venus Hard Aspects I’ve noticed that Mars–Venus hard aspects can sometimes show up in the charts of individuals who identify as homosexual. It’s not a strict rule, of course, but it’s an interesting pattern I’ve come across.

Venus–Pluto Conjunction A Venus–Pluto conjunction tends to create a really obsessive streak when it comes to romantic relationships—or it can attract obsessive partners. Sometimes it’s both! These individuals definitely know how to pull their partners back in, no matter how far they stray, lol.

Mars in the 7th House Mars in the 7th house can lead to frequent arguments with romantic partners. The nature of the fights often depends on the sign Mars is in. If it’s in Virgo or Gemini, expect more verbal spats. But if it’s in Aries, there’s a much higher chance of physical altercations—so watch out!

Saturn in or near the 10th House (or in hard aspect/conjunction to the 10th House Ruler)

This placement basically says: you’ve got to work or study harder than most to succeed in your career. You’ll likely shoulder more responsibility than the average person, and if you mess up, Saturn won’t cut you any slack. This can also point to workplace bullying or a tough work environment. Accept the challenge and do your absolute best—Saturn rewards persistence.

Saturn in the 2nd House Folks with Saturn in the 2nd house can have a bit of an inferiority complex, putting extra emphasis on material things for security-especially food. They might have some eating disorders as well. They need to learn self-love first; once that’s in place, they’ll feel more confident navigating the material side of life.

Saturn in the 12th House People with Saturn in the 12th house often struggle with various phobias because of deep-seated, subconscious fears. This effect doubles if Saturn is in a hard aspect to the ruler of the 12th house. It’s like a cosmic nudge to do some serious inner work.

Pluto in the 8th/6th House Those with Pluto in the 8th house can carry heavy traumas, fears, or secrets related to sex, the occult, or death. If Pluto sits in the 6th house instead, it could bring traumas, fears, secrets or issues related to work environment, colleagues, health, or daily routines. In some charts, if Pluto is heavily afflicted and everything else supports it, there’s even a possibility of OCD.

Hope these insights spark your curiosity! Remember that every chart is unique, so always look at the bigger picture before jumping to conclusions. See you in my next post!

[oldguardleatherdog]

Today's Wall O'Text: We've got just under two months to get the first things done.

Timothy Snyder is an American historian whose book On Tyranny made him a household name in 2017, followed this year by On Freedom. His take on what we need to do this time around to mount an effective resistance to Trump's insane agenda is urgent and essential:

Start now. We can get a lot done between now and the Inauguration on January 20th.

Here are excerpts from Snyder's interview in the Rolling Stone article linked above where he describes ways ordinary people can take meaningful steps right now to lay the groundwork for stopping Trump's agenda in its tracks:

~~~~~

[From the article, emphasis added:]

“You can’t despair,” he tells Rolling Stone. “Because that’s what they want. They want you to think that it’s hopeless. It’s never hopeless.”

Snyder’s first rule in On Tyranny is “don’t obey in advance.” He emphasizes that Americans opposed to Trump’s designs should take stock, and action, now. “The period of November, December, January, becomes very important,” he says.

For normal people, Snyder insists the key is “to get out in protest” — now and through the inauguration. The understandable impulse of “keeping your head in,” Snyder says will only embolden Trump’s reactionary team.

“You’re giving them even more confidence that they’re gonna be able to do what they want in January.” What’s demanded of activists in this moment is to “deflate that confidence,” Snyder says, and you do that by “showing that you’re not afraid, by cooperating with your neighbors, and by organizing.”

Snyder emphasizes a lesson of the “Wall of Moms” in Portland, Oregon, in late summer 2020, who helped drive up the political cost and terrible optics for Trump’s most heavy-handed crackdown on public dissent. Launching tear gas at Black Lives Matter protesters looked different on TV when the feds were brutalizing a wall of white mothers in gold shirts, locking arms at the front of the crowd. “It’s about corporeal politics,” Snyder says. “Getting your body out where there are other bodies — with people who are maybe not like you or maybe less privileged than you.”

Here, Snyder insists, is where the American public has its most important, and perhaps most challenging role to play. “The Trump-Vance initiatives can only work by getting the population involved — and basically corrupting us,” he says. Snyder argues that even Americans who might share anger with Trump about immigration may yet be recruited to block the border camps promised by Stephen Miller. 

“That’s the kind of active thinking that folks have to do — am I going to become the kind of person who takes part in this sort of thing? Am I going to become the kind of person who denounces my neighbors because they are not documented?”

“If Their Rights Are on the Line, My Rights Are on the Line”

A key to resisting authoritarianism, Snyder says, is standing up for the rights of the least powerful first. “If protest comes down to the people who are protesting only because they have to, then you always lose,” he says. “It has to be people who are one, two, three, four, even five steps away from being directly affected who show solidarity — and who also show pragmatism and wisdom by getting out early. 

“If you’re more privileged, you should be thinking, ‘What can I do for the least privileged people?’” he says. “If their rights are on the line, my rights are on the line. That’s not just a moral position. It’s actually, politically, 100 percent correct.” 

In the meantime, Snyder advises, America’s system of federalism offers hope for democracy at the state and local level. “Many things are going to be terrible. But controlling the federal government doesn’t mean you’re controlling everything,” he says. He exhorts Americans to support the institutions closest to them that uphold democratic norms — “whether that means some civil society organization, or state government, or a local mayor” — and collectively try to strengthen those bodies.

[End article text.]

~~~~~

[dee-writes-anime]

You Can't Run, You Can't Hide

FEATURING Satoru Gojo x reader

SUMMARY Satoru Gojo isn't known to be a man who gives up, not even on his ex-girlfriend of a year whom he sees out on a date with another man.

CONTENT WARNINGS holy lord this is the smuttiest thing I have ever written in my life, SEX, vulgar language, ex-boyfriend gojo, breaking and entering, pressuring, mating press, mentions birth control, raw sex (wrap it up, folks, not even the strongest is safe from an STD)

AUTHORS NOTE two Gojo fics in one day? rare, but not unheard of. Now two Gojo fics on the same day that are completely opposite? unheard of. Pookie baes, eat up this actual atrocity, good god.

You fumble with your keys at the door, still replaying the awkward goodbye from your date. The evening was nice, but something about it felt... off. You push the door open and step into your dimly lit apartment, feeling the comforting embrace of your familiar space. But tonight, there’s something different in the air—a subtle tension that makes your skin prickle. 

As you close the door behind you, a low, mocking chuckle sends a jolt through your body. The sound is unmistakable, even after all this time. Your heart races as you slowly turn towards the living room, where you see a figure casually stretched out on your couch. 

“Out on a date already?” Satoru Gojo’s voice is smooth, dripping with a mix of amusement and something darker, something possessive. “And here I thought you'd be mourning me for at least a decade.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. He looks just as you remember—mischievously handsome, his white hair catching the low light, and those piercing blue eyes fixed intently on you. You feel a swirl of emotions—anger, confusion, and that undeniable pull he’s always had on you. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Gojo?” you snap, attempting to sound firm, though your voice trembles slightly. You hate how easily he still affects you, even after all this time. 

He doesn't immediately answer, instead pushing himself up from the couch with an infuriatingly casual grace. He takes his time, each step deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. The air feels thick with tension as he closes the distance between you, his presence overwhelming in the small space. 

“Just checking in,” he finally murmurs, a playful grin spreading across his lips. “Seeing how you’re holding up... and reminding you what you’ve been missing.” 

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing as he stops just inches away. His familiar scent fills your senses—a mix of his cologne and something uniquely him, something that used to make your heart race and your knees weak. And now, standing so close, it’s doing exactly that again. 

“We broke up a year ago, Gojo,” you manage to say, your voice steadier this time. “You can’t just—” 

Before you can finish, his hand moves with lightning speed, cupping your jaw with a firm yet gentle grip. His thumb strokes your cheek, and you feel a wave of heat flood your face. He tilts your head up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are intense, a dangerous mix of arrogance and something more profound that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“You think that guy can make you feel the way I do?” he whispers, his voice a low, sultry murmur. The proximity makes your pulse quicken, and you hate how your body reacts to him—how his touch, his voice, everything about him still has this effect on you. 

His hand slides down from your jaw to your neck, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin, sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. Your breath hitches, and you feel a flutter of both anger and desire in your chest. The rational part of your mind screams at you to push him away, to tell him to leave, but your body betrays you, leaning into his touch. 

“You’ve always been stubborn,” he continues, his lips curling into a smirk as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “But I know you, better than anyone. I know what you need, what you want...” 

His words hang in the air, heavy with promise and challenge. Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing the conflict raging inside you. Part of you wants to slap him, to tell him to get out and never come back, but another part—a part you’ve tried so hard to bury—aches for his touch, for the way he used to make you feel. 

He senses your hesitation, his hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you closer until your bodies are almost flush against each other. “You can tell me to leave,” he murmurs, his voice low and intoxicating, “but we both know that’s not what you really want.” 

You stand there, frozen, torn between the urge to push him away and the inexplicable pull drawing you closer. Satoru’s thumb grazes your bottom lip, a subtle yet possessive touch that sends a jolt of electricity straight through you. 

"Stop it," you whisper, trying to sound firm, but your voice betrays you with a hint of breathlessness. 

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Why? Afraid you'll remember how good we were together?" His voice drops to a husky whisper, the words thick with insinuation. 

You manage to take a step back, creating a sliver of distance between you, but he closes it in an instant, his body pressing lightly against yours. The heat of him is almost overwhelming, and your heart pounds in your chest like a war drum. 

"I moved on," you say, your voice a bit stronger now, though your resolve feels like it's crumbling. "We’re done, Gojo. You don’t get to just come in here and—" 

"And what?" He cuts you off, his tone a mix of amusement and irritation. "Pretend like I don’t know you better than anyone else? Like I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking right now?" 

You want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words get caught in your throat. His hand moves from your jaw to your waist, pulling you against him with a firm yet gentle grip. The contact sends a wave of heat rushing through you, your body reacting despite your mind’s protests. 

"You can say whatever you want," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "But I know you, and I know what you need." His words are a mixture of cocky assurance and genuine intensity, each one designed to provoke a reaction. 

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you're tempted to let yourself get lost in the moment. You know it’s a bad idea—you’ve been down this road before—but there’s something about Satoru, something about the way he’s always known how to push your buttons, how to get under your skin. 

You push against his chest, trying to create some space between you. "You need to leave," you say, but the words lack conviction. 

He doesn’t budge. Instead, he tightens his grip just enough to let you know he’s not going anywhere. "You don’t want that," he whispers, his lips brushing against your cheek now, his breath warm against your skin. 

The sensation sends a wave of conflicting emotions through you—anger, longing, desire. You turn your head, trying to avoid his touch, but he’s relentless, his mouth finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. A gasp escapes your lips, betraying you. 

"See?" he murmurs against your skin. "I still know exactly how to make you react." 

You’re caught in a whirlwind of emotions, torn between the part of you that wants to push him away and the part of you that wants to pull him closer. His hands roam your sides, each touch deliberate and teasing, designed to remind you of what he’s capable of, of what he knows you crave. 

"Gojo…" you start, but your voice falters as his lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He hums against your skin, a sound that vibrates through you, stirring something deep and primal. 

"Just say the word," he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me to stop, and I will. But we both know you won’t." 

Your head is spinning, your body betraying your resolve as his touch ignites a fire you thought you’d buried long ago. His fingers glide down your arm, intertwining with yours as he gently guides your hand to rest on his chest, right over his racing heartbeat. The gesture is both intimate and possessive, a silent declaration that he’s not ready to let go, and maybe, just maybe, neither are you. 

He leans in closer, his lips barely brushing against yours, and your breath catches in your throat. The air between you crackles with tension, a palpable electricity that makes it hard to think, hard to remember why you wanted him to leave in the first place. 

You close your eyes, your mind screaming at you to stop this before it goes too far, but your body is already responding to him, leaning into his touch, craving the familiar warmth and intensity only he can provide. 

"That's it," he breathes against your lips, his voice filled with a mix of triumph and longing. "Just let go." 

The words hang in the air, a challenge and a promise all at once. Your heart races, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the confusion, the anger, the doubt. All that’s left is the undeniable chemistry between you, the magnetic pull that has always drawn you to him, no matter how much you try to resist. 

And then, just as you’re about to close the distance between your lips and his, he pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire but a hint of restraint holding him back. "I need you to say it," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers through you. "I need to hear you say you want this, too." 

“I-” you hesitate, feeling his cool breath against your lips as your heart desperately tries to warn your horny brain of the reason why you broke it off with him in the first place, but it’s all muddled and foggy and the next thing you know, you’re spouting the words, “I want you, Satoru, please,” in that fucking pathetic breathy tone.  

And with two hands framing your face, Satoru Gojo pulls you into the most desperate kiss you think you’ve ever experienced in your life. It’s all teeth and tongue and pure, unaltered hunger that you’re even left a bit numb as you feel yourself clenching around nothing in your panties. You feel as if you must have passed out or have been so lost to lust that you can’t remeber the fog of the last few minutes- or hours (?), because the next thing you know-  

“Fuuuuck, sweetheart.” Satoru’s whimpering, desperately repeating that sweet, melancholic nickname over and over again. It’s as if he can’t- or simply won’t- articulate anything else other than that intimate. Perhaps he’s taunting you, perhaps he’s that lost to pleasure, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to you at the moment as your lost to his voice. Those honeyed words that fall right past his lips unchecked with each desperate thrust of his sticky cock into your dripping cunt from the absolute mean mating press he’s got you in. “Don’t you know- fuck, yes baby, just like that- long I’ve missed this sweet cunt?” 

Your sex addled brain is barely functioning enough to push gasps of air in and out of your lungs, let alone enough to form an answer. It seems that the obscene smack of his sensitive balls against the wet curve of your ass is enough to sate him, his eyes gleaming darkly as his lips curve into a downright feral smile. The look sends a jolt of pure pleasure up your spine, met deliciously by the way he was bullying small grinds of his shaft just past your clamping, fluttering folds.  

It’s been so long - too long - since the man who both warmed and broke your heart was able to have his fill of you. 

A harsh gasp is ripped from your throat when the soft pad of his thumb rolls in harsh, languid circles over your throbbing clit. Dots dance in your vision as white-hot pleasure burns through your abdomen, so harsh your legs are shaking, your toes clenching as your hips shift ever so slightly to take even more of him.  

“God damn baby, almost f-forgot how tight you get when I play with your needy little pussy.” Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head with even press of his throbbing cock against the depths of your syrupy pussy, wet slaps filling the room as he clashes messily against every inch of your warm, soft walls. It’s not long before your ex is running his mouth again, your juicy walls seeming to bring it out in him.  

A soft pad of his thumb rolls in a  languid circle over your needy clit. Sending white-hot shockwaves that have you jolting the balls of your feet to greedily swallow up even more throbbing inches of him. “Lost you over some- hngh- bullshit about not bein’ home enough-” 

“Toru!” you manage, tears leaking down your flushed cheeks, “you were- fuck!- never h-home, even f-forgot our anniversary to hang out with Shoko.” You were impressed by how much you managed to push past your tingly lips, it seemed Satoru was too, if for a moment, before his eyes darked as he reasoned that he simply wasn’t fucking you good enough just yet and increased his pace impossibly more. “I-I was basically l-living on my own a-and you never-”  

Next thing you know, you’re being shut up by his lips pressing messily against your own- soft and sweet, just like you remembered- and it’s not long before he’s practically drooling into your mouth, sucking on your tongue as if he was a baby desperate for his pacifier. “Said I was sorry-” he grunts out, his voice all high and whiny, “promise it won’t happen again, sweetheart- hngh- please?” 

Then, he’s burrowing his length into you with desperate, needy thrusts as if to help you make your decision, craning his neck to bite down on your racing pulse. You can’t do much else other than moan pathetically as you feel him salivate against your skin, your slobbery cunt milking him greedily with every single clap of his thighs against yours, absolutely spearing his hot, leaky cockhead against those spongy spots that have you arching desperately, feeling like he’s in your fucking throat. 

Seemingly frustrated with your silence, he bites at your neck again, his teeth just shy of drawing blood as you jolt away from the sharp pain, and you swear that you see a flash of deadly lightning in his eyes when they finally meet yours in a needy, wanting stare, “answer me, sweetheart, please.” 

“Y-yes,” you gasp out, breathless and overwhelmed. But that’s not nearly enough for Gojo Satoru. His expression darkens, lips curling into a playful yet frustrated pout. Without warning, his hand comes down with a sharp smack right on your clit, making your whole body jolt. You feel a flicker of his cursed energy amplifying the sensation, sending waves of tingling heat radiating from the point of contact. Your thighs tremble from the strain of being bent so tightly, knees pressed against your chest. 

 “Say it like you mean it,” he demands, voice low and commanding, but with a hint of teasing. “Will you take me back, sweetheart?” 

“Y-yes! I’ll take you—hah! Oh god, please, Satoru—” you choke out between gasps, each word a struggle as his relentless pace sends pleasure coursing through you. “I’ll take you back!” 

His lips twitch into a satisfied smirk, but he doesn’t let up. His thrusts remain deep and punishing, his cock hitting every sensitive spot inside you. The bruising pace leaves you breathless, and you can’t help but whine as he fucks you with a roughness that makes your head spin. 

“That’s right,” he grunts, giving your clit another firm slap. The jolt of pleasure-pain makes you cry out, and Gojo chuckles, clearly enjoying how responsive you are. “See? Was that so hard to admit?” 

Each word he growls is punctuated by another powerful thrust, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear, his voice a low, possessive growl. “Couldn’t stand seeing you with him, you know. All I could think about was how no one else can fuck you like I can. Wanted to—g-god—kill him right where he was standin.” 

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, the possessiveness in his voice making your heart race. You try to hold on, but the overwhelming sensation of him pounding into you is too much, making you moan uncontrollably. “Please, Satoru, I—oh, right there, please—” 

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he mutters, voice thick with desire. “You feel that? How good I’m making you feel? No one else can do this to you, no one else can make you this desperate.” He punctuates his words with another sharp slap to your clit, his cursed energy sparking through your body and making you clench around him. 

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groans, head tilting back in pleasure. “That’s it, just like that. Show me how much you need me.” 

His words are almost slurred now, his own pleasure mounting as he drives into you harder and faster, each thrust sending electric pleasure shooting up your spine. You feel yourself teetering on the edge, every nerve ending alight with sensation. 

“Satoru, I’m—oh god, I’m so close—” you whimper, unable to hold back the desperate moans that spill from your lips. 

“Good,” he growls, his pace never faltering. “I want you to cum for me. I want you to scream my name so everyone knows who you belong to.” 

His words push you over the edge, and you feel the tight coil of pleasure in your core snap. You cry out his name as you come undone around him, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. The sensation of you clenching down on his cock sends Gojo over the edge as well, his thrusts becoming erratic as he groans deeply, spilling himself inside you. 

“Oh—fuck, Satoru, it’s so deep,” you mewl, barely able to form coherent thoughts as the sensation of his cum filling you overwhelms you. The hot, sticky warmth spreads inside you, and you whimper at the feeling of being so full, so completely claimed by him. 

“Damn right it is,” he mutters, still panting, his cock twitching as he slowly pulls back. But before you can even catch your breath, he presses a finger against your entrance, pushing some of his cum back inside. “Not letting a drop go to waste. You’re mine, remember?” 

You nod weakly, too spent to do anything else, but your body responds to his touch, the fire in your belly reigniting despite the exhaustion. “Yes, Satoru... I’m yours.” 

“Good,” he grins, leaning down to capture your lips in a possessive kiss. “Because I’m not done with you yet. Not until you forget everything but how good I make you feel.” 

[featherwurm]

I'm going to get a lot more personal on here than I usually do:

Baulder's Gate 3, and especially Karlach, make me feel seen in a way no price of media I've ever engaged with before has. It's a big reason why I love it and why it's sticking with me like it is. I too am a big, loud, enthusiastic woman who says out of pocket shit. I have a heavy internal dialogue with myself. I have a temper, I'm bisexual, I love cute shit. I endured years of being utterly touch starved. I love sex and food and being alive...

I also have cancer; it's Follicular B-Cell Lymphoma. I was diagnosed in 2020 when it had reached stage 3A. It's currently under control after chemo* and I'm living my life normally. But while it's a very treatable kind of cancer, it's not fully curable**. There's nothing in me they can remove (it's my whole lymphatic system that's broken) and no drug currently that can wholly knock it out. It's cause is not known (genetically or environmentally), and its unusual for this type of cancer to affect someone as young as I am (I was diagnosed at 35 - it's much more common 65+***). So every three months I go into oncology and they check my blood and symptoms and see if I'm doing ok. I get imaging and biopsies occasionally too. This will go on until I'm not ok (hopefully a long time yet). I'll have to have still manageable but more invasive treatment the next time around. It's a well researched kind of cancer, and my oncologist hopes that in the next decade there may be some more permanent cure for it.

So you can see where I'm going with this. When you hit Karlach's monologue after killing Gortash, I've never felt better understood. I have no one to blame for my condition, no revenge arc of course, but the very same fear, frustration, grief, and anger are all things my husband has heard from me. I've never seen a more beautiful and moving and real exploration of the topic that resonates with me so meaningfully out of a piece of fiction that I love. Béart's performance is amazing - capturing a whole spectrum of emotion.

Karlach's story is absolutely not incomplete as written, confirmed by both the devs and Sam Béart - a terminal condition is just that. You don't get to fix or save her, you get to go with her through tremendous trial and difficulty. If you want to continue that story in your mind that's great (I know I'm eager to do so, for my own personal encouragement if nothing else) but on it's own it's a whole story about coming to terms with something that doesn't have a quick and easy little fetch-quest resolution.

So - every time I see another whinging post/essay/bitchfest about how her story feels "unfinished" or "incomplete" or "has too much cut content" you can see why I might take it a bit personally - knowing that the life I have, the easy solutions I don't get, and the frustration and grief I live with is seen as incorrect and wrong and bad writing makes me a little pissed off. If you think the story is incomplete as told and think a 'third engine upgrade' is missing you completely missed the point.

Karlach doesn't get a simple easy ending because people like me**** don't get that either. And like my husband and the others who love me you can choose to follow that story anyway. And that's fucking beautiful.

*Yeah dealing with cancer and undergoing chemo during a pandemic was really a peach.

**XKCD hits the nail on the head here and here.

***Current treatments have good decade long prognoses... but saying 'you'll probably be fine for the next 10 years' is a lot different at 35 than it is at 65.

****And believe me I've heard from a lot of chronic/terminally ill folks who love the game for the way it represents these things and feel the same, with her Gale, and Shadowheart too.

[sarshles-cheescake-li]

Some fun translation facts about Yingdu...

-Xia Fei doesn't necessarily call Vein "warm-hearted." “热心肠" doesn't mean warm-hearted, as in compassionate. It's based on 热心, or passionate. You use it for someone who's helpful, whom you can expect to speak up for people, but not necessarily someone who's "warm." It's more a comment on someone's willingness to get involved in other people's business than their kindness.

-Laoban (老板) is a pretty common way for employees to refer to their bosses. Distinctive from surname-laoban (e.g. Li-laoban), since surnames are usually used if 1. you need to distinguish between several superiors, 2. you're trying to appeal to someone (aka basically talking them up), or 3. you're on somewhat-equal ground with the person, socially, and using it literally because they're the boss of a company. Other terms like -xiansheng (先生)/-nüshi (女士)depending on the person's gender) and -zong (总) may also be used, but laoban (without a surname) is the most "casual" without being informal. Informally, you might use surname-ge (哥)/jie (姐) (common between people of similar ages with an authority/respect gradient, sometimes used casually between friends for an older person), lao (老)-surname (more common the older you get, typically for seniority or generation gaps, but some older folks will use it universally for their friends who are around the same age), dage (大哥)/dajie (大姐) (implies a more familial relationship, but not as explicitly as gege (哥哥) or jiejie(姐姐)). In short: Xia Fei's "laoban," in terms of word choice, is pretty normal socially -- unlike in English where "boss" is kinda a weird term to call someone as their default name. What makes it silly is the fact that he uses it very informally.

-Cheng Xiaoshi calling people 帅哥 (hottie) isn't exactly correct. The shuaige/meinü (美女) (handsome man/beautiful woman) combo is just a pretty common compliment to give someone. It doesn't have to actually imply attraction, and it is often more of a "wow, this person's conventionally attractive" thing. Of course, I'm not saying that that is exactly how Cheng Xiaoshi meant it -- with that tone and context, it could go either way.

-Same logic applies to 美少年 (handsome young man), except it has far more of a teasing/ironic implication, especially when preceded by 美少女 (beautiful young woman). So far as I can tell, 美少年 kind of refers to the same kind of vibe and appearance as… a twink, just without the queer undertones. The bi-coding of that scene would actually require a second layer of linguistic irony that's kind of difficult to explain, although, rest assured, there is still a pretty bi way of reading it.

-Xia Fei's contact name for Liu Xiao means "client who doesn't mind his own business/is nosy/bothers me with a lot of things/is hard to please" or that general vibe. Basically, annoying, but very specifically the high-maintenance flavour of annoying.

-When Vein tells Xia Fei to "脾气收敛点" (or, well, Xia Fei promises to do so) as in to control his temper, the 脾气 he uses doesn't exactly mean temper, in the sense of anger. It's more of how thick your skin is, or how tolerant you are of bs (although it's also dependent on context). In the context of Xia Fei using it, it comes closer to "stop being so impulsive and reacting to people who don't need reacting to." So, more like "control yourself." Notably, 脾气 can also refer to when someone's whining. Like, if my roommate is acting all annoyed at me because I called potatoes ugly (they are extraordinarily ugly), I might say to her “发什么脾气呢" (what are you throwing a fuss about) as a joke.

Another fun fact: some nicknames for the Yingdu trio on Lofter are 鸟木哥, based on 枭, 非文哥, based on 斐 (both of these are deconstructions of their names), and 静脉哥, based the Mandarin term for Vein, as in the blood vessel.

English internet: I'm going to shorten this six-letter long name into two letters so it's easier to type.

Chinese internet: I'm going to lengthen this two-character name into three characters so it's funnier to type.

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 3

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N looks forward to the next time her and Feyre go to the Night Court. Choosing to stay out of the way in the Spring she is visited by the High Lord and threats are made. Few months of learning how to read and Feyre finally warming up to the Night Court, the next time they return to the Spring Y/N is caught of guard and chaos ensues.

Content Warning: 18+ brief depictions of abuse, Tamlin being a dick, Ianthe appearance, unwanted groping (Not from any of our beloved night court folks or Spring court), blood, separation.

Word Count: 5.6k

chapter 2 Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry if it seems to be a bit sped up but I simply could not bring myself to write more filler chapters! I hope you enjoy!

After my argument with Feyre, I locked myself in my room for the three weeks. Feyre had tried to come apologize and she tried to come in, but I had made sure my door was locked. I didn’t really move from my chair other than to change and sneaking into the kitchen late at night to eat. To avoid running the High Lord, Lucien or my sister.

There had been a continuous warmth on my tattooed wrist, Rhys’ reminder that I wasn’t alone. On the bad days where sleep evaded me, I tried to send back a wave of appreciation, unsure if he could feel it. Chances were he we were sleeping when I sent so he probably didn’t even know, but I did appreciate him.

Feyre and I have never had many fights and it was even rarer that the fight had resulted in us not talking and working it out. The last time was right before Tamlin took us away.

Feyre slammed her bow on the table. “You should have been here. What were you thinking going out there?”  I scoffed as I dropped the wolf carcass on the table, facing my twin whose eyes flared with anger and a hint of fear. “You could have died!”

The door creaked open, and I glanced to see Nesta and Elain emerge from the bedroom. Their eyes went wide taking a look at the beast on the table. Our dad remained near the fireplace not acknowledging that Feyre and I had returned. Not like he noticed when we left. “Feyre, you could have died to. I have just as much skill at hunting like you, we work better together, and it worked out look at what we caught.” I held out my arm to show the wolf. “I love you, and I didn’t want you going out alone tonight. I’m glad I was there to help you take this beast down.”

Feyre blew up, “I could have killed you! I didn’t know you were there!”

I gave her a doubtful look and cross my arms, “I have been able to sense your presence since we have been children, you definitely knew I was there.”

Feyre ran her fingers through her brown hair not caring if she got blood in it. “Maybe I wanted to be alone, figured Nesta would give you some good quality time. At least she doesn’t despise your presence.”

My mouth dropped and quickly recovered, “Are you fucking serious, Fey? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Girls,” Our father croaked from his spot in the fireplace, only then that I noticed he was carving something in his hands. “That’s quite enough. Y/N your mother and I have taught you better than to use that type of language.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever you say.” I grit out and was about to push past my sisters when the door flung off its hinges and a beast with emerald eyes locked his gaze with mine.

A knock caused me to jolt from my seat and the book I was attempting to read on the table next to the chair, “Go away,” I yelled trying to conceal the fact the knock on the door frightened me.

The sound of the lock turning, and the door opens causing me to jump out of my chair, to see Tamlin strolling in. He shut the door and made a spectacle of locking the door. His eyes met mine and his eyes held nothing but cold and controlled anger. “Long time no see, Y/N.” He drawled and I tried not to shiver as fear locked up my joints. He slowly approaches me with his hands clasped behind his back, “You’re breaking Feyre’s heart you know. Locking yourself in here.” The sun from the window hit him and in any other situation I would have found his beauty mesmerizing, but his beauty looked sinister.

I crossed my arms and Tamlin takes notice of my tattoo decorating my skin before its tucked away. Feigning indifference, tucking the fear deep down and lifting my chin. “What do you want, Tamlin?” Shifting my weight back and forth.

Tamlin closed the distance, and I took a step back, “You’re coming down and having dinner with us tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, and I could hear the growl in his chest, “No thanks, as you can see, I’m quite busy here.”

Tamlin bared his teeth, “That wasn’t a request,” he took another step toward me.

“I don’t care,” I muttered and made the error of trying to step around him and in a flash, he gripped me and pinned me against the wall his muscled his hand moved from my arm and moved to my hip his free hand clamping down over my mouth. His gaze turned feral and crazed, letting his anger unleash and I could only produce a whimper through his hand.

He brought his face closer to mine and I could see the pure ire in his eyes. “Listen to me carefully. You are going to clean up, put on a pretty dress, come downstairs and apologize to Feyre for causing her stress and pain. Then you are going to eat in silence you will be seen and not heard.” I tried to yank my head, but he has my face in an iron grip, and he gripped my hip in bruising force keeping me pinned to the wall, “Like the good little human girl you are.” He released my face.

I quickly spat in his face, “Fuck-“he clamped his hand back over my mouth and I lashed against him.

Tamlin tsked, “No, no, the only thing I wanted to hear from you at all is ‘Yes Tamlin.’ And an apology to my soon to be wife.” He gripped my hip so tightly I gasped, and a tear slipped down my cheek. Tamlin kissed it away, the gesture going against his words. He met my eyes again his grin anything but comforting, “Blink if you understand, Y/N,” my name almost a snarl against his lips. I slowly blink and more tears fall. He lowers his face to kiss my forehead and I thrash my hands trying to push him away, but I couldn’t move him. He pulled away and released my body giving my cheek a not so tender pat, “Good Girl. Now go clean up there will be a dress on your bed,” he turned and made his way to the exit.

I wrapped my arms around myself, and I noticed Tamlin paused, “Oh and Y/N,” He turned his hand still on the handle, “Make no mistake if you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair. Feyre’s happiness is important to me I will do anything to keep a smile on her face.” With that he left, and I let the emotions of the interaction fully take over and slide down the wall and bury my face in my knees to stifle the uncontrollable sobs. I barely notice how warm and tingling my tattoo is through the tears.

Cassian’s POV

I sat in the lounge of the townhouse with Rhys, there was a throbbing in my chest that caused discomfort. I rubbed my chest, but the pain wouldn’t subside, it felt like my heart was aching. I creased my eyebrows sadness consumed me and I rubbed that spot tighter as I closed my eyes.

“Cass, you alright?” Rhys’ voice pulled me from the wave of emotion overtaking me.

“I just have this weird feeling; my chest feels tight.”

Rhys gave me his full attention, his glass of whiskey forgotten. “Do you need me to get Madja?”

I shook my head, “No, just feels like something is wrong.” Another wave overwhelmed me, I closed my eyes, and I took a deep breath to neutralize myself. When I opened my eyes, my brother had a painful expression on his face. He was gripping his glass tightly his knuckles were white. “What is it?” I asked.

Rhy formed his lips into a tight line, and he clenched his hands into a fist, “Something is wrong over there,” he gritted through his teeth as he rubbed his left arm, causing me straightened I didn’t need him to fill me in. “She is sending utter turmoil down the bond.”

I grimace, “What kind of male torments their partner like that. To cause that much dread.”

Rhys shook his head, his eyes meeting mine the stars winking out, “It’s not Feyre, Cass.” My grip on my own glass tightened, “It’s Y/N’s.” Rhys stood and downed the rest of his drink.

Rhys began to walk out, and I called out, “Where are you going?”

“It’s the beginning of the new month, brother.” Rhys turned and winked at me, and darkness consumed him as he winnowed out of town house.

Reader’s POV

After a bath and getting the tears to finally stop I walked into the bedroom, taking a look at my hip fortunately there was no bruising from Tamlin’s grip. A lilac dress was laid out for me. The gossamer fabric chaffed my skin. The skirts were heavy against my hips, the spot where Tamlin squeezed still tender, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths and my wrist tingled. I looked down and grazed my tattoo calm washing over me, “Thanks Rhys.” I whispered.

I walked over to the door and opened it to find Feyre on the other side biting her nail, a nervous habit she started when we were kids. Her eyes widened as she saw what I assumed is my puffy eyes from crying, and in turn I saw how her eyes looked bruised and I know she has still not been sleeping, “Hi.” She whispered.

I drifted my gaze to my feet, “Hi.” I looked back at her and look at her thin frame and her sunken cheeks and Tamlin’s words flooded my brain.

You’re breaking Feyre’s heart.

Guilt racks through me as I lightly pull her hand from her mouth, “Feyre, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”

Feyre squeezed my hand, “No, I am sorry. I know that this transition has been hard on you. I should have been more considerate to your feelings.”

I gave her a small smile tears pooling in my eyes again, “Let’s just put it behind us,” I patted her hand with my trembling one.

If you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair.

“Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and you’re trembling like a leaf. Do you want to lie down I can tell Tamlin you’re not-“

“No!” I blurted, causing Feyre to step back stunned. I composed myself, smoothing my skirts willing my hands to stop shaking, “Let’s just go have dinner with our…friends.” Feyre beamed at me referring to Tamlin and Lucien as friends as I tried to keep the bile from creeping up. We made our way to the dining hall. The closer we got the more nervous I became even the comfort of the tattoo felt vacant. I was trying to keep my hands from shaking by keeping them clasped.

The doors opened as we approached and Lucien and Tamlin were standing in their seats, snarling at something and as we got deeper into the dining hall to find Rhysand his hand tucked into his pockets. Feyre stilled and I fought every instinct to run and hug him. “Fuck you, Rhysand, we are to have a nice dinner. You can’t just take them.”

“Per our agreement it doesn’t matter when I come pick them up in the month.” Rhys spoke with cool indifference. “But I am a reasonable male,” He turned to us, “Ladies, I’ll give you the choice you can enjoy the meal with the High Lord and his loyal pet,” Lucien scowled, “Or we can go right now.”

Feyre moved to her seat by Tamlin Rhys tracking her entire movement, “I would like to have a meal before being whisked away.”

Rhys pulled his gaze away from Feyre and met mine. For a moment, I looked at Tamlin and could see his lips move the message clear Sit down. I met his gaze to his and hoped he understood what I was trying to convey with my eyes as I began to move to the seat next to my sister.

Don’t leave, please don’t leave. Don’t go.

Rhysand meandered to a seat on the opposite end of the table as Tamlin growled the claws peeking from his knuckles, “They want to have dinner, you can come back when their done.”

Rhys pulled the chair and plopped in it kicking his feet up as if he owned the place. “Where’s your hospitality, High Lord? I think it’s best I stay and join you. I’m sure Feyre and Y/N wouldn’t mind.”

Feyre scowled and I just lowered my gaze, finding the skirts of my dress very interesting as I took a seat. “Fine.” Tamlin grumbled and food appeared on each plate filled with lavish meats and cheeses.

I looked at the table and Tamlin’s fierce gaze met mine, “Y/N, so wonderful for you to finally join us tonight, care to say anything to Feyre.”

“Tamlin, leave her be she already apologized to me.” Feyre scolded her hand gripping my thigh with a gentle squeeze.

Tamlin bristled and I shifted in my seat under his scrutinizing gaze, “Well I’m glad she apologized. Let’s try to have a meal together with everyone present moving forward.” I looked to Lucien who avoided eye contact with me...Coward.

Feyre gave a small smile, “Sounds great.”

I moved my food around with my fork, not having an appetite. I felt a prickle in the back of my mind. You need to eat. I tried to reign in the shock of Rhys’ voice in my head.  You BOTH do.

I looked at him, to see he was eating the food, but his eyes were locked on me and Feyre, I looked to my sister, and noticed she was doing the same thing. Looking at the High Lord of the Spring and his emissary, the two were engaged in their own conversation eating paying us no mind. I took a few bites of my food and out of the corner of my eye I saw Feyre following suit.

One the meal was finished Rhys stood and Feyre rising from hers, Tamlin reached to grab her hand and she casually moved her hand. I made a note to ask her about it when we’re alone. Feyre gave him a small weak smile, “We’ll see you in a week.”

A hand lightly gripped my shoulder, I looked up and met Rhys’ gaze, “Ready to go?”  I nodded and rose from my seat. His hand slid down my arm and gripped my hand. “Feyre Darling,” Her gaze met his as he held out hiss free hand for her to take. She approached him with less fury than the first time we went to the Night Court. When she places her hand in his we are consumed by the darkness, and we are back in Rhys’ home.  Feyre looked at me, “I’m going to go to bed. You are coming?”

Rhys gave Feyre a comforting grin, “She will be there in a moment. I need to talk to her real quick.” Feyre to my surprise give him a silent nod and her lips curve slightly upward and I swore that Rhys stopped breathing for a moment. “Good night, High Lord.” She said and turned and headed back to our shared room.

Rhys turned to me, and I averted my gaze to my hands that were interlaced.  “Y/N, look at me,” I refused and kept my gaze on my hands, look at me, please his voice echoed in your mind. I sighed and met his gaze, “What happened? I felt an unnerving turmoil earlier today through,” he grabbed my arm with the tattoo. “It was like you were screaming down the bond.”

I slipped my arm from his grasp, and he let me, “I don’t want to talk about it.” I murmured wrapping my arms around myself, “I doubt you would believe me anyway.”

Rhys scowled, “You don’t have to tell me what happened. You don’t have to talk to me. But don’t ever say that I wouldn’t believe you. The pain I felt today was real your pain was real.” Rhys’ face softened, “Just don’t bury this down and forget about it, it will eat you alive, okay?”

 I gave him a nod and he turned to leave probably to head to his own room, “He pinned me against a wall,” I blurted, and it caused him to still, he turned, and I could feel the tears building up as I placed my trembling fingers over my mouth, “He clamped my mouth so tight I thought he would break my jaw and he gripped my hip to keep me pinned to the wall.” I sobbed and Rhys in three strides made his way back and without saying anything else wrapped me in his arms and I let the sobs take over and buried my face in his shirt. A comforting hand placed on back of my head and he rubs my back in almost a brotherly way. “I tried to push him away and I couldn’t,” whether he could understand the words and tears just wouldn’t stop. “He told me I needed to remain silent except to apologize to Feyre for locking myself in my room. He said that he going to tie me to a chair and force me there.”

Rhys arms were the only thing keeping me upright, “It’s okay.” He whispered pressed his cheek atop of my head, as my sobs racked out of my body. “What can I do? Tell me what I can do to help you.”

There was a calm emotion that slowed down my sobs slowed, I take a deep breath, “Can you help me not feel as weak and powerless as I felt today? I never want to feel that way again.”

“Yes, you will never have to feel that way again.” He pushed away and looked at me, wiping tears from my cheeks. “I can train you.” I nodded in agreement as exhaustion began to take over my body. “It’s been a long day,” I gave him another nod, “Want to go to your room?” He gripped one of my hands, “I can take you there.”

I shook my head and his brows furrowed, “Can I go to the library?” He smiled and gave the top of my hand he held a kiss.

“Of course, you can, let me take you.” I gave him a small smile and sniffled as he led me to the library. The small journey was quiet, but the door opened, and the books came into view. “Tomorrow, we can start your reading lessons I’m hoping your sister will want to partake as well.” I turned to him, and he held hope in his eyes that Feyre would be willing. “We can start training whenever you want, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

He released my hand and began to walk away. I grabbed his hand again and he looked back at me, “I don’t know what I can say. What I can do to repay for your kindness.” And I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Rhysand.”

He returned the embrace, “You don’t need to thank me.” He pulled away and cupped my cheek, “Have a good night, Y/N.” He places a chaste kiss to my forehead and heads deeper into the hall. I walked into the library and the fireplace lit and I welcomed the warmth as I sat on the large chair. Sinking into the cushion I laid my head back and in the comfort of the library my eyes shut, and sleep overtook me.

Cassian’s POV

She looked beautiful and peaceful on the library chair fast asleep. Rhys had casually let me know she would be there and before I went to bed after a long day in Windhaven, I stopped by to see if she might have needed anything and found her sound asleep. Rhys didn’t tell me what happened in Tamlin’s court, but he had mentioned that she was interested in training. The red around her nose and the smell of dried tears told me she had been crying and my mind only went to the worst-case scenario of what happened.

Leaning off the door I tucked my wings to not have them drag across the floor I approached, Y/N’s sleeping form, the way her neck was angled she would wake up in immense pain. I lightly scooped her in my arms trying my best not to wake her, she only stirred to move her head and leaned it against my chest and the sweet smell of Jasmine and lilacs flooded my nose. She smelled as beautiful as she was. I walked over to the couch that was placed right in between two bookshelves against the wall and lay her down making sure her head pressed against the pillow. The house placed a blanket in my arms and in no hesitation, I placed the blanket on her. She snuggled against the softness of the blanket and let out a content sigh.

I smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Sleep well, Sweetheart.” And with that I left the library and went to my room.

Reader’s POV

The next morning, I woke up and found myself on the couch in the library, and there was a blanket over me. I remember falling asleep on the chair, but don’t remember moving. The scent of leather and Sandalwood lingered in the room and was a comforting embrace. Feyre opened the door her eyes frantic, “There you are! I was so worried!” She donned a peach dress that fitted her figure with sheer sleeves that had rhinestones on it. Her hair was pinned back to the side, and she looked beautiful even though the dress looked like it was wearing her.

I stretched and smiled at her, “Sorry, Fey, I fell asleep in here. I like it in here.”  I sat up and put the blanket to the side, “I’m hungry.”

Feyre nodded, “Well go change and we will go get breakfast.” I nodded and went to the bedroom to change into a purple top with sheer puffy sleeves that showed a little more cleavage with matching pants and put my hair in a simple braid and made my way to breakfast.

At breakfast Rhys broke the news to my sister that we would be learning to read, write and shield against Daemati fae, which he explained to me is how he was able to speak to me in my mind. That went as well as I anticipated but with some coercing, she joined me in the office to get our first lesson. “I don’t understand why you care about our education.” Feyre grumbled.

“Oh, are you saying having this ability wouldn’t have been useful under the mountain?” I stilled at his question and Feyre went pale and silent. “We don’t know what the future holds, its in my best interest to have you two, well versed and ready for anything.” 

He explained to us how to put up mental shields that we worked on, and we spent an hour writing the ridiculous phrases that made Feyre roll her eyes and mutter, “Insufferable,” causing me to chuckle. After an hour of Rhys scolding us for keeping our shields up and checking our work, he released us for the day. Feyre and I went back to the room and fell into a comfortable silence and that evening I went back to the library and grabbed a book to practice my reading.

The rest of the week was spent that way shielding, reading and writing and towards the end, Feyre was eating more and smiling more to Rhysand which I swore the High Lord soaked in her smiles like sun rays. When we returned to the Spring Court, we both spent some time together reading and despite my utter disgust I would join for meals to appease Tamlin and keep his temper at bay.

Months went by and fell into the same rhythm. Rhys threw in a few fighting lessons, but we started with balance and stretching. He said he would only show me the basics but when his General came home that I would start training with him for more intricate training. I wanted to ask Rhys what Cassian’s role was in his court or just even to learn more about him, but I refrained, I didn’t want to pry, and he never wanted to divulge in the members of his court.

I could tell after Rhysand dropped us off that both Feyre and I were feeling better and stronger as Feyre was begging Tamlin to go out and hunt and help the people in town and met with stonewall refusal. So, she would dive into reading with me, but her face was fuller, and light shone back into her eyes, the color in her hair was vibrant again. Turns out that verbal sparring with Rhys was doing something for her.

Dinner that night after Tamlin told Feyre he didn’t want her hunting, Tamlin was utterly sweet, to her and to me. I welcomed the change even if Ianthe had graced us with her presence and her saccharine grin making my skin crawl. It felt as though things were finally falling into place. I drank the wine that Ianthe had poured for me and when I went to my room, sleep overpowered me and I moved to my bed my head landing on the pillow as I slipped into unconsciousness not even realizing that I had left my door wide open.

I awoke with a start as the warm breeze caressed my bare skin, I sat upright my surroundings spinning but trees surrounded me, I was in the forest. Someone had put a sheer nightgown on me my hands were bound behind my back and female laughter caused my blood to chill. I turned my head to find Ianthe there. “Ianthe, help me please.”

She approached me and gone was any warmth in her features and cold viper took her place as she crouched to meet my eyes, “I’m under Tamlin’s orders. To take you far away from the manor”

I gritted my teeth, “Bullshit, he wouldn’t hurt my sister that way!” I sent panic down the bond in hopes that Rhys would be able to answer my call.

Ianthe stroked a finger down my cheeks moving to my neck and down to my clavicle, “Unless we tell her you ran away.”

Fear ran down my spine I masked it with indifference, “You think she would believe that I would abandon her like that.”

Ianthe traced her finger right above the swell of my breast and I jerked away from her, “Well we could also say that you were influenced by the Naga lured out by a lesser fae and with your fragile human body you couldn’t resist.” I bit my lip, and she smirked knowing she would believe that as she held a dagger and sliced quickly above my clavicle, and I hissed, refusing to scream. Though she sliced off one of the straps to my night gown. She placed a kiss to my cheek before she murmured, “I’d run if I were you. Won’t be long before the monsters that live in these woods smell your blood and come looking for you.” And with that she vanished.

I gritted through my teeth as I rose to my knees, ignoring the pain of twigs and rocks pressing into my knees as I rose to my bare feet and began to run. I wasn���t sure which way I was running and there was minimal moon light to help but I just kept running and sending my fear down the bond. Even opening my mind:

Rhys, help. Please help me!

There was no response, but I kept pushing, kept sending waves of fear down our tattoo and shouting my thoughts in hopes he would hear. It felt like hours I was in there before I tripped over a stump I didn’t see and fell hard on my back. My vision blurred as my head collided with something hard, but the silence was palpable in the forest. My breathing was labored, and I could feel the warmth trickle of blood running down my face. I knew my feet were cut up, but I still rose to my knees and willed myself to try and stand. Dizziness dropped me back to my knees and a sob raked out of me. “Rhysand, please.” I whispered.

A low chuckle echoed behind me, and I began to tremble. “What a delicious treat we have brother, a human girl” The sound of slithering made me want to vomit but I forced the bile down and kept my head down. The slithering halted and the images of the Naga Feyre had painted flooded my memory the serpent-like creatures with talons and vile creatures.

Another low sinister voice followed, “What a pretty little thing and tied up just like a present.”  A sharp finger moved my hair away to look at my bleeding wound. I looked up and met yellow eyes and a pink serpent tongue sticking out. The hand that moved my hair gripped the back of my neck and I whimpered as the Naga licked the trail of blood from my forehead. The free hand groping my exposed breast, the beast hummed in approval, “She is delicious.”  The Naga gripped my hair and I yelped in pain as he approached, bringing his mouth closer to mine but keeping my head in place so I couldn’t move.

Rhys, I think I’m going to die. If I do, it was an honor being your friend.

I could have sobbed when Rhys’ voice came into my head.

No one will be dying tonight.

There was a slash of metal and the howl of the Naga who was gripping me as he was yanked away a flash of blue propelling it back. The sound of wings booming above and a thud on the ground. I couldn’t see my savior’s face only that blue gems blazed in the night as he approached the creature that put its hands on me with a blade in his hand.

The creature’s brother tried to slither its tail around my waist only to be met with steel cutting in clean off. A blast of red power forced the beast back against the tree. The Naga was about to approach again ready for a fight when a dagger flew and landed right in between its eyes, and it slumped back against the trees. The clouds parted and moonlight was able to help me see but a hand grabbed my shoulder and a jerked out of the grip turning slightly to meet familiar hazel eyes. His eyes held fear and he held his hands out palms open, “Y/N, do you remember me?” He whispered.

I nodded, “Cassian,” I whispered my voice hoarse and dry.

Cassian gave me a warm smile, “Good, Can I untie you?” I nodded again and he took another dagger and made his way behind me to cut my ties as the other winged male approached. My hands were free, and Cass took my hands in his and began to massage my wrists to bring the circulation back into my hands. “Is this, okay?” he asked, ignoring his friend who had just approached. I nodded again words not forming.

The other male knelt and gave me a small smile, his eyes a similar hazel to Cassian’s but just like Rhys and Cassian he was utterly beautiful, “I have heard a lot about you, Archeron.” His voice was pure honey, “I’m Azriel.”

I give him a small wave. Cassian released my hand and slid off his jacket sliding it over my shoulders to cover me. I slide my arms into the sleeves. “We have to get going before more come.” Cassian whispered to me, “Will you let me carry you?”

I nod but force myself to say, “Don’t bring me back to the Spring Court.” I whisper as my eyes met his and pain flashes in those eyes. “Please.”

“You are not going back there, Sweetheart. We’re taking you home.” Cassian scoops me up and holds me close to his chest, where the scent of sandalwood and leather fills my nose and my eyes widened, was he there that day in the library? Did he move me over to the couch? My thoughts whirled but the dizziness caused me to lay my head on his chest. “You alright?” He murmured the words thrumming from his chest causing warmth to spread through my body.

“I hit my head, and a little dizzy but I’ll be alright.” Azriel rose nodding to his friend and gripped Cassian’s arm as darkness consumed us until we emerged into a house I had never seen before.

Rhys was in the hall his eyes frantic, “Mother above, Is she alright? Where's Feyre?”

Tears welled up at my conversation with Ianthe bubbled to the surface of never seeing Feyre again, “I'm alright” I croaked, “They’re going to make her think I’m dead.” I whisper and tear slips from my face. Cassian’s grip tightens on me his thumb rubbing circles on my back, and I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face letting his scent soothe me.

"Who is?" Cassian asked.

"Tamlin and Ianthe." I whimper as pain erupts from my head. I pressed on, "They are going to tell her I abandoned her."

Rhys sounded as though he was clenching his teeth, “Cassian go take her to one of the rooms upstairs and have Madja come take a look at her.” I could hear his footsteps and a hand was on my arm giving it a comforting squeeze, “I’ll check on her in the morning.”

You didn't abandon her and when she sees you again she will know that Rhys' words in my mind brought me comfort as I heard his steps walk away with what I assume was Azriel's not far behind.

With that Cassian took me up the stairs and into the room I took a look around there were two twin sized beds and he laid me down on the one farthest from the window, He looked at the wound on my head, "I'm going to go get our healer, I'll be right back." He got up and I on instinct grabbed for his hand, hissing at my fast movement.

"Stay. Please don't leave me." I whispered.

He bit his lip and he nodded he looked off into the distance for a long moment and then he grabbed the chair from the small desk and brought it by my bedside. "Rhys, is calling for our healer." He sat letting his wings dip slightly as he grips my hand again and rubs the top of my hand. The soothing motion lulling me into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 4

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @Tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieoo

[seungminsbaldspot]

Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Word Count: this is really fucking long, 9201

Genre: angst

General Notes: Lila x Five did happen here folks :/, sexual themes, crude language, this does not correlate with whatever happens during seasons 4 other than Lila and Five jumping into a different timeline together for seven years, Reader is referred to as female and wife

Trigger Warnings: Relationship Betrayal: Themes of infidelity and emotional betrayal, Reproductive Issues: Discussions about abortion and related emotional impact, Emotional Distress: Exploration of deep sadness, heartache, and loneliness, Loss and Separation: Themes of losing a family and feeling disconnected, Regret and Self-criticism: Characters expressing regret and self-blame, Conflict and Argument: Scenes involving intense emotional conflict and Feelings of Inadequacy: Characters grappling with their self-worth and personal place in the world.

Taglist: @fate-posts @zukki33 @nightfury @lethergy @wingoodlilboymyway @hxllhxund @stxrg3m @bigbobass @mimirockss

Spoiler: not all things have a good ending

Click here for the previous part, Part Four!

The moment you close your bedroom door, a thought strikes you with clarity: Diego deserves to know about Five’s lingering feelings for Lila. You nod to yourself — deciding to look for him.

As you pass by Diego and Lila’s room, you notice the door is ajar. Peeking inside, you see Lila sprawled across the bed, her legs swinging idly in a manner that seems almost childlike. You shake your head in frustration—Diego is nowhere in sight.

You continue downstairs, Maybe the living room?

You make your way through the house, your footsteps echoing in the quiet. As you approach the living room, you see Diego sitting on the couch, absently polishing his knives, a small smile playing on his lips. For a brief moment, you’re struck by how serene and focused he looks, a stark contrast to the pain swirling in your own heart.

You feel a pang of sympathy for him. After all, you're both caught in the fallout of each other’s spouses choices. It's as if you and Diego are unwitting allies in this mess, both grappling with the consequences of their actions.

Swallowing hard, you approach Diego. “Diego,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the weight of the revelation you’re about to share. He looks up, his expression shifting from calm to concerned as he takes in your serious demeanor.

“What’s going on?” he asks, setting the knife down and straightening his posture.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I—I know we haven’t talked about what happened with... well, you know who,” you say, glancing around awkwardly.” But I would really like to. Like right now.”

His eyebrow quirks up in confusion, but he nods, rising from the couch. “Is the garden okay for this conversation?” he asks, gesturing toward the door. You nod, leading the way to the garden. The fresh air and tranquil setting seem to offer a brief respite from the storm of emotions you're both experiencing. Diego follows, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

You nod, leading the way to the garden. The fresh air and tranquil setting seem to offer a brief respite from the storm of emotions swirling around you both. Diego follows, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

As you step outside, the evening light casts a soft glow over the garden, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze. You take a seat on a nearby bench, and Diego settles beside you, his posture tense but attentive.

“All right,” Diego says, looking at you with a mixture of anticipation and unease. “What’s on your mind?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Five... he admitted to me that he still has feelings for Lila.” You pause, watching as Diego’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening.

“He said that?” Diego asks, his voice low and controlled, but you can sense the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Yes,” you reply quietly. “And I... I don’t know what to do. I’m thinking about ending things with him, but I wanted to talk to you first. I thought... maybe it would help someone in this mess. At least one of us.”

Diego’s jaw clenches, and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Unbelievable,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “That little shit.” He takes a deep breath, but it doesn’t seem to calm him much; his fists are still balled at his sides. “I don’t blame you for wanting to end things with him. I can’t believe you’ve put up with him for as long as you have.”

You offer a small shrug, feeling a mix of sadness and understanding. “I guess love makes you kind of stupid.” He goes quiet for a moment, staring off into the distance. “Yeah...”

After a beat, he looks back at you, determination flickering in his eyes. “I’m gonna go talk to Lila,” he says. “See you around?”

You nod, watching him turn and walk away, his movements tense and purposeful. He’s trying to keep his composure, but it’s clear that anger is coursing through him, each step more forceful than the last.

You head back to your room, hoping Five is gone. After everything that’s happened, it would be awkward to find him still there. As you climb the stairs, your mind races. Today has been a whirlwind. You and Five almost fucked again. You found out he still has feelings for Lila, which makes all his apologies feel meaningless. Now, you’re seriously considering ending things with him.

Just as you reach your bedroom floor, you hear shouting echoing down the hallway. Your heart quickens, the knot in your stomach tightening. You strain to listen, trying to make out the voices. It’s unmistakably Diego, his tone sharp with anger. You can’t make out what he’s saying, but it’s clear he’s furious.

And then, another voice cuts through—Lila’s. She’s shouting back, her words a rapid fire of frustration and defense. Your breath catches. Shit. They must be arguing about Five. You creep closer, curiosity and dread warring inside you.

Then you hear another voice — Five’s.

“We thought it would be better to just say it’s yours.”

Your heart skips a beat. What the hell is he talking about? You press yourself against the wall, straining to hear more, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach.

“You lied about the baby? It’s not mine? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” Diego yells.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, broken only by Lila’s frustrated sigh. “I didn’t lie,” she snaps back, her voice wavering between anger and defensiveness. “I just—”

“You just what?” Diego cuts her off, his tone dripping with betrayal. “You thought you’d trap me with a baby that wasn’t even mine?” Five’s voice comes through, low and controlled. “It wasn’t like that, Diego. We thought—”

But Diego’s anger flares hotter, his tone rising with each word. “I don’t give a shit what you thought!” he snaps. “This isn’t just my life you’re fucking with here —there’s a baby involved, and your wife’s life is on the line, too. Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

The room falls into a tense silence, the weight of Diego's words hanging heavy in the air. “Diego—please don’t tell her,” Five says, obviously referring to you. You slap your hand over your mouth, feeling a mix of anger and disbelief. Does he really think you’re that naive?

Diego groans in frustration. “I’m not a shady bitch,” he snaps. “You two are both fucking cheaters. You really are perfect for each other.” He turns to leave and, in doing so, catches sight of you. Your eyes widen in shock as you meet his gaze.

Diego chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “Looks like nobody’s gonna need to tell her,” he says, pointing toward you. Five’s eyes slowly meet yours, his expression shifting from shock to a pained resignation. “Fuck...” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Diego walks past you, giving your shoulder a pat before continuing down the hallway. You gulp, watching him go. As you turn to face Five and Lila, the reality of the situation hits hard. Lila is partially undressed—her shirt off but her bra and shorts still on. It’s clear what they were up to before Diego’s interruption. The sight confirms what you’ve feared and felt all along.

Five steps toward you, his face a mask of anguish. “Listen, I—”

You cut him off, shaking your head in disbelief. “Don’t fucking speak.” Your gaze locks onto Five, then shifts to Lila, your eyes narrowing with anger. You’re furious with them both. They were both married—how fucked up do they have to be in order to what to do this?

How fucked up are they in their heads, genuinely?

It’s been a few days since the confrontation, and the tension in the house has been palpable. Everything feels strained and fragile. You’ve spent this time preparing for the next steps, including arranging the divorce paperwork. Now, with the documents in hand, you’re feeling a mix of anxiety and resolve.

You take a deep breath and head to where Five is. He’s sitting alone, looking lost and distant. His posture is slumped, and he seems consumed by his thoughts.

“Five,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly. He looks up, his expression a mix of apprehension and sorrow.

“I’ve arranged everything for the divorce,” you continue, holding out the papers. “I need you to sign these.”

Five’s eyes move to the papers, and you can see the conflict swirling within him. He takes a deep breath, clearly struggling with his emotions. “I—I can’t sign these,” he says, his voice strained. “Not like this.”

You stare at him, frustration and hurt swirling inside you. “What do you mean you can’t sign them?” you ask, your voice tight. He sighs deeply, his gaze falling to the floor. “I’m not ready to lose you,” he says, his voice cracking with emotion.

You let out a bitter laugh. “I think you lost me the moment you decided to fuck Lila—and to top it off, get her knocked up.”

He sighs, his face a portrait of anguish. “I know I messed up. But can’t we at least try to talk this out?”

You shake your head, your voice trembling. “I think we’re past talking, Five. You lied to me about the baby being Diego’s and gave me nothing but empty apologies.” Your tears start to spill over. “How could I ever trust you again?”

He reaches out to grab you, but you jerk away, your voice sharp and resolute. “I don’t want your filthy hands on me ever a-fucking-gain.” Taking a deep breath, you hold up the papers. “You can either sign them or not. It doesn’t matter. Only one of us has to want to end the marriage. It’s not like we have assets or anything.”

Five’s shoulders slump, the weight of your words visibly crushing him. He looks down at the papers, his expression a mixture of regret and resignation. “I see. So this is really happening,” he says quietly, more to himself than to you.

You stand firm, though your heart aches with the finality of the moment. “Yes, it is,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

He remains silent for a moment, then nods slowly. “Alright. I’ll sign them,” he says, his voice low and broken. He reaches for a pen and begins to sign, each stroke a painful reminder of what was lost. You watch him in silence, your emotions a tangled mess of anger, sadness, and relief. When he finishes, he slides the papers back to you, his gaze avoiding yours. You take them, feeling the finality of the act settle over you. “Thank you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll take these to the lawyer.”

Five nods, not trusting himself to speak. As you turn to leave, you glance back one last time, your heart heavy with a mix of disbelief and sorrow. It's hard to think that the person standing before you was once the man you once loved so deeply. The reality that you had once been so intertwined with this person, now feels surreal.

As you're making your way back to your bedroom, you bump into Diego. He glances at the papers in your hands and raises an eyebrow. “You made it official, huh?” he asks, his tone a mix of curiosity and empathy.

You nod, trying to keep your composure. “Yeah, Just gotta take them to the lawyer.” Diego pauses, then asks, “Who’s the lawyer you’re going to?”

You look at him curiously but provide the name. Diego nods thoughtfully. “Is he any good? I mean,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “I’m, you know, looking for someone so Lila and I can separate.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, yeah, he’s good. Really professional and straightforward.” Diego gives a relieved nod. “Yeah, guess I’ll pay him a visit soon. Thanks for the info.” He pats your shoulder lightly before heading off toward his room.

As Diego walks away, you head back to your own room, feeling the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders. The prospect of ending things with Five and the thought of Diego’s own separation weigh on your mind.

You settle into your room, seeking a moment of solitude. The silence around you is both soothing and suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days. As you start packing your things, the task feels oddly cathartic, each item folded and placed into boxes representing a step toward closing this painful chapter of your life.

The process is slow and deliberate. You pick up a framed photograph from the nightstand, a snapshot of a happier time. The image of Five, with his easy smile and bright eyes, feels like a cruel reminder of what was once real. Is this really what’s best? you wonder, your heart aching as memories flood back. You question whether you’re making the right choice, feeling a pang of doubt.

You carefully fold a sweater, the fabric soft against your fingers. Maybe there’s a chance to fix this? You let the thought linger before shaking it away. The reality of Five’s betrayal, his affair with Lila, and the lies about the baby weigh heavily on you. How could you ever trust him again? The thought echoes through your mind, a painful but necessary reminder of why you’re doing this.

As you continue packing, you come across a small box of keepsakes—letters, trinkets from trips, and tokens of affection that once held so much meaning. Each item now feels like a relic of a past that no longer fits with your present reality. The sight of these mementos makes your chest tighten. Isn’t it sad how something that once meant so much can become a symbol of heartache? you think.

You pause to take a deep breath, your emotions a tumultuous mix of anger, sadness, and resignation. Five used to be someone you believed in, you remind yourself. He was full of promise, of dreams and plans. But those promises mean nothing now, shattered by his deceit and betrayal. The framed picture of him, still smiling, feels like a lie, a facade that crumbled the moment he chose to be with someone else.

No, you tell yourself firmly. Five is a liar and a cheater. He betrayed you in the worst possible way, and his apologies were nothing but empty words. You cannot ignore the evidence of his deceit, nor can you overlook the fact that he has continued to deceive, even in the aftermath of everything that’s happened.

The weight of the decision presses down on you. You think about the life you’ve built together, the dreams you shared, and how those dreams have been tarnished. This is the right decision, you insist to yourself. It may be painful, but staying in this house, in this relationship, would only prolong the suffering. You deserve better than to be someone’s second choice, a pawn in their misguided plans.

You take one last look around the room, the space that once felt like a sanctuary now stripped of its comfort. With a final sigh, you continue packing.

It’s been a few days since Five signed the divorce papers. The act itself felt monumental at the time, like a heavy door slamming shut on a chapter of your life. Yet, in the days that followed, you’ve felt more like you’re in limbo than moving forward. You’ve spent hours packing up your belongings, folding memories into cardboard boxes, trying to make sense of what’s worth keeping and what needs to be left behind.

You aren’t sure if Five is aware that you’re planning to leave the Hargreeves residence for good. He’s been keeping his distance since that final conversation, but whether it’s out of respect or a desire to avoid confrontation, you can’t tell. Part of you wonders if he even notices your absence from shared spaces or if he’s too wrapped up in his own guilt and shame to care. The uncertainty gnaws at you, and you hate it. You hate that after everything, you still find yourself thinking about him—about what he’s thinking, feeling, and doing.

It’s a cruel irony, you think, as you pull another sweater from the closet and fold it neatly. Despite all the betrayal and heartache, you’re still haunted by thoughts of him. You catch yourself wondering if he’s regretting his choices, if he’s truly sorry, or if he’s already moved on. You try to push these thoughts away, focusing instead on the task at hand, but it’s difficult. They keep creeping back in, uninvited and unwanted, like a song stuck in your head that you can’t seem to shake.

You glance around the room, now half-empty, and feel a pang of sadness. This space, once filled with warmth and the echoes of shared laughter, now feels hollow. It’s strange how quickly things can change—how a place that felt like home can become just a room, stripped of its meaning and significance. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Focus on what’s next, you remind yourself. Not on what’s been lost.

Still, as you move through the house, collecting the last of your things, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Anger, sadness, frustration—all of them swirl inside you, a tempest that you’re struggling to keep contained. The thought of Five lingers at the back of your mind, a constant, nagging presence. Even now, after everything he’s done, you still find yourself wondering about him. It infuriates you.

Why do you still care what he thinks? Why does it still matter?

You want to be done with him, to close this chapter and move on with your life. But it’s not that simple. Love, even when tainted by betrayal, doesn’t just disappear overnight. It clings to you, lingers in the quiet moments, and makes itself known when you least expect it. You suppose that’s the hardest part—learning to let go, not just of the person, but of all the hopes and dreams that came with them.

As you fold the last of your clothes, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look tired, worn out. This whole ordeal has taken a toll on you, both physically and emotionally. You brush a stray hair from your face and take a deep breath. Your’e doing the right thing, You deserve better.

You finish packing the box and tape it shut with a resolute sigh. You step back, surveying the room one last time. It feels surreal to think that this is it—that after everything, you’re really leaving. You try to focus on the future, on the fresh start that awaits you, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Five.

What will he do when he sees you’re gone? Will he even care? The questions twist in your mind, and you feel a fresh wave of frustration wash over you. Why does it still matter?  But deep down, you already know the answer.

Because you loved him. Because, despite everything, a part of you still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You can’t dwell on that now. You have to move forward, to think about what’s best for you. And staying here, in this house filled with ghosts, isn’t it.

Grabbing the last of your things, you head toward the door. As you step into the hallway, you pause, half-expecting to see Five coming around the corner, to hear his voice calling after you. But there’s nothing—just silence. And for the first time in days, you feel a small, fragile sense of relief. Maybe this is the beginning of the end. Maybe it’s the start of something new.

With a deep breath, you make your way down the stairs, each step feeling like a step toward a new chapter. You don’t know what the future holds, but one thing is certain: it’s time to leave the past behind.

You make your way to the front door, a heavy box in your hands. Each step feels more final than the last, the weight of the moment sinking in. You’ve rented a moving van that’s parked out front, its back door open and ready to receive the remnants of a life you’re leaving behind. You’ve found a small, cheap, but nice apartment across town—a place to start over. It’s not much, but it’s perfect for what you need — an escape.

As you reach the door, you see Diego standing nearby. He catches sight of you struggling with the box and quickly steps forward, pulling the door open for you. “Thanks,” you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady, though it’s clear he can see the exhaustion and sadness etched on your face.

He nods, his expression softening with understanding. “You got any other boxes?” he asks, his voice low, but there’s a warmth in it—a kindness that you’ve come to appreciate over the past few days.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. “Yeah, a few more in the living room,” you reply, shifting the box in your arms slightly. “I’ve been packing them up. This is the last of the stuff from upstairs.”

Diego takes the box from you effortlessly, holding it with ease. “I’ll help you carry them out,” he offers. “No sense in doing this alone.”

You give him a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks, Diego,” you say, feeling a bit of the weight on your shoulders lift—not just from the box, but from the gesture itself. He’s been a surprising source of comfort through all of this. Despite his own heartbreak, he’s been there for you, offering support without asking for anything in return.

Together, you walk back into the living room, where a few more boxes are stacked against the wall. Diego sets the box he’s carrying down and looks around. “You’re really leaving, huh?” he says, more as an observation than a question.

“Yeah,” you answer, a hint of sadness in your voice. “I think it’s for the best. Staying here… it’s just too hard.” Diego nods, understanding. “I get it,” he says softly. “Sometimes, you just need to get away from the place that hurt you, start fresh somewhere new.”

You glance at him, seeing the shared pain in his eyes. He’s been going through his own struggles, dealing with Lila’s betrayal and the fallout from it. You feel a strange sense of camaraderie with him—like you’re both navigating the same storm, even if in different boats.

He grabs another box, hefting it easily. “You know,” he begins, his tone thoughtful, “if you ever need anything… if you ever want to talk or, I don’t know, just get away from all this for a bit… I’m here.”

His words are sincere, and you feel a warmth in your chest. “Thank you, Diego,” you say again, your voice softer this time. “I really appreciate that.” He nods, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “No problem. We’ve got to stick together, right?”

You nod back, a faint smile tugging at your lips. It’s a small comfort, knowing that even in the midst of all this chaos, there’s someone who understands—someone who’s willing to help you through it.

Together, you and Diego carry the rest of the boxes out to the van. The sun is starting to set, casting a warm, golden light over everything. It almost feels like the world is giving you a gentle nudge forward, encouraging you to keep going.

As you load the last box into the van, you turn to Diego. “I guess this is it,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, though there’s a hint of emotion in it.

Diego nods, looking at you with a mixture of empathy and encouragement. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he replies. “But remember, it’s not the end. It’s just… a new beginning.”

You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. “A new beginning,” you repeat softly, nodding. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

He gives you a reassuring nod, then steps back, allowing you to close the van’s door. As you turn to leave, he raises a hand in a casual salute. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness. “You too, Diego,” you say. “You too.”

With that, you climb into the driver’s seat of the van. You take one last look at the Hargreeves residence—the place that has been your home, your prison, your battlefield. Then, with a deep breath, you start the engine and drive away, leaving the past behind as you head toward whatever comes next.

You've settled nicely into your new apartment. The place is small but cozy, with just enough room for the few belongings you took with you. It’s quiet, too—so much quieter than you’re used to. The silence, however, kills you.

At the Hargreeves residence, there was always noise, always something happening to keep your mind from wandering. Whether it was Klaus losing his mind over something as simple as misplacing a bottle of booze, or Allison laughing with Luther over some inside joke. There was Viktor playing the violin in the early mornings, his melodies filling the house with a kind of soft serenity. Even Diego and Lila’s constant bickering had its own comforting rhythm—a mix of arguing and laughing that made the place feel alive. But now, in your new place, there’s none of that. Just silence. Heavy, all-encompassing silence.

And then, of course, there’s Five.

God, you miss him.

It hits you like a punch to the gut every time you think about it. You miss the way he would storm into a room, all sharp edges and quick wit, filling the space with his presence. The way his brow would furrow in concentration when he was deep in thought or working on one of his plans. The way his eyes would soften when he looked at you in those rare, unguarded moments when he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

You miss the sound of his voice, that low, smooth timbre that could shift from calm calculation to biting sarcasm in an instant. You miss the warmth of his touch, the way his hand would linger on your back, reassuring and steadying you. Even now, you can still feel the ghost of his touch, the way it sent shivers down your spine.

You hate how much you miss him. How, despite everything he’s done, every lie he’s told, every betrayal you’ve suffered, you still find yourself longing for him. You hate the way your heart aches whenever you think of him, a dull, persistent throb that refuses to go away.

It’s like there’s a part of you that can’t let go, no matter how hard you try. A part of you that still clings to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could have been different. That maybe he could have chosen you, could have been honest with you, could have loved you the way you loved him.

But he didn’t.

And now, here you are, alone in this quiet apartment, with nothing but your thoughts and memories to keep you company.

You try to distract yourself, to fill the silence with noise. You turn on the TV, but it feels hollow and meaningless. You play some music, but it only reminds you of the songs you used to listen to with Five, the ones you danced to in the kitchen late at night, laughing and spinning around like you didn’t have a care in the world.

You try reading, but your mind keeps wandering back to him, to the way things used to be. To the life you thought you were building together.

Eventually, you give up and let the silence wash over you. You let yourself feel the weight of it, the emptiness that stretches out around you. You let yourself feel the pain, the loneliness, the heartache.

Because maybe that’s the only way you’ll ever be able to move on.

Maybe you just have to let yourself feel it all, let yourself grieve for what was and what could have been. Let yourself mourn the loss of a love that wasn’t meant to be.

And maybe, one day, the silence won’t feel so heavy. Maybe one day, it won’t hurt so much.

But for now, you just sit there, alone in your quiet apartment, and let yourself miss him.

God, you miss him.

You think about what could have been if Five hadn’t cheated.

It’s a thought that creeps up on you more often than you’d like to admit, slipping into your mind in the quiet moments when you’re alone with your thoughts. What if he hadn’t betrayed you? What if he hadn’t gone back to Lila, hadn’t lied to you about it, hadn’t gotten her pregnant?

You close your eyes and let yourself imagine it for a moment—a different reality, one where things didn’t fall apart. Where you and Five are still together, still living in the Hargreeves mansion with all its chaos and noise. You imagine waking up next to him, his arm draped lazily over you, his face soft and peaceful in sleep. You’d watch him for a few moments, taking in the sight of him before he stirs awake, his eyes blinking open to meet yours.

In this imagined reality, there’s no tension, no betrayal hanging between you. There’s only the love you felt for each other, warm and comforting like a blanket. You’d start your days together, sharing quiet mornings with cups of coffee and stolen kisses. Maybe you’d argue about something silly—Five always did have a way of getting under your skin with his stubbornness—but it would be the kind of argument that ends in laughter, in making up and teasing touches.

You’d work together on whatever problems or missions came up, a seamless team. Five would still be his intense, driven self, always planning, always strategizing, but there would be moments of softness, too. Moments where he’d let his guard down just for you, where he’d let you see the parts of himself he kept hidden from everyone else.

Maybe you’d go out sometimes, just the two of you. You’d walk through the city, hand in hand, sharing stories and secrets, feeling like the only two people in the world. And at night, you’d come home to the mansion, to the noise and the chaos, but it wouldn’t matter. Because you’d have each other.

You’d have a future together—a real future. One where you could imagine growing old with him, seeing the lines of age etch into his face, his hair going a little grayer, his body maybe slowing down a bit. But through it all, you’d still be by his side. Still his partner, his confidante, his love.

And maybe, just maybe, there would be a family. Not like the Hargreeves siblings—a real family, a small one, made up of just the two of you and maybe a child or two. You can almost see it: a little boy with Five’s intense eyes or a girl with your smile, running through the halls of the mansion, bringing a different kind of noise to the place. You and Five would watch them grow, teach them, protect them, love them with everything you had.

But then reality crashes back in, shattering the fragile dream.

Because that’s all it is—a dream. A fantasy of what could have been, what might have been if Five had made different choices. If he hadn’t cheated, hadn’t lied, hadn’t chosen Lila over you.

Your heart aches with the loss of it, with the realization that the life you’re imagining was never real and never could be. You think about the way Five used to look at you, the way he held you like you were his whole world. You remember the promises he made, the plans you made together.

And then you remember the betrayal. The lies. The nights you spent alone, wondering where he was, what he was doing. The sick feeling in your stomach when you found out about Lila, the way your world crumbled around you when you realized he’d been lying to you all along.

The dream fades, replaced by the stark reality of your new life. Alone in your quiet apartment, far away from the noise and the chaos of the Hargreeves mansion, far away from Five and all the pain he caused.

Maybe it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Better to be alone than to be with someone who could hurt you so deeply, who could betray you so completely.

But still, you can’t help but wonder. What if?

What if he hadn’t cheated?

What if he’d chosen you?

What if things could have been different?

You know you can’t change the past. You can’t go back and rewrite history, no matter how much you wish you could. But the thought lingers, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind, a reminder of what might have been.

And as much as you hate it, as much as you want to move on and leave it all behind, you know it’s going to take time. Time to heal, time to forget, time to let go of the what-ifs and the could-have-beens.

You sigh, feeling the weight of it all settle over you once more. You turn on the TV again, hoping for a distraction, but your mind keeps drifting back to him, to what you had, to what you’ve lost.

Maybe one day, you’ll be able to let go of the past and move on. Maybe one day, you’ll stop wondering what if.

But today isn’t that day.

Today, you still think about him. About what could have been. About the life you could have had together.

And you can’t help but miss him.

God, you miss him.

You sigh, the sound echoing softly in the silence of your new apartment. You glance around, taking in the sparse, unfamiliar surroundings. It’s not much, but it’s yours. The walls are bare, the furniture minimal—just the essentials. It still smells faintly of fresh paint and new beginnings, but there’s an emptiness to it that you can’t quite shake. The quiet is suffocating, a stark contrast to the constant noise and chaos of the Hargreeves mansion.

You lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. What’s he up to now? The thought slips into your mind before you can stop it. You hate that you’re still thinking about him, still wondering about him. But the truth is, you can’t help it. Five has been a part of your life for so long that it feels strange not to know where he is, what he’s doing. The absence of his presence is a void that you can’t seem to fill.

You imagine him back at the mansion, surrounded by the remnants of a life you once shared. Is he in his room, sitting in that old leather chair, sipping on whiskey and poring over some ancient book? Is he pacing the halls, his mind racing with plans and calculations, always thinking, always moving? Or is he in the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee, his expression pensive as he stares out the window, lost in thought?

Maybe he’s with Lila. The thought makes your stomach twist. You can almost picture it: the two of them together, their heads close as they whisper and scheme. Maybe they’re arguing, as they often did, their voices raised, filled with that strange blend of love and hate that seemed to define their relationship. Or maybe they’re...you can’t even bring yourself to think about it. The idea is too painful, too raw.

You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, you tell yourself firmly. He’s not your concern anymore. He made his choice. And you made yours. You chose to leave, to start over, to try and build a new life without him. But even as you tell yourself this, you can’t help but feel the ache of longing, the pull of what once was.

You wonder if he’s thinking about you too. If he regrets what happened. If he misses you. A part of you hopes he does—that he’s feeling even a fraction of the pain you’re feeling. But another part of you knows that it doesn’t change anything. Regret won’t undo the betrayal. Missing you won’t mend the trust that’s been broken.

You rise from the couch and move to the window, looking out over the city. It’s a gray day, the sky heavy with clouds. The world outside feels distant, almost dreamlike, as if it’s moving on without you. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the chill that’s settled deep in your bones.

What is he doing right now? The question hangs in the air, unanswered. You imagine picking up the phone, dialing his number, hearing his voice on the other end. But you know that’s not an option. Not anymore. You’ve made your choice, and he’s made his. There’s no going back.

Still, the curiosity nags at you, the wondering. It’s a hard habit to break, the urge to know, to be connected. For so long, your life was intertwined with his, your days and nights filled with him. It’s strange to think of a future without that, without him.

You turn away from the window, forcing yourself to move, to do something. Anything to distract yourself from the thoughts swirling in your mind. You start unpacking a box, pulling out books and setting them on the shelf, trying to focus on the mundane task in front of you. But your mind keeps drifting back to him, to the life you had, to the life you could have had.

Is he thinking about me? you wonder again. Does he miss me? You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts away. You know you need to let go, to stop wondering, to stop caring. But it’s easier said than done.

You pause, holding a book in your hands, staring at it without really seeing it. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. It’s time to move on, you remind yourself. Time to focus on your own life, on your own future.

You haven’t heard from any of the Hargreeves since you left. The silence is heavy, a constant reminder of the void that has opened up in your life. They were the closest thing to a family you had, a group of misfits who somehow fit together. Now, without them, you feel unmoored, drifting in a sea of uncertainty.

Your thoughts turn to the commission—your former employer, and in some twisted way, another kind of family. That was a lifetime ago. You left that world behind, hoping for something better, something more. But now, standing alone in your small, empty apartment, you wonder if you made the right choice.

The reality of your situation sinks in. You don’t have a family outside of the Hargreeves. You were pulled into their orbit by Five, drawn into their chaotic world, and in a way, you found a place there. But now, you’re adrift again, and the loneliness is almost suffocating.

Your actual family, the one you were born into, is most likely not even in this timeline. The thought makes your chest tighten with a mix of frustration and sadness. You don’t even know where they are or if they’re alive. Time travel has its costs, and the disconnection from your roots is one of them. Even if you wanted to find them, there’s no way to do it without the commission’s help. And after everything that’s happened, going back there is the last thing you want.

You rub your temples, feeling a headache starting to form. The isolation is starting to wear on you. You’ve tried to fill your days with work, with unpacking, with anything that might distract you from the gnawing emptiness. But no matter what you do, the thoughts creep back in.

What would it be like to switch timelines? you wonder. To find a world where things turned out differently, where you and Five never crossed paths, or where he never cheated, and you lived out the life you once imagined together. But those thoughts are just fantasies, just as unreachable as the timeline they belong to. Without the commission’s technology, there’s no way to hop between realities.

Even if there was, you know it wouldn’t be as simple as that. Time and space are fragile, and messing with them comes with consequences. You’ve seen firsthand the damage that can be done by playing with the fabric of reality. And besides, running away to another timeline wouldn’t change what happened here. It wouldn’t heal the hurt or mend the trust that’s been broken.

You sit down on the edge of your bed, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. You feel more alone than you ever have, even more than when you first joined the commission, or when you first found yourself thrust into the chaos of the Hargreeves’ world. At least then, you had something to hold onto. Now, you feel like you’re grasping at air.

You sigh, “I need some air.”

You stand up, the heaviness in your chest making it difficult to breathe. The walls of your apartment feel like they’re closing in on you, the silence suffocating. The emptiness is overwhelming. You need to get out, to clear your head, to find some way to make sense of the mess your life has become.

Grabbing your coat from the hook by the door, you slip it on and head outside. The afternoon sun is high in the sky, casting warm rays that offer a sharp contrast to the cold, stagnant atmosphere of your apartment. The city streets are alive with activity—people bustling about, cars honking, vendors calling out to passersby. The noise feels overwhelming, but also oddly comforting. It reminds you that life goes on, even when yours feels like it’s standing still.

You start walking, not really sure where you’re going, just needing to move, to escape the thoughts that have been plaguing you. Your footsteps blend into the hum of the city, lost among the chatter and footsteps of others. You walk past busy storefronts and colorful cafes, the scent of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee filling the air. You pull your coat tighter around you, though the air is mild. The weight of your thoughts is what brings the chill.

What am I doing? you think to yourself. You feel a surge of frustration bubbling up inside you. How did I end up here?

As you wander, you find yourself heading towards a familiar place—the park where you used to go with Five. It was a favorite spot, a place where you’d both sit and talk for hours, sharing dreams and plans, back when the future felt certain. The memories are bittersweet now, but some part of you feels drawn to it, as if it holds some answers you can’t quite reach.

You reach the park and make your way to a bench near the fountain, one you remember sitting on many times before. The sound of the water trickling into the basin is calming, a soft, soothing melody amidst the noise of the city. You sit down, staring out at the small pond, watching the ducks glide across the surface, the sunlight glinting off the water.

The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the ground, and the park is filled with people—joggers, families, couples walking hand in hand. You watch them, feeling a strange mix of envy and detachment. They all seem so carefree, so unaware of the weight that you carry.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to ground yourself in the moment. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of something—someone—that makes your heart skip a beat. You turn your head slightly, your breath catching in your throat.

It’s Five.

He’s across the park, sitting at a small outdoor café, a cup of coffee in front of him. His head is down, focused on a book in his hands, his expression calm and absorbed. He looks different out here, in the daylight, without the familiar surroundings of the Hargreeves mansion. More relaxed, almost like the man you fell in love with. You feel a pang in your chest as you watch him, a mix of longing and hurt.

What is he doing here? Does he come here often?

You hesitate, torn between the urge to approach him and the instinct to turn and walk away. You know that seeing him will only reopen old wounds, but some part of you can’t help but be drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, to calm the racing of your heart.

He looks up from his book suddenly, as if sensing your presence, and his eyes meet yours across the park. For a moment, time seems to stand still. You can see the surprise in his eyes, the flicker of recognition, followed by something else—something softer, almost wistful.

You’re not sure what to do, whether to stay or go, whether to speak or remain silent. Your feet feel rooted to the ground, unable to move in either direction. Five raises his hand in a small, hesitant wave, his expression cautious, almost hopeful.

You swallow hard, your emotions a tangled mess. You don’t know what to say, what to do. You’ve imagined this moment so many times, and yet now that it’s here, you’re at a loss. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming in shallow bursts.

Finally, you take a step forward, then another, your movements slow and uncertain. Five’s eyes remain on you, watching your approach with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. You stop a few feet away from him, close enough to see the small details of his face—the faint lines of worry, the sadness in his eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” you reply, your own voice trembling with emotion.

There’s a long pause, a silence that stretches out between you, filled with all the things you want to say but don’t know how. You can see the regret in his eyes, the apology he’s trying to convey without words.

“Do you…want to sit?” he asks, gesturing to the chair across from him.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod slowly, pulling out the chair and sitting down. The distance between you feels both vast and intimate, a strange mix of familiarity and distance.

Five looks down at his hands, then back up at you, his expression pained. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he admits. “I’ve been coming here a lot lately…thinking.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You don’t know what to say, what to feel. Part of you wants to lash out, to demand answers, to make him feel the hurt you’ve been carrying. But another part of you just wants to understand, to find some kind of closure.

“I miss you,” he says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. “Every day. I think about you, about us. About everything I’ve ruined.”

Your heart clenches at his words, his voice full of that quiet sincerity that used to melt your resolve. But now, all it does is stir the anger that’s been simmering beneath the surface since the day you found out. You want to believe him, but the wounds are still too fresh, the betrayal still too raw.

“Miss me?” you scoff, your voice rising, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “You don’t get to miss me, Five. You lost that right when you decided to screw around with Lila. And what about your baby? You want to talk about what you’ve ruined? Look around. You did this. You chose this.”

Five's face contorts with pain, but he pushes through, his voice trembling. “Lila… she lied about the baby.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, leaving you momentarily stunned. The sharp edge of your anger is blunted by shock.

You shake your head in disbelief. “So the baby never existed? She lied?”

Five nods slowly, his eyes filled with deep sorrow. “Yes. There was no baby. She told me it was a lie to manipulate me, to keep me from leaving.”

He looks down, his face falling further. He takes a sip of his coffee, making a face at the taste. He was always very particular about his coffee, and clearly, this one didn't meet his standards.

You feel overwhelmed, the weight of his confession settling heavily on your shoulders. “I—I don’t know what to say, Five.”

He shakes his head, a mixture of resignation and frustration in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” he says softly. You sigh, your mind rushing, Should you even say this?

“If I’m being honest, I guess that I’ve missed you too.”

Five’s expression shifts, a flicker of hope and disbelief in his eyes. He seems to struggle with his emotions, clearly taken aback by your admission. For a moment, the tension between you both eases slightly, though the weight of everything that’s happened still lingers heavily.

“You’ve missed me?” Five asks, his voice barely audible. There’s a vulnerability in his tone that makes your heart ache even more.

You shake your head, “Don’t let that get to your head. We were together for years. Of fucking course I missed your dumbass.”

Five’s face falls slightly, his vulnerability giving way to a trace of hurt. He opens his mouth to respond but seems to reconsider, his words catching in his throat. He simply nods, a resigned look settling over him.

You continue, trying to keep your tone steady despite the flood of emotions. “Don’t take that the wrong way. It’s not about wanting to fix things or go back to how we were. It’s just… hard to completely erase what we had.”

Five’s eyes are focused on the swirling coffee in his cup, his fingers drumming on the mug. “I understand,” he says quietly, as if trying to make sense of everything himself. A heavy silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken words and lingering emotions.

You shift uncomfortably, your mind racing. Was coming over here a mistake? you wonder. The weight of the conversation feels overwhelming, and you start to question whether reopening this wound was the right choice.

Breaking the silence, Five sighs heavily. “She was kicked out of the house,” he says, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and sadness.

You look up, startled. “Lila was kicked out?” The shock is evident in your voice. You had imagined many possible scenarios, but this wasn’t one of them.

Five nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. After everything that happened… Diego couldn’t take it anymore. He asked her to leave.”

You pause, your mind racing. After a moment, you ask, “Do you not have feelings for her anymore?”

Five turns his gaze to the side, his face a mixture of frustration and regret. “I… I’m not sure. I fucked up, really fucking bad. I don’t think I deserve to feel any way about anything at this point.”

Five turns his gaze to the side, his face a mixture of frustration and regret. “I… I’m not sure. I fucked up, really fucking bad. I don’t think I deserve to feel any way about anything at this point.”

The honesty in his voice stings. You want to believe him, and you almost think you can see the sincerity in his eyes. But he’s lied to you before, What does this matter?

You sigh, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to become self-aware. It’s a start, at least.” You look at him, trying to gauge if there's any real change in him or if this is just another layer of his guilt.

Five shifts uncomfortably, his eyes avoiding yours. “I wish things could be different.”

“I do too,” you say, your voice soft as you look away.

The silence stretches out, filled with the weight of unspoken regrets and shattered dreams. You take a deep breath, fighting back the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "I should go," you finally say, turning to leave.

Five nods, his face a mix of sorrow and resignation. As you walk away, you feel the sting of finality in every step. The distance between you grows, and with it, the painful realization that some wounds may never fully heal.

It really fucking sucks what Six Years, Five Months and Two days can do to a person.

Final Author's Notes: Starting off, I want to thank everyone for loving this fic. This fic was the first time I've really wrote angst -- and I had no idea that I would love writing it so much.

I had come up with the idea for this literally the day I posted part one -- but the ending was completely different. Reader was supposed to stay with Five and work things out, but after seeing how people reacted -- I decided to adapt and change some things. I really like how this ended, (UNLIKE THE SHOW)

and given that I will be writing a happy Five Fic / oneshot coming within the next few days bc season 4 was fucked up :P

[mrslankyman]

Sinfully Gorgeous pt. 2

Vox x (fem) over lord reader

Smut

Word count: 5K

Working on: Part 3 - cancelled (sorry!)

3 weeks. 

It had been 3 weeks since you shot that porno with Vox. So why in the HELL was everyone in HELL still raving over it?!

It wasn’t anything special.

It was a brand deal and that was it. It wasn’t like you knew it was going to be Vox. Valentino stated after the shoot he chose Vox since it would boost you both. Sure it did but at what cost?

Your phone was flooded with texts and emails from sinners asking if you and Vox were a thing.

Have you joined the Vees?

Were you and Vox fucking on the low?

How long were you two together?

All these questions were getting to your head and making you sick. 

You laid back in your expensive bed. The silky pillows that most sinners could never afford comforting your head. Phone in hand you scrolled through your feed. Vox’s news show popped. 

“Top of the hour sinners. Today we will be discussing the ongoing discussion that I and I'm sure our lovely {Y/N} is seeing too.” He clasped his hands together and turned to the screen in front of him that was showing photos of sinners questions.  

“Has {Y/N} joined the Vees?” He read aloud. “No she has not, though I would not be opposed to the idea.” He chuckled, sending a wink to the camera. 

You groaned and fast forward on the video stopping when a clip of the porno popped up on the screen. Curious of what he would say about it. You hadn’t talked to him since a day after that was filmed. 

“How did it feel to fuck the {Y/N}?” He chuckled as he read that aloud. A smirk crawled onto his face. “Well folks I’ll tell ya. It was better than any sex I myself have ever had.” He leaned forward covering half his mouth with the side of his hand. “A little secret for you all, she has the tightest pussy you’ll ever fuck in hell.” He laughed leaning back. “Yes folk it’s true she was definitely a virgin and safe to say I took that card from her.” His cocky laugh echoed in your head. 

He took your virginity? 

What was he a fucking idiot?

Embarrassing you on Hell's public news. 

You were not a virgin, far from it and for this cocky ass tv faced man to state he was the lucky one to take it from you made you seeth. 

You instantly opened up your messages and searched his name in your contact. Typing out a text. Fingers flying across the screen as anger edged in every digital word typed. 

{You}: who in the HELL do you think you are? Saying you took my virginity on the fucking news? Real mature of you. What the fuck are we teenagers in high school. If you ever fucking do something like this again I will make sure you and your little fucking news channel are never broad casted again. 

{Vox}: Wow, didn't suspect you to see it so soon. What's the matter, I was just messing around. I bet it was the best sex you’ve ever had, why not say your best was also your first? 

{You}:oh were cocky as fuck huh? You really think you were the best? Keep dreaming. 

{Vox}: I must have been something for you to go off script. 

{You}: fuck you, you went off script as well. 

{Vox}: oh you wanna fuck me again? Maybe I'll make it an even better time, we can make our own script. 

{You}: you know what I meant. Never fucking mention me on your little show again. It was a one time deal. 

{Vox}: aren’t you just a ball of sunshine. Whatever you say darling. I’ll erase that part of the segment from the show and their memories. 

{You}: good, the only time your fucking mind control has been used for an actual purpose. 

{Vox}: Or I can just keep it up. You know you’re not being very kind. 

{You}: oh fuck off this is hell. I don’t need to be kind to the man who just publicly embarrassed me. 

{Vox}: and the man who publicly pleasured you. 

{You}: just take it down. 

{Vox}: yes ma’am. 

You groaned and turned your phone off. Throwing it to the floor and laying down fully. Pulling the covers over your head and closing your eyes. Sleeping the anger and annoyance off. 

—

Your alarm buzzed in the morning. You groaned and woke up grabbing your phone from the floor and turning it off. But not before you saw the message from Alastor. 

“You’re a virgin?”

That fucker didn’t delete the segment!

You dashed around your house putting on an outfit and doing your make up the fastest you had ever. Your shoes were on in seconds and out the door you went. 

You called a cab and got in, instructing them to take you to the Vees tower. Of course you know the consequences of this.

Everyone would assume you were going to see Vox in a different way. When in reality his ass was going to get a fist in his screen. 

The cab dropped you off and you paid them before getting out. Marching up to the front of the building. A few people looked over. Snapping pictures and videos. You rolled your eyes and pressed the buzzer on the door. 

“Who is it?” Voxs voice played through the small speaker.

“{Y/N}.” The second you said your name the doors opened. You smirked slightly and headed inside jumping as the doors closed behind you harshly. 

“Vox! Where the fuck are you we need to have a talk!” You yelled walking around the lobby looking for any sign of him. Footsteps echoed down the hall and there he was. A smile on his stupid flat screened face. 

“Ah {Y/N} So nice of you to stop by-” You grabbed him by his suit's flaps and slammed him against the wall. A groan escaped his lips and his screen displayed a loading circle before his eyes came back. 

“You asshole, I told you to take that segment down!” You screamed in his face without giving a second to think. “Do you know who the fuck I am?! I will end you!” You leaned into his face. Your spit landing on his screen. He glared at you but on the inside he was loving the attention. 

Your hands on him was enough to make him melt. But he had to be sure not to display it too much. Or you’d let go and call him weird. 

“You can end me anytime you want.” His words were smooth and flirtatious. He obviously did not understand the gravity of the situation he was in. 

“You do not wanna fuck with me Vox.” You warned re-shoving him against the wall. He grunted and grabbed your arms. “You know I would love to fuck with you.” He chuckled, eyeing you with a smirk. “You little-” Your grip tightened on him getting ready to shove him again. 

“{Y/N}!” He yelled his right eye widening as he used his mind control on you. You froze your eyes going wide. Your grip on him faltered as you shook your head. The daze wears off. 

“Why don’t you calm down?” He offered, pulling your arms down from his suit. “Don’t use that fucking mind control shit on me.” You pulled your arms away from him. He sighed and rested his hand on his hips. “Yes ma’am.” His voice was full of annoyance now. 

“Delete the segment. That’s all I want. I’ll leave you alone and you do the same.” You held out your hand. “Deal?” You tilted your head, pink fire appearing around your palm. 

“No deals. I just promise I will. I’m no idiot. I know how you pull strings.” He pushed your hand away, the fire disappearing. You groaned and pulled your hand back. 

“Very well.” You nodded even though a part of you knew he would never take that segment down fully. 

“I’ll go delete it.” He fixed his tie, closing his eyes. “Good.” You said before a ding came from your phone. You held it up. “At Voxs darling?” Alastor had texted. A part of you hated Charlie for getting him onto this phone kick. He was so against technology until he was told he could text you whenever. 

Vox opened one eye as he heard the ding. He eyed you and read the text. The words Darling and Alastor made his circuits spark. Why in the hell did that old timey prick have your number? 

“I better leave before everyone in hell assumes we're seeing each other. I do not need that in my life.” You shoved your phone in your pocket. Looking up at Vox whose face had a rather.. Concerning smile displaying. 

He let out a laugh though it glitched. He stepped closer to you. His hand grabbed your arm pulling you to him. “Why the fuck is the radio demon texting you?” His voice deepened. Eyes squinting as he grabbed your phone from your pocket. 

“Hey!- what the fuck.” You squirmed in his grip. A tsk tsk came from him as he used his eye to unlock your phone. Reading you and Alastors messages. Anger surged through him as you both had been sending jokes about him. His grip on you tightened and he squeezed your phone in his other hand till it shattered into pieces. 

“Vox what the fuck!-” You watched as he broke your phone, your attention being snapped back to his face as he slammed you up against the wall this time. 

He laid his arm next to your head on the wall and his other hand gripped your neck.  

“I’m not taking the segment down. You wanna talk shit about me to that damn radio demon go ahead. I'll say whatever I want about you. You are nothing to me.” His words were low and strung out. His eyes were wide and red drool dripped from his mouth. Though his grip on your neck was tight it wasnt hard enough to really choke you out. 

That was one thing he did not want to do. 

He was pissed off but not necessarily at you. The idea that Alastor got more of your attention than him is what pissed him off. He knew it was such a stupid thing to be mad over.

But he wanted you. Even if he had to pretend he didn’t. 

Your eyes squinted and you squirmed under him. Truthfully he didn’t scare you. This position didn’t make you feel threatened, it made you feel.. Other things. 

In a dark and twisted way his anger really made you think of that shoot. How his hands gripped your sides and he’d moan before glitching out. 

“If you wanna scare me you’re gonna have to try harder than this.” You grabbed his face. Your hand pulling him closer. “Cause all I can think about is you glitching out before you cummed inside me.” Your words made his screen display a light shade of red. 

“I-”

“You want that again hmm?” You kissed his screen. “Want to feel my tight pussy as you said? I guess since it was the best I’ve ever had you’d think I would’ve been begging you for more.” You whispered, making your voice low and seductive. His grip faltered as his screen turned red. His eyes drooped as you talked to him sensually. 

“Too bad I wasn’t.” You cooed, kicking him in the crotch. He groaned and keeled over. Holding his crotch in his hands. “Fuck fuck fuck..” He groaned in pain as you stepped over him. 

“You owe me a phone.” You spat on his withering form and walked out.

–-

Safe to say he gave you a new phone. That part of the segment was erased. To your knowledge from the general public of hell. Knowing Vox he probably cut it from half the people's memories and kept it in the other to confuse them. 

What an ass hole. 

Today you were off to Alastor's radio tower. He wanted to have you on this new segment he was working on. Whatever that meant. 

You had made it to the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie showed you to Alastors tower. You thanked her and headed inside. He greeted you and showed you the different buttons and the mic. Getting you accustomed to the technology before having a seat with you. 

Not having a camera in your face was both relaxing and strange. This seemed more like a conversation you were having with a friend that just so happened to be recorded. 

“Today I am here with my dear friend {Y/N}.” Alastor spoke into his mic. Smiling your way as you said hello. 

“So why don’t you tell everyone what it’s like to be the fashion overlord?” He handed you his mic. Urging you to introduce yourself further. 

After the basic introduction was done he began to ask you questions. It slowly became clear to you what he was doing. 

“What is your opinion on Vox?” He smirked and leaned your way. That question made you groan.

“That man? Come now Alastor. You know he isn’t something to talk about.” You leaned back in your chair and your reply made Alastor chuckle. 

“Go on dear. Just tell us about him.” He leaned the mic closer to you. 

“Fine.” You took the mic and leaned up. 

“Vox is something. Not the kind of something you’d want either. He is terrible in bed.” You snickered at the idea that Vox would be listening to you. “Oh is he now? I do believe we all saw that video dear. It seems the opposite.” He eyed you a shit eating grin on his face. 

“That’s what a script is for.” You sneered. 

“There's a theory you went off script. After all that Valentino did post it.” He checked his claws smirking. 

You groaned as Alastor was just doing this to stir drama. He hated Vox but loved to mess with you. So he was playing both ways. 

“Anyways, besides that he is a prick and snoops on everyone. He is fucking insane but I suppose that’s why he’s here. If you are thinking about trying to get with that man please do so he will leave me alone.” You handed the mic back to Alastor. He was holding in his laugh. “Thank you dear for your lovely insight on that clout chasing mediocre video podcasts.” He ended the broadcast and sighed.   

—

About 4 hours after the broadcast a ding sounded from your phone. Either it was Alastor or some random person. 

You checked the message and groaned as the name displayed on your screen. 

Vox.

Of course. 

You slid open your phone and sat down on your couch to answer him. 

{Vox}: doing a broadcast with the radio demon to degrade me? Really. After you begged me to delete your segment.

{You}: what's the matter? Thought you liked being degraded 

{Vox}: I'm not doing this. I’m gonna have to make you understand. 

{You}: oh really? Why don’t you just face that you suck in bed and you suck even more as a person. 

{Vox}: I suck in bed? Oh sweet heart. I don’t believe that's what you truly think. 

{Vox has sent a video} 

You pressed play, wishing you didn’t as a clip from the porno played. You were riding him moaning his name and begging him to go faster. His fingers digging into your sides as he rammed into you on your command. 

{You}: have to give the audience what they want.

{Vox}: oh yeah? What if there wasn’t an audience? 

{You}: then none of that would’ve happened. I’d be as quiet as a mouse.

{Vox}: we’ll see about that. 

{You}: what's that mean? 

:seen 3 minute ago: 

“Bitch.” You turned your phone off and laid down on the couch. Letting your mind wander back to the shoot. Perhaps you did enjoy him a little more than you’d like to admit. But you’d never tell him that. Or anyone for that matter. 

It’s bad enough there were more theories going around on you two. How the hatred was an act so you could keep things private. How it was fake or just a stunt for money.

You’d let the public guess and argue over it. You had no intentions on stating anything as of yet. 

So not thinking much of anything you turned on your tv and sat back. 

You sat up a little as you tv went to static. A blue glow came from it after a moment and a shock wave burst from it. The room went black and then the tv turned back on. Vox stood in front of you. Blocking the tv from view. 

“What the- Vox what the fuck!” You sat up all the way as Vox stepped closer with a smile on his face. 

 “We don’t have an audience here.” He leaned down looming over you as. Leaning back into the couch you slowly smirked. “Oh is that so? You wanna see if you can really work your magic on me?” You teased him watching as his face grew more annoyed. 

“Yes I do.” He put a finger under your chin and lifted it up. “I wanna prove to you that going off the script was because I am good at what I do. Not because you wanted to promote your bullshit brand.” He chuckled and moved you down on the couch to a lying position. 

“Oh you really wanna prove a point? Then I'm gonna make mine. I bet you can’t make me make a single sound.” You snickered as he threw his hat off to the ground. 

“Fine but I'm gonna make you eat those words.” He leaned down and kissed you. You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth. 

He slid his tongue inside your mouth. You closed your eyes and let your tongues tangle together. 

His hand slid down your sides and grabbed your jeans. You didn’t make a noise, the only sound was your pants rubbing together as Vox began to grind against you. 

A part of you just wanted to give in. Let him take you and win. But the bitch inside you wanted to win to shove it in his face every day. So you suppressed your moans and pulled back from the kiss.

He stared down at you and smirked, “Come on.. Just a little peep.” He groaned and made a quick upwards motion with his hips. It felt good you wouldn’t lie. 

You shook your head and smirked though earning an annoyed groan from the man above you. “Good thing we just started.” His voice was low as he undid your pants and yanked them off with a swift movement. 

You stared up at him and smirked. He slid off his blazer and undid his tie. The only thing left was his striped shirt. 

You sat up and pushed him down instead. He looked at you confused before smirking. He liked this and he didn’t care if you didn’t care in the moment if you didn’t like him how he liked you. Any form of attention from you was good. 

The feeling of you sitting on his bulge made his screen glitch as a low moan escaped him. He wanted to hear your approving moans as well but you weren’t giving it to him. You just moved against him with the best poker face he had ever seen. 

“F- fuck..” His voice buffered as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off him slightly. He didn’t want this to be over too soon. 

“I’m gonna break you. Just you wait.” He clawed at the sides of your underwear. Breaking the thin fabric, grabbing them as they fell down. He tossed them to the side and looked at you.

You blushed. Thanking Lucifer a blush didn’t count as a noise. That action was pretty hot. The desire in his eyes shone through. He slid off two of his claws. Just as he did for the shoot.

He lifted his hand to his mouth and licked them. Red saliva littered them. You anticipated the feeling of them inside you. Trying to prepare yourself so you didn’t moan. 

But he didn’t just slide them in. He circled his fingers around your clit. 

Smirking as he saw you twitch. Biting your lip before going back to a straight face. 

“Oh come on. I almost got you.” He laughed and slid one finger in. Pushing it in and out before adding the second and curling them inside. 

He kept pumping them in and out at different paces trying to make you moan. Anything really. A small gasp or groan. 

He wasn’t given the pleasure. 

You just closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling. You hadn't met a man who could finger this good. He sure was something and you would love to keep this up. But his fingers just weren’t like his dick. Which was under you twitching and leaking pre cum. 

Just waiting for it’s turn inside. So you grabbed his wrist and he slid out his fingers. 

“Come on.. I’ll only give it to you if you beg.” He smirked and slid his finger down your slit teasingly. You shook your head. 

“Come on!” His voice statticed and he shoved his dick inside you. The amount of force you had to use to suppress your moan was astounding. 

He groaned as he noticed you didn't make a sound. 

“Fine, but I'm still gonna give you a damn good time. So you can’t say im shit at this.” he pulled out of you and flipped you over. Pushing you down under him. He wrapped your legs around him and slowly slid inside you again. Leaning his head back a quiet moan escaping his lips. 

You grabbed his shoulders and bit your lip. With each steady thrush the feeling of giving up echoed in your mind. It was starting to hurt holding in your noises. His eyes were squeezed shut, teeth bared and red drool dripping from his mouth. Blue static came from him as soon as he picked up his pace. 

“F-f-fuck.. I fucking hate you.” He slammed into you and a quiet moan escaped your lips. 

His eyes shot open and he looked down at you. Your face was red and sweaty. You covered your mouth, a smirk displayed on his face.

“What was that?” He taunted and slid all the way out of you then back in. A quiet moan escaped your mouth again. 

“Yeah that's right, I knew you couldn’t last forever.” He chuckled, his cocky attitude back. He kept his thrush gentle and slow. You gave in and let your moans fill the room. Vox loved the sounds. All your attention on him every moan, grunt, and whimper from your mouth was for him. It made his dick even harder. “Vox..please.. Please I'm.. I’m almost..” You stared into his eyes on the verge of orgasm. 

“Go ahead, we’ll do it together darling.” He slid his hand down and circled your clit and thrusted into you on more time. His cum filling your inside as yours too gave way and hit your orgasm.

His screen glitched out and his voice buffered as he moaned your name. 

After you both came down from your highs you looked into his eyes. 

“I hate you.” You glared at him. 

“You may hate me but I know you love him.” He chuckled as he slid his dick out, rubbing it against your slit. Earning an annoyed groan from you. 

“This was fun. Good to know you enjoyed it.” He winked and stood up. Putting on his clothes. He walked down your hall. You groaned and looked down at the cum on your couch. Annoyed now. 

He came back with a damp towel. He pushed you down gently and cleaned you up. Then rubbed the excess off the couch. 

“Gotta keep my toy clean.” He pinched your face before sliding his claws back on. 

“Least you have decent manners.” You scoffed and sat up. 

“Of course.” He smiled and glitched out. Disappearing into the tv. The room went black before the lights turned on. 

You got dressed and sat on the couch. Embarrassingly repeating the way he moaned your name in your head over and over. 

Why did you let him win? 

—

Today was your and Alastors photo shoot. You were modeling Sinfully Gorgeous but just a few of the modest outfits. With Alastors old time camera it made things look more classy. So he had agreed to do a small shoot in your studio. 

He had arrived about an hour ago. He was all dressed up just waiting for you now. You had gone for an old timey style of makeup and hair. 

Walking out of your dressing room he looked over. His eyes widened and a pleasant smile erased the plain one. 

“You look lovely darling.” He titled his head. “Thank you. You look rather handsome yourself.” You complimented back, gaining a chuckle from him. 

“Shall we do this?” He stood up straight. “Yes.” You replied back heading over to the backdrop. It was plain white but it made the photos show up better.

You did a few different poses and outfits. Some silly and others professional. 

“Wait, I have an idea.” You smirked and Alastor looked at you with a confused smile. 

“Voxtek is sponsoring this shoot. Part of a contract deal after that shoot with Valentino. I made Vox sign a contract to sponsor whatever I want when I want since I had to.. Fuck him” You rolled your eyes. 

“Right.” Alastor chuckled. He knew better. You and that tv headed fucker for sure had something going on. But you were his friend so he wouldn't say his true opinion. Though he sure as hell did back at the hotel. 

“I know just the way to tick him off.” You smirked at him and he instantly knew what you meant. Loving the idea of pissing off Vox for fun. 

—

You did a few poses. Holding each other. Alastor dipping you and finally the ones that would piss Vox off the most. You knew Alastor wasn’t one for these types of things. Though he agreed he did not mind if it was just to piss off Vox. 

You had ordered your helpers to set up a chair. They did as asked and Alastor sat down.

“Go head darling. I wanna see the look on his face when he sees these.” You both laughed as you sat between his legs.

Alastor gripped your chin and turned your face to his. His smile on his face. Though it was a more intimate one. He sure played this well. You look into his eyes with as much passion as a smirk displayed on your face.

 The photo was taken and you stood up. Slinging your legs over Alastors lap, your assistant changed the camera's angle to get a side view. Alastor looked into your eyes. “Excuse me if I am not good at this.”He chuckled and you smiled. “It’s okay.” You both had a short laugh before getting ready for the photo. 

He closed his eyes and you leaned in. Pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back but he wasn't hesitant. He just wasn’t sure how to move his lips. You pulled away the second the photo was taken. 

“You aren’t terribly bad.” You joked, gaining an eye roll from him. 

The last photo was one of you both standing. Alastor kissed you one last time but in this one his eyes were looking at the camera. A bigger dig at Vox. 

—

“Thanks for helping me.” You thanked Alastor as you had gotten the photos ready to be sent out to Voxtek. “It’s not a problem. Anything for an old pal.” Alastor smiled as you both walked out of the studio. 

—

Vox sipped on his coffee until a ding came through on his screen. He flicked his finger and sent it to one of his monitors. He opened the email and sifted through the photos your team had emailed him. 

He groaned as it was you and Alastor. Pissed off that the radio demon was getting your attention now. 

His anger was pretty controlled till he got to the attachment labeled ‘surprise.’ 

A part of him hoped it was some sinful photos of you in your outfit. Though to his dismay it was not. 

He opened up the file with a smirk on his face only for it to be erased in a meer second as his eyes landed on you and Alastor kissing. He gripped his desk claws digging into it. Leaving a mark. 

He groaned and looked at the next photo. Alastor kissing you and eyeing the camera with that smug grin tugging on his lips. He screamed and slammed his fist into the monitor, cracking it and causing the screen to glitch out. 

The monitor turned off as he kept punching it. His screams and groans of anger echoing through the room. 

“The fuck is your problem?!” Velvette asked as she slammed open the door. 

Vox turned around to look at her. A deranged smile on his face as his eye twitched. 

“Set up my showroom. If this bitch wants to play dirty we’ll play dirty.” He pulled his hand out of the monitor watching as his blood trickled down his arm.

[srslyblvck]

ashes to ashes, kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x inferni!reader

synopsis: you lose your powers, in an accident. you distance yourself from the crows, so kaz comes to confront you.

warning: hurt, comfort, angst.

word count: 1.3k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE FLICKERING FLAMES HAD always been a comfort, a reminder of the power that surged through your veins. The control over fire was more than a talent; it was your identity, your weapon, your shield. But now, staring at your trembling hands, you saw nothing but the stark absence of what once defined you.

Kaz Brekker's lair was as cold as the man himself, a labyrinth of shadows and secrets. You found solace in the corners of the Crow Club, avoiding the pitying glances of the Dregs. Losing your abilities had turned you into something you despised—a liability.

Days had turned into weeks since the accident. A heist gone wrong, a trap set by an enemy too clever and too cruel. The poison they used had severed your connection to your Grisha powers, leaving you as ordinary as the common folk you once scorned.

You felt like a shadow of your former self, a specter haunting the halls of the Crow Club. The looks of pity from the other members of the Dregs were almost unbearable, and the whispers behind your back cut deeper than any blade.

One evening, after another day of feeling utterly useless, you found yourself sitting alone in the dimly lit room Kaz had given you. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on you like a physical force. You couldn't escape the gnawing feeling that you were a burden, a weak link in the chain.

A knock on the door jolted you from your thoughts. Before you could respond, the door opened and Kaz stepped inside. His presence was imposing, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice devoid of the usual edge.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your trembling hands. "About what?"

Kaz closed the door behind him, leaning on his cane. "About you. About what's been going on."

You looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze. "There's nothing to talk about."

Kaz's eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me. You've been distant, avoiding everyone. You're not yourself."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "Not myself? Of course I'm not myself. I'm nothing without my powers."

Kaz took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "Is that what you really think?"

You stood up, anger and frustration boiling over. "What else am I supposed to think, Kaz? I was useful. I had a purpose. Now I'm just...I'm nothing. A liability."

Kaz's eyes flashed with something you couldn't quite place. "You're not a liability."

"Yes, I am!" you shouted, your voice breaking. "I can't fight, I can't defend myself, I can't do anything! I'm useless to the team, useless to you."

Kaz's eyes, dark and calculating, bore into yours. "Feeling sorry for yourself won't change anything."

You clenched your fists, the nails digging into your palms. "Easy for you to say. You haven't lost what makes you...you."

Kaz's face remained impassive, a mask of calm authority. He limped closer, each step deliberate, measured. "You're more than just your powers," he said, his voice steady.

"Am I?" You turned away, unable to meet his gaze. "I don't feel like it."

Kaz was silent for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words. "You think hiding away is going to help you feel better? You think isolating yourself will change what's happened?"

His words cut through the fog of your despair. Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, pushes you to face the harsh reality. It was almost unthinkable. You turned back to him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, but found none.

"How do you expect me to face everyone?" you asked, your voice barely audible. "How do I keep going like this?"

Kaz's jaw tightened, his expression unwavering. "You find a way. You adapt. You survive. Hiding doesn't solve anything."

The simplicity of his words stung, but they also resonated. You had always admired Kaz's resilience, his ability to turn every disadvantage into an opportunity. If anyone knew how to rebuild from ashes, it was him.

"I don't know if I can," you admitted, the vulnerability in your voice unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

Kaz's expression remained cold, a mask of indifference. "You can. You're still you, with or without your powers. Your mind, your courage, your loyalty—those are what make you valuable."

A lump formed in your throat, and you struggled to speak past it. "It doesn't feel that way. I feel...lost."

Kaz took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're not lost. You're just finding a new path. And you don't have to do it alone."

His words were a lifeline, grounding you in a way you hadn't felt since the accident. Kaz, in his own way, was offering you more than just comfort; he was offering you hope.

"You saved my life many times," Kaz said quietly. "And most of the time, it wasn't because of your powers."

You looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember Pekka Rollins' ambush?" Kaz's voice was steady, but there was an edge of intensity. "You got me out before they closed in. You had no time to use your powers, just your quick thinking and courage."

Your mind flashed back to that day, the chaos, the desperation. "That was different. I was still useful then."

"And the Ice Court?" Kaz continued, his eyes never leaving yours. "You navigated us through that labyrinth. No fire, just your wits."

"Anyone could have done that," you muttered.

Kaz's voice grew firmer. "What about the Heartrender at the Little Palace? When we had to kidnap the Sun Summoner? You shielded me from her attack, with no time to conjure a flame. You saved my life."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "But that was then, Kaz. Now, I can't even—"

Kaz cut you off. "Your value isn't just in your powers. It's in your loyalty, your intelligence, your determination—those are things that can't be taken away."

You sank back onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. "It doesn't feel that way."

Kaz moved closer, his cane tapping lightly against the floor. "Feelings can be deceiving. You need to see yourself the way I see you."

You looked up, meeting his gaze. "And how do you see me, Kaz?"

He held your gaze, his voice unwavering. "I see someone who's strong, even when they don't feel like it. Someone who's valuable, even without their powers. Someone who has the potential to adapt and overcome."

The intensity of his words struck a chord deep within you. For the first time since the accident, you felt a glimmer of hope.

"But what if I can't?" you whispered. "What if I can't adapt?"

Kaz's eyes never left yours. "Then I'll help you. We'll find a way, together."

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable. Despite his cold exterior, Kaz Brekker was offering you something you desperately needed—belief in yourself.

"Why do you care so much?" you asked, your voice barely audible.

Kaz's expression hardened slightly, but his eyes remained steady. "Because you're one of us. And we take care of our own."

The simplicity of his words brought fresh tears to your eyes, but this time, they were tears of gratitude. Kaz wasn't known for his kindness, but in his own way, he was showing you that you mattered.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Kaz nodded, his demeanor as composed as ever. "Don't thank me yet. We still have a lot of work to do."

You managed a small smile, the first in what felt like an eternity. "I guess we do."

Kaz turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Remember, you're not alone. We'll figure this out."

As he closed the door behind him, you took a deep breath, the weight on your chest feeling just a little lighter. Kaz was right—you weren't alone. And with his support, maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to rise from the ashes.

[radioactive-earthshine]

Orla's Non-Bat Comic Recs.

Hello folks, in light of the 'all published comics are BAD' wave that has been swept everywhere recently I would like to share a collection of comics that are good actually and are generally isolated (you don't need a spreadsheet to read them).

1.) Impulse (1995)

Why: This is about a neurodiverse coded teenage refugee from the future who cannot live with his blood family in the 20th century due to circumstances that are beyond his control. It is about learning to adapt to a world that doesn't make sense, and learning to love it too. As time goes on Bart learns how to love and he discovers who he is and what is important to him really. All the while some of the most chaotic things happen that you may ever see in a comic (Bart tricks the whole school into getting into a brawl and drives a car off a cliff). Primary themes: Found family (for real), loss, immigration coding, neurodiversity, foster homes, friendship, self discovery, school. Trigger warnings: child abuse, ableism, ptsd, gangs and gun violence (a shocking amount) mental illness. Available in Trade Paperback: Partially. Reckless Youth - collects Bart's first appearances from The Flash plus issues #1-#6 in Impulse. Flash/Impulse: Runs in the Family - collects Impulse #1-#12 plus supplementary issues from The Flash. Mercury Falling - Collects the entire Mercury Falling arc.

2.) Jack Kirby's New Gods (1971)

Why: This is the epic that started it all with Darkseid as he scours the earth in search of the Anti-Life Equation. It is about many deep layers of history involving the New Gods, the divide between New Genesis and Apokolips. In desperation to stop an endless war Darkseid and Highfather of New Genesis agree to a pact - to trade sons and in return a long period of truce and a ceasefire would pass between worlds. Highfather agreed, trading his son for Darkseid's whom he raised with love on New Genesis. Orion, years later, is a god of war and he fights for New Genesis and he fights for Earth, undogged he persists in vanquishing Darkseid's evil wherever it dwells. But Orion has a secret, and deep shame, for he experiences anger and wrath like no other on New Genesis but there is deep compassion and love that tempers it. As Orion fights for Earth he uncovers many secrets about himself, and at his side is his 'friend' Lightray who knows the darkness in him but never turns away. Primary themes: war, anger, ptsd, secrets, space opera, family, anti-war, malice, self discovery Trigger warnings: ptsd, this was written in the 70s but was pretty liberal for its time, still has some awkward moments that are slightly sexist and racist (mostly with names of black characters Vykin the Black and Black Racer which some people are uncomfortable with). Available in Trade Paperback: Complete. 1 book. Jack Kirby's New Gods - Collects all issues of Jack's 1971 series plus Even Gods Must Die and The Hunger Dogs. NOTE: Jack Kirby's entire Fourth World epic with Mr. Miracle and The Forever People is also highly recommended and is part of the New Gods tale. All 3 series has been complied into one massive trade called Jack Kirby's Fourth World, and all are available individually as well. Either way you might be able to find these at your library, or on Hooplah.

3.) Orion by Walter Simonson

Why: Decades after Jack Kirby wrote his final chapter for New Gods Orion finally gets his solo where he faces his father on Apokolips and steps up as its ruler. Now the leader of Apokolips Orion begins the arduous task of cleansing it of its malice and cruelty, a feat that is not easy and even more so when he does it without aid. With sinister deception at every turn Orion struggles and finds himself being tempted to use the very force that he was sworn to protect everyone from; the very anti-life equation itself. Primary themes; deceit, temptation, rebirth, life and death, redemption, mercy, compassion, love, forgiveness. Trigger warnings: torture, sexual assault implications. Available in Trade Paperback - Complete. 2 books.

4.) Barda by Ngozi Ukazu (NEW!!)

Why: This is a graphic novel and is a retelling of Barda as she comes to understand love and what she really wants from her life all while navigating the cruelty of Apokolips. Primary themes: love, cruelty, malice, torture, imprisonment, hope Trigger Warnings: torture, execution. Single complete graphic novel.

5.) Superman: The Harvests of Youth by Sina Grace

Why: This is a heartbreaking coming of age story about Clark Kent as a teenager in Smallville as he finds his place among his friends, family and himself as an alien during a time of death and hatred. It is a young Superman story that is incredibly relevant today in an age of internet toxicity and leaves you feeling hopeful. This blends some elements from Smallville (the show) but tweaks them to make this its own unique bubble world that feels believable and fresh. Primary Themes: toxic masculinity, incels, bullying, suicide, capitalism, teenage coming of age, teenage romance, high school Single complete graphic novel

6.) Superman Smashes The Klan by Gene Luen Yang

Why: In the 1940s the Superman Radio Show released the story "Clan of the Fiery Cross" that told a terrifying story about the KKK targeting a Chinese-American family that moved from Chinatown into Metropolis white-dominated suburbs following WWII. This is a graphic novel that is based on the same story. Primary Themes: racism, identity issues, internalized racism, police brutality. Single complete graphic novel, and also has 3 separate novels.

7.) Bad Dream: A Dreamer Story by Nicole Maines (New!!)

Why: This is Nia Nal's solo and origin story that has been confirmed to take place in the main verse for the current comics. Nia was born and raised in a small heavily isolated Sanctuary where aliens live safely. Even among dozens of alien species Nia is still seen as different as she is the only person who is trans. To complicate everything even more, Nia inherits her people's precognitive powers when her sister Maeve was raised her entire life to accept the powers into her. Terrified of her new powers and destroying her family by revealing them she inherited them instead of her sister, she flees from her hometown to Metropolis where she for the first time in her life meets other queer people. But there is a threat to her family on the horizon, and in order to protect them she must go back and face her fears. Primary Themes: transphobia, self discovery, xenophobia, acceptance, fearfulness, family, secrets, deceit. Trigger Warnings: see above, also internalized queerphobia. Single Complete Graphic Novel

8.) Static: Season One

Why: This is a modern retelling of Milestone Comic's Static as bullied nerd Virgil Hawkins comes into his powers at a protest when police discharge an experimental tear gas. The gas leaves many of his classmates dead, but some like him gain amazing powers - unfortunately some other people, like his bullies, also gain powers. Caught between law enforcement, capitalism, and the complexities of being a new teenage superhero Virgil works to uplift his community and stay strong within his nerdy friend group. This series is heavily based on the Static Shock TV show so fans of that show will be delighted with familiar faces, and names. And yes, Richie Foley is gay. Primary Themes: racism, police brutality, bullying, anger, frustration, dehumanization. Trigger Warnings: See above Available in Trade Paperback - Complete in Static: Season One which collects all six issues. Note: We also have its sequel Static: Shadows of Dakota out as well.

9.) Superman: American Alien

Why: This is a collection of short stories about Clark at varying stages of his life that range from funny to incredibly heartfelt. Primary Themes: finding ones self, self discovery, compassion Trigger warnings: I cannot think of one Available in Trade Paperback - Complete as Superman: American Alien which collects all 7 stories.

10.) Legion of Super-Heroes: Post-Zero Hour Reboot

Why: In the 30th century R.J. Brande Industries creates the Star Gate System, finally connecting the galaxy closer than it ever had before. Travel that once took months or years to complete now could only take hours and with it came the United Planets with Earth as its home headquarters. In an effort to promote the United Planets and unify the galaxy, the Legion of Super-Heroes was formed by Brande as a peacekeeping unit and an inspiration to cooperation. Sadly, it was co-opted by political parties and turned into a draft for talented teenagers to serve, or risk their planet's enrollment in the U.P. Over the course of over 200 issues teenage super heroes are given unfathomable responsibility and power while unifying to protect their galaxy and friendships while combating xenophobia and political corruption. This series is everything people wanted TTv3 to be but never got. Primary Themes: Dehumanization, loss of autonomy, death, life, space, technology, capitalism, political corruption, manipulation, deceit, hope, romance, found family Trigger Warnings: See above plus ableism and teenage pregnancy. Available in Trade Paperback: Partially. We have 2 volumes called Legionnaires which collect approximately 20 issues, plus extra content, of this run. We also have various other trade collections such as Legion Lost in its entirety.

11.) Ascender and Descender by Jeff Lemire and Dustin Nguyen

Why: Tired of superheroes? These are two separate series that follow the same story about a young companion robot named Tim who was assigned to be his human brother's best friend and companion. Unfortunately, during a mining accident his entire colony had to flee and leave him behind as they attempted to escape toxic gas. 10 years have gone by since then, and a lot has changed in the world since he was shut down. Mostly being 95% of all robots have been destroyed and are targeted for destruction after a mysterious robotic alien force attacked all sentient worlds and obliterated the populations down to catastrophic levels. All Tim wants to do is find his brother Andy, but what has become of Andy in 10 years, and what will happen to him in 10 more years after they reunite? This story takes place over 20 years as Tim and Andy both grow and change, as they face the challenges before them and unravel the mystery of the Artificial Intelligence that swore to destroy all organic life. Oh, and magic is also involved too. Primary themes: hatred, violence, abuse, xenophobia, forgiveness, found family, brothers, dehumanization, life, death, magic, balance, manipulation, deceit, mysteries, will probably remind you of Mass Effect. Trigger Warnings: see above Available in Trade Paperback: the entire series is available across multiple books.

That's all I have for now folks, I'm tired of writing.

[makeila04]

Russell Adler's Quotes in Zombies Mode - Call of Duty Black Ops 6: ENG

Adler in Zombies is still the same Adler, but taken to the extreme. Not only is he a man with a dominant and manipulative personality, but here he allows himself to be more provocative, sarcastic, and even seductive. He doesn’t have to worry about the CIA's "professionalism"; he’s in a chaotic world and can say whatever he wants without repercussions. This leads him to use language that oscillates between irony, dominance, and dark humor, with an air of shameless superiority.

Many of his lines have a highly performative, almost theatrical tone, as if he enjoys the attention or as if, despite the danger, he still wants to make it clear that he’s the smartest man in the room.

Adler has a communication style that mixes control, cynicism, and a pleasure in destruction. What’s interesting is how he uses violence and chaos as an opportunity to assert himself and demonstrate power, all while maintaining his composure.

"Rage will only take you so far, and I should know." → I like this line because it hints at his personal experience with anger, which fits his backstory and controlling personality. Adler acknowledges that anger can be useful, but only up to a point. This has implications for his story: he’s likely used rage as fuel before (Vietnam, the Cold War, etc.), but he’s learned that survival depends on more than just emotions. Analysis: A line packed with history. It implies that at some point, he himself has used rage as fuel but has also learned its limits. This fits perfectly with his background: a man hardened by his work, who has been through situations where anger wasn’t enough to survive. Subtext: He’s likely speaking from his experience in Vietnam or some mission where his rage didn’t change the outcome.

"And that, kids, is called firepower..." → He’s enjoying the moment, as if he’s giving a lesson with an air of superiority. Analysis: It has that "alpha male" tone he loves to project. He’s not just enjoying the power of the weapon but doing so with a flirtatiously mocking tone. Subtext: A bit of narcissism, pleasure in destruction, but with a certain charisma.

"I knew they’d be a hit with the crowd." → I love his mocking and boastful tone, as if even in a zombie massacre, he finds the opportunity to make a sarcastic joke.

"Hey idiot! You dropped your gray matter!" Adler angry is always interesting because it reveals his more direct and aggressive side. Though there’s humor here too (gray matter = brain), it’s a way to vent frustration without losing his sarcastic style. Analysis: An aggressive taunt, almost angry. Adler isn’t just sarcastic; he can also be cruel.

"Stacking them up like firewood!" → He shows no remorse; on the contrary, he sees destruction as an almost mechanical process. This line is brutal and reflects his ability to dehumanize enemies when necessary. He has no problem using graphic imagery to describe destruction, showing his experience and coldness in combat.

"The sweet, sweet aroma of capitalism..." → I’m fascinated by the almost sensual level of enjoyment with which he says this, as if upgrading a weapon were truly pleasurable for him. His tone of pleasure almost suggests that he equates material success and power with intense sensory gratification. He says it with an almost excited satisfaction. Adler doesn’t just believe in capitalism; he enjoys it with an almost sensual intensity. He associates power with pleasure, wealth, and supremacy. It’s as if upgrading his weapon gives him a rush of satisfaction similar to gaining something valuable on Wall Street. Analysis: This is pure Adler. His tone is one of genuine satisfaction, said with an almost sensual pleasure. Subtext: He’s not just a pro-capitalism patriot; he enjoys luxury, powerful weapons, and anything that represents status. He’s unapologetically materialistic. (I love that, honestly, haha).

"You might want to reconsider your strategy, folks." His condescending tone suggests he’s observing flaws in others (or the zombies) and making it clear he’d do better. It shows his quick observational and analytical skills in combat. He’s always assessing the terrain and looking for an advantage, which is consistent with his strategic personality. Analysis: He says it with a condescending but practical tone. It’s his way of saying, "They’re killing you because you’re idiots."

"You know, you’re not actually supposed to bite the bullet?" Analysis: A reference to the expression "bite the bullet," which means to endure pain or do something difficult. Adler, however, uses it literally with zombies, giving it an interesting double meaning. But since it’s in a zombie context, he says it literally. It’s sarcastic and dark at the same time.

"You shouldn’t stare directly at the sun; that shit will blind you." A seemingly simple line but loaded with metaphor if you analyze it. It could be interpreted as practical combat advice or a deeper warning about not facing something so dangerous head-on (perhaps an indirect reflection of his own life).

"Did I give you permission to look at me?" → So Adler... Dominant, condescending, as if even zombies are beneath him. A line of absolute dominance. Depending on the tone, it can sound authoritative, threatening, or even flirtatious in a power dynamic. Analysis: A line that denotes absolute dominance. In a zombie context, it’s funny. In another, it could be a flirtatious line with a power subtext. This line reinforces the idea that Adler sees others (including zombies) as inferior, establishing hierarchies even in chaos. Classic Adler: direct, challenging, and with a touch of arrogance. It’s a line that reinforces his authority and mystery, making it clear he doesn’t tolerate intrusions or lose control of a situation. It can also be interpreted as a provocation to maintain tension in the moment. He’s used rage to survive, but he also knows it’s not enough. It’s an admission that his own fury hasn’t always saved him, which gives a small hint of his more human side.

"It was you or me, and I’ve already decided." → He positions himself as judge, without hesitation. Cold, decisive. He has no remorse because his survival is always the priority. Analysis: A cold and decisive line. It represents his survivor mentality and lack of remorse. It’s simple but powerful. Subtext: There’s no room for sentimentality or doubt. He chooses to live, always.

"Right in the motherboard."

"If you’re going to keep getting tough, so will I..." Adler is a strategist: if the situation escalates, he escalates with it. It’s the mentality of someone who never backs down. Analysis: Reflects his adaptability. If the situation escalates, he doesn’t hesitate to escalate with it. Subtext: He’s not one to retreat or fall behind.

"I’m happy to support local businesses." Analysis: Another subtle jab, but also a reminder that he knows everything is a business. He’s not naive about war and money. Another cynical reference to capitalism. Adler knows everything is a business, but he has no problem with it.

"Another one bites the dust." → Minimizes the threat.

"Carnage is my middle name." → Reaffirms his lethality with pride.

"Enough of the metal section already."

"I could jump out of my own skin."

"Now that’s a good kick."

"You put in money, spit out firepower, and that’s the American way." → More than just a line, it’s a celebration of his capitalist philosophy, associated with power and violence.

"Consider it a mercy kill." → Here he positions himself as a judge of life and death, very much in line with his CIA history.

"Do you mind if I call you Tinker Bell?" A reference to Bell when temporarily allying with a zombie.

"You and I have work to do." A reference to Bell when temporarily allying with a zombie. Analysis: A reference to Bell. Though it’s a generic line, it has connotations of forced camaraderie, as if he’s talking to someone who has no choice in the situation.

"Is this going to cause problems? Then I love it."

"Hudson would’ve loved this shit." Analysis: A reference to Jason Hudson, another key CIA character in Black Ops. Implies that Hudson shared his mindset or would’ve enjoyed the carnage.

"I don’t care about the taste; I’m after the side effects."

"Don’t act tough; I saw you drinking daiquiris." A direct jab, typical of Adler when he wants to cut someone down who’s trying to act tough. Analysis: A classic Adler taunt. He enjoys cutting others down with sharp comments, especially when someone tries to act tougher than they are.

"I didn’t survive Fracture Jaw to die in this hole." A reference to his involvement in Vietnam, specifically Operation Fracture Jaw in Cold War. For him, surviving extreme events like that is part of his identity; he won’t accept being defeated in a "lesser" context. Analysis: A direct reference to the Cold War mission in Vietnam. This reinforces that, even in an extreme context like zombies, his identity as a soldier remains intact. Subtext: He’s survived worse than this, and he knows it. There’s a hint of pride but also disbelief.

"Dodge and strike, that simple." A practical and direct line, reinforcing his combat mentality.

"I think it even strengthened my hair." Analysis: Another line that sounds like overcompensation. As if he needs to reaffirm his virility in the most physical terms possible. Another oddly virility-focused line. As if he needs to remind himself that he’s still a strong, dominant man.

"Who wants to be my punching bag?"

"Do you know what happened to the last person who made me angry?" A provocative tone, almost as if he enjoys the idea of instilling fear. Implies he has a history of punishing those who challenge him, reinforcing his vengeful and dominant nature. Analysis: A threatening and provocative tone. Depending on the context, it could sound almost playful or like a real warning. Subtext: Adler doesn’t forget or let offenses slide easily.

Always confident, with a touch of arrogance and an attitude of having everything under control. It reminds me of how he always seems to be one step ahead of everyone else. His seductive and mocking tone could be a reflection of his need for validation, as if he has to remind everyone that he’s still "the man on top." Adler is a man who constantly has to prove his dominance. He’s strong, lethal, intelligent... but the fact that he makes so many references to strength, power, and size/powerfulness… gives the impression that he’s compensating for something.

It’s possible that Adler, deep down, feels he’s never been enough, which would explain why his masculinity manifests in such an exaggerated way in his speech. The way he enjoys his own "shine" suggests he has to remind himself that he’s still a dominant man.

Adler is a character who, despite having emotional complexity and facing dark moments, maintains a confident, challenging, and often sarcastic attitude.

His tone, even seductive, can be a way to maintain emotional control and distance from others. As an ENTJ, he’s strategic but also enjoys dominating situations with charisma and power.

Adler has a way of facing challenges with a mix of cynicism and confidence, which can make his approach more "seductive" because he seeks to take control, even through provocation.

On a subtext level, Adler’s "seduction" could be a reflection of his need for control. His mocking and confident attitude, even in extreme situations like facing zombie hordes, could be interpreted as a form of personal power, where he maintains his security and confidence at all times. Adler has lived through extreme situations in the CIA, with a background of psychological warfare, manipulation, and decision-making under pressure. This could have influenced his need to always show control, even in the face of the impossible, like zombies. His "seductive" attitude and flirtatious tone while killing zombies could be interpretations of his need to maintain a facade of power. This manifests in his way of staying superior and dominant, even in chaos. He enjoys messing with others. He’s a guy who mocks, provokes, but not just for fun—he does it to show he’s in control. His relationship with Hudson was always one of respect/rivalry, so that mention of him isn’t coincidental.

Moreover, the fact that Adler often feels more emotionally distant from others and is used to manipulating situations to his advantage allows him to adopt an almost playful approach to zombies. This could be related to his emotional detachment, where he uses humor, sarcasm, and control to avoid being consumed by fear or despair, unlike Woods and Weaver, who are more reactive in their responses. While Woods and Weaver (yes, I’ve also played with them in Black Ops 6 Zombies mode) act with a more pragmatic and sometimes brutal approach, Adler stands out for his leadership style, which is less about brute force and more about subtle manipulation. This is reflected in his lines, which not only aim to eliminate zombies but also suppress any kind of vulnerability through his attitude and words. He uses his language as a tool to assert himself and make others see him as almost untouchable, contrasting with the roughness of the other two characters. In summary, Adler’s seduction and provocative style can be seen as a manifestation of his desire for control, his ability to maintain a facade of security, and his more cerebral and strategic approach to chaos, while Woods and Weaver operate from a more visceral and reactive perspective. This approach sets Adler apart and gives him a unique layer of complexity compared to the other two characters.

General Conclusion Adler’s lines in Zombies mode reinforce his ENTJ personality to the max: ✔ Sarcastic and with sharp dark humor. ✔ Dominant and condescending. ✔ Enjoys power, both economically and militarily. ✔ Tends to use lines that imply control or veiled threats. ✔ His capitalist patriotism is shameless. ✔ There are a couple of suspiciously enthusiastic lines about power and virility. ✔ Dominant and pragmatic: He doesn’t waste time with sentimentality. Surviving and winning are all that matter. ✔ Sarcasm and mockery: He enjoys cutting others down with his sharp humor. ✔ Enjoyment of power and capitalism: He’s excited by the idea of absolute power, whether through weapons or money. ✔ Possible masculine overcompensation: Lines like "a big, powerful staff" suggest that, while he projects absolute confidence, there’s a level of fragile ego at play.

In other words, Russell Adler is a man who loves power, violence, money, and control. And he enjoys it so much that sometimes it slips out a bit too much.

Some lines have an overcompensation vibe ("it even strengthened my hair"), which makes you think that, while Adler projects absolute confidence, there’s also a level of fragile ego at play. Which isn’t uncommon for someone with a life based on control and constant competition.

Adler’s lines in Zombies are an amplification of his character, taking him to the point where his control, his pleasure in violence, and his sense of superiority become a spectacle. He speaks like someone who sees war as a stage to reaffirm his dominance, never missing the chance to throw in lines loaded with arrogance, mockery, and seduction.

His tone, sometimes blatantly sensual, suggests that power, destruction, and pleasure are intertwined in his mind. And when it becomes more obvious, like with the "big, powerful staff" line, it suggests that, yes, maybe he’s projecting something.

In the end, these lines show us an unfiltered Adler, without the need to manipulate from the shadows, simply enjoying the chaos with the certainty that he’s still the one in charge.

In conclusion: his Zombies lines are 100% Adler. True to his character, his dark humor, and his worldview, but with some interesting nuances that could be interpreted in amusingly Freudian ways.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Can you do something angsty with Kylo ren for the 1k follower event? Like makeup/breakup (or both) preferably with a little 🌶️🥵

Kylo Ren, my favorite sad boy. Maybe it’s because I have such a crush on Adam Driver, but I adore Kylo Ren. Maybe it’s because I love dark side-leaning hotties. (Although nothing compares to Darth Maul but I digress). Now, I (personally) see Kylo Ren/Ben Solo as one person, just different personas, however, for this prompt, we’re talking about Kylo Ren. How would Kylo Ren react to a makeup/breakup scenario?? Honestly? Probably not well. Let’s be real.

Most of these are with gn!reader w/ an exception or two.

Content & Warnings (MDNI): angst, toxic/unhealthy relationships, suggestive themes, possessive behavior, non-descriptive mentions of sex

Word Count: 587

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 1k follower event masterlist

First and foremost, with how toxic the First Order is, and everyone wanting leverage on others in order to move up the ranks, Kylo would never be open about his relationship with you. He would do everything in his power to hide his relationship with you for that very reason. It’s almost giving Anakin hiding Padme from the Jedi, but in a different light.

Of everyone that might know, it would be Supreme Leader Snoke. Snoke would absolutely use this relationship to manipulate Kylo Ren. He’d encourage the passion but would also devise ways to undermine Kylo’s relationship with you. He’s basically Palpatine in that regard.

The breakup would come from you, not from Kylo Ren unless Snoke deliberately told him to call it off. Even then, I think Kylo would try to hang on to you. He leans toward the dark side but he’s not Sith. He just wants to belong, and he wants to be wanted.

The breakup isn’t explosive or argumentative. If anything, Kylo appears outwardly calm.  It’s almost frustrating for you because you wanted some kind of reaction from him.

It’s the afterward, when you leave, that Kylo loses it. That lightsaber is coming out and heads are rolling. He’ll never unleash his anger on you, but he’ll unleash his anger on stormtroopers, control panels, and literally anything else that might be in his way.

After Kylo has cooled off, he’s going to come after you. This man is determined to hunt you down and keep you by his side, even if you don’t want it. Let’s be real here folks, Kylo’s love is toxic and unhealthy, especially if we’re talking about Force Awakens & Last Jedi Kylo Ren. This man will search the galaxy to find you again.

He’ll do it himself, too. He’s not leaving this task up to stormtroopers or to Hux. Kylo and his Knights are coming after you. Period.

When he does find you again, you put up a fight, but you’re no match for him. Kylo drags you back with him and confines you to a room. It’s comfortable, and you have everything you need, but you’re not allowed to leave.

Kylo visits you often, and in this, he is also calm—to a point. He insists you made the wrong choice, and is fairly reasonable about it. But of course, you push his buttons. Eventually, he fractures, and he’s more like the Kylo we see in the interrogation room with Rey. Kylo has patience, but it’s only for you.

This back-and-forth eventually implodes, coming to a head that only ends with the two of you reuniting physically.

It’s Kylo that acts first. He wants you, and he always wants you to stop talking for a few seconds. Which is why he grabs the back of your neck and draws you in for a kiss.

You don’t fight him. You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. These first few kisses are all soft, and then quickly devolve into insistence.

Clothes are ripped away from bodies until it’s skin-against-skin.

Kylo needs to dominate here. He needs to establish that he’s the one in control and that you only want him.

He won’t force anything. Kylo will never cross that line.

Kylo will need verbal confirmation that you’re his. He might delay or even control your orgasm just to hear you say that you belong to him.

Kylo will make you beg, and won’t give you your end until he’s complete satisfied that you’re his again.

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[cultofdixon]

A long road to recovery

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Her screams will forever haunt the archer especially with the visual aid permanently in his mind. But there’s only so much he could do for her • ANGST/SFW • TW: Femur Fracture / Major Injuries / Blood Loss / Mentions of Amputation

Requested by: Anon

In the Apocalypse, you’re going to face some threats that want to make it unsafe for your family.

First it was Shane, now it’s this man who calls himself “The Governor”

No one really encountered him until a ghost of the past decided to make himself present again. But even Merle didn’t know how far the Governor decided to go.

“We’ve got another hostage. 2 actually…more willing to give us answers”

“How are you sure?” Merle questions the Governor who only gave him an annoyed look before two other soldiers took the redneck by the arms detaching his blade. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“What I should’ve done the second that son of bitch yelled your name” and without a second thought, the governor knocked out Merle letting the men take him to what he had planned next…

After he tried to get more information out of the two he captured in the heat of it all…

Daryl and Y/N

While Daryl was chained to one side of the room blindfolded, Y/N was completely aware of their surroundings as she tugged at her own restraints. She saw what he did to Glenn and was afraid the same treatment will happen to Daryl.

“Please. We don’t want any trouble. Just let us go we were only following orders” Whatever needs to be said, Y/N. Without giving too much away.

“Mm. Oh but you did. You didn’t want to give us what we wanted to hear…now you’re just doing the same as them” The Governor knelt to her level grabbing her jaw harshly feeling and watching her resistance. “But this time I know exactly how to get it out of yea” he let go of her face before rising to his feet and snapping at the archer’s direction to let his men know to untie the blindfold resulting in a crazed enraged look from the man. “He’ll give me what I want”

Daryl scoffs knowing he’s not going to say a word, nor is Y/N. But the way the devil-like man smirked in his direction caused all his blood to run cold watching him wind up his fist that instantly landed itself against Y/N’s cheek.

“No! NO!” He shouted tugging against the restraints as every time he managed to stand, he would get knocked back down…continuing to watch every punch land on its target.

Eventually Y/N spat out blood avoiding eye contact toward everyone in the room. She brought her attention toward the Governor watching the anger spill out of him.

“All either of yea have to do, is tell me how fucking many of you there are. Then no more of this” His fists clenched listening to Y/N chuckle weakly hanging her head low as her jaw hurt too much to speak. He quickly grabs a fistful of her hair gripping onto it tight causing the tears to spill from her eyes. “TELL ME OR ILL FUCKING KILL HER”

The look in her eyes tells Daryl not to say a word. But every fiber of his being was screaming against him.

“Over my dead b-body…” He said with hesitation watching his anger spill out as the Governor tosses her to the ground bringing his leg up and harshly bringing it down on her thigh.

The crack caused an unbridled screech to escape her lungs as she now laid on her side not being able to control the pain filled screams just from her own movement caused by the break he had down. Daryl lost it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t anymore.

“I-I-I…There’s not m-many” Daryl sobbed. “Most of us are children and old folk…o-o-or too weak to fight” he screams out his sobs tugging harshly at the chains as Y/N’s screams over powered his. They were strong enough to fight. But he just. He needed something to be a lie.

“Good.” The Governor scoffs before driving his foot into her stomach for extra measure turning to the archer watching him fall apart but not share more. He got what he needed. “Get them up. It’s time”

As the big man makes his way out of the room, Daryl watches two men come in to grab Y/N as he couldn’t believe what he saw. Now his anxiety started to eat at him watching her get taken away and before he could fight…a sack was thrown over his head.

Now he’s lost

But it didn’t take long

For the sack to be removed and for his unrestrained self is standing beside his brother whom he thought was dead in an arena of sorts.

“Let’s get these walkers hungry YEAH?!” The Governor shouts with a huge smile as the cheering grew louder.

The Dixon brothers instantly turned to the sobbing mess that was Y/N and as she was dropped, the walkers were released on their chains. Without a second thought, Merle leaped the moment the walker tripped letting the undead sink its teeth into its metal nub before it got to Y/N. She looked up at him through a tearful gaze thanking him but also wishing she wasn’t in this position in the first place.

________

“Merle you dumb bitch!” Glenn shouted at the eldest Dixon that ran through almost a sea of walkers to get to the building closest to the one the Atlanta group was held up in.

“He’s going to get himself killed” Andrea sighs watching this all unfold.

Merle dodged several walkers and right as he miscalculated how close one got, he felt his whole body get tugged into the nearest building. In a safe yet temporary hiding spot, Merle locked eyes with Y/N. The one his brother’s fancies.

“How the fuck did you sneak out of the clothing store?”

“I’m more useful than you fuckers think and I knew you wouldn’t make it quick enough before curfew” Y/N scoffs punching him in the arm resulting in an enraged expression. “What the fuck was I gonna tell Daryl if you became Walker bait?”

“That I’m one less problem for the pig back at base to deal with”

“Fuck Shane and what he thinks. Just fuck off and thank me for saving your life”

“Hell no! I’ll just save yea as my own form of thanks”

“You know I’ll take that as a thanks right?” Y/N rolls her eyes taking out a flash grenade she found from one of the tanks they scavenged a few nights ago, tossing it across the sea as the second it went off the two left that spot returning to the rest of the group.

________

Once Merle killed the walker that almost got Y/N, a gun was met at his head by one of the other soldiers but he was met with a bullet that came from Maggie.

“LETS GO!” She shouts as Rick joined in the cover fire.

Daryl quickly ran to Y/N grabbing one of her arms to throw over his shoulder as Merle did the same with the other. Both carried her out avoiding the fire the best that they could.

“Steady”

“Don’t move her too much”

“The fuck happened?!”

“Son of a bitch broke her leg!”

Y/N tuned out all of their voices when they loaded her up in the car letting her take up the whole backseat which meant Glenn and Michonne would hold up in the trunk. But that didn’t happen right away.

What she didn’t know because the pain flooded all of her thoughts, Daryl left with Merle because of the whole “blood” spiel. No one can really argue with such, or really want to. They just. Didn’t want a piece of their family to leave.

No one wanted to tell Y/N but she got the idea. She knows Merle enough and knows what he’d done so it wouldn’t be sane of them to welcome him with open arms. She just wished her partner didn’t leave.

“What the hell happened?!” Carol shouts when Rick and Glenn were the ones carrying Y/N in as she still hadn’t controlled her painful outbursts.

“Get her in a bed and Glenn you know where the old pallets are? Take some wood pieces off and you, whatever you name is” Hershel gestured toward the prisoner. “We have duct tape anywhere?!”

It wasn’t the best splint but it would have to do. Hershel duct taped two blanks on other side of Y/N’s right thigh to stabilize the broken femur. A bone you should never break. He’s already told her if worse comes for worse, they would have to take the leg and she had a semi-easier recovery.

But that’s worse case scenario.

Right now Y/N laid uncomfortably, with a minor tremor whenever she tried to do anything else besides lay there in a pool of pain and sweat from the stress of said pain.

“Why’d you save her? From that walker?”

“The fuck you on about?” Merle scoffs. “Y/N? Oh because I have the hots for her” the sarcasm poured out him with those words. Daryl grabbed his brother’s arm harshly pulling his attention to him. “WHAT?! YOU THINK IMMA LET THE ONLY GOOD GODDAMN THING IN YOUR LIFE FUCKING DIE?! Hell! Why the fuck did you even leave with me? They ain’t ever gonna let me in and those Woodbury fucks aren’t gonna either.”

Daryl was left speechless and with that the silence just grew between the brothers until the youngest had about enough of their situation.

“You’re coming with”

“They won’t—-“

“You’ll listen to everythin’ they fucking have yea do. Even if that means being in a cell”

And with that the Dixon brothers returned and Merle was instantly put in the cell that they held Michonne.

Hershel felt the eyes on him as he was sat beside Y/N’s bed after scrounging up a sedative through the few pills the group scavenged from the farm to the prison. He quickly turned to the cell door finding Daryl standing there anxiously as his eyes were glued on her swollen thigh.

“She might lose it if we don’t figure out a way to get the swelling down. Good pain killers can help. Ibuprofen works best”

“Ice?”

“Like we’d manage to find any or hell, make it. The best for that are those ice packs in quick first aids. The ones with an activator that makes it cold.” Hershel checked her pulse out of an anxious habit because he didn’t know how strong the sedative would work on her. But given no tears and screaming, it did wonders.

“Didn’t Carl find all the med shit in this place?”

“Yes. But none of those ice packs. I’m glad nothing is bleeding or we would use the whole supply to cut her open, let the excess blood spill, then wrap and wrap until it stops”

Hearing all that didn’t sit well with Daryl as he had to step out coming face to face with Rick who came to check on Y/N himself.

“You alright?” The man seemed to never worry for himself at times.

“Nah. I won’t be until she is. I gotta go out there”

“Daryl. This Governor guy is on us and will know our scavenge points from what information any of yall gave. We have to take him down before it’s safe to go out”

Things only escalated with the Governor which at one time had them moving Y/N’s body so that they could trap the soldiers in a section to take them out. Merle also gave his life to try and solve the problem for them by killing the guy coming up unsuccessful. But when Daryl found his body, and his belongings, he found most of the med supplies one of the Governor’s trucks had. Including those ice packs.

Now in the rebuilding time, which meant the defeat of the Governor and infusion of the Woodbury folk…Daryl listened to Hershel with everything he instructed when it came to caring for Y/N while she wouldn’t be able to do much of anything. But something she tried to keep to herself was the pain becoming unbearable at night. They slowly started going on runs and developing a flow while making the prison a home, so meds come in very scarce.

She doesn’t have to keep a front just so they don’t run out of meds. They know what she’s dealing with.

Daryl entered the cellblock after taking a night watch the second Y/N fell asleep. But he was met with soft sobs escaping their shared cell. At first he thought someone was walking a fussy Judith but when he entered their cell he heard Y/N cry in a half fetal position hugging onto a pillow. The swelling gone down quite a bit but the pain was still unbearable and the break was going to take some time to heal.

“Sunshine, how bad is it?” Daryl whispers kneeling beside the bed resting his hand on her shoulder while glancing to her leg to make sure she’s trying not to bend it.

“It’s f-fine” Y/N sobbed hiding her face in the pillow so she couldn’t see the annoyed but worried look on Daryl’s face. “I-It’ll pass”

“Hun. Hershel said it’s best to take the pain medicine to help the healing process. This ain’t some addict shit—-“ Sometimes addicts who have surgery, refuse pain meds. To stay clean.

“It’s a rare resource” Y/N pulled her face away from hiding, feeling Daryl’s rough but gentle touch rest on her cheek brushing the tears that fell with his thumb. “I-I…I can’t use it a-all. What it—-“

“Nah. No what ifs. You need it. You ain’t gonna sit here and suffer. We’ll find more. When you’re better you can even help find more”

“Heh…like you’d let me out of the walls” Y/N softly laughs watching a twitch of a smile grace the corner of his lips as he rolls his eyes.

“Listen. As much as I wanna protect yea…after all we lost and shit…I don’t want to make yea hate me by keeping you confined longer than you already have”

“I could never hate you, Daryl. You just owe me a ride when I’m fucking okay again” She laughs whole heartedly this time giving Daryl a chance to lean into her pressing his lips against hers for a chaste kiss before getting up to get the pain meds and his canteen.

Daryl helped her sit up so she could take the pill and drink the water without spilling on her, but as Y/N was sat up he snuck his way behind her so that when she laid back down it’d be against him.

His comforting embrace

A long. Four. Months. Later.

The archer was working on his bike to prepare for an incoming run when he heard the familiar whistle coming from his girl. He quickly stood approaching her as Y/N made her way to him with a bit of a limp. You think a break like that will heal straight?

“Making your laps?”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing so for a month and wanted to see what my partner would be doing at this hour” Y/N smiles bringing herself close feeling Daryl’s arms snake around her waist as his eyes checked their surroundings of any bystanders. “Don’t worry. No one is watching”

“Mm. Like I care who sees me kiss my woman”

“Oh? Is that what I’m receiving while I’m here?”

“Oh I don’t have t—-“

“Just kiss me already, Dixon” Y/N smiles grabbing his vest carefully and pulling him down for her to connect their lips enjoying this moment. A moment she felt like she waited forever to have.