#and giving away all my shit in preparation to kill myself

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - BEGIN AGAIN

A/N: Look what I have for you. Is it Christmas or what? So, this one is a bit shorter, but I wanted to give you something. I am still a sucker for Logan. I just want him so bad, oh my god!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: angst, but fluff, implied sex?

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story has sexual scenes.

Words: 2500+

Important note: HughJackman!Wolverine - always!

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - BEGIN AGAIN

My body winced and I opened my eyes. The nightmare was gone. I was back in the real world. Was it better than the dream? No. But I was back, on a motel bed that smelled like bleach and mould. At least I had a bed to rest on tonight. Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be as promising as today. Hell, I could be dead now. 

I felt a warm touch on my belly. Fingers traced patterns on my skin. My eyes lifted, meeting the green ones. “Are you okay, baby?” Logan whispered into the darkness. 

It was a ridiculous question to ask. I was not okay. Shit, he wasn’t either. We went through literal hell. So I snuggled closer to him, sniffing his scent as I tried to suppress my tears. “No,” I mumbled into the white top he wore. “I see them in my dreams, haunting me. They are calling my name, pleading for my help.” 

We lost everything, everyone. 

It started when the mutant hunters killed the strongest of us - Jean. We didn’t know how the fuck they managed to do it. She was the fucking Phoenix. We quickly learnt they created a weapon to strip us of our powers. Afterwards, it was too easy. With Jean gone, we knew the rest of us was next. 

Scott died a week later. He wanted revenge. He tried to kill those who killed his love, his woman. Unfortunately, he was captured, stripped of his powers and murdered. 

Charles felt it all. He felt it when Jean died. He felt when Scott’s heart started to beat. We knew this was the end of the line when he told us. 

The whole school prepared for war. The youngest students were sent home or away with those who didn’t want to fight. The rest of them we trained. They wanted to stay, fight with us, and protect the school and this family we built. 

And we lost. 

They all died. Charles, Storm, Hank, Peter… They were all gone. Logan and I fled the moment we realised there wasn’t much we could do. We saw the dead bodies around the school—our friends, and students, lifeless on the bloody wooden floors in a place we once called home.

I hated we left them there. I hated we couldn’t say goodbye. I would have died too if Logan hadn’t pulled me out of the bloodshed. The thought of leaving Logan alone in this unfair cruel world pained me. At least, we survived together. At least I had him.

It’s been two days since we lost our friends - the family we loved and cherished. Two days since we lost our lives and were on the run. This was the first night we were able to lay low and rest. It was because we escaped the States and entered Canada before being caught. It helped that Logan was Canadian.

Logan kissed my forehead. “I see them, too. Their faces haunt me. That’s why I can’t sleep.” 

A tear escaped my eye. I quickly wiped it away. “There was so much blood, Logan. They let them bleed out.” 

“I know,” he whispered. 

I started to cry. My body was shivering. I felt his arms wrap around my shoulder and middle, pulling me as close to him as possible. “Shhh,” he kissed the top of my head. I couldn’t help myself. My emotions were all over the place. I wasn’t able to mourn the loss properly. We had to hide from the world. There was no time to think about our next steps. 

His touch became soothing. I felt the love radiating towards me. I loved him deeply, madly. For this man, I would sell my soul to the devil. And in this twisted world full of death, I was happy that we survived the biggest nightmare of our lives. 

I don’t know how I managed to fall asleep, but when I opened my eyes again, I saw the sun coming through the crack of the curtains. The big, strong arms never left my body. When I glanced at Logan’s face, his eyes were closed. His breathing was even. He was asleep. Good. 

I remained in his embrace, snuggled to his side. I used this opportunity to think about our next steps. I needed to occupy my mind with something, anything. 

We left the States. Now what? Was it wise to stay in Canada? It was so close to the States. What if they decide to hunt mutants in here, too? Even if we moved north, they’d find us there. And maybe… nowhere was safe. Our destiny was already written. We were doomed. 

My eyes were locked on the beige ceiling, and I imagined a plan as my thoughts ran through my mind. I was going back and forth. When I didn’t like the plan, I erased it to a certain point and then moved forward again. 

Out of nowhere, I gasped. There was an important detail I forgot. How could I be so stupid? 

“What?” Logan’s eyes snapped open. He sat up and pushed me away in the process. His fists were clenched, adamantium claws on full display, ready to fight. His breathing was hard. I scared him. Shit. 

Gently, I put my hand on his chest. “It’s just me, I’m so sorry. Everything’s fine.” 

“You okay, baby?” he asked when his eyes found mine. Once I nodded, the claws retracted and he exhaled. “You scared me, Y/N. I thought someone found us. Don’t fucking ever do that again.” 

I shook my head, pressing him back on the bed. “I’m so sorry. I was just thinking about our future. I had been contemplating our next steps, thinking back and forth. And…” I sighed. “We can’t stay in Canada.” 

He frowned, then raised a brow. “Why?” It was a genuine question. 

“You are Canadian, Logan. This will be the first country they’d start to look for you - for us,” I explained. “I get that Canada is one of the biggest states in the world. But, as I said, the main focus would be here, once they have permission to strike here.” 

Logan frowned, not pleased with what I said. It took him a good twenty seconds before he nodded. “Well, you aren’t wrong. So, where should we go?” 

“Scotland.” 

He opened his mouth, closed it, and did it a few times before he said, “Why Scotland?” 

My fingers traced his beard-covered jawline. “I’m half Scottish,” I said. “Scottish-American. I have two passports. I have them here. I took them before we left. I have your IDs and all.” 

“H-how?”

“Always prepared for the worst,” I admitted sadly. “Kept them in a bag with some money and all,” I explained. “When Jean died, I made sure we were ready. I prepared an emergency bag that I kept in a hidden spot. That’s why I ran to the first escape door. The bag was under the floor.”

“My sweet angel,” he exhaled and leaned to me to press his lips on mine. “Always ready. But, no offence, you don’t sound Scottish. You don’t look Scottish,” he chuckled, and I rolled my eyes. “You never told me.” 

My eyes moved around the room, stopping at the creek of the sun coming in. “My father was Scottish. Mother was American. When they died, my mother’s sisters wanted to take me in. They were super religious. They thought they’d be able to cure my mutation with God’s mighty power,” I rolled my eyes. “Luckily, my grandma took me in. I lived with her until I was twenty. Then I decided to move back to the States.” 

Logan’s fingers brushed my hair. “Thank fucking god you did.” When I looked at him, he was smiling. “Otherwise I wouldn’t met you.” 

I climbed over him, putting all my weight on his body. He didn’t mind. Logan’s arms immediately wrapped around me. “We should head to Scotland,” I whispered. “It’s not Canada but my grandmother lives in a village, near the woods. It was magical then. It should be magical now, too.”

He raised a brow, watching me like a hawk. “How do you know she’s still alive?” 

My fingers brushed his nose. “Because I can feel her,” I said. “She’s a mutant too.”

“She is? What’s her mutation?” 

“Nature control,” I explained. “I’m not saying she’s the strongest, but she’s powerful enough to communicate with me through nature, all those miles away.” 

His lips found mine in a gentle kiss. “So we head to Scotland,” he whispered.

“Will you be able to get through the flight?”

His nose scrunched. “For you, I’ll do anything, baby. I’ll get on the fucking plane and suffer through it if it means to be with you.” 

Those words brought tears to my eyes. “I love you. Thank you.” 

. . .

Where are the mutants? It’s been ten years since Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters was destroyed. Since then, no one has seen a mutant. Are they hiding? Are they extinct? More on that this afternoon, at four PM. 

I sighed. Another radio show about mutants. Great. Will they ever leave us at peace? I put my coffee mug down, my eyes locked on the kitchen window as I watched the rain heavily fall from the sky. I loved this dark, cold weather. Autumn in Scotland was magical. Yes, some hated the weather, but not me. I enjoyed it. 

Big hands wrapped around my midsection, pressing me as close to a firm stomach and chest as possible. I hummed, smiling. His scent made my knees weak even after all this time. His lips pressed a kiss to the top of my head. 

“How is my wife today?” Logan’s voice was low but soft. He smelled like rain, mud and oil. He just came back from work. At least he took off the wet clothes before he got all over me. 

Logan and I got married two years after we moved to Scotland. My grandmother died a year before that. I was lucky enough to spend some time with her before she passed. Oh, but she loved Logan. She always called him: my sweet boy. 

I put my hands over his, sighing. “I’m better now that you are here. There was another radio show about mutants,” I said. “How was work?” 

“Alan got stuck under a tree and broke his leg,” he said. “I helped him out and we got him to the nearest hospital. So, he’ll be out for about six to eight weights. Which means a bit more work but more money.” 

I turned around in his arms, eyes meeting his. “How much work? Will you be coming late to us?” 

Logan leaned closer and pressed his lips against mine. “Don’t worry, baby. Nothing drastic, maybe staying at work for an hour longer. And it’s not gonna happen every day. I wouldn’t want to be without you all longer than I need to.” 

Again, our lips met in a sweet kiss, then another until he pressed me against the kitchen counter. His big hand gripped my hips. He was hungry, I could feel it. Even his erection was evident. I wanted him. “Wait, where are the kids?” he pulled from the kiss. 

“In the barn,” I moaned when his lips left mine. I needed him. I put my hands on his chest. This was the perfect opportunity fuck in the kitchen while the kids were nowhere near the house. And hell, it’s been some time since we were intimate. I unbuttoned his flannel shirt. 

We had two kids. Charles, whom we called Charlie, was almost ten. My grandmother was able to see him as an infant before she passed away. She wasn’t happy that we had a child before marriage. But she was all giddy and happy for us once she saw the baby.

And then there was Emma Maria, after my grandmother and Rogue, our friend. She was eight. As far as we knew, Charlie’s mutation didn’t show up. It was only a matter of time before they blossomed. At least both of our children could enjoy childhood without being a threat to the world. 

Logan pulled on my lower lip. “Pretty baby is needy?” He hoisted me up on the kitchen counter, stepping between my legs. “I know, it’s been a while since I was inside you.” His hands stroke my thighs. One of them crawled crawled up my body and the other cupped my clothed sex. 

I closed my eyes, enjoying his touch until he kissed me gently and stepped away. “They are coming inside,” he sighed. Immediately, I whined. 

As I hopped off the kitchen counter, the back door opened, and our children entered the tiny hallway. We heard them undressing and talking to each other. Emma coughed. I frowned. I hoped she wasn’t getting sick. 

Logan leaned against the kitchen aisle, waiting for the kids as I jumped off the counter. Once Emma’s eyes noticed him, she smiled at him. “Hi, dad!” 

“Hey, princess,” he greeted her. He took her into his big arms once she was close, pressing a kiss on top of her head. “What you were doing in the barn?” 

“We have kittens!” she said excitedly. 

I raised a brow. “Oh? Since when?” I saw a stray cat a few times here. I didn’t know she was expecting babies. Well, at least we’ll have someone to catch mice around here. Also, it was beautiful news. I loved cats.

Charlie hugged his father. “They are a couple of days old,” he explained. “She had five of them.” 

“Five?” Logan sighed. I knew he wasn’t happy about it. Before he opened his mouth, I gave him a warning glare. 

“They are so cute and tiny,” Emma smiled. “We’ll keep them, right?” She glared at her father and then at me.

I nodded. “Of course, Em. They can stay in the barn. We have some old towels and clothes. I think I have a spare plastic container for water. We’ll give them a safe home and they’ll be with us.” 

“Baby,” Logan sighed. 

I raised a hand. I didn’t want to hear a word about it. When I found the container, I gave it to Emma. “You’ll bring them water. Charlie, find an old carton box in the garage. I’ll fetch you the towels. And listen,” I turned to him. “Put it into the box nicely and leave the box in a secure, warm space. Don’t put the kittens there. She’ll do it herself,” I explained. 

The moment both kids disappeared, Logan shook his head. “I don’t like this, baby.” 

“Let them have this,” I said. “We don’t have a dog. The cats will stay in the barn and outside. No one is taking them into the house, okay?” 

“Uh-huh,” he rolled his eyes. “Give it a day or two. Emma will sneak them in.” 

I grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him closer to me. “I have my ways of convincing you,” I purred. I pressed my lips to his in a searing kiss. “Just be a good daddy and let the kittens stay.” 

He shook his head, chuckling. Logan leaned closer, his lips to my ear. “I might need a little more convincing to keep the kittens. So, be prepared.” 

I pressed my lips to his cheek. “I love you, Logan.” 

He smiled at me. “Love you too, baby. And the kids, and this life.” 

[saeist]

a/n: alternate universe where touya didn't go insane and goes to UA :] dedicated to the loml @saerins cus we're on our touya brainrot + went a little insane with this instead...

"jesus doll, excited now are we?" touya muses, a smirk on his lips as he lets you push him inside your small and cramped bathroom.

rolling your eyes, you motioned him to sit down on the toilet lid while you prepare the shower. making sure the water is just the right temperature or else you might burn touya's head off when you rinse the hairdye off his hair

"is this the part where you remove your shirt and i suck on a titty?" touya says more of a statement rather than a cheeky question. you stop yourself from hitting the boy that has his signature lopsided smirk with the shower head you were currently holding

with an exasperated sigh and a pinch to your nose bridge, you answer him

"just shut up for once, touya. besides, won't your dad kill you if he found out you're dying your hair black? or did you forget that he almost kicked you out of the house when he saw your piercings for the first time?" you raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend who decided at the last minute to dye his hair as a sign of "rebellion against his "uptight, stick far up his ass dad" his words, not yours

"he can manage" touya huffs, scoffing at the memory of his dad yelling at him for acting and starting to look like a good for nothing delinquent or in endeavour's words, a villain. "it's not like it's my duty to keep our image of a "perfect family". if only the rest of the world knew what its like to have endeavor as your deadbeat dad!"

touya and endeavour never really got a long per say.. at least that's what touya tells you whenever he had a shit day training with endeavor. days where he would train with his dad were usually days where he'd opt to spend the night at your dorm. away from all the chaos inside the todoroki estate that he unfortunately refers to as his home

but to touya, at the end of the day, you are his home. his peace, his serenity, his anchor in this world where hell could break loose at any given moment

"don't give me that look, doll" touya sighs, shoulders dropping when he noticed you were staring at him.

"i just don't want to see you hurt all over again. you almost gave me a heart attack that one time when you showed up here unannounced" you pout, letting touya slowly wrap his arms around your waist.

touya’s arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. “i can handle the old man. it’s his problem if he can’t accept me for who i am,” he mutters, resting his forehead against your stomach

"i mean, he already stopped giving a shit when he realized i can't withstand my flames, so who am i to give a shit back after everything he did to me?" touya continues, his grip tightening

you run your fingers through his hair gently, feeling the warmth of his presence. “shhh, we already talked about this" you shush him, "all i'm saying is that i just want you to be safe, touya. i can’t stand seeing you hurt,” you whisper, your voice tinged with worry.

he looks up at you, his usual smirk replaced with a rare, sincere expression. “i know, doll. i know." touya presses light kisses on your stomach, "but I have to be true to myself, even if it means pissing off endeavor” he chuckles, the pads of his thumb rubbing circles on your exposed skin

you both stay in that position in silence for a bit. just finding comfort with each other's presence. just the way touya likes it. nice and quiet. a contrast to his daily hellish life back at his own home

that is until touya starts to feel his scalp burn a little

"okay fun time's over, doll. my scalp's startin' to kill me here" touya shudders, slowly unwrapping his arms around you as he reaches for the shower head in your hand.

you stifle in your laughter watching him make a fuss inside your cramped bathroom.

that is until, you remembered that your bathroom tiles were pearly white and if he's rinsing off black hairdye then–

"TOUYA MY TILES!" you let out a screech

"too late, doll" touya pokes his tongue out at you, hair dye getting all over your walls and cold tiles.

you were gonna pay one hefty fine if you don't clean this shit up as soon as possible.

now, touya sits on your bed. drying his freshly dyed jet black hair with a towel and you're not even gonna lie to yourself. he looked a little too good for your liking. touya has always been a looker himself but with this new hairdo.. oh lord

"why are you looking at me like you want to eat me?" touya chuckles, hanging the now stained towel around his neck as he leans back on your bed with his elbows propped. he was giving you bedroom eyes, quite literally and figuratively.

what a tease!

"nothing. just making sure that i'm still talking to touya and not his emo alter ego dabi" you mused, plopping down on your bed next to him.

touya laughs at your comment. eyes turning into crescent moons

“thanks for everything, y/n,” touya says softly, voice full of genuine love and appreciation.

your heart swells at the sight of touya like this. you would move mountains if you could just to see touya– your touya happy.

"i love you, touya" you lean in for a kiss. to which touya happily returns the favor.

"i love you more than life, doll." touya smiles lazily against the kiss, cranking his neck to the side for more access as he deepens the kiss.

moments like these with you is when touya feels like he's on top of the world and he hopes it will forever stay like this cause to touya, he can face anything the world throws at him when he knows you'll be there right by his side

[babygorewhore]

10 things I hate about you part three.

Logan Howlett x fem reader

The tension between you and Logan finally comes to a head in this final part.

Part one.

Part two

I found out my dog has cancer today. It’s been a horrible day but I still wanted to write and finish this series. I apologize if it’s shitty but I’m just tired. Can’t wait to write more of him. And if I didn’t tag you when you’ve asked, I simply didn’t remember.

Warnings! Angst! Talks of troubled past! Talk of death! Violence! Arguing! Oral! Fem receiving! Degrading! Praise! Unprotected sex! Hair pulling! Age gap! Reader is late 20s and Logan is late 40s!

“Keep glaring at me and your face is gonna get stuck like that.” You say without looking at Logan who was grumbling to himself.

You both were sitting at a diner the next morning from the all night ride on the bus. Your clothes were messy and your entire body worn out. Logan did allow you to rest on his shoulder until he nudged you awake and told you that you were getting off at this stop.

The waitress set down a pot of coffee, sugar and creams prepared. You were shocked to see Logan give her something close to a smile.

“I take it you want the usual order, James?” The older woman asked and he nodded. She turned to you and grinned.

“Ah, who’s this lovely lady?” You told her your name and she glanced between you both. “I’m glad to see him with someone.” His soft expression hardened and you cleared your throat.

“May I please have blueberry muffins?”

“Of course, sugar. Coming right up.” She chirped and walked away.

“I’ve never heard anyone call you by your first name.” You spoke and Logan rolled his broad shoulders.

“Yeah well that’s how I introduced myself to her.” He replied tiredly and leaned back. “Why didn’t you tell me what your power was?”

Logan’s question was one you wanted to keep avoiding at all costs. Your answer was complicated and you anticipated a poor reaction from you. You didn’t answer and his jaw flexed.

“Alright, bub. You wanna play this game with me? Fine. But I hope for your sake you have one hell of a reason for what you did.”

“Can we just not argue for five minutes?” You sighed and widened your eyes. “It fucking sucked. I get it. You don’t need to keep repeating it.”

To your surprise, he mumbled “Fine.” And watched you take a drink of the hot coffee. “Where are your parents?”

His personal inquiry took you by surprise and you paused. Logan’s dark eyebrow raised in expectation and you purposely took a long sip of coffee.

“They’re gone.” You answered in response and he tilted his head to the side. You exhaled and cleared your throat, setting your mug down. “My father is in prison. And my mother is dead. I killed her.”

Logan snorted and rolled his eyes but then focused when he saw your gaze hardened. He realized you weren’t joking. He opened his mouth but the waitress came with a tray, she set down his meal and two blueberry muffins for you.

“Can I get you a refill?” She asked and you nodded with a wide smile in thanks.

“Yes, please.”

You could tell Logan was itching to ask you more but waited for her to come back. “Leave the pot if you don’t mind.” He quietly asked and she took the hint.

You weren’t getting out of this conversation and you pushed around the food on your plate. “You heard me correctly. I murdered my mother.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Nice try but I’m not a dumbass. I know well enough. You’re not a killer. Something happened and she ended up dead.”

You flicked a hair out of your face and crossed your arms. “You don’t know anything about me. That’s something you’re missing. You just make assumptions about people because you’re bitter and angry at the world.”

This bravery was coming from exhaustion and discomfort but Logan wasn’t falling for your attempt. “She tried to kill me. And I had to stop her.”

“So you cover up all this shit with false charm and wit to distract people from the past? Interesting.”

You smirk. “It’s not false.”

“And you make some bet with the iceman, who wants to fuck you, that you can make me like you because of some dumb crush on me?”

Your heart plummets and you begin to shake.

“You also think I’m stupid. You think I’m so fuckin dumb that I don’t these games you play with people. All of this? All this pretending you do? It’s just an act to keep everyone from seeing what’s really inside. A sad little girl who was abandoned. And you’re hoping someone will help pick up the pieces. Well, it’s not me. Get it through your head.”

You sat in silence after he finished grounding out his lecture with a wave of different emotions. Shame that he knew about the bet. Sadness from him using that against you even though it was true and finally anger coursed through you.

Your first instinct was to get up. Run out of the building and hide away. Maybe even just leave him there and escape back to the school on your own. But that’s not what you did.

Your focus sharpened and Logan blinked a few times as he realized that he couldn’t talk or move. He was extremely strong, stronger than you could have ever imagined as he resisted but your growing temper was keeping him still as you leaned in close.

“I’m sorry about the bet. I shouldn’t have done something so stupid and I know that. But don’t you ever act like you have some kind of idea about me or my life. That would require you to think of anyone else but yourself. Don’t ever bring up that my parents abandoned me. I wish they did. I wish they would have left me instead of what happened.”

At the last word, you finally released him and Logan jerked. He huffed a breath as he watched you stand with red rimmed eyes.

“Xavier found me underneath a pile of a broken house. If it wasn’t for the table above me, I would have been dead that night. And now, I’m just trying to help other people. I’m just trying to be a good person. I didn’t mean to like you and sometimes I don’t even know why. You’re not nice to me. You’ve treated me like shit the entire time. And I don’t deserve that.”

You exited the diner as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your footsteps carried you back to the bus stop for this never ending trip. You’d have to get a new phone, otherwise you’d call someone to come and get you.

You sat on the bench for almost an hour when you heard his heavy footsteps approaching but your eyes remained on the road. Logan sat down next to you, his thigh almost touching yours.

“You’re right. You didn’t deserve that.”

You didn’t give him a response and through the corner of your eye, he faced you. “Susan, the waitress let me use her phone. Couple of people are headed our way to get us.”

You still remained quiet and Logan sighed.

“There’s also a trailer she owns behind the diner. She offered for us to stay there until they arrive.”

“No thanks.” You aimed your body to the side.

“I’m trying to make things right.” He started and you whipped to face him.

“And you’re doing a really shitty job, Wolverine.” You hissed his xmen name like venom and he actually recoiled. The big strong warrior flinched from you. “So please. Spare me the poor attempt and shut the fuck up.”

You’d never spoken to him like that and you got up. You began to storm off, searching for the trailer he spoke of when you felt a hand graze your elbow. In a rage, you twirled on your heel and put your hand on his firm chest.

“Stop chasing after me. You made your point. I was so fucking stupid for making the bet. The only thing you will ever care about is a woman who never chose you. She never chose you! I hid my powers from you because I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want you to think of her when you’d see me use them. I just wanted to spend time with you.” You whispered the last part and Logan’s eyes squeezed shut.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist but to your surprise he gently stroked the skin. Logan’s hold firmed and he tugged you closer to him. Your shoes touched his and he leaned his head down.

“Staying away from me is the best thing anyone can do. Everyone who gets close to me ends up dead. And I won’t have more blood on my hands.” Logan was rejecting you again but his gaze darted to your lips.

But you were the one to pull away.

Logan allowed you to move towards the trailer without another word and you both scanned the small space. There was only one bed but there was a couch as well. You automatically leaned towards the sofa and he stopped you.

“I’ll take the couch. You sleep on the mattress.” He grunted.

You didn’t argue.

You woke to Logan shouting in his sleep. His claws shot out of his knuckles and you kept a safe distance as he woke himself up. Your lower lip was pulled between your teeth as sweat came from his skin and he wildly looked around.

He heaved and sunk his claws back into the bone.

“I get them too.” You offered and he looked up at you.

“I would give anything to have one peaceful night of fucking sleep.” He whispered and you nodded. You took a risk and shifted around. Your legs hung off the bed and you climbed off. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I can help you sleep.”

Logan’s lips tightened. “Pills don’t work for me.”

“I mean using my mutation.” When he didn’t reply you deflated. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive. I know you probably don’t like anyone in your head-“

“Yes.”

His agreement surprised you and you stopped short. You didn’t want him to change his mind about it so you quickly extended a hand. You rested your hand on his dark hair, absentmindedly stroking the soft strands and your heart fluttered.

“Just breathe.”

Logan shut his eyes and allowed you to search his mind for a happy memory. You half expected to see Jean but you instead saw him overseeing a class you instructed. You were smiling in his mind, unaware of him watching and you drew a diagram on a board. It was a calm class that was just an ordinary day.

You continued moving around his thoughts and saw even more images of yourself. Moments of you in the kitchen, play fighting with friends. You saw a time where you played with a service dog outside.

You then proceeded to dig deeper and saw young him. Quietly reading in a large bedroom, decorated in items that were older.

You dropped your hand and came back to the present. Logan’s breathing slowed and he didn’t look tense.

“You’re always so kind to people. Even when they don’t deserve it.” He chuckled. “You’re funny. Especially at night when you try to make the kids go to bed.” Logan looked into your eyes. “You don’t care what people think of you.”

“I didn’t know you even saw those things.” You whispered.

“Why would I want to ruin someone’s sunshine?” He countered and you leaned down.

“You don’t ruin anything, Wolverine.”

“I like that you use my name.” He admitted in a low voice and you swallowed thickly.

“Logan, I wouldn’t hurt you. Not on purpose. I didn’t mean to be so annoying-“

“I like that you push my buttons. You don’t let me be an asshole. You’re like a…puppy.” Logan smiled. It was a genuine one then it dropped. “I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier. Whatever happened between you and your family-it must have been a nightmare.”

“My mother was convinced I was a demon. She did things that were crazy but one night she snapped. And she tried to kill me. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just wanted her to stop.” You shuddered at the memory. “I have nightmares about her. That’s why I always stay up late.”

“Can’t say it gets better. Wish I could. After hundreds of years, I still remember every life I’ve taken. But you-“ He struggled to find the words. “Eventually, you can find meaning in this shitty world. You’re doing it with all those kids.”

“Well, well, Logan, you’ve given me a compliment.” Your teasing made him look at your proximity.

“Yeah. Think you’ve heard enough of me being a dick. Might as well tell ya something nice.” He huffed and you didn’t know what came over you. You bent down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

You yanked back, startled by your own action. “I’m so sorry, you just-“

“Fuck it.”

Logan stood up and wrapped his massive hand around the back of your head. Your parted lips allowed him to easily crush his mouth to yours and you felt the back of your knees hit the mattress.

His kiss was bruising at first, hungry the way he moved on top of you between your legs. Logan’s hair fell forward and grazed your forehead as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You yelped as he tore away from your lips and peppered needy kisses along your jaw. “Logan-I don’t want you to feel like you need to-“

“Wanted to fuck you when you were on that goddamn stage.” He growled, tearing apart the top of your clothing. Exposing your chest and bra, Logan ran his tongue across your skin and nipped it with his teeth.

“I’m gonna fuckin ruin you.” He promises and you whimper.

Logan trails his fingers along your curves, his warmth searing against your bare flesh and his facial hair tickling your neck. “Such a pretty body. I’m gonna taste that pretty pussy and you’re gonna take it like a good girl, huh?” He huskily announces.

Even in your wildest dreams, you still couldn’t have imagined the moment of Logan Howlett tearing away your panties and groaning deeply. Your nipples hardened as he rolled two girthy fingers around your clit and gave it a spank.

“What’s the matter? Can’t handle being smacked around a little?” Logan darkly whispered and smeared your wetness around your folds. You threw your head back and whined as he dragged his lips down your stomach, pelvis and finally hovered above your cunt.

He eagerly dragged his tongue and licked you like melting ice cream. You buried your hands in his hair and pulled, moaning a slew of swear words as Logan drooled against your pussy. He slipped inside your entrance, filling you partially and you cried out.

Logan roughly turned you around, separating your ass and continued to eat your pussy. This angle was somehow deeper as your chest pressed against the mattress and you let out pornographic sounds. He held your calves down as he sucked and licked your cunt.

It was overwhelming and you were just about to hit your peak when he yanked away. But you didn’t have time to miss the contact when you heard Logan unbuckle his belt. You turned your head and looked over your shoulder.

You needed to enjoy every second of this so you maneuvered around and sat on your heels. You were breathless as Logan pulled down his pants and boxers. His dick was big, as you expected but it was so thick and leaked with precum.

“Don’t look so scared now, princess.” He hoarsely laughed and you stopped him from taking his shirt off.

“Let me.” He allowed you to peel it off and you admired his muscular torso. Your hands traced every avenue and his stomach tightened as your fingers moved above his v-line.

“Like what you see?”

“Mhm. You’re perfect.” You said sincerely and he pressed his lips to yours again. You tasted yourself on his tongue as he laid you on your back.

Logan wasn’t a gentle man by any means but he was tender in the way he held back his superhuman strength. He didn’t want to hurt you. He ran the tip of his cock along your slit and breathed through gritted teeth.

He pushed inside you, his dick stretching your cunt and you let out a throaty groan. You felt it pulse as he thrusted, filling you to the brim and his balls slapped against your ass.

“Cmon. You can take it, now you’re not so mouthy.” Logan snarled as your eyes rolled back and he lifted your legs up. Adding to the intensity as he fucked you. “Such a good girl, pussy squeezing me.”

You were nearly wailing and your nails dug into his back. He ran his tongue along your pulse point. “I’m-I can’t-fuck!” You squealed as Logan wrapped his hand around your neck.

“You gonna let me fill you up? Cum in you over and over again?”

You nodded rapidly.

“I’m not some little bitch. I don’t just bust a load in two seconds. You’re gonna cum and suck my cock with that pretty pussy till you can’t see anymore.” He promised and your vision whitened.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave and you were sobbing. Logan fucked you through it, using your leaking arousal to add further slip as he pounded you. Your head lulled to the side but he shook his head.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna hold you up.”

You were back on your knees and looking at the wall as he slammed back into you.

“That’s it, milk my cock like the slut you are. You gonna be a good girl and take it all for me?” He mocked and you gasped for air between crying.

“Cum in me, god please, cum in me, please! Please!” You begged and Logan slapped your ass so hard you squeaked.

He tangled his big fingers in your hair and controlled your rhythm as he made you bounce on it.

Logan shouted and rested his head on your back as he creamed in you. You felt warm ropes of cum spill and leak out. Another orgasm hit you hard and you bit the top of your hand.

His stamina was endless, you knew that but he did finally pull you into his chest after five rounds.

You laid there in silent bliss for several seconds and felt him press a sweet kiss to your temper.

“You free Friday night?” He asked and you perked up with a grin spreading across your face.

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m trying to-“

You giggle and cup his face, kissing him hard. Logan rests his hand on your lower back.

“Yes. I’m free.” He gives you another rare soft smile and hums.

“Gives me time to find a decent car. Gotta do at least one thing right.” You gently touch his cheek and nuzzle against him.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m feeling deep urges to bite you.”

“Oh, here we go.”

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @marchsfreakshow @taintandviolent @starkeysprincess @nemesyaaa

[deeznutzzzz24]

Little Red Riding Hood

Chapter Three: A New Friend

Summary: Living a life of caution for as long as she can remember, Y/N has never stayed too long in one place, always moving from town to town in hopes to hide her identity. With the Hunters Moon coming, she knows she must be extra careful, as the local culture resides heavily in the hunting of her kind. One night, when a cloaked figure unveils her secret and narrowly escapes, Y/N finds herself in a desperate situation: kill or be killed. With no face to go by, she must now search through the townsfolk before the stranger can spread the truth about her. But the task proves more than difficult when she realises her only lead is a long, crimson cloak.

Genre: horror, fantasy, little red riding hood retelling

Warnings:cursing, stalking, death, heavy smut (in later chapters)

Pairing: redridinghood!Jungwon x femwolf!reader

chapter one here

chapter two here

chapter four here

Doubt clouds my mind as I shake my head and take a step away from the door.

You’re being paranoid.

I force my hand to still and bring it to the large stretch of timber before me, knocking three times with firm affirmation.

No answer.

I press my ear to the door again, checking for any signs of noise or movement.

I hear none. Blood running cold, my hands anxiously tug at the handle, cursing in frustration as I realise it’s been locked from the inside. I feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Another scream. My mind paints a picture of a frightened old lady cowering against her kitchen sink as she shrinks from her attacker.

I start banging now, waiting for any small sign that’s she’s alright and that my mind is playing tricks on me, but it’s no use, Mary has the thickest door in all of Avion. She has my paranoia to thank for that. I hear some shuffling from inside, but still, no one opens the door. My hands twist anxiously through my hair, pulling at my fringe with such force I’m sure I feel some hair ripping out.

Backing away from the door, I give myself a moment before kicking it with all my strength and sending it toppling over to the floor.

Small muffles of noise come from the kitchen and I slow in my steps, reaching a hand underneath my dress and grabbing at the small dagger tucked in my leg strap. I hear Mary groan in pain, and while the sound pulls at my heart, I can’t help but feel thankful at the discovery that she’s still alive.

I cast a glance to the glass cabinet facing her kitchen, cursing at the blurred stains that obstruct my view.

If Helena were here, she’d tell me to walk away. To leave this cottage and Mary with it. “This is the way,” she’d remind me, “don’t let petty sentiment deter your duty to the pack.”

She has a point, though I hate to admit. My affection for Mary brings me little benefits. If I continue the way I’m going, it will only make it harder for whats to come. In the end, they must all die.

Mary is no exception.

Footsteps echo across the floor and I listen intently, ears catching the sound of the back door swinging open and shut. Her attacker has left. Whether this move is meant to be brief or not, I’m unsure, but I have to make haste of what little time I have regardless. Swinging around the corner without hesitation, I grip my knife tightly and prepare to confront a messy scene.

Mary sits hunched over the kitchen floor, breathing in small hushed breaths. Blood trickles down her left arm and rejoins in a pool of patterns on the floor. Fragments of glass litter the floor and I observe the cracked vase sitting on the kitchen counter.

Mary doesn’t notice my presence, too busy hunching over her leg to hear my footsteps approach.

“Mary….” I speak softly, afraid of startling her. The glass begins to crunch beneath my boots, the sound sending uneasy quivers up my spine. “Mary.” Growing impatient as I crouch down before her, I gently lift her head to look at me, and I can’t help but smile when her sweet face comes into view.

Mary turned eighty five last Spring. Her hearing comes in little flecks of focus now, which explains why she wouldn’t have heard me banging at the door.

“Y/N,” she smiles up at me, giving my cheek a small pinch before cocking her head sideways. “I didn’t know you were coming today?”

I have to stop myself from laughing. Mary asked me yesterday to bring some flowers on my visit. As I said, eighty five.

I give her hair a pat and go to help her up. “I decided to visit because I missed you too much.” I lie through my teeth, “though I wasn’t aware you’d get yourself into so much trouble before I came.” Before I can help her stand, she gently swats my hands away, pointing at the small chunk of glass hanging out of from underneath her foot. The shard seems wedged deep enough to have cut nerves. Jesus, that’s gotta hurt.

If I had of come sooner, her attacker would of been faced with me, not a weak, elderly lady whom, quite literally, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Before I can move any further, the sound of the back door swinging open echoes through the house.

My hands reach for my dagger and I instinctively move in front of Mary. Shit.

Hurried footsteps rush through the living room and I have to stop myself from gripping the dagger too tight. He’s coming back. While my human form is strong , I am still constricted to the same strength as any other mortal girl from Avion.

Before I can lunge forward, Mary reaches a small hand up to tug at my dress. Glancing down, I watch in confusion as she shakes her head with an amused smile. Before I can protest, a young man rounds the corner, brushing past me as he juggles an assortment of first aid items and crouches down before Mary.

“Damn little lady, you seriously need to clear out that shack. Couldn’t see a damn thing.” He huffs, hands frantically sorting between jars. He picks one up and starts applying the herbal paste to her wound.

Mary reaches out a hand, brushing it against the strangers face before roughly grabbing at his cheek. Watching on in utter confusion, I glance between the two, trying to figure out their relationship.

Is he a young friend like me?

Is he family?

From what I was aware, Mary didn’t have any family in Avion.

He lets out a pained groan and tosses her a frown. “I wonder who you got that impatience from.” She laughs, brushing his hair back into place and motioning to her arm.

His frown melts into a cheeky smile. “Oh I think we both know who I got it from.”

She returns his smile. “Hurry up with those bandages, boy. I’ll bleed out at this rate with all this yapping.”

To an onlooker, the exchange would make the two out to be a pair of angry old siblings.

If it weren’t for the obviously enormous age gap, I know I’d certainly think so too.

The two murmur quietly amongst themselves, both impervious to my presence as I stand awkwardly a few feet away.

The young man stands, carefully brushing the glass to the side with a broom. Mary pouts, gazing at her once gorgeous vase now littered in little pieces across the floor. He catches her sad gaze mid sweep, giving her hair a soft pat. “Don’t worry, I’ll go into town tomorrow and get you a new one.”

She shakes her head, eyes glossing over. “It’s ok, it’s not something that can be replaced anyway. It was one of a kind.” Though I can only see his back, I catch the way the boys shoulders tense from her words.

The awkwardness becomes so overwhelming to the point where I don’t know whether to join in or leave.

The stranger helps Mary to her feet, brushing the glass from her apron with gentle motions. “You and your glassware. I tell you if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you cared more about your vases than you do me.”

Mary props herself against a chair, cradling her foot as he rushes to fetch her some water. “And don’t you forget it!” She shouts as the back door swings open and shut once more. “Oh my….” She gasps, finally realising I’ve been standing there all along. Laughing awkwardly, I smile to try and ease the tension between us.

“You didn’t tell me you had a visitor.” I smile through gritted teeth, trying not to let my frustration seep through. If I had of known, maybe I wouldn’t of rushed in here like hell on wheels. Before she can answer, the young man enters once more, this time stopping mid step as he notices Mary’s warm gaze pointed in the opposite direction.

Pointed at me.

The next few seconds slow in their course, a cold bite of nerves eat at my neck as the stranger slowly turns to face me, his features finally coming into view. Within seconds his eyes have found mine, and I have to remind myself how to breathe.

Face an attractive blur, the young beau bares soft ebony eyes with raven strands of hair that fall across smooth fair skin. It’s only when Mary clears her throat at my long silence that I come to a most uncomfortable discovery.

He’s the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.

Mary, amused, smiles from her kitchen corner, no doubt expectant of my surprised reaction. “Gets it from his father.” She laughs, gesturing towards her guest.

I throw her a confused glance, “Gets what?” I feign ignorance, but I can tell she doesn’t buy it.

“His looks, you silly girl.”

But the two of us aren’t listening anymore, standing in silence as Mary’s voice echoes through the space between us. I wait for him to respond to her taunts, but he doesn’t seem to find them amusing, in fact, he doesn’t pay them any mind at all.

He remains frozen from across the counter, eyes wide with something I can’t quite place. It’s then that he backs away, putting as much distance between us as he can. A shard of glass sticks upright from the floor behind him, and I open my mouth to warn him, but it’s too late.

The shard cuts through his boot, wedging itself into skin. The sound is so disturbing that we can hear as it squelches through flesh.

Mary stops laughing.

We both look up at him, waiting for him to double over in pain, but the boy pays his foot no heed, his pretty eyes trained on me as though I’m the only thing in the world that could hurt him.

Does he…..?

The cold nerves come back. My left hand, still clutching its dagger, instinctively tightens its grasp around the hilt.

He…….recognises me.

But that’s just the thing, though.

I don’t recognise him.

There’s no way….

“Jungwon!” Mary’s voice manages to break his daze and, after what feels like a lifetime, he finally shifts his gaze away.

So he has a name.

Jungwon.

“Look at your foot! Oh my goodness!” Mary bustles over to the mix of herbal pastes, grabbing the biggest jar and forcing him onto a stool.

She kneels to take off his boot, only for him to stand abruptly and move away. “Jungwon…”

I let my lips melt into an all too familiar smile, turning to the elderly lady who’s now kneels at his side. “Mary, you silly goose…” Feigning a laugh, I shake my head at her, “I thought you were getting beaten to death. You should’ve told me if you had another guest, I could’ve come another time.” She tries to make her way over but I’m quick to intercept and force her onto a chair. “Don’t even try, you need rest.”

She opens her mouth to protest but gives up just as easily.

“You’re right my dear, I’m sorry. It must’ve slipped my mind that you were visiting today. And just to be clear, if we ever were in such a situation, I’d be the one doing the beating, not the other way around. This idiot couldn’t hurt a fly.”

I smile at her humour. “Sure thing.”

“Ah, how silly of me! It would seem I’ve forgotten to properly introduce you.” She gestures to her guest and then back to me, as if to beckon us closer. “This is my grandson, Jungwon.”

My eyes fly to him. Grandson.

“Jungwon, say hello. This is Y/N, a friend of mine from town.” But her words don’t seem to comfort him. If anything, they appear to make him more anxious.

He gives me an awkward bow, eventually meeting my gaze with a great deal of hesitation.

My eyes dart down to the kitchen corner on his left, to the knife that sits idle by its board. His hand itches a few inches from it.

He doesn’t trust me.

Smart boy.

I laugh, giving him my warmest smile as I step forward, addressing Mary. “I wasn’t aware you had family in Avion.” I offer him a hand as I wait for her response.

He doesn’t take it.

“Jungwon is visiting from Borth, where him and his mother live. He visits every Winter, which is why you haven’t met him before.”

Ah. Of course.

I wasn’t here last Winter.

Mary bustles around the kitchen with her small limp, sweeping glass from corner to corner. She takes notice of her grandson avoiding my hand. “Jungwon! Don’t be rude!” She turns to me with a smirk. “Don’t mind him my dear, he’s just a shy idiot. Gets that from his father too.”

After a great deal of hesitation, Jungwon reaches his hand across, flinching when our fingers touch. His hands are warm and soft, a stark contrast to mine. Our hands meet with haste and just as quickly, he pulls his away, retreating completely until he’s backed against the kitchen counter.

I give a small bow to Mary. “Well then, I best be heading off. It was a pleasure meeting you Jungwon.” He doesn’t respond, instead bowing as he stares at the floor. Mary smacks the back of his head. “Walk her back to town boy.” He whips his head to her, his gaze pleading. I smile.

“A kind gesture. But I’ll be quite alright by myself.”

“Nonsense!” She shrieks, pushing Jungwon out the door and throwing him a coat. “The woods aren’t safe for a young beauty like you! Don’t worry, Jungwon wants to take you anyway.” I glance to the boy by her side.

His expression tells me otherwise, but he remains silent.

She gives him a sly nudge, bringing his ear down for her whispers. “Maybe you’ll make a new friend.” The boy remains silent, only nodding anxiously as a response.

“Really,” I laugh, pressing my hands to hers, “I’ll be fine. Besides I’m sure you’ll get him working on the door soon enough.” We look down to the door laying across her floor, it’s hinges torn awkwardly from the wall. “Sorry about that by the way. I got a bit impatient.”

“Oh I’ll get him working alright. When he gets back.” She murmurs, pushing Jungwon through the doorway and bidding us farewell. Jungwon leads the way, staring at the ground with fake fascination as if to distract himself. I don’t even have to turn back to know Mary’s probably waving warmly from her porch. She never goes back inside until she’s sure I’m sent off safely. Smiling, I turn around to bid her one last goodbye, but by the time my eyes catch sight of her little cottage trailing behind in the distance, she’s long gone.

————-

JESEUS!!!!! I’m so sorry to all my readers who were waiting for this one lmao it took me months just to publish one damn chapter! GOOD NEWS THO I’ve already written about 70% of chapter 5 so I’d say that’ll published at the end of this week sometime. I’ll let y’all know🙏 ps to that one anon who keeps sending rude ass demands and questions about why I’m “taking forever” if you keep sending them I’m gonna scrap this entire story just to annoy u 😘

If you want to join taglist, let me know😚

Taglist:

@ramenoil @moonmoongi @chlorinecake @denleave1088 @cha0thicpisces @w3bqrl @yu-yin-04 @rizzhee

[renthony]

I think it's incredibly irritating the way I have to emotionally prepare myself for new installments of media I get really into. There's a perpetual risk of crashing hard down into "oh god I can never make art this good, I'm a hack, everything I do is garbage, fuck, fuck, shit" depression.

*jazz hands* That's the NPD traits, baby! They give me the constant mental agony of needing to be perfect, or else my mind insists I'm absolute and total garbage with nothing of value to offer. I work on it every day by redirecting negative self-talk (frequently with the help of my housemates, who catch it when I don't even realize I'm doing it), taking time to really appreciate my own art before sharing it for external validation, and directly telling my housemates when I need extra validation and praise for something I've made.

There was a really long time I couldn't look at my personal copy of my own short story without physically cringing and wanting to get it away from me as fast as possible. If I looked at it for too long, I'd start hyperfixating on every little thing I perceived as "wrong" with it, and then panicking that I couldn't fix it because it's already in print. I have cried multiple times because I was so genuinely convinced that it's a piece of shit and I've already peaked as a writer.

It wasn't a great headspace. It killed my desire to create. I forced myself to put the paperback on a display shelf above my desk so I could make myself accept that I wrote it, people like it, and it's even available in multiple libraries all across the world. It wouldn't be there if people didn't want to read it.

It's fucking hard to live in the brain I have, and it makes being an artist incredibly difficult.

[fairlyang]

Ghostie I 🕷️

in which you get a phone call by the infamous killer Ghostface, as a huge scream fanatic

w/c: 5.8K

pairing: ghostface!miguel x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut, mention of stalking and killings, home alone, phone call, teasing, getting tempted, masturbating, getting watched, phone sex, praise, toy usage

part two ~ part three

It was Friday night and I didn't feel like going to the party my friends had invited me to. Plus with all the killings happening in our area... yeah right..

I stayed my ass home and was preparing for a solo movie night, or yet another one of my scream-a-thons. I was in the kitchen waiting on the popcorn while I was trying to find a bowl. I lean down to grab a Disney themed one and then placed it on the counter.

I looked at the microwave and sighed. Whys this shit always gotta drag?

I walk over to the fridge and grab an Arizona can. Perfect.

I feel a buzz and grab my phone from my pocket. I look at my lockscreen and see I got a text from my best friend Ryan. I put the can on the counter and unlock my phone.

Ryan🤞🏼 :

bitch you're missing out- there's so many guys your type out here

I snicker and shake my head, of course that's his first thought. I roll my eyes and lean against the counter thinking of what to type.

Well I'd prefer to not die at some frat party tonight but feel free to give out my insta;)

I hit send and laugh knowing his ass would. The texting bubble immediately appears making me scoff. That was too fast.

Ryan🤞🏼:

got you🫡

Might drop by after to give you some company

I immediately text back a response and send it before turning my phone off and putting it back in my pocket.

Sounds good just call me

Just then the microwave beeps. Finally. I walk to it and open it carefully taking out the popcorn bag. I open it and pour it all onto the bowl.

I throw away the bag into the trash then grab the can of Arizona and the bowl, walking into my living room. I place the snacks on the table and grab the remote before plopping on the couch. I turn the tv on then realize I left the kitchen lights on.

I put the controller on the couch and stand up walking into the kitchen and flicking the light off. As soon as I did it I thought I saw something running away through the window above the sink. Maybe just a rabbit?

I walk back to the dark living room, the light from the tv being the only thing that lead me to the couch. I plop down and go on a fast hunt to find the first scream. I can never get enough of the original, mostly because of Billy Loomis and Sid's reaction to the reveal. And I guess also all the little details I love.

I click on the movie and press play. I reach over for the bowl of popcorn and put it on the side then grab my can and open it before taking a sip and placing it back on the table. I grab the blanket that is always on the couch and place it on my lap.

I take my phone out of my pocket and put it on the couch to my right. Just in case. The opening scene starts and I lean back. Ghostface's voice and tone- lordddd-

I bring the blanket up to my face feeling the room was colder than earlier. My mom must've put the ac up before she went to work. I properly cover myself and sit with one leg under my other one.

"What number are you trying to reach?"

"I don't know..."

"well I think you have the wrong number."

"Do I?"

"It happens. Take it easy."

And what kind of dumbass answers the phone again? Like obviously it's gonna be the person you were just on the phone with!!! I scoff and shake my head, how the first girls are somehow always the dumbest.

"To apologize"

"You're forgiven, bye now"

"Wait wait don't hang up-"

"What?"

"I wanna talk to you for a second."

"They have 500 numbers for that, see ya."

I stare at my screen in admiration. How someone thought of making this series- must've been a real sicko but it brought us an incredible killer, dedicated fans, and iconic characters.

I shake my thoughts away not wanting to get carried away and focus on the movie again.

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

"I don't know"

"You have to have a favorite... what comes to mind?"

I grab a handful of popcorn and put 'em into my mouth watching their back and forth. It was truly never tiring of watching every single scene endless amount of times. I guess that's what being one of the crazed fans in the community is like.

"Freddy! That's right."

That tone. Why does it have to sound so sweet? Especially knowing he's flirting with her just to then gut her after.

"So you got a boyfriend?"

Me, personally, that's where I would've folded and told him no but that I'd love to have one.

"Maybe.. do you have a boyfriend.."

Again the tone just always makes my heart flutter and legs go weak. Especially since it was Billy talking. Just something about extremely attractive ghostfaces....

"No"

"You never told me your name."

"Why do you wanna know my name?"

"'Cause I wanna know who I'm looking at."

I'd be giggling and kicking my feet- take that shit as a compliment, man wants to know your name- well given he definitely already knew the names of all his victims but still the thought that counts. And the fact he planned that shit completely on purpose with Stu.... But still.

Kinda like having your very own personal stalker... you could easily change his mind if you really wanted or attempted to.

"What do you think I said?"

"What?"

"Hello?"

"Look I gotta go."

"Wait... I thought we were gonna go out."

"Uh nah I don't think so."

"Don't hang up on me."

And she hangs up. Hm maybe if she didn't hang up she and her boyfriend could have survived. Or maybe she could've flirted her way out of not getting murdered.

Though I guess Stu would've wanted to kill her ass anyway for breaking up with him to be with Steven. But in these movies anything could be possible.

Ah the third phone call. "Yes?"

"I told you to not hang up on me." So menacing.

"What do you want?"

"To talk..." sounding oh so sweet.

And she hung up again. It's like she has literal worms for brain.

Fourth call.

The game begins.

The opening scene ended and I was soon an hour into the movie. It always went by so fast which was a bummer but that meant I was on the right track to watch the next one and hopefully finish the first four movies by 4am.

By the first half hour I grew hot and took the blanket off and leaving it off to the side. More than half of the popcorn was also gone hopefully I had enough for the rest of the movie.

"No please don't kill me Mr. Ghostface I wanna be in the sequel!" So fucking iconic.

And Tatum actually had some fight in her!! Although trying to squeeze in the doggy door was not the smartest idea....

After her scene I let out a yawn and wipe my eyes when Billy jumped in front of Stu and Sid and at the exact same time my phone rang, making me jump as well. Jesus.

I grab my phone and see it's from an unknown caller... well I always answer these to fuck with the annoying sales people. "Hello?" I ask and let out another yawn. It was barely midnight why the fuck was I already getting tired?

"Hey there, hm past your bedtime?" A smooth and husky voice teases.

Huh?

"Not at all, just a long day." I say and raise an eyebrow.

This was convenient timing- insane timing. Impeccable....

"But who is this?" I add and look back at my tv not wanting to miss another second of the movie.

I didn't recognize the voice so I knew it wasn't any of my friends, or any of their boysfriends. Hmm...

The voice on the other end of the line chuckles softly. "Oh, come on now. Don't play dumb with me, baby. You know exactly who this is," he says, his tone laced with a hint of playfulness. "It's your favorite killer, Ghostface."

I scoff and roll my eyes. A prank call. But sure I'll play along.

"How was I suppose to know hm? You're not using the infamous voice changer.... And you didn't ask me my favorite scary movie." I tease back and bite my lip. There was just no way. I wouldn't get this lucky.

Ghostface lets out a low chuckle, seemingly amused by my response. "You're right, I did forget to ask you that. But I already know the answer to that question, don't I? Your favorite scary movie is me," he says, his voice dripping with confidence making me widen my eyes. "And speaking of things you like, I couldn't help but notice how good you look in that outfit you're wearing right now. It's making it hard for me to focus on anything else," he adds, his tone turning flirtatious.

"Well the scream movies are pretty good.... Top tier for sure..." I say, eyes still wide and unsure if it's real or not.

"And what is it I'm wearing?" I test because there's only one way someone would know, if they were watching me.

"Your Billy Loomis shirt. I gotta say you've got great taste in killers." He says sounding almost cocky.

"And some short shorts. Grey. Y'know it's not nice to tease... you look absolutely delicious." he adds and I bite my lip, squeezing my thighs together.

My eyes nearly fall out of their sockets as I feel my heart race. But in the best way possible- holy shit- I was chosen- oh fuck-

Oh my god-

I couldn't fuck this up.

"You gonna come in to find out for yourself?" I ask teasingly and lay back on the couch letting my legs spread on the couch. I pull the ends of my shirt a bit higher up my thigh on purpose.

"Oh, trust me, baby. I'd love nothing more than to come in and find out just how delicious you are," he says, his voice filled with lust. "But unfortunately, I've got other things to take care of right now. But don't worry, I'll make it up to you," he adds, his tone promising.

"Why don't you do something for me instead?" he suggests. "Touch yourself for me. Show me just how wet you are for me."

I squeeze my thighs together yet again and bite my lip. Holy fuck???

Not only is my biggest dream and fantasy happening right now, but his voice was extremely hot and sensual almost... me having a voice kink was helping him out. Wonder if he knew that already...

"Well I'm not wet, yet... definitely turned on I won't deny that." I say and feel my arousal slowly growing. This is all I've ever dreamed of. How did I get so lucky tonight??? All because I didn't go to some frat party? Insanity...

I spread my legs out and make my hand go from squeezing my tits over my shirt to trailing down my stomach. I run a hand up and down my thighs then go down. I rub my slit over my shorts, very softly and let out a shaky breath. My fingers gently rubbing my folds then going up to rub my clit. I let out a moan and lay my head back.

I can't believe this is happening.

His voice drops to a low, husky whisper as he speaks. "Mmm, that's it, baby. You look so fucking hot touching yourself for me," he says, his words sending a shiver down my spine.

"I wish I could be there with you, watching you writhe and moan as you pleasure yourself," he adds, his tone filled with desire. "But since I can't, I'll have to settle for just hearing you. Tell me, baby, how does it feel? Are you getting wet for me?"

"Mm you just contradicted yourself Ghostie." I say breathless and chuckle. "you said I look hot but also wish you were here... which is it? Are you in my backyard or no?" I tease and rub my clit faster making me let out a whimper.

I look over at my patio door the shades were off plus it was dark so I knew he could be out there watching me. Or he could have cameras in here...

"Feels so good- mm I haven't had the chance to touch myself all week-" I say breathless and buck my hips against my fingers. I felt my wetness soak through my panties and onto my shorts. Damn.

I grab the waistband of my shorts and pull them down lifting my hips to get them over my ass and then take them off, throwing them on the floor.

My fingers go back into position, two over my clit, gently rubbing the already swollen nub. My biggest fantasy, coming to life. I've been blessed.

Even if he wasn't the real Ghostface (which I highly doubted), a fake Ghostface wouldn't know what the fuck I was wearing. This was the real deal. And he was watching me.

"So wet Ghostie-" I moan and move my panties to the side and spread my lips just in case he was somehow watching. "such a dirty perv wanting to hear me moan... hearing me play with my pretty pussy." I moan and smile. I've never felt so turned on in my life.

He lets out a low chuckle at my teasing making me blush. Every sound he made sounded so hot. "You got me there, baby. I can't help but wish I was there with you, but unfortunately, I'm not in your backyard," he says with a hint of disappointment in his voice. Man...

"But hearing you moan and seeing you touch yourself is almost as good. You're making me so hard, baby," he adds, his voice thick with desire.

I let out a whimper and rub my clit a bit faster, but not enough to make me close.

He groans softly at the sounds of your moans. He knew you would sound good, but not this good. "Mmm, you sound so fucking sexy when you moan like that. I wish I could feel your wetness on my fingers, taste you on my tongue," he says, his words making my arousal spike even higher. "But for now, I'll have to settle for watching you play with yourself. Keep going, baby. Show me just how much you want me."

I nod and grab the top of my panties, lifting my ass up and taking them off throwing them on the floor. I move two fingers over my slit collecting all of my slick juices making me quiver. I haven't been this wet in ages. "ya hear that Ghostie?" I say and swirl my fingers along my folds.

"So wet for you- mmm- just for you-" I purr and let out strings of moans.

He lets out a low growl and I swear I can hear him shift around. "Fuck, baby. You're making me so fucking hard," he says, his tone thick with lust. "I can practically hear how wet you are for me. You're such a dirty little slut, playing with yourself like this," he adds, his words making me moan even louder.

"Keep going, baby. Show me how much you want me, how much you need me," he says, his voice becoming more urgent. "Imagine me there with you, watching you touch yourself like this. Imagine my fingers inside you, stretching you open, making you scream my name," he adds, his words sending shivers down my spine again. He was already driving me crazy-

"mmm fuck" I whimper and slip one finger inside. "shit-" I whine and slowly push it inside.

I close my eyes and imagine it's his finger instead of mine, slowly fucking my pussy, teasing me on purpose. "Feels so fucking good~" I moan and buck my hips as I slowly push it deeper.

Ghostface groans at the sound of your moans, his own arousal spiking at the incredible sight of you fingering yourself. "God, I wish that was me inside you," he says almost breathless. "You look so fucking good, baby. I can only imagine how tight and wet you would feel around me," he adds, his words making me whimper.

"Keep fucking yourself for me, baby. I want to hear you scream my name when you come," he says, his voice becoming more urgent. "Are you close, baby? Do you want to come for me?"

I whimper and slip another finger inside and fuck myself faster. My breathing was getting more rapid and I could hear my juices with every movement. His words were only making me more and more wet for him. So needy. "mmm fuck- s-so close-" I murmur and buck my hips against my fingers.

I open my eyes and leave my phone on speaker leaving my phone on my stomach while I bring my legs up to my chest, trying to hold them with my available hand as I fuck myself. My pussy felt even more tight and I was a whimpering mess. "I wanna cum for you Ghostie-" I purr and fuck myself faster feeling cream slowly drip down to my asshole.

He lets out a low growl of desire at the sound of your words. He knew his girl would enjoy this, he knew how much a dirty girl you'd be for him."Yes, baby. Cum for me. I want to hear you scream my name," he says, his voice thick with lust. "Faster, baby. Fuck yourself harder. I wanna see you shaking," he adds, his tone becoming more urgent, almost needy.

The sound of your wetness and the sight of you fingering yourself so desperately is driving him wild with need. He can't help but imagine himself inside you, stretching you open and making you scream for more. He needed to be inside you. "I'm so close, baby. I can feel it," he says, his voice becoming more ragged. "Cum with me, baby. Let's come together," he adds, sounding breathless as I could hear him, stroking himself.

Holy fuck- he's been jerking off the whole time? That thought alone almost sent me to the edge.

I add a third finger in and fuck myself harder, feeing myself clench on my own fingers. I let out a mewl and multiple whimpers as more of a mixture of wetness and cream leak out of my pussy. I felt my orgasm approach quickly in my lower abdomen and I go harder curling my fingers up, reaching my g spot with every pump. I come undone and feel my entire body shake. I let out screams of his new given nickname and whimpers as I ride my high.

I bring my legs down slowly and try to calm my breathing down, thighs still shaking but I can't help all the heat the rushed to my face.

"Fuck! Oh my god... that was so good-" I whimper out and slowly take my fingers out letting the mess I made leak out of me.

He groans at the sound of your orgasm, his own cum dripping from his cock and onto his thighs at the sight of you coming apart for him. "Fuck, baby. That was so fucking hot," he says as he was catching his breath. "I wish I could have been there to see you come undone like that," he adds, his tone filled with longing.

"You're such a dirty little slut, coming so hard for me," he says, his words making me whimper. "I want to hear you come for me again. And again. And again," he adds, his tone becoming more urgent.

"You're mine now, baby. You belong to me," he says, his possessiveness evident in his voice.

I whimper and squeeze my thighs together. "So you're not gonna come in here to fuck me? Look how much I came just from hearing your voice." I whine and then a smile spreading my lips at my last sentence, I was absolutely drenched.

"Mmm all yours Ghostie." I say and gently dip a finger back onto my folds to get a taste. I lift my finger to my mouth and suck on my own juices.

"As much as I would love to come in there and fuck you, pretty girl, I've got other things to take care of," he says, his tone filled with slight annoyance. "But don't worry. We'll have plenty of time to play together," he adds, his tone now sounding promising.

I pout and suck the remains of my arousal from my fingers. "a shame...."

He groans softly at the sight of you tasting your own juices. "Mmm, you're so dirty, baby. I love it," he purrs making my heart flutter.

"Are you still wet for me? Do you want to come again?" he asks, his tone becoming more demanding.

"I might just have to go back to my room and use a dildo- I wanna be filled..." I say and try to sit up without making more of a mess but it was inevitable considering I was still leaking. I stand up and pick up my panties and put them back on. Sure those will also get stained but it's fine....

His voice drops to a low, husky whisper as he speaks. "Mmm, I wish I could be there to fill you up, baby. I bet you would look so fucking pretty with my cock buried deep inside you," he says, his words making my heart race and my pussy even more needy, desperate. "But since I can't be there, you'll just have to use your imagination. Pretend it's me inside you," he says making me whine.

"Touch yourself for me again, baby. Give me a show..." he says as I felt my slickness leak to my panties. That was fast. "I want to hear you come for me again. Over and over again," he teases and I feel my eyes flutter.

"Can do ghostie." I say and quickly turn the tv off before heading to the stairs. I go up quickly and open my bedroom door.

I walk over to my chest of toys and pick my thickest dildo. A solid eight inches and a good two inches wide. It always felt so fulfilling.

I sit on my bed putting my phone down for a second and take my stained panties off and also take my shirt off, throwing them both on the floor. "Are you gonna watch hm? Thought you had stuff to attend to..." I tease as I kiss the tip of my dildo, leaving my phone near me as I move to lay down on my stomach.

"Oh, I'm definitely watching, baby. I wouldn't miss the sight of you fucking yourself with that dildo for anything," he says, his tone thick with lust. "I might have things to do, but you're too beautiful to ignore," he whispers and I feel myself melt. His voice was so pretty.

He moans softly at the sight of you kissing the tip of your dildo. Oh how badly he needed your mouth on his cock- licking up all his leftover cum and taking him deep in your throat. "Mmm, that's it, baby," he says, his voice becoming more urgent. "I want to see you take that dildo deep inside you. Show me how much you can take. You'll need the practice pretty girl." He says and I widen my eyes.

How big was he? Oh god-

"Dirty perv. Do you have cameras in here?" I tease and giggle.

I feel myself getting more wet at the thought.. I mean he's definitely watching me somehow....

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. You'll never know." he taunts letting out a chuckle, his words making me shiver with anticipation.

I lift my hips before moving my dildo down to slowly rub against my soaked folds. "fuck-"

I sit up again and position it only letting the tip inside. "Oh god- s-so thick-" I whine and lift myself up, not able to take it. Has it really been that long?

He grunts at the sight of you rubbing the dildo against your soaked folds. It was a sight he'd never grow tired of seeing. "Mmm, you look so fucking hot with that dildo in your hand," he says as I was barely able to hear him stroking himself again. "Take it slow, baby. I want to see you savor every inch of that dildo. Make it feel good inside you"

"Are you still tight for me, baby? I bet you are. You'll have to work that dildo in slowly. Make it stretch you open to prepare for mine." he teased and I feel like passing out.

I nod and slowly lower myself down on it. I was struggling but was slowly able to take it, it was still huge inside me, absolutely stretching me out. I felt my legs shake a bit and I was barely about to be halfway and I was already feeling full. "Don't fucking stop." he growls and I moan.

"Mm Ghostie I need your cock- I wanna ride you... wanna feel you fill my pussy..." I mumble and slowly go up and down.

"God, you're so fucking hot when you're so desperate and needy," he growls making me widen my eyes. "Keep going, baby. I want to hear you moan for me."

He lays his head back, his hands stroking his dick at the same pace as you were fucking yourself, admiring the way your body is shaking with pleasure. "That's it, baby. Ride that dildo like it's me. Imagine it's my cock inside you, stretching you open," he moans out then lets out a groan. "I want to see you come for me again, baby. Show me how much you need my cock." He snarls and I hear the wet noises again. Fuck.

I slam down on it and let out desperate little noises. "Shit-" I moan out and hold the bottom of it while I move my hips up and down on it.

"A- mmm- fuck-" I moan out, the little pain I felt before being gone and now being overwhelmed with pure pleasure.

He knew you'd look even prettier, even sexier on his lap riding his cock. Moaning for him, clenching on him, cumming while he's deep inside you. "That's it, baby. You look so fucking sexy riding that dildo," he says his stroking sounds getting louder. "You're so wet for me right now aren't you? I can practically hear you dripping," he adds, his words making me clench against the dildo. Oh fuck-

I let out a whimper and fuck myself faster on it. Lord it was so big- who knew I could take it- I just needed some motivation. The right motivation.

"Keep going, baby. I want to see you come again. I need to see you come," he says, his tone becoming demanding again. "You're mine now, baby. You belong to me," he adds, his possessiveness evident in his voice.

I whimper and nod. I felt so dumb, I couldn't think, all I could do was ride my dildo and moan hearing all his sweet dirty nothings. I let out moans as I ride it and go faster but can't form a singular sentence. I wonder if this was how it was gonna be when he fucked me, until I was completely dumb for him.

He stroked himself faster, the sight of you riding the dildo so desperately, helping his hunger for you. He can practically feel your wetness through the phone, and it's driving him wild with need. He needed you. Oh he wanted nothing more than to be deep inside you right now. His cock was twitching in his hands thinking about it. "That's it, baby. Ride it harder. Be a good girl for me." he says, his voice thick with lust.

"I bet you would look so fucking pretty with me inside you. I can't wait to see you come apart for me," he adds, his words making you shiver, wanting it so badly. "Keep going, baby. I want to see you come endless amount of times." he breathes out, the sounds of his hand on his cock making me go crazy.

I feel my orgasm approach in my stomach again but this time it was faster. I moved my body, fucked myself harder as I was getting closer and closer. "p-please- fuck- please let me cum-" I whimper and feel like my legs were made of jelly.

"C-can I know your real name- I- mm I wanna moan it when I cum." I ask as my eyes fluttered shut but I continued my pace, my pussy gripping it perfectly.

He grunts at the sound of your pleading, he felt himself getting close to cumming as well. God how much he wanted to cum deep inside you. "Yes, baby. Cum for me. I want to hear you scream my name," he moans out breathlessly. "Faster, baby. Fuck yourself harder," he adds, his voice driving you closer to the edge.

At the sound of your question, Ghostface hesitates for a moment before finally giving in. He really did wanna hear you moan his name, especially while you cum plus he'd have to tell you it eventually for when he does get the chance to pound into you and he'd make sure all your neighbors knew who you belonged to.

"My name is Miguel," he answers softly. "Now cum for me, baby. Scream my name. I wanna see you make a pretty mess for me."

I whimper as I fuck myself on it, going faster while also trying to go all the way down. "Faster, baby. Fuck yourself harder. Show me how much you want - no show me how much you need me to fuck you," he corrects himself letting out a handful of moans, stroking himself even faster.

"F-Fuck- Miguel- mmm you'd be fucking me so good- fuck your cock would make me- shit!" I moan out and clench against the dildo my pace slowing down as I was right there.

He groans as he hears you moaning his name, his own orgasm building rapidly. He was gonna imagine he was cumming on your perfect tits or ass. Or deep inside you. He wanted to breed you so much. Pull out and watch it all leak out. He was so ready to plan his next move, the perfect meetup. The perfect reveal. Especially knowing how much of a fan you were, you'd appreciate it. "That's it, baby. You look so fucking hot when you're coming apart for me," he moans and I hear his cock. God I needed it. "Cum with me, baby. Let's come together again, my love." He groans and I let go.

I let out screams of his name, sweat forming on my forehead, legs shaking so much, my cream slowly making its way down my dildo as I whimpered slowly riding my high again.

Miguel lets out moans and grunts at the sound of your screams, his own orgasm hitting him hard. His cum shooting up to his stomach and landing on his land and thighs. He moaned your name as he came undone, so happy he was finally able to do this with you. "Fuck, baby. You're so fucking perfect." he says trying to catch his breath. "I wish I could be there to see you covered in sweat, writhing in pleasure," he adds and I feel my legs shake.

He takes a few deep breaths to calm down, his voice becoming more gentle. "You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of you," he says, his tone filled with praise. "You're such a good girl for me," he adds, his tone becoming more affectionate.

I feel myself blush as my breathing calmed down and I let out a drunken smile. "Just and only for you." I purr as I slowly lift myself off the dildo.

"That was.... Incredible." I say as the dildo slips out of my pussy with a 'pop'.

"Thank you Miguel." I whisper sweetly and sit up grabbing my dildo and putting it on my bedside table.

I grab my phone and place it down next to my pillow as I lay down on my bed and feel my breathing come back to normal.

"You were incredible, baby. I could watch you come for me all day," he murmurs softly, "Thank you for letting me watch," he whispers and I giggle.

I really nailed like four different fantasies and kinks into one singular night....

He takes a few deep breaths to calm down, his voice becoming more affectionate and caring. "You're such a good girl for me, baby. I can't wait to see you again."

I felt my cheeks grow warm and I tried to hide a smile creeping onto my face. He wanted to see me. God it’d be better face to face...

"Until then, keep thinking of me. Keep imagining me inside you. Let me live in your wet dreams." he adds, his words making me squeezing my thighs.

He hangs up the phone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and memory filled of my intense phone sex session with Ghostface.

Miguel lets out a sigh and wipes the sweat beads from his forehead as he looks down at the mess he made. So much cum. More than usual. Obviously since he finally decided to call you and knew you'd be his perfect final girl. You were such a good girl for him. Just as he had predicted. He looks up at his laptop in front of him, looking at the screen of you in your bed with a smile on your pretty flushed face.

He takes one final look at your pretty face and cute reaction before closing his laptop and pulls his pants up. He pulls his robe down and grabs his laptop before standing up and carefully opening the door. He takes a small peek outside to see the backyard of your house and slips out of the old shed quickly. It was completely vacant and he knew you were in bed, dad was on a business trip, and mom was still at work.

He slips through the side and got to the front of your house pulling his mask down as he looked up at your window already anticipating for when he'll slip through the window to fuck his girl senseless.

[soulfulazrael]

My Hellaverse Religions and Marriages. Or how my Asperger made up some odd worldbuilding over the dumbest reason imaginable.

We all know this shot. We all hate this shot (well... I do)

And it's for one, big reason... what the hell are marriages in Hell? Well. I was wondering that too and honestly the answer is very simple... Who gives a shit? Viv wanted a contrived story with forced marriage where Moxxie looks like a total bitch so she did it as well as she could and since she could not do it well it came out how it did.

But it did made me think at least. What would marriages in Hell look like? And that lead me to a downward spiral of thinking up in a few hours how it works and why it works. And here is the result. Ladies and gentleman and all the inbetweens (I don't judge) I present my first rewrite post which I mostly do for myself as a note for future in case dementia catches me like it did with my grandparents. One is dead, the other is dying, but enough about my happy life. Let's get into autistic rambling.

So, before we get to the marriage system I have in mind, first let's delve into another thing. God. Or in this case. Deities. As in my version of HB/HH I write about in my AU there are several of them. All of which are different High authority figures of which the main ones are five and I will name all of them: First one is Lucifer

Who in this version is... not as nice. In fact he is very, VERY cruel being. One that has little qualms about lives of anyone else. A being of Chaos from the times of the Rebellion in Heaven which he lead against God after he corrupted humanity to prove to The Almighty of his superiority, of that he is deserving of love much greater than mortals. Cast out from Heaven alongside all those that took side with him.

Now in Hell he embodies Pride that shaped the top layer of Hell. He is a Deity that preaches ultimate freedom. He preaches the idea of that you deserve all that you want. That every feeling, every desire you feel is correct and that you alone are deserving of those no matter what anyone says, no matter who it hurts. All that is important is you. That is the crux of those who follow him. Hedonists, narcissists, cruel, chaotic beings of pure selfishness who believe in righteousness of their desires and standing up against any authority that wants to keep them away from fulfilling their dreams and when all dreams become reality, there is no other outcome than Chaos which Lucifer adores.

They are called Light Takers. For Lucifer is one who brings light and those who follow him, take said light and all that they want.

That is Lucifer and now let's get to the Deity right under him that sides with him more so than the other one, another creature of Chaos (also be mindful that this is just short summary of those things, I can go more in depth about each one in other posts). Satan:

I don't have a better image as my idea of how he looks is pretty different. I imagine him as a centaur like being with a lower body similar to a bull, more human like torso, a head similar to one on this app with mighty wings and 4 arms. A brutal, relentless deity, one who's philosophy is to spread death and prepare for fight against the Heaven. To drown the world in the blood of his enemies and for the bodies and blood to rise so high so that he can approach the Heaven's gates.

His followers are mostly Imps. Many of them sharing to lesser or greater extent this philosophy of slaughter. It gives them meaning to kill and make their own trail of Blood as they follow in the hoove steps of the Lord of Slaughter. Followers of Blood they are called. A numerous force of berserkers devoted to mindless murder and Chaos.

With all this Chaos there has to be a balance point though right? You'd be correct. As on the opposite end of the Chaos spread by Lucifer and Satan is The Lord Governor:

Lucifuge Rofocale. He is in my version very similar to this depiction, although he very rarely smiles. He is known also as Bitter Governor for his rivalry with Lucifer in which he is mostly ignored by the latter as he tries to gain control over the Chaos of Hell.

He is the creature who values Order more so than anything. He is the Lawmaker. He is the lord of Laws that he writes into his Great Book, many laws there are, some of which contradict each other, some forgotten, other irrelevant. All his. He is the cruelty of order and subjugation incarnate. His name itself Lucifuge is one that was given to him after rebellion in which he took side of Lucifer in order to create a perfect society of his own. A society that was never to be. He who runs from Light for he was a Throne Angel of greater light than any other, a Light so strong he could never know even a smallest shadow. Light that he hated above all and could never fully rid himself off of it's taint.

When he came to Hell his Pride alongside Lucifer's shaped the Entire Ring. Lucifer controls the Central parts where Pentagram City is located and Lucifuge controls outer rings of Pride where his 5 towers on borders of Pride spreading to the blood sky surround the Chaos of Lucifer. His desire of control made manifest. A control he spreads with his Emissaries. Those who follow him and his laws faithfully and spread them with unmatched zeal. And his most faithful and powerful servant is the 4th of the Main Deities. The Silent King of all Ars Goetia.

King Baal. His version in my AU is based on this picture. A creature with lower body of a Spider and torso of a man with head of a King with long hair at the top. Which ever direction he looks, his face changes shape, if to his right it takes form of a cat and left is the frog. Among the deities he alongside Satan were born in Hell and were since time of their Hell's manifestation bitter rivals and his beloved is Queen of Gluttony Beelzebub which is often a target of mockery. A spider who beds a bug instead of eating it, but no care to those words are given, no words... Only silence. Pride was originally meant to be his as it would embody his silence, but it was not to be as the Fall happened and Pride was born from the quiet grounds.

He was named an Ars Goetia by Lucifuge to whom he pledged allegiance to in Silent Promise and ever since his invisible web spread across skies of Pride, woven from threads attached to every life among Ars Goetia and to cut it is to be a Heretic condemned to suffering at the hand of Silent King. Baal's Faithful who are his followers are mostly Ars Goetia. All believing in Hell's security to be utmost priority. To make it safe at any means necessary. To make sure that Hell will be eternal and all who fall into it's flames will never escape it's torment. He is the one who keeps the Ars Goetia in check to follow the laws Lord Lucifuge laid out. For maybe side of Chaos has numbers and ferocity, but Order has power and stability.

A balance that is most crucial to never ending conflict festered by the most enigmatic and possibly most terrible of the Five. Mephistopheles.

Who's looks are as everchanging as interpretations of how he looks. A Demon who fooled the world into believing he was, but a made up Demon in a story about Faust. Always cloaked in shadows creature, that despite looking a lot of times like the most basic denizen of Hell, is anything, but. As his nature is a mystery to all who inhabit it. A creature of Darkness that remembers the time of the first words that is alien to both Heaven and Hell. One that gave Hell it's currency made of Souls it caught with contracts they make on earth. A Creature that always maintains the balance of both sides. Making sure there is never a conclusion to this bitter conflict and flames of Discord never fade. Something that is cherished by his Brethren in Dark.

To be Mephisto's Brethren in Dark is to commune and listen to Mephisto's words. You are what you are. There is no change to that. So live your life as you see fit. Make of your life anything you want. Be it for order or chaos. Be it for your desire or duty. What is important is to know who you are and to believe in his words. It is to be on the side of yours and his and all that you must have will come to you, but the price will have to be paid, but it does not have to come from you now has it? No... You use others as much as you are used. You know that very well. You always will. For you are rotten, but so is everything else. So is that so bad?

There are many other deities. Such as King Paimon, by many considered as one of the if not the mightiest among Kings. A being who's promise of seeing his Labyrinth makes many shudder at the mere thought. Or the Sins who's patronage seek those who live on their rings. But the choice is up to the Hellborn... aside from mostly Hellhounds, who mostly only reside and do labor for the Beelzebub. A Cerberus insect of endless hunger.

But there is one more path. On the side of neutrality is also another side. Hell. To listen to the will of Hell.

Listeners of Hell are those who feel the very wind among the bloody streets. To know intimately the desires of the ground you walk on. To serve Hell as it's listener and to reinforce it's will. This is path for those who seek a different path from all other deities. But to do so is to give all that you are to the home you have. Not to protect, but understand it. Breathe with it and to be a true part of it. Closer than many others.

These are all the paths Hellborn can... or rather have to choose. Because atheism is not possible in this realm. Hellborn have to believe in something otherwise it means they are a traitor to the Hell itself. Whatever one believes in it is up to the Hellborn in question. But the choice it is one Hellborn MUST make.

Now... after this little mythology lesson where does this lead in terms of marriages? Well. The marriage in itself is also a deal between deities. Each side has their own contract that has to be signed by the priest of their respective deity. And each priest is of different kind. Emissary is a political for the most part. Mephisto's Brethren could be of any kind. A soldier of Baal. Hedonistic royal of Lucifer. Berserker of Satan. If both sides worship same deity it means less issues, but both contracts are still required.

Both sides need to sign their respective contract and then place their cut hands on those contracts as they are connected by their blank sides. Letting their blood seep into them as both of them touch them. Letting their blood, believes and word to connect them forevermore, for them both to be servants together. That is unless one has a change of faith which may require redoing of the process at the chance of being shunned by everyone around. For it is a shame to be someone to turns away from their God.

So yeah... This is how I would personally write certain part of Mythology of Hell. I know I did not elaborate on certain other things like Paimon or Sins, but I think this is a good enough of a starting point to the mythology I want to make with 3 sides here. Chaos, Order and Neutrality. All with their own strengths and weaknesses. All with their own stories and people who worship them. All with their own traditions, beliefs and personalities... All of it... because I was iffy by the fucking Exs and Ohs priest. I need serious mental help. This is just sad to look at. Then again if you read this far, I guess we all lost here. Or maybe you liked it. If so then please leave a comment or something. I cherish those. And maybe think of who you would choose to follow.

[craziechwiv]

The Paladin and their Succubus frenemy - 3.5

Still at the tavern, our team of heroes decide to formally meet their new teammate who has suddenly appear out of the blue. Everyone is intent on knowing who she is and how she got into contact with their group, and most importantly, what does she bring to the table besides the word of their leader.

And the champion and very keen on finding out why she was so close to the leader, both in sitting right next to him and...whenever he slides alil further away from her, she'd slide closer to him. And why was she looking at him like that? All of this just made Pyrrha question if Ren was telling the truth or a misfortune. Could it be that Jaune has been seeing someone behind her- er, their team's back?

???: Pyrrha?

She would not have it, for all she knows, this mysterious woman possibly put a spell on her Ja- leader...making him fall in love with her. Or has some blackmail on him so he is forced to love her! She must know the truth.

???: Pyrrha!

She'll interrogate the girl when their alone, and if she shows her true colors to her, she won't hesitate to dispatch the foe. For their safety, and for her Jau-

Jaune: PYRRHA!

Pyrrha: AH! Y-Yes Jaune?

Too bad for Pyrrha, she has been staring and giving Ruby a deathly glare ever since they sat down. While Jaune was concerned about the whole situation, Ruby just looked back at Pyrrha with a smug look. Nora and Ren we're sitting beside Pyrrha on each side...but further away in their seats to not get in the way in case she instinctly pulled out her weapon.

Pyrrha: Ahem, sorry. Uhm, so Ms. Ruby...where are you from again?

Ruby: It's quite already first off. I am from an...eventful place lets call it.

Ren: And where is this 'eventful place' you speak of?

Ruby: It's an island called Patch. As soon as I became old enough to travel by myself, I did just that. Although coming here wasn't the nicest welcome as I was attacked by bandits...

Ren: Ah, there has been rumors of bandits becoming more frequent as of late, hopefully they didn't take much from you.

Ruby: Actually, they didn't even take anything. I took care of them myself.

Ren: Really?

Nora: Oooh, how? How?!

Ruby: With this beauty~!

Ruby pulls out a bulky stick that was latched onto her back, and as the others took a look at it, Ruby clicked a button and it became the same scythe Jaune saw.

Nora: WOAH!

Ren: That is...something,

Pyrrha: Indeed, it seems to be masterfully made to.

Ruby: Hehe yeah. It's a gift from my mom, uh...'gods' rest her soul on that remark. But uh, I am quite proficient in it. Always have been after my dad figured he couldn't keep me tied to home for much longer...so now I'm here. And I want to join your team if I can.

The rest of the team just looked at her with skeptical looks, making both Ruby and Jaune a bit tense at the moment. However, Pyrrha stood up and walked towards where Ruby was sitting. The small girl looked at Pyrrha with a anxious look, preparing for the worst...until she saw Pyrrha extend her hand.

Pyrrha: Then, let me be the uh...second to welcome to our team. A friend of Jaune is a friend of ours and we'll do whatever we can to make you feel welcomed here.

Ruby gave a small smile back to Pyrrha and shook her hand tightly.

Ruby: Thanks, I hope to be by your side till the day we all die.

Ren: Speaking of, how did you and Jaune meet?

Jaune: Uhh...

Ruby: Uhm...funny story about that.

P+R: ?

...

Nora: BAHAHAHAHA! OH MY SIDES...THEY HURT~! HAHAHA

Ren: So you thought Jaune was a threat when you both crossed paths at said village he was sent to survey...and nearly killed him?

Ruby, who was looking down at the floor embarrassed: Y-Yep...that's the story.

Nora: HAHAHAHAHA, OH I REALLY NEED ANOTHER DRINK FOR THIS SHIT! BAR KEEP~! POUR MAMA ANOTHER MUG WILL YA?!

Pyrrha:

Jaune: Uhm, you alright Py-

Pyrrha: We're gonna have a talk when we get back to home, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Oh gods...

Next Chapter >

[seedsplease]

The Stowaways

When she’d first sworn to fight Eden’s Gate, Rook had expected her reward would be gratitude, some misguided glory and maybe even a raise. Instead, she got seven years in Jacob's Armory with a band of doomsday cultists and a permanent spot on kitchen duty. And then, on the fourth day, they found the children. Warnings: threats of violence, past violence Word Count: 9.9k AO3

When she’d first sworn to fight Eden’s Gate, Rook had expected her reward would be gratitude, some misguided glory and maybe even a raise. 

Instead, she got seven years in a bunker with a band of doomsday cultists and a permanent spot on kitchen duty. 

Jacob’s Armory had been built to house many more, but the surprise attack by the Whitetails had taken care of that. If only Rook hadn’t been spotted en route to the rendezvous point by a vengeful Jacob and his - now much smaller - band of remaining Chosen. She flattered herself to think she’d almost lost them when the bombs fell and they’d scrambled their way back to the bunker - Jacob half dragging her behind him. 

It had been a mess; fallen men strewn through the corridors and scorch marks and bullet casings littering the floors of every room. Before she’d been shown a bed, Jacob had made her look into the face of every man that she’d had a hand in killing. 

“Trained them myself,” he’d said when she’d met his eyes after the final one, “before you and your merry band of Whitetails butchered them. Don’t think that sounds like something ‘heroes’ are supposed to do.” 

She’d wanted to throw something at him. 

“That might sound really righteous or some shit to you,” she’d said, pointing a finger squarely into his barrelled chest, “but if I made you look down at all the men you’d had a hand in killing, we’d be standing here all through your Collapse.” 

In hindsight, maybe antagonizing Jacob Seed wasn’t her wisest choice. Kitchen duty was, however, a unique brand of punishment. 

The peggies had been surprisingly clean when dealing with their food, which wasn’t quite what Rook had expected of the bearded men who looked like they bathed every once in a blue moon. Even their fresh food scraps had been added into a composter, presumably for the rooms of growing plants downstairs. The cult really had been prepared, it seemed. 

It wasn’t exactly a difficult job, surprisingly. Most of the recipes were basic enough and she didn’t need to do too much for their small group in the bunker. Jacob usually came down and helped too, which she doubted was from the generosity of his heart and more from the suspicion of what she’d do if left unsupervised. To be fair, that wasn’t unfounded; she’d wanted to tip a whole jar of pepper into the stew before Jacob had caught her. 

She wasn’t able to resist prodding the bear though. 

“Putting a woman in the kitchen?” Rook had asked while chopping beets. “Pretty sexist of you.” 

She hadn’t expected him to respond. 

“Sexist of me to put you in the one place where you can’t get your hands on a gun?” He’d replied from the stove, where he was peering into the pot and watching it boil merrily away. 

She’d sniffed and raised a shoulder in a shrug. 

“Yes,” she’d said petulantly, before scrunching her face up at his logic. “So you don’t care that I can get my hands on a kitchen knife, then?” 

He’d returned her shrug, giving her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I can deal with you and a knife,” he had said and met her gaze as he’d continued, “You won’t do too much damage.” 

She’d felt something bristle inside her; offended that he thought her so easily contained. 

“Just wait until you see me with the Sunday roast,” was all she had said in reply, however; content to seethe and hold her tongue. 

If she had learned anything about Jacob Seed, it was that her best chance of gaining the upper hand would only come with patience. It was easy, in those few evenings in the kitchen after the bombs had dropped, to be resolved into waiting him out in their strange deadlock. 

And then, on the fourth day, they found the children. 

Rook had been noticing that scraps had been disappearing from the stores; little things at first, just enough to make her assume a soldier had crept down to pinch a little extra when she wasn’t looking. But then it happened during a scheduled training session - because of course, Jacob wanted his men in prime condition - and Rook knew it had to be something else. 

That evening, she’d confessed to Jacob that something was amiss. He’d nodded silently, and returned in a matter of minutes with a gun, gesturing that she was to follow him. She held the torch, beaming it into the areas that were less illuminated. There was a strange sense of doubt about the situation building in her stomach, as though she didn’t want to cause too much of a fuss for what might be nothing. 

“It could be a rat,” she said, and winced because lord, she hoped it wasn’t a rat. The last thing they needed in such close proximity was a chance of disease. 

Jacob hummed thoughtfully from in front of her, though he didn’t look back. They opened the door to one of the storage rooms but he didn’t turn the lights on; instead gesturing that she was to light the way. 

“Have you ever seen a cornered animal, Deputy?” He asked, but it wasn’t really a question. She gave a small hum - neither confirming nor denying - and he continued. “When you see a creature that knows nothing but the fact that it’s going to die, then you see an animal that will try anything to get away.” He led her further into the dark room. “And those animals, if left unchecked, can stow themselves away in the strangest of places.” 

Rook stiffened, beginning to understand what Jacob suspected. She lowered her flashlight slightly, illuminating the path through the stacked crates and supplies. 

Towards the back of the room, they found an opened box. Rook’s heart sank, and she stole a glance towards Jacob’s face; trying to figure out what his intentions were. Whatever stowaway they discovered, Jacob’s unreadable expression told her little about their fate. 

They heard a shuffle, and like a hound to the scent, Jacob’s eyes snapped towards the sound. It was coming from one of the nearby closets, and Rook felt a stab of pity as she saw the hint of movement between the deliberately cracked-open door. 

Jacob stepped closer to the closet, silently gesturing for Rook to open it. She sighed to herself but still reached out, grabbing a hold of the door and swinging it open to shine the light on their stowaway. 

Neither expected to see the three children packed into the small closet, peering up at them with glassy-wide eyes. 

Rook couldn’t move, staring down at her unexpected would-be thieves. They weren’t looking at her, however; their eyes were fully fixated on the very imposing red barrel of Jacob’s gun. He’d frozen too, taking in the sight of the three stowaways. 

After a moment, Rook snapped out of it. 

“Would you put that down?” She hissed, slapping at his shoulder. “They’re terrified.” 

Perhaps she should have been surprised at how quickly Jacob obeyed. Or that he obeyed at all. 

He inhaled sharply, and brought a hand up to rub at the side of his jaw; fingers tense and clawing. 

“How’d you get in here?” He asked, voice firm. 

The eldest child - a boy of about thirteen, she guessed - tightened his arms around his toddler brother, who was clutching at his smoke-stained shirt. 

“The door was open,” he replied, still staring at the gun warily. 

“We didn’t know it was your home,” the third child, a girl of about eight, piped up from the other side of the closet. 

“We...We can leave,” the eldest insisted, eyes flicking between Rook and Jacob shakily. “We can go.” 

Rook opened her mouth to protest, but Jacob beat her to it. 

“Nobody’s going anywhere,” he said lowly, and Rook had to wonder whether he realised how intimidating he sounded. 

She knelt down, still maintaining her distance so as to not spook them.

“What he means ,” she began, giving a slightly reprimanding side-eye to the man beside her, “is that you don’t need to go anywhere. Right, Jacob?"

She didn't expect the silence. In retrospect, she realised that she was placing a foolish amount of trust in a cultist. Perhaps some part of her hoped that even a man who had done horrible things would stop short of harming a child right now, at least. 

"Jacob Seed, don't you even think about it."

He flinched and seemed visibly angered by what she was hinting at. 

"I was thinking about where they're gonna sleep, Deputy," Jacob growled. “What do you think I’d do to some fucking kids?” 

Rook thought of multiple stories she’d heard of what Jacob’s men did to the innocent people of the mountains - the history of Jess was forefront in her mind - but she held her tongue, casting a quick look to the children still huddled in their cupboard. If they were staying, then she didn’t want to scare them. 

“Mind your language,” was all she said, and there was little heart in it. 

There was something raging in his eyes, and it looked for a moment as though he wanted to press the issue. Instead, he only inhaled deeply and a coldness fell over his face; steeling his expression. 

She looked away from him, and returned her gaze to the children in front of her. Rook gave a smile, but she doubted it entirely reached her eyes. 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” she said, resisting the urge to try and reach for the shivering group. “Why don’t you come upstairs? There’s some fresh food, some nice and warm beds.” 

The eldest child stared at her, some hint of suspicion and protectiveness in his eyes, but she watched as he seemed to notice the patch on her shirt. 

“You’re a policeman?” He asked, frowning. 

Rook blinked, and then remembered that her shirt still bore the sewed police insignia, sun-faded as it was. 

“I am,” she replied, and reached up to brush at the edge of the patch with her thumb. 

The boy glanced between her and the eldest Seed, still standing imposingly behind her. 

“And...is it safe?” He asked quietly, as though Jacob wouldn’t hear. 

She heard the real question, and hesitated for a brief moment, following the trail to quickly meet Jacob’s eyes. 

“Yeah,” Rook answered, and something told her she wasn’t wrong in this, at least for now. “Yeah, he’s fine.” 

Dinner was much more lively than she was used to. 

Jacob would usually eat with her after he’d taken the servings up to the other Chosen - for some reason, he’d seemed to prefer her quiet company. There was no quiet companionship in the kitchen this evening; the three children were seated at the table and wolfing down their dinner with the ferocity of the half-starved. 

Jacob and Rook were seated opposite them, barely touching their own servings. At one point, Jacob set down his spoon. 

“Go slowly,” he told them, voice quiet but firm. “If you haven’t eaten, you need to take it slow.” 

The three children cast dubious looks at him, but after a nod from Rook, they heeded his advice and ate with smaller, more controlled bites. 

The eldest boy was called Will, they soon learned. The girl - the middle child, Rook remembered - eagerly began to speak once she was finished, and she told them how they’d come to be in the bunker at all. 

“Aunt Patty hadn’t come back for weeks, and the delivery man stopped bringing food, so Will said we should try and go to the gas station,” the girl explained from little prompting. “He wanted to drive us with Aunt Patty’s old car out the back, but it wouldn’t work.” 

“Probably for the best,” Rook commented, raising an eyebrow at the eldest boy. “Something tells me you’re not old enough to drive.” 

The boy glanced up at her from over his meal. 

“I’m nearly old enough,” he replied, somewhat petulantly. 

Jacob Seed very deliberately kept his mouth shut during the exchange, and Rook had a suspicion that he too hadn’t waited for the right age to start driving. 

“We didn’t get far, anyway,” Will shrugged, staring down at his bowl. “They dropped those bombs and we had to start running.” He briefly stared at the steel roof. “Found this place with the door wide open, so...We didn’t think anyone was home.” 

Rook realised they must have slipped in not long after the Whitetail’s attack, when Jacob had left the bunker unattended to lead his merry men on the hunt after her. She winced as she thought about the bodies, the blood and mess that the children would have seen on their entrance.

“We’re just glad you’re safe,” Rook replied instead of dwelling on her thoughts, looking at the three of them. “You’re going to be fine here.” 

Beside her, Jacob nodded his silent agreement. 

Will glanced between the two of them and then lowered his spoon. 

“I’m Will,” he said, despite them already knowing. He gestured to his toddler brother and sister at his side. “This is Luke and Penny.” 

“Penelope ,” the girl corrected, sending her brother a miffed glare. 

He held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. 

“Right,” Will said, nodding, “Sorry. Penelope.” 

The girl smiled, pleased at her much more professional-sounding name. 

“It’s nice to meet you three,” Rook said with a warm smile, before leaning back and gesturing to herself and the eldest Seed. “I’m Rook, and this is Jacob.” 

Jacob nodded along with her introduction, but was quickly forgotten as Penelope eagerly started to talk to Rook about her ‘strange name’ and Luke resumed happily gargling his water and piecing at his food. 

But Jacob didn’t miss the suspicious glare that Will continued to send his way throughout the evening. He raised an eyebrow at the young boy - challenging, perhaps - but the stowaway only flushed and glanced away; embarrassed at having been caught out. 

When dinner was finished, Rook and Jacob gathered the dishes and made their way to the sink. 

“So, where’ll they sleep?” She asked him as she scrubbed one of the plates. “Do you even have any more proper rooms?” She’d been supervised and escorted to and from very select locations during her time in the bunker, and so she didn’t have much of an idea about the layout of the Armory.

He took the dripping plate from her hands and wiped it over with a dishtowel. 

“Seeing as you wiped out most of my bunker’s population, yeah; they’ll have a room.” 

Rook had the good graces to not provoke him further. 

Their new herd exited the kitchen.

Penelope skipped slightly to fall into stride with Rook and leaned over to grab at one of her hands. She seemed to be a cheerful girl, barely touched by the horrors of what she’d seen - or perhaps it simply hadn’t yet registered. She was talkative, with the interest of adolescence of everything in the world around them, and was pleased to have someone else - a proper adult - to pepper with endless questions.

Rook didn’t mind too much; after she’d joined the station, Staci had been glad to relinquish his ‘dealing with kids’ designation to her with relief - while children seemed to like him, he felt exhausted by them after minutes. Rook was relatively good at keeping them distracted and occupied. She was, however, a little concerned at the prospect of having three kids in the bunker with endless weapons, armed soldiers, and a very dangerous lieutenant at their helm.

At the least, she’d start by getting them to sleep. They were evidently exhausted; weeks of having to hide away in the back of a storage room and surviving on scraps had taken its toll.

“Have you lived here long?” Penelope asked her, sudden curiosity overcoming her tiredness. “Why are you living here?” 

Rook blinked in surprise but clutched the girl’s hand tightly in response.

“I’m here for the same reason you are; to get away from the bombs,” she replied, deliberately leaving out the part where Jacob Seed had dragged her down with him against her will. She’d have rathered rush back to the Wolf’s Den; there, at least, she would have been in friendly company.

Penelope frowned at her answer.

“But this is a really big place,” she pressed on, peering up at the woman. “Did you build it?” 

Rook gave a small laugh.

“No,” she replied, and then frowned slightly as she remembered some of Eli’s offhand comments about his time interacting with Eden’s Gate. “But I think my friend might’ve had a hand in it.” 

“Your friend?” Penelope repeated, and pointed towards Jacob, who was walking in front of them at the lead. “Him?” 

Rook snorted. 

“No, not him,” she said, grinning at the absurdity of the thought, before she paused and thought on Eli’s words. “Though, actually, he might’ve helped too.” She struggled to picture Jacob Seed in work overalls and a wrench in his hands, not like she could easily imagine Eli. “My friend, Eli, has his own place like this. His own bunker.” 

In front of them, she saw Jacob stiffen at the mention of Eli. Rook didn’t have to see his expression to know that he was listening in on their conversation; maybe trying to hear if she would let something drop. She wasn’t sure why; there was no point in waging a war against the Whitetails anymore when nobody could even leave the bunker.  

“Did your friend build that one too?” Penelope asked, wide-eyed. “His bunker, I mean.”

“Pretty sure he did,” Rook replied. “With help from his friends, of course.” 

“Friends like him?” Penelope pointed again towards Jacob. “Did he help with that one, too?” 

Rook smiled thinly as she glanced over at the soldier. 

“No,” she said, loud enough to be overheard and make it clear she wanted it so. “No, he definitely didn’t help.” 

Jacob didn’t look back at her, but she could sense his irritation. Not that he would show it in front of the children. He’d wait until later, no doubt.

Beside her, Penelope was frowning. She tugged at Rook’s hand and gestured for her to lean down slightly so her words wouldn’t be heard. 

“I think that’s rude,” the girl whispered, giving a frown as she looked ahead at the man. “He should’ve helped build your friend’s house too.” 

Rook squeezed her hand, but before she could say anything, Jacob spoke up in front of them. 

“Alright, we’re here.” 

She counted three separate rooms in this section of the bunker - each intended for a cluster of now-dead cultists, no doubt - but Jacob only led them into the one. The bunk beds were still drawn together in the center of the room; blankets strewn across the mattresses for some surprisingly permitted comfort. 

Will led his younger brother towards them, keeping a steady eye on Jacob while he went. Rook gestured for Penelope to follow his lead, and when the children were all safely out of earshot, she sidled up next to Jacob. 

“You’re not giving them their own rooms?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “There are enough.”

He hummed, arms crossed as he watched the children test out their new beds. 

“The eldest,” he said, nodding towards the boy in question. “He’s not gonna let them out of his sight.” There was a wry quirk to his lips. “I remember what that was like.” 

Rook had read Joseph’s book one night in morbid curiosity; she had enough of an idea about what Jacob was referring to. She followed his gaze, and noticed the oldest boy was still sending furtive glances their way, particularly focused on Jacob. 

“He doesn’t like you much, does he?” She murmured, and shrugged. “Can’t imagine why not; you’ve just got such a winning personality.” 

He barely reacted to her jab, and instead turned around to leave.

“Tuck them in,” he ordered, ignoring her words. 

Rook frowned in confusion, about to protest that he was leaving her alone with all the work, but then sighed, figuring it wasn’t worth the fight. Not when the children were around. Besides, being a glorified prisoner ensured she probably had the least work to do of anyone else in the bunker.

Well, until now.

He was almost at the door when Penelope spoke up, having spied him walking away.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” She asked, kneeling on her mattress. She’d scurried her way up to the top bunk of one set of beds, content to claim her high perch.

Rook watched Jacob turn around. 

“Got some things to do,” he replied, gently in his own, strange way. “I’ll be at the end of the corridor… and she’ll be right next door.” 

Rook raised her eyebrows, pointing to her own chest. 

“She will?” She asked; the arrangement news to her. 

He gave her a thin smile. 

“She will be now.”

__ 

The first challenge came when Luke wanted to sleep on a top bunk like Penelope. He was five, it turned out, and Will was blanching at the thought of letting the youngest sleep on such a high bunk without safety rails. Rook privately suspected that he was also leery of Penelope being on the top as well.

Unfortunately, when Will refused to let the youngest go up, the tears began.

“Luke, you can’t .” Penelope peered down at him, leaning a bit too close to the edge that made Rook take a step closer to her, just in case. “You’re too little!”

This, however, only made Luke cry harder. Will, who was exhausted and on his last legs, just groaned.

“Penny, just come down and sleep on a lower bunk too,” he tried to order, but it came out more like begging. “We’ll all sleep on the bottom ones, okay?”

This was the wrong thing to say.

“No! That’s not fair!” Penelope whined, small hands clenched into the mattress sheet. “I’m old enough, it’s not fair!” Her voice was threatening to rise to a screech.

Rook, sensing a long, drawn-out explosion that could rival the Collapse outside, had to step in.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do!” She clapped her hands together and adopted a no-nonsense tone, sounding alarmingly like the Sheriff. “We’re going clear some space in the middle of the room, and then we’re going to bring down a few of these mattresses and make one big bed from them, okay?”

There was a brief threat of the argument immediately resuming, but Will was at his wit’s end and raised his own voice.

“Stop it, you two!” He snapped, and the shocked silence from the siblings made Rook know this was an unusual occurrence. The teen gave a ‘tsk’ sound and rubbed at his forehead. “Just…do as she says so we can all get some sleep.”

Penelope came climbing down obediently, though still with flushed cheeks, and Luke stood where he was, hiccuping the aftermath of his tantrum. Together, Rook helped Will gather six mattresses in total, stacking three on top of three for extra comfort on the ground, and Penelope gathered a generous amount of pillows. Their makeshift bed was centered in the room, but the bunk bed’s empty stands gave a strange spacial sense of enclosure that was comfortable.

In her head, Rook thought a few blankets could help make a proper hideaway out of the arrangement, though she decided that could wait for another day. The kids were barely standing, and Luke looked near to another tantrum that she assumed would be diabolical.

“Alright.” She brushed her hands together and straightened up. “You’re all set. We’ll see what we can do tomorrow to fix everything up a bit nicer, but for now you’re all good to get some sleep.”

Will nodded at her, gratitude in his eyes despite his wariness that had yet to abate. Rook hummed and turned towards the door.

“You heard the grump before; I’ll be right next door if you need anything,” she said in farewell, though privately noted she wasn’t sure which next door that would be yet, considering this had been sprung on her too.

“Why can’t you stay here?” Penelope said, and like Jacob before her, Rook turned back around to see the girl perched on her knees on her mattress, looking up with a frown.

Will sighed.

“Penny, she has her own room,” he explained quietly. “She’ll be just next door. She’s not going away.”

Penelope sucked in a loud breath and shook her head back and forth but said nothing, even as her face was scrunched up. Rook felt a stab of pity; she realised now that the girl surely had some understanding of what her situation was - what it had been for the past few weeks - and everything surely just kept feeling unfair to her.

Rook turned back around and took a few steps towards one of the surrounding bunk bed stands that still had a mattress on the lower level.

“How about I stay here until you go to sleep?” She offered, to placate both Penelope’s wish for her company, and Will’s protectiveness over his siblings. “I’ll just sit here and stay with you.”

The teen hesitated, but nodded his consent. Penelope was still a little bit put out, but ultimately gave in too; the lure of sleep making her far more agreeable, no doubt.

As the three scrambled into bed, Rook made a note to find them a spare change of clothes for the next day. Jacob probably wouldn’t have children’s sizes, but she was sure they could scrounge something doable.

“Good night!” Penelope piped up, slurring the words slightly as she dug under the blankets next to Luke.

Rook smiled warmly in return as she dimmed the lights in the room, leaving the small lanterns by the bunk beds as soft lights for them while they slept.

“Good night,” she replied gently, letting them drift off.

Will had laid on the right, with Luke tucked in the middle between him and Penelope. It barely took a few minutes before they were dozing off. But just when she thought they were all asleep, Will slowly sat up, letting his blanket fall down to pool around his lap as he stared up at Rook.

With the other children no longer listening, his eyes were narrowed and suspicious. Rook raised an eyebrow at him, and tilted her head expectantly.

“You don’t like him,” Will quietly said, an accusing tone to his voice.

Rook frowned, before realising who he was talking about.

“Jacob?” She asked, nodding vaguely towards the corridor outside the room. “The grumpy one?”

Her attempt at humour fell flat, as the boy continued to stare suspiciously at her.

“Did you lie to us?” Will asked, fingers clenching to a fist against his blanket. His voice hardened. “Is he going to hurt us?”

She grimaced, but certainly couldn’t fault him for being worried; even she wasn’t entirely certain what the answer was. Jess’ story had at least demonstrated that, while not necessarily done by Jacob himself, subordinates of his had brutally tortured children, and she doubted that the Cook’s antics were so hidden. Though, she acknowledged that she didn’t know of any child who had specifically been killed by Jacob - if she remembered correctly, they were to be sent to John’s bunker rather than killed - but she quietly doubted that every single member of the cult were so disciplined as to stick entirely to commands.

When bloodthirsty soldiers have been trained to view others as disposable meat, it would come as no surprise to learn that they hadn’t always shown restraint.

However, she had a slight suspicion that Jacob intended for children to at least survive.

“Hurt you?” She repeated, and gave a shake of her head. “I… don’t think so.”

A stiffness in his shoulders seemed to loosen slightly, showing the boy may have trusted her answer. Will’s expression turned odd, staring over at her with his head tilted downwards; hesitant. He was quiet for a moment, before he softly spoke.

“Is he going to hurt you ?”

Her eyes widened at the question, taken aback that he would be thinking of her. Evidently, she’d underestimated him; he had clearly been a lot more attentive than she’d first thought to realise that there was no love lost between her and Jacob, and that, furthermore, she was at his mercy. She took longer to reply this time; knowing now that the teen would likely see through any placating lie.

“Who knows?” She answered evasively, and found that she was again not completely sure of the answer. Jacob had, after all, defied all of her expectations when she’d been brought back to the bunker. “He doesn’t like me that much, but he’s left me mostly alone. Though, if we run out of supplies, I’ll be the first to go.”

The boy didn’t seem to be entirely reassured, and he fidgeted with his blanket while looking away from her.

“Who are you really?” He asked quietly, less suspicious now. “And…why are you here?”

She understood the real question he was asking; he likely had a lot of confusion about her and Jacob’s relationship. Especially since she obviously was in a dubious position.

“I’m just Rook,” she said again, despite him knowing her name already. She shrugged, and tried to choose her words delicately. “I’m a junior deputy. I was… brought here after I tried to help the Whitetail militia fight against…well, that guy out there.”

Will frowned, something in her words evidently sparking recognition in him. Privately, she was glad that meant he was distracted from the suggestion that she was kidnapped here.

“The Whitetails,” he said slowly, brow furrowed. “Like Mr Palmer?”

Her eyebrows rose.

“You know Eli?” She asked, pleasantly surprised but perhaps she shouldn’t have been; despite his prepper antics, Eli was rather personable to those in the area.

“Our dad did,” Will replied, a distant memory coming over his face. Rook felt a stab of sympathy; of his family, he was likely the only one who remembered much of their father. He cleared his throat, but quietly so as to not wake the others. “He died a few years ago. But Mr Palmer taught me how to use a bow before that…well, a bit.”

His cheeks flushed red, and he adamantly looked away from her to hide it.

She huffed a smile.

“Yeah, that sounds like Eli,” Rook murmured; he’d always had a soft spot for kids, and he was damn good with them too. Something occurred to her and she looked up at Will with a bit more intensity. “Hey, uh, probably not a good idea to mention Eli to the guy out there.” She jerked her thumb towards the corridor.

The boy’s eyes narrowed once more.

“He doesn’t like Mr Palmer?” He asked, the suspicion back in his voice, and she realised that this was probably a better judgement to him of Jacob moreso than anything she could have said.

Rook snorted, feeling no remorse as she told the boy the truth.

“No… he really doesn’t.”

Later, when all the children had finally shut their eyes, she slunk out of the room.

It was her first time totally unsupervised in the bunker; with no nearby guard having their ears trained on her for the slightest noise. She peered down each end of the corridor carefully, still somewhat dim despite the lights on either side of the bunker walls. The natural clicks and rattles of the steel were unnerving in the quiet, and ominous, somehow giving her the sense that there were still eyes on her.

Rook scowled and she straightened up; head tall and proud as she confidently walked straight past the next room’s door. Jacob had stopped short of giving her a command before he’d left the children in her hands, but the implication had been there in his words; she was to go to the next room only. It was still an attempt to limit her freedom, of course.

Maybe she would pay for it later, but so long as there was a line she was expected to toe, she would always seek to push against it.

She found Jacob at the room at the end of the corridor, sitting at a desk. It was a study of some sorts, it seemed; paperwork, reports, flashing screens and radios all around him. One of those screens, she noted with a flush, had been broadcasting a camera from the outside corridor.

“Don’t think I said you could come here,” he said softly, not even bothering to face her fully as he read through a sheet of paper. His rifle was placed behind him on a stack of boxes, the obnoxious red like a neon sign despite the business of the room.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t either.” She flashed him a winning smile, before sobering up and levelling a stare at him that he didn’t return. “The kids are asleep.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, still skimming the report in his hands.

“Don’t be surprised if they sleep through tomorrow,” Jacob said, still not looking at her. Something about that irked her; his nonchalance showed he viewed her as such a minimal threat, barely worth supervision.

Her face wrinkled into a frown, but she pushed down her irritation.

“Won’t that be bad for their ‘bunker routine?’” She asked with only the slightest drawl. The day after the bombs had dropped, Jacob had near dragged her from her bed despite her fitful sleep and insisted that she follow a proper routine.

It was, as he’d said, the best thing for the mind to stick to a proper schedule when there was no light or weather routine to follow. Apparently, it was to help preserve sanity. Privately, she thought there wasn’t much sanity in a group of cultists to preserve.

“They can have a day.” Oh, he was feeling gracious, it seemed.

She didn’t say anything, only staring at the screens around her; dull blue lights almost jarring to look at and the static giving the slightest hum that somehow felt heavy and almost tangible against her skin. The cameras featured various locations throughout the bunker, places she only had the vaguest memory of from the day of the attack. The occasional Peggie strolled through a hallway or guarded a door, but the majority of them were located now in the few dormitories in the level above them.

Privately, she was glad that they weren’t close to the children.

Jacob gave a small, contemplative sigh and leaned back in his chair, relaxing into the backrest. He slowly tilted his head to finally peer over at her, but something about the movement was too calculated to be casual.

“Since you’re here,” he murmured, reaching over to grab a handheld radio - which she suddenly realised was the one he’d confiscated from her - and pushed it along the table towards her.

She stared down at it, a frown pulling at her brow, before she glanced up at him in confusion.

“Take it,” he said, nodding down towards the radio. She didn’t move and he raised his eyebrows, a tone entering his voice that one would use to coax an animal. “Go on; pick it up. Call them.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Them?” Rook asked, playing dumb.

His expression told her that he didn’t buy her act for a moment, but he indulged her in all his generosity.

“Your little Whitetail friends.” He paused for a moment - and she suspected it was more for dramatic effect - before he leaned forward slightly to whisper conspiratorially: “ Eli .”

He settled back against the chair again, elbows leaning on the armrests and hands coming to clasp loosely just above his lap. He still watched her carefully; no amount of performed nonchalance could hide the shrewdness in his eyes whenever she was around, a lion languidly watching a meal it knew could bite.

“Why?” Rook asked, eyes narrowing at him again as she tried to discern his thoughts.

Surprisingly, he gave her the answer willingly.

“I know Eli; he won’t stop looking for you,” Jacob replied, remarkably light despite talking about his greatest enemy. “No man left behind,” he said with a sarcastic lilt to his voice. His eyes sharpened, mirth draining from them as he looked intently at her. “So you’re gonna tell him exactly where you are.”

“What?” She shook her head in confusion. “Why?”

He shrugged, but his expression remained infuriatingly enigmatic.

“Saves me the trouble. Go on; let him know you’re unharmed,” he ordered, and his eyes hardened. “You can even tell him the truth; that you’ve been treated better than you deserved. Or don’t. It doesn’t matter either way.”

She resisted the urge to shiver; she remembered the heaviness of the air around her when Jacob had dragged her back inside the bunker, bombs falling in great rumbles above their heads, and tossed her on the ground among the bodies of the dead - the aftermath of the Whitetail attack.

While he’d waved his remaining men away, he’d knelt to her level and roughly grasped the collar of her shirt. His eyes had been hard - a steel mask for his men to hide any weakness - but she’d sensed the wrath in the very air around him; like calling to like.

“You have been a thorn in this project’s side from the beginning,” he’d murmured, and his free hand had come up to clasp her chin in an iron grip; preventing her from looking away. “And if my brothers have been hurt because of anything you have done…”

He’d trailed off, but the intensity in his face did not fade, even as he’d released her chin and slowly began to straighten back up. His eyes never broke away from her, staring down at her as she’d laid sprawled on the ground, buried deep in a bunker with no escape and surrounded by enemies both alive and dead.

She had never felt so small in her life.

He was simmered now perhaps but the tinder remained. He had never stopped being dangerous, and though he had yet to bite, the point of his blade remained trained on her - the glaring threat in his domain that he had deigned to keep.

“Eli will know what he’s risking if he comes after us,” Jacob softly told her, his tone belying the threat in his words. “No man left behind’ counts for you, too.”

It was a shock to her in that moment to truly feel the weight of her situation once more; for the famed deputy who had wrecked carnage across the county, to be the one in need of rescue felt foreign. Her friends had certainly aided her in the past, but she had never thought to be in a place where she felt incapable of burning her way to safety.

She gave a scoff to conceal her thoughts, and rather than address that mess, she snatched up the radio and brought it to her mouth.

“This is Deputy Rook,” she announced into the radio, proud that her voice didn’t waver. “This is Deputy Rook calling the Wolf’s Den…Is anyone out there?”

The horrible thought suddenly occurred to her that it was very possible that the Whitetails hadn’t made it back in time. That they were still out there somewhere; bodies burnt and buried beneath the ashes of the bombs. It wasn’t something she had ever wanted to consider - it hadn’t even crossed her mind, since she trusted Eli’s dedication to keeping his people alive - but realistically, there was a decent amount of ground to cover between the bunker and the Wolf’s Den.

She gulped; her jaw tightening at the thought and her hand clenched around the radio.

“This is Deputy Rook calling the Wolf’s Den,” she repeated, voice taking on a panicked tone. Her arm holding the radio began to shake and she reached up to hold it still with her other hand.

Watching her from his chair, Jacob hummed softly at the sight of her distress.

“Worried, aren’t you?” He commented, and a flash of something almost smug came across his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced once more with the slightly enigmatic nonchalance. “You don’t have to be; I’ve heard them already.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, he who had allowed her to work herself into a panic.

“That would’ve been nice to know,” Rook hissed, clutching her radio tightly while willing herself to calm.

His lips twitched but he was gracious enough to not flash her a smile.

“It’s easier to keep you nice and quiet when you think I’m the only hope you’ve got.”

He sounded like he was talking about a wild animal to be tamed, a wildcat to be domesticated in their long burrow, and perhaps it wasn’t too misplaced - the Hope County Cougar badge lay underneath her pillow in her room - but she was rankled nonetheless.

“So you’re saying you aren’t the only hope I’ve got then?” She raised an eyebrow, challenging, and his eyes narrowed, a response of warning.

The crackle of the radio interrupted them both.

“Deputy?” The welcome voice of Eli came through the static.

She whirled to the side, facing away from Jacob and stared down at the radio, eyes wide as saucers.

“Eli!” She said breathlessly, all tension vanishing as Jacob fell out of her thoughts and irritation.

“Holy shit, Dep.” Eli spoke with a disbelieving laugh in his words. “I thought we’d lost you! You’ve no idea how good it is to hear your voice.”

A warmth spread in her chest; she had forgotten what it was to hear such a friendly voice and even though she was still trapped within Jacob’s bunker with the lieutenant himself in arms reach, for a brief moment, she was able to feel a sense of safety. That was always Eli’s effect on others, he protected by building community - whereas Jacob only thought to protect with violence.

“I’m safe,” Rook rushed to reassure her friend, quickly moving on before he could ask for details. “What about the Whitetails? You got back to the Wolf’s Den, I guess?”

He hummed an affirmative noise.

“Most of us, but we lost two on the way.” His voice was grim. “Meyers and Lee. A tree fell right on them; they were gone in seconds.”

Rook’s breath caught at the news; Meyers had proudly showed her photos of his daughter at her first birthday only a month ago, and after a nasty gunshot had knocked Rook out of commission for a week, Lee had spent every day helping her clean and dress the wound.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, knowing that for all her time with the two, Eli had known them years longer. “They were good people.”

Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel Jacob’s eyes piercing against the side of her face.

“Yeah,” Eli agreed, before falling silent for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a strange resignation in his voice. “Where are you, Dep?”

Eli was many things, but he wasn’t foolish.

“I think you know,” Rook replied softly.

She could almost hear his sigh, and she wondered whether Tammy and Wheaty were nearby; she could only imagine how horrified they’d be by the news. Eli, at least, would keep himself grounded for her sake.

“He’s with you right now, isn’t he?” It wasn’t a question.

Rook peered over at Jacob, who was watching her with an unashamedly calm stare; his continued nonchalance doing little to hide that he was clearly listening intently to every word.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, looking straight into Jacob’s eyes.

He merely smiled back at her.

“And are you…okay?” Eli asked hesitantly, almost unwilling to ask the real questions lest he will the worst into existence.

Beside her, Jacob gave a musing hum - the sound more intended to mock than anything else - but said nothing.

“Yeah,” she said again, this time with a grimace at the obvious satisfaction the man next to her was getting from this entire situation.

Oh, how he’d longed to lord her circumstances over his enemy.

“Let me speak to him,” Eli said firmly, voice hard.

Jacob huffed a low laugh, but he didn’t seem to be surprised; she imagined that he’d expected this from the moment he’d allowed her to reach out. If she hadn’t come into the room when she did, she almost wondered if he hadn’t intended to make the call himself.

Meeting her gaze, he raised an eyebrow, generously leaving the ball in her court. She hesitated, fingers clenching slightly around the radio as she deliberated. She knew that Eli would be protective, and there would likely be threats involved. Neither of these options would be to her benefit, and at worst, would provoke Jacob into retaliation.

But she doubted the threat to her person would be lost on Eli. Perhaps she could trust him to keep her wellbeing in mind; he knew Jacob, after all, and would be more familiar than most to know which lines to toe.

With a sigh, she held the radio out to Jacob, her reluctance obvious in her demeanour. It did not go unnoticed by the man, and his expression was amused as he reached out to accept the offered radio. His fingers brushed against hers, calloused skin rough but warm against her palm, and for a moment, she stared down at her hand even as he stepped away.

She had forgotten how long it was since she had been touched by a grown man. She didn’t realise how starved of it she had been.

Rook didn’t have long to ponder on that, however, as Jacob raised the radio to his mouth and announced himself to his nemesis.

“No man left behind,” he almost sang the words into the radio, parroting Eli’s ideology back at him with poorly restrained smugness. His voice was mocking as he continued. “Then where are you now? I thought she was one of yours.”

She felt a stab of anger at the way he spoke as though she couldn’t hear him, but she didn’t bother interrupting him, figuring it would only do more harm than good.

Eli’s reply was swift, and his voice firm.

“You’re goddamn right she is.” His voice had a growl to it, the wolf of the Whitetail’s den. “So am I going to have a reason to come knocking?”

Jacob turned his head to look at her, his eyes low and a small but cold smile pulling at his lips.

“Who knows?” He replied, voice jarringly soft. “Depends on if she behaves herself.”

Rook resisted the urge to shiver; once more, the reminder of what a danger this man truly posed and the fact that she was utterly at his mercy left her chilled.

The wolf of the Whitetails didn’t take the threat quietly, and he bit back with a snarl into the radio.

“Jacob Seed, I swear to god”-

“You want to talk about God, you can talk to Joseph,” Jacob cut him off sharply, before giving a small, satisfied sound. “He was right , after all.”

“Fuck off, Seed,” Eli snapped back, avoiding opening up that particular can of worms. “You leave her the fuck alone, you hear me?”

“Are you really in the position to be making demands?” Jacob asked with a smile on his face, delighting in the power he held over the man he clearly held more of a grudge against than her.

For a moment, Rook allowed herself to be curious about that; given more of an opportunity, she would have been glad to see his entire project go up in flames, but it was still Eli who had earned more of Jacob’s ire. She was not yet bold enough to broach the subject, but she suspected it may have something to do with Eli’s sheer compassion, and how it went against Jacob’s ideology of what a warrior was. Yet Eli remained Jacob’s greatest enemy despite this ‘weakness’ and how it must have galled him.

To feel the power he now held - utilising the very thing he looked down on against Eli - was likely cathartic, to say the least.

Jacob opened his mouth to no doubt sneer something equally baiting at his enemy, but - having allowed him enough satisfaction for one night - Rook reached forward and snatched the radio from out of his hands.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she hissed at him, almost surprised at her boldness. There was a flash of irritation in his eyes, but she met him toe to toe and levelled him with her own glare. Daring him, goading him to try her; feeling every inch the cougar of the Henbane who yearned to repaint her claws red.

For some reason, Jacob stood down, though she certainly doubted it was from fear. He stepped away, unsmiling eyes trained on her as he leaned back against the desk and gestured at her to continue. She angled herself slightly to the side, giving herself even the smallest illusion of privacy, and spoke to reassure her friend.

“Eli, I’m fine. He hasn’t hurt me.” She said, almost exasperatedly. It was more to placate him, even though she knew it was currently true.

Her relationship with Jacob had been turbulent, to say the least, and she was more unnerved by how he hadn’t hurt her since he’d dragged her down into the Armory with such determination and threatened her by the entrance. Finding the children had now introduced another variable into the equation however, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she could predict how he’d react, especially since her judgement of his character had proven to be unreliable.

Evidently, she wasn’t the only one with such a concern.

“Dep, if you need me,” Eli began, voice low as though he were trying to keep their conversation hidden from Jacob, despite knowing it would be futile. “I will find a way to help you.”

The earnesty in his voice gave her a flush of warmth in her chest; she genuinely thought he meant what he was saying, that if she told him she was in serious immediate danger, he would try and walk through an apocalypse to keep her safe. But she, self-sacrificial lamb she was content to remain, would never allow him to do that.

“It’s okay, I really am fine,” she insisted. A thought suddenly occurred to her, spurred on by the conversation she’d had earlier with Will about Eli. “Actually… I have a good reason to stay here anyway now; just earlier tonight, we found some”-

A voice cut her off sharply.

“No.”

Jacob acted quicker than she could register; his hand flashing out to snatch the radio from her hand, quickly pulling it away and out of her reach. She jerked from the surprise, before feeling a flash of anger.

“What? Give that back!” Rook yelled, making a grab for it, but he’d anticipated this and smoothly evaded her. She shook her head and hissed out in indignant anger. “Hey! You said I could talk to him!”

He gave her a steeled glare, eyes cold and warning that he would brook none of her fury in this instance. Holding her gaze firmly, he spoke down into the radio.

“She’s done now.” Jacob said, voice emotionless but final. “If she’s good, I’ll let her have another talk.”

He turned off the radio before Eli could reply.

She sucked a ragged breath, immediately feeling the absence of her friend’s voice; for just one moment since the attack, there had been a strange relief off her back, the sense that she wasn’t alone, and she now felt aggrieved and aggravated that she had been denied it once more.

Still keeping his eyes on her, as one would watch an unpredictable, thrashing beast, he lowered the radio back onto the desk. Her eyes followed it, but she knew it would be a foolish thing to try him now.

Instead, she thought of her only other hope for an ally.

“Where’s Staci?” She asked quietly. It was the first time she had brought this matter up, deeming it too risky in their tentative stalemate to have previously broached the subject. Rook had assumed he was further up in the bunker, but she had certainly noticed the distinct lack of his presence as Jacob’s shadow.

Jacob’s eyebrow rose, the only sign that he hadn’t been expecting her drastic change of subject, and she felt a brief thrill that she had been able to finally return his habit of being unpredictable. He’d likely expected her to either try to wrest the radio back from him, or at the very least, spit and curse at him until she tired herself out.

He leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms, eyes narrowed as he scrutinised her to try and discern what angle she was playing in her unpredictability.

“As far away as he can be from you,” he answered cryptically, before leaning towards her and tilting his head. “Did you think I was going to let you whisper your little treasonous ideas in his ear? Start your little two person mutiny?”

She shrugged. Realistically, she knew that plan would be very unlikely to work; she had seen her colleague the first and only time she had been captured by Jacob, and it did not take long for her to determine that Staci Pratt was currently a very broken man. She could only assume his mental state may have suffered further when the bombs had dropped, but she knew regardless that he would take a very long time to even consider the thought of rebelling properly against Jacob.

But it wouldn’t stop her from trying to at least see him. Like her, he deserved to have a friend in a friendless place. It appeared she would need to bide her time for that, to let Jacob mellow further and be reassured of her ‘good behaviour’ before he would even consider allowing her to get close.

It irked her, but she would blunt her anger with sarcasm.

“With Will, now it could be three person mutiny,” Rook said, snarky and sneering in a drawl to hide her true thoughts.

Jacob did not share in her sarcasm; his eyes narrowed into steel and something very sharp came into his stare. It caused a deep instinct in her to rear up in alarm.

“Could it now?” He asked, soft but incredibly dangerous.

She faltered with a frown, her snark withering away.

“No.” Rook shook her head, voice slightly incredulous that he would even think she would consider it. “He’s just a kid; he’s seen enough violence.”

Jacob seemed placated by this somewhat, eyes softening again into a more unreadable expression.

“He’ll see more,” he replied, slipping back into the reassuring grip of his cynicism. “You think everyone’s going to be friends once we go back out there?” He shook his head, almost amused by the very thought; the man of war who couldn’t fathom the possibility of peace. “There’ll be chaos. And we’ll be ready for it.”

Well, that explained why he was so insistent on training his men despite the lack of enemies. Though she wondered if he realised that so many of the cult’s future enemies would be of their own making. That the very violence he had inflicted in his mission to protect the project would be the machine that created their greatest threats.

This was simply a man who could never lay down his weapon.

“Look at you,” she mused, mouth slightly ajar in a soft gasp of realisation. She just couldn’t resist poking at the bear in front of her. “You’re just always looking for your next war, aren’t you?”

A lesser man may have lashed out at her, and perhaps she wanted him to reveal himself as such; to prove he was indeed the lesser man she had thought him to be. He again denied her satisfaction by not rising to her bait.

“That’s what you’re doing too, isn’t it?” Jacob said softly, peering at her with an eyebrow raised. He wasn’t too impressed with her, but she still got the sense that he wasn’t as angry as she had hoped. “Always trying to bite at me, hoping I’ll bite back. Is that it?” He leaned forward, and there was a very small but almost nasty smile tugging at his lips; the smugness of a man who believed he had her entirely figured out. “Do you want me to snap that badly, Deputy?”

Her eyes narrowed. His unpredictable actions had unnerved her from the start of their cohabitation - and she was starting to suspect that had been his intention all along - and perhaps she was trying to deliberately antagonise him into acting more in line with her expectations. She wanted familiar ground in this uncertainty and his violence was paradoxically safe; she knew how to act in response, she knew how to feel in turn.

Maybe she simply sought to mold him, as he had once sought to mold her.

“Could be fun to make you snap.” Rook was being petulant, she knew, but there was little else open to her when anger would be frustratingly one-sided.

His tension faded, and he leaned back into his more relaxed position; comfortable in his self-assurance that the higher ground remained his.

“Could it?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

Contained as she was, he genuinely seemed to believe there was nothing she would do to anger him into an unrestrained fury. Even in exacting his violence, she had rarely seen him raise his voice. There was a disciplined sort of self-awareness to his wrath - so unlike his younger brother - and perhaps his jarringly soft carnage was even more terrifying than the alternative.

Something must have shown in her expression, because he gave a small huff of laughter and stood back up.

“Go to bed, Deputy,” he said, returning back to his chair.

She frowned, eyebrows wrinkling as the evening was so young.

“It’s not my bed time,” Rook scoffed, placing her hands on her hips and welcoming the change of subject. The words were almost childish, considering she didn’t generally have anything else to do after dinner other than sleep, but it was a matter of principle.

“It is now,” he replied as he sat down and turned his gaze back to his earlier discarded report. “You’re going to be in charge of looking after our new guests, after all.”

She almost wanted to bring up his prediction that the children would sleep through the next day, but she stopped as she privately admitted there was no guarantee, and someone would need to be there for them just in case.

Her pride didn’t allow her to admit that to him, of course.

“Putting the woman in charge of the kids?” Rook said, unable to resist one last snark- she had a daily quota to fulfill, after all. “Pretty sexist of you.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Want one of my men looking after them instead?”

Her smile fell off her face immediately and a chill of ice ran through her.

Jacob noticed, and hummed softly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He turned away from her, back to his report. “Off you go, Deputy.”

This time, she went without a word.

[boylikeanangel]

can you please share a bit more of your thoughts on the spoilers? i haven't seen them anywhere and it would be nice to know them coming from you

hiii tumblr mobile does not give timestamps for asks so idk if this is in regard to the spoilers from the interviews or the screenings but all my thoughts are kinda connected to both so SPOILER WARNING FOR THE FIRST TWO EPISODES OF SEASON 2 UNDER THE CUT LALALALA

I don't even know where to start like. I have been in a state of shock all day because literally everything my friends and I speculated about is real. literally all of it. all of our wildest theories about aziraphale and crowley's first meeting were confirmed by the fans who saw the screening. I have never won this fucking hard and ive won AT GOOD OMENS OF ALL THINGS. 2022 me would be laughing. june 2023 me would be laughing. two days ago me would be LAUGHING. I genuinely think this may be one of the best seasons of tv ever guys

like. do you understand. how much this changes. how our understanding of crowley and aziraphale's dynamic throughout time has been totally flipped on its head. aziraphale approached crowley first. crowley was the one who sheltered aziraphale with his wing. so eden was aziraphale returning the favour. DO YOU UNDERSTAND. AZIRAPHALE FELL FIRST. HE DIDNT TAKE SIX THOUSAND YEARS TO CATCH UP. HE HASN'T BEEN CLUELESS THIS ENTIRE TIME. they've literally been connected this entire time, right from before sides or the concept of evil or hatred or enemies were even invented. of course they'd never buy into the whole "hereditary enemies" thing. AZIRAPHALE KNOWS HIM. HE KNOWS CROWLEY. HE'S ALWAYS KNOWN HIM.

and it doesn't even feel like a retcon. it doesn't feel like we need to ignore a bunch of stuff from season 1 to accept or enjoy the added content this season. it's literally just. more shit to help quantify the depth of their love for each other. their connection over countless millennia. I mean if you go back to the very first scene in season 1, aziraphale literally does a double take when crowley appears next to him. that's him realising who it is. he fucking recognised crowley and freaked out for a second. that's why he didn't hear what crowley said!!! he was processing!!!! AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON HOW MUCH MORE SHIT FROM SEASON 1 HURTS NOW. AZIRAPHALE PLEADING WITH CROWLEY BECAUSE HE WAS AN ANGEL, ONCE. CROWLEY WANTING TO TAKE AZIRAPHALE AND RUN AWAY TO LIVE IN A GALAXY THEY HELPED BUILD TOGETHER. AZIRAPHALE ALWAYS TELLING CROWLEY NOT TO QUESTION GOD AND BEING SO AFRAID TO DO THE SAME BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT'S EXACTLY WHY CROWLEY FELL IN THE FIRST PLACE. it's not retconning its just making everything worse!!! azcrow is canon and everything is worse now!!!!!!

the biblical minisode. well. I cannot think about that without having to pace around my house like a person going into labour. I literally stress cleaned my entire house earlier to distract myself from thinking about it. crowley has always always ALWAYS protected aziraphale. always. literally the only reason aziraphale has never killed anything is because crowley has protected him from ever having to do that. crowley's dedication to preserving aziraphale's goodness and allowing him to be his own definition of angelic/holy is the greatest act of service he could bestow upon him and it makes me SICK because him pushing aziraphale to kill adam in 1x06 after all that shows just how desperate he was. both of them realising and understanding at the exact same time that the only person in the universe who really understands them or knows what they're going through is the other, the only person they can rely upon is the other, its just. we've been so wrong. about aziraphale. about the extent to which he knows how important crowley is to him. he's always known. he's just been so afraid. him being prepared to fall to keep doing what he believes is right is so fucking heartbreaking and weve done him such a disservice all these years for calling him naive and mocking him for being slow on the uptake. HE'S ALWAYS KNOWN. HE JUST COULDN'T DO ANYTHING WITH THAT KNOWLEDGE. AND THAT'S SO MUCH WORSE

basically I have never been more scared in my entire life because if they packed this much into the first two episodes and it was deemed tame enough to show ahead of release then what the fuck is in the next four. what are we getting ourselves in for . it's really dawning on me the scope of what this experience is going to be and I simply dont think im going to survive it. again I never expected any of this. this was my definitive "high hopes low expectations" season of tv and it's now it's shaping up to be one the best things I've probably ever seen in my life and. it's cognitive dissonance in its crystallised form. how did we fucking get here.

AND GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVER BOY??????? PLAYING IN CROWLEY'S CAR AS HE GOES TO MAKE UP WITH AZIRAPHALE?????? SAY SIKE RIGHT NOW THIS ISN'T FUNNY

in conclusion

[mrs-weasley-reid]

SAVORY KISS•••

Spencer Reid x bau!reader

Synopsis: a lot of things happened last night, but a shared drunken kiss between you and Spencer had your mind panicking Word Count: 2k+ WARNING: bit of an overdramatic reader (i've seen ppl act that way tho so if you don't like it, you can cry scroll away). few curses. fluff and angst if you squint. A/N: first ever spencer fic, be nice pls, English is not my first language sooo lol

"Shit."

You sat up on your bed, a hand smacking your forehead following suit. You could feel the heat that rushed to your cheeks, a shade of red tinting your skin. You woke up from a dream, a nightmare. Oh, who were you kidding? It wasn't any of those. It was an actual event that happened barely twelve hours ago.

"Oh my god," The hand on your forehead pushed the loose strands of hair off your face. "I kissed Spencer." You whispered under your breath, afraid that someone would hear you. Your fingers carefully graze your lips as the event from last night flashes in your mind.

It wasn't just a kiss. You made out with him. Hands in his soft, curly hair. Your body pressed against his. And your lungs were out of air.

You slammed your back on the mattress, wiggling around as if you were having a seizure. "This can't be happening!" You rolled over, wrapping your blanket around your body. Your hands smacked your face in hopes that you were just dreaming.

However would you face Spencer? Face your co-worker? Your teammate? If you weren't such a liquor fanatic last night, you wouldn't be in this situation.

The sound of your alarm startled you, reading seven in the morning. You dragged yourself out of bed, dreadfully preparing yourself for work.

Your travel to the bureau office took ten minutes at the most, and you could walk it for thirty minutes, but today, you wanted someone to do God's will and crash their car into yours on your way to work.

With a to-go cup of coffee in hand and a scowl in your throat, you pushed the glass door open to the bullpen.

Emily was the first to greet you, "I drank more than you did. How are you looking like a storm just passed you?" She chuckled, sipping in her second dose of coffee.

Your eyes blew wide, and you dragged her to the side. "I'm going to kill myself." You started in a whisper.

"Damn, I know I did it once, but I don't go around giving advice on how to do it." Emily looked up and shrugged. "Okay, yeah. I do tell people how to fake their deaths, but it's too early for that. Maybe at lunch?"

You shook your head, "No! I did something stupid."

She grinned, "How stupid are we talking about?"

"Stupid, as in kissing Spencer!" You hissed, looking around to ensure he was nowhere near earshot.

"Oh," Emily rolled her eyes. "Kiss? More like ate his face."

"Oh, my, god," You couldn't believe what you had just heard, making you ask the obvious. "You saw?"

Emily bobbed her head sheepishly, blowing on her coffee in a satisfying manner. "I didn't just see. I watched it."

"That doesn't make me feel any better, you psycho." You growled, pushing her shoulder lightly. She laughed at the act, giving you kissy faces.

"Why are you even freaking out? You've been crushing on boy genius for months now. You finally got to taste his minty fresh breath you've been daydreaming about." She snorted.

You glared at her. How could she be entertained by your dilemma? And you sighed at the question. You'd be more surprised if she wasn't.

"I know I talk about jumping on Spencer and ravishing him like a wild animal all the time, but—" You ignored Emily's widened eyes and subtle cough to stop you from talking. "—I at least want to do that when I'm sober and not in a drunken fashion."

The sound of metal crashing on the sink made you shut your mouth. You wanted to further sew it shut when you heard a soft 'sorry' behind you, immediately recognizing the owner of the voice.

You closed your eyes agonizingly, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Please, kill me now." You begged Emily. Your voice was almost inaudible.

She raised her hand in defense, "I made an oath not to use my gun for leisure."

You took a deep breath and turned to face Spencer with a crooked smile, "Hey."

"Uh," Spencer's ears were red, hesitantly picking up the spoon. "Right, yeah. Hey!" His voice hitched, and Emily's snort didn't pass your ears.

"I'm gonna give you two some privacy," Emily made eye contact with you. "Call me when you're about to make out again." She taunted and dashed away before you could even smack her shoulder.

You smiled and sighed. Nothing else could make things worst than this. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to hear that." You held your hands together, anxiety coursing through your veins.

Spencer looked away, feeling his face combust under your gaze.

Everybody knew how brave you were. Despite facing serial killers, you kept stable eye contact. Even Hotch sometimes felt nervous whenever you held his gaze as he lectured you.

For Spencer, it was your charm and also the death of him. You wanted to do what to him? His mind was spinning. He kept it to himself, maybe with Derek, who caught him staring at you once, but he tried his best to hide his attraction to you.

From the moment you made a joke of kissing Emily because shaking hands wasn't a thing from where you came from to last night, where you stared at him straight in the eye and ordered him to kiss you, he was whipped, and he knew it.

He didn't know what to do, and frankly, he was more concerned about you hearing his heartbeat than your statement regarding him. "No, no. I should be the one apologizing. I should've not eavesdropped on your conversation."

A bright laugh escaped you, "Spence, we were talking in the break area. It's everyone's space. Besides, I wasn't being silent either." The nickname rolled out of your tongue beautifully, and you liked it. You loved how the elongated end gathered suspense, whether you would say his name entirely or leave it at that.

Spencer gripped his mug at the use of his nickname, by you, of all people. "Right." He swallowed the air in his throat, forming a tight-lipped smile.

"Okay, then." You tapped the counter offbeat, clearing your throat. "I'll see you around." You bid farewell and marched to your desk.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Spencer hated elevators. It suffocated him, more so that you were with him, silently humming to yourself as you fought the anxiety boiling in your stomach.

You didn't avoid Spencer, at least not directly. A smile here and there when you bumped into each other and even managed to converse about one of your last cases without melting into a puddle on the linoleum floor.

You did, however, twist your ankles 180 degrees when you saw Spencer approaching, only when he hadn't noticed you yet. Just like earlier, after you returned from lunch with Penelope, Spencer was on his way out to take his break with Emily and Derek, scrambling to hook his messenger bag on his shoulder. You ran to catch up to Penelope, asking her if she could teach you some basic codes out of panic.

And the time arrived, when you turned around after getting in the elevator and Spencer slipped his scrawny body through the closing door. You couldn't turn anywhere, so you smiled and put on your brave face.

"Done for the day?" As if it wasn't evident by how you two clutched the straps of your bags.

"Yeah," Spencer bit the bottom of his lip, glancing at you from his peripheral. Your words were still loud and clear in his head. They were enunciated by the way you hissed every word to Emily.

Silence engulfed the two of you for the rest of the ride down to the parking garage. Spencer gestured for you to get out first, to which you replied with a small 'thanks' and a soft nod.

You turned in his direction to wave goodbye but were utterly shocked at what you saw. You found Spencer barely stepping off the elevator as if he had waited for you to take no less than twenty steps before he started to move.

"Have a great evening, Spence." You couldn't let your own embarrassment affect your friendship with Spencer. Not when you were bound to see him the next day and the next and until you were kicked out of the bureau.

He halted, clutching his bag. "You too." He muttered, almost inaudible for you to hear if it wasn't for the acoustic of the parking lot.

His eyes were distant, and you knew that you may not have wholly ruined your friendship, but you most likely made a mess out of it. So you left him with a nod and continued to walk to your car.

You hadn't moved more than two steps when Spencer spoke, "Do you regret it?"

You paused, your brows furrowing. Your body swirled at the weight of his vague question. "What?"

"Do you regret kissing me?" He asked, taking a massive gulp of nothing.

"No!" You shouted an exaggerated reaction to a simple question, inviting blood to travel to your face. "No, I don't." You reiterated, a lot calmer this time.

"Are you sure? You don't have to lie. I get it. I'm not really the best kisser—"

"No! No! Spence, no!" You didn't even realize that you were walking towards him until you stood half foot away.

Guilt spread throughout your veins for making him think for a second or more that you regretted kissing him. Sure, your mind was hazy at the memory of his lips on yours, but it didn't mean you didn't like it.

"No, really. It's okay." He reassured you, a longing stare glossing over his hazel eyes.

"The only thing I regret about our kiss was the fact that I wasn't sober." You admitted, willing yourself not to run and dip as you held his gaze.

There you go again. Always holding him a prisoner of your stare even if it was clear to both of you that you were on the verge of wanting to jump off a bridge.

A subtle smile was slowly forming on his lips. Because of your panic state and glued eyes to his, you didn't notice, rambling to explain how bad you felt for making him feel insecure about the way he kissed.

"I just," You sighed. "I just hoped I could remember how good it felt to make out with you, but because I was drunk, I only remember what happened but not how it felt. And it sucks. It sucks—"

He grabbed your face, and your breathing stopped. Spencer kissed you with eagerness and passion. He has been holding himself back the whole day.

Spencer wished you had an idea how bad he wanted to greet you with a soft kiss when he had the chance to steal you away from Emily in the morning. Still, your slight panic got to his head, making him wonder if it was solely alcohol that made you want to kiss him.

You didn't know when it happened, but your arms snaked around his neck, fingers tangled with the soft curls on his nape. You were hooked. And finally, it reminded you just how amazing it felt to kiss Dr. Spencer Reid.

You both pulled away, gasping for air, grinning from ear to ear. Chest shook up and down. Fingers numbed and tingly from the euphoric kiss he left lingering on your lips.

"You remember now?" Spencer asked with a shit-eating grin that he couldn't seem to wipe off his face.

Your arms crossed, index finger tapping your chin as you hummed. "I don't know... I'm not sure if you knew, but I don't have a great memory like yours." You kidded, mirroring his expression.

Spencer rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but you pulled his tie towards you to get your lips locked once again. You felt how he had difficulty placing his hands on your body, settling to hug you close to him like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.

The two of you giggled like teenagers, pecking each other's lips for more but too breathless to continue.

"See? She doesn't just kiss. She eats your whole face."

The two of you looked toward the elevator, finding Emily, Derek, and JJ.

Derek and JJ tittered at the joke, but they were forms of congratulatory giggles for the both of you.

You rolled your eyes at Emily, "When I like something, I savor it." You threw a suggestive wink at Spencer, earning a bright red glow from his face.

reid masterlist | masterlist

[intertexts]

OKAY BECAUSE I HAVE STILL NOT WRITTEN DOWN ALL OF MY THOUGHTS AND THEYRE JUST KIND OF FLOATING AROUND VAGUELY IN MY BRAIN SOUP.... holds out my hands like a starving victorian child. tell me about your william first death thoughts <3 what the hell sent that boy over a cliff edge. how long did he stay at the bottom. what was his first glimpse of the spirit world like. etc etc etc !!!!!!

GOD. WIWI TIME. you KNOW this is going to be an indecipherable soup of thoughts. if i was saying this all in person u know i would have like. pages of notes with a billion little paragraphs going a billion directions & arrows pointing all over the place. but. let's see what we've got. i love being normal about william wisp!!!

you know my thoughts on those damn wisps. first off. like before i even get started i cannot overstate how "something alien that loves you and wants you but doesn't have any conception of how humans work or how their affection hurts the thing they want " they are to me. they are a little kid who's trying to catch a lightning bug and crushing it in their hands, except they want to crush it and they don't get how killing a lightning bug is bad. they are going oh we like this kid he's nosy and curious (and he also wants to be dead? hey, we're dead! awesome! i see no problem with this!) we want him dead :)

the thing that i guess has slowly solidified in my head as to how the hell that boy went over a cliff......... god this is going to be so incoherent. you're in for it.

i do really love the folklore of will-o-the-wisps-- hypnotically leading you astray and off paths and down places you'll never return from. i think also that the wisps actively tugging him in that direction in some form resonates in a really painful way with the "haha! william wisp everybody wants to manipulate and use you for their own goals and you keep falling victim to wanting to trust people and getting fucking hurt by it (said in the haha jonathan you are banging my daughter cadence)" thing. how many of the pivotal choices in will's life were made because *he* wanted them. how much of what's happened to him is him getting tossed around from person to person!!

simultaneously: god you know he fucking killed himself man. you know he did. i'm not even-- staring at u with a hopeless expression and my hands in my hair. like. obviously he did. william wisp boy scout. william wisp always prepared with 1 million useful tools. william wisp grew up running around in the woods. william wisp who loved hiking and was always outside. you don't do that accidentally, unless you're an absolute idiot in a very precarious situation, neither of which i think apply to him. he still... chose to follow the wisps. i think. like, that decision Was His. he wasn't hypnotized out of his gourd or something. in my mind maybe it was a bit less of a "this time i'm really gonna do it" and more of a "this is interesting and beautiful and compelling and i honestly don't really give a shit if i die? maybe that's what this means. maybe that's what the woods are telling me that i'm right and i shouldn't be here after all." actually yeah no i just arrived at this conclusion myself and im fucking. yeah. kemuri voice if you weren't a coward you'd have killed yourself already. wisps voice yeah you know how you think about bleeding out sometimes? yeah you should do that. that would be good. that's all you've good for. it would be the best thing you possibly could do right now (to them it IS. they want him dead so they can have him!!!!). yeah c'mere come this way yeah keep following me. look at that drop. look at how pretty it is.

so. i guess. there's your answer to what i think happened there!!!!! regardless of being influenced the choice was his, ultimately. i think it takes away frm his whole narrative if it was not an intentional decision. to do that. & also i think his parents & the people around him Know That. stares at his dynamic with his parents. staring at it. (also just. william wisp clinical depression. he's just fucked up that way even with good parents even outside the deadwood horrors. he's just like that. important to me. passively suicidal long b4 he fell in the deeply miserable high schooler way. god he must have been like.. fourteen fifteen? sophmore when it happened? but GOD the deadwood horrors also. growing up being absolutely alienated from everyone around u except a handful of people.....)

I HAVE NOT ACTUALLY LIKE. thought about how long he was there for very much. but i think it was quick for him and long, like, objectively. in my head i have been thinking that it just. happened while he was alone and he came back alone but i don't know if he would tell his parents. would he tell his parents? i don't know if he'd danny phantom it or if he'd come back limping and pale and brown with dried blood and go hey mom? in a choked wobbly trying to hold back tears voice & accidentally phase through her arms when she tried to hug him.

either that or i think he should come back while the cops are crouched over his body. early morning freezing cold his parents crying a couple yards away no paramedics because they couldn't make it through the forest and there's no nearby safe helicopter landing space. just open his eyes laura palmer style. the like,,,, finality of it to everyone around him. they Knew He Was Dead. not that laura palmer did that but i'm picturing that opening scene of them finding her washed up body u know.

regardless: i don't think he saw the spirit world until... god. when's the first time he did in canon. his second death? i don't think he knew Anything. i don't think the wisps gave him shit!!!! he just woke up no heartbeat no breath falling through floors and phasing through people nobody to ask about it. his parents didn't know anything he didn't either!! anyway. leaving you with this.

[lovelyiida]

what if pro hero bkg is in a relationship with a reader and she later confesses to him that she is a villain and has been tasked with seducing him but she fell for him fr?? how would he react?

❥: when I go through my asks I always circle back and read this one. And whoever you are out there; I’m finally gonna do it lmao. I think I gave this ask a more poetic adaptation so it may not be the best when it comes to getting straight to the point so I apologize in advance :D

FEM READER X BAKUGO, SEMI-VULGAR LANG (mentions intimate body parts), NO PROOF READ!!

traitor, nymphoid, huntress, cold-hearted, ruthless, calculated.

that’s who you were, and you were never told you were anything else. You had a role within society; kill or be killed. And you decided to kill.

Seven months you’ve been killing, killing ever so slowly—ever so softly.

Kill him with a dagger, kill him with a gun, kill him within an injection. No, kill him with something unexpected…something beyond his own comprehension.

Kill him with love.

You knew he’d be easy to obtain, a young pro-hero experienced within every aspect of heroism. Except for his birth-given right; love.

But where you knew he lacked, you once flourished. A villain isn’t born, a villain is created by the villainy of society.

Sweetheart, caring, selfless, sensual, beautiful, smart…

These words that he called you; foreign to your own being sent shivers down your spine. With every word uttered a piece of you is reformed.

The way his eyes sparkle when his looks into yours. The way his smile grows as he hangs on to your every word. The way the slightest touches sends a spark through your every being.

The way your souls dance within every moment you’re together.

When was the last time you actually danced?

A hidden compassion? All behind closed doors. A connection no one else can see, no one else can know, no one else can understand. A connect you’re willing to give away your life for.

What about killing him? Yearning to end him? Yearning for revenge? Yearning for victory?

Why do you feel so foreign? Why do you yearn to give the deepest parts of your soul to him?

Do you even believe if you showed the real you to him; he would give you his soul in return?

Your souls cannot dance any longer, so why do you yearn for them to merge?

Why do you yearn for him?

Tears, regret, shame, anger, heartbreak…

“So what? What we had wasn’t real?” The young hero looks at you. Eyes glossed in anger as he pried answers from you.

“It was everything I thought it would be” you said, eyes dull; emotionless. You watch as the blonde shifts back into the metal seat. A heartbroken scowl trying not to emerge in front of you, he won’t give you that satisfaction.

“But, it was nothing I could’ve prepared myself for.”

You sat before him, dirty, wounded, defeated, and uncovered. The league of villains were unsuccessful with a certain phase of the plan, and decided to throw you under the bus.

They knew you were the easiest to dispose of, the most weak-minded, the most-likely to break.

Taking a deep breath, you try to look into his eyes but you cower at the sheer thought of an attempt. “Bakugo, what we had didn’t matter to me, you were just a quota with a dick.”

Looking up at him, with a shit-eating grin you pose your best poker face. The blonde was reationless. Slowly standing up; his movements were calculated.

Turning off the camera with ease, he stands and looks into your eyes. A face of disappointment and longing.

“Dispatch—videotape 009 clear” Bakugo shouts out to the air. An “All clear,” sounded off with a loud buzz.

Looking down, you jolt as the iron cuffs slipped from your wrists. The hero then grabs you with force and leads you out the door.

Leading you underground, he then throws you into your cell with force. Huffing out a groan in pain you scurry to the bars.

Eyes filled with tears and lip quivering, you look into his eyes. “Katsuki—“

“Katsuki? You have no right” he scoffed, turning his back to you he begins to walk away.

Frantic, you yell out his name once more. “Katsuki, I love you! I mean that!” You cried. Stopping in his tracks, he turns to look at you once more.

Eyes cold, calculated, evil.

“I gave you a chance in there to prove yourself and you didn’t, y/n.”

“You’re dead to me.”

❥: @xo-evangeline , @nar00 , @king-dynamight , @gold24fish , @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz , @zukowantshishonourback , @ilovedenk-i , @atsushiki , @smolbeanzzz , @lem-hhn , @stevenknightmarc , @ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls , @lyn07 , @kennshifts , @ackerman-suck-3-r , @elegantvoids , @thecurlyhairedgoddess , @sunyrose , @thisbicc , @thekookiecorner , @snxwycloud , @skylardarling

[jenanigans1207]

Hi, please accept me being weak and sharing even more of this fic that I'm working on because I'm too impatient to hold onto this until the fic is done.

For context, the whole point of the fic is that Dean gets hit with a curse that forces him to tell the truth if asked a question.

(enjoy the angst of me projecting onto Dean Winchester!)

----

“You don’t get it.” Dean grinds out, all frustration and sharp edges, words cutting his own throat as much as they’re cutting Cas.

“Dean—”

“Ask me.” Dean says, throwing his arms out to the side. “I can’t fucking lie so ask me.”

Cas stares at him for a long moment and it’s not hard for Dean to read the expressions on his face. Up until this point, Cas had been very carefully and delicately choosing his words every time he spoke to Dean, careful to not accidentally phrase something in a way that would come across as a question. He has been diligent in his attempt to respect Dean’s privacy and Dean’s wishes, steadfast in his belief that Dean should not be forced to tell them things, but should only volunteer things willingly. Even though Sam had been practically chomping at the bit to finally get Dean to talk about his feelings.

But Dean was giving Cas permission to ask, to force the curse to bring the words to the surface. This was about as willing as Dean got when it came to feelings and Dean could see the exact moment that Cas accepted the permission he was being granted. 

“Why do you always push me away?” Cas asks after a moment, his voice quiet, like he’s afraid of receiving the answer as much as he’s afraid of what delivering the answer will do to Dean.

But Dean doesn’t need the curse to bring up the answer. At this point, everything is such a fucking disaster that Dean’s willing to answer that honestly all on his own.

“It’s easier.” He says, and he notices the way Cas steels himself for whatever else Dean is about to say, as if he’s prepared for repeated blows to the heart. “If you leave because I push you away— because I’m a short-tempered asshole who crosses the line and says shit he doesn’t mean, I can live with that. Because that— that’s my fault, Cas. And at that point, just add it to the list, you know? Everything is my fault— Sam being back in the life, everything that’s happened to him, everything that’s happened to you, the fucking end of the world was my fault! So yeah, if you leave because I pushed and pushed and pushed until you couldn’t bear it anymore, I’ll just add it to the list of reasons I hate myself and cope with it the same way I cope with all the other reasons— too much alcohol and even more denial.”

Cas’s lips part, clearly surprised by the answer he’s getting. “That’s—”

But Dean isn’t done. “I’ve spent my entire life hating everything about myself, Cas. And yeah, I’m not sure I ever hate myself more than I do when I hurt you that— that is a new low, even for me, but it’s still in the realm of things I understand. But if— Cas, If you—” Dean’s throat is so fucking tight that it hurts and the words almost can’t get out. He clenches his jaw, swallows, and decides to put himself out of his fucking misery. “If I asked you to stay… If I told you how badly I always want you there, how nothing is ever right when you’re gone, how I never want you to leave and you— and you left anyway? If I told you the truth and you still chose to leave despite that? Cas, that would kill me. It really would.” Dean can’t look Cas in the eye now that the words are out in the open. “So instead, I push. If you’re going to leave no matter what, at least I can blame myself for it. It at least makes it a little easier to breathe in those lonely moments. Gives me something to do, too, you know? Instead of missing you every second of the day, I spend at least a few of them kicking my own ass for what I’ve done and continue doing to you.”

There’s a long, tense silence that follows the words and Dean honestly doesn’t know how he expects Cas to react.

“And you—” Cas’s voice is as strained as Dean’s had been and Dean glances up at him briefly, unsurprised to find the pain reflected in his face. It’s not like Dean’s unaccustomed to hurting Cas, he shouldn’t be surprised that even his honesty manages to do it. “You think that I would leave either way? You think that I— I want to go? That I would choose to go even if you didn’t push me away?”

It’s several questions all jumbled together, but it doesn’t really matter because they all have the same answer anyway. “Yes.”

Dean had hurt Cas a lot of times in the past, he knew that. He wouldn’t say he’d come to terms with it, wouldn’t say that each and every time he had said something intentionally harsh, cruel, or uncalled for wasn’t tied for number one on his list of reasons he hated himself more than any other creature on earth. But still, he knew that he had done it and he often replayed it in his head, hurting himself with the memory of hurting Cas. But despite that, nothing prepares him for the way Cas’s face crumples at his answer, for the way he looks more dejected, more hopeless Dean has ever seen him. Suddenly every other time Dean has hurt Cas barely even makes the list of reasons he hates himself because this— this just took every spot in the top one hundred.

Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever get the image of Cas’s broken, faithless expression out of his mind.

Dean almost expects Cas to try and school his expression into something a little more neutral, something to disguise the hurt in his eyes. He usually does, just to spare Dean the pain— or maybe Cas thinks it’s the satisfaction— of knowing that he’d landed another winning blow. But Cas doesn’t do anything to cover up the agony in his expression, doesn’t even attempt to pretend that he’s not breaking to pieces right before Dean’s very eyes.

Dean fucking Winchester, the man cursed to save the world that does not love him and to break the only actually precious thing he’s ever been given.

“Why?” Cas finally chokes out. “Why would you think that?”

Dean answers his question with a question, “Why would you stay?” Cas stares at him with eyes that are impossibly blue and unfathomably sad. For someone who knows only disappointment, Dean’s surprised to find that it hurts so much to find it reflected in Cas’s eyes. “I’m not— I’m not a fucking joy to be around, Cas. I’m not shining sunshine out of my ass, I’m not Mary freaking Poppins. I’m an asshole— clearly— and I… Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking disaster, a basket case. There’s more wrong with me than there is right. Me constantly pushing you away is an example of that!”

“Dean, if you’d let me, I would—”

“Let you?” Dean repeats, somehow incredulous despite the absolute trainwreck of a situation. “Let you? Cas, I may push you away, but I don’t physically shove you out the door. And I’ve never once locked it behind you, never once stopped you from coming back. You get that, right? I may push and push and push but you? Cas you leave.”

Somehow this is getting worse by the second and if Dean weren’t so unbearably miserable, he’d be impressed that he’s managing to fuck everything up further with every word that comes out of his mouth. Looking at Cas now, he’s honestly not sure which one of them hates the situation they’re in more, which one of them feels worse. Cas looks like he’s about to collapse in on himself, like the only thing he’d ever been fighting for just gave up and surrendered the battle. He looked like his entire purpose had just been ripped away from him. 

“I don’t ever want to leave, Dean.” Cas says brokenly. 

“Then why do you?” Dean asks, just as broken, just as quiet, just as desolate. And when Cas doesn’t immediately answer, biting back a reply that he clearly knows, Dean laughs, bitter and humorless. “Right, ‘course. Forgot, I’m the only one who has to be honest, here. Fucking fantastic, Cas, that’s just great.”

Cas takes a tentative step forward. “Dean—”

Dean has always hated how much he loves the way Cas says his name. Cas, a former Angel of the Lord said Dean’s name reverently, like a prayer, like it carried some sort of holy meaning or importance. Cas said his name like it was a blessing to be able to speak it at all, like it was the only name he ever wanted to say again. 

And Dean can’t take that right now, can’t let Cas say his name like that while refusing to meet him in the middle on this. “No, just—” He’s breaking, he’s breaking, he’s been broken for so many goddamn years at this point and yet somehow he’s still breaking. “You— you were supposed to fight, you asshole. You were supposed to come back and see that the door was still open. You were supposed to— to try. And you never did— do. You never do. So I keep pushing and you keep leaving and it’s easier for me to blame myself than it is for me to blame you but god, Cas, it doesn’t matter whose fucking fault it is because it hurts every time you go.”

Dean doesn’t know if angels cry. But if they do, he’s certain that Cas would. If there were only ever one angel in all of history that cried, Dean would know with absolute certainty that it was Cas. And Cas isn’t even an angel anymore, technically. He’s just a stupid human with stupid human emotions and the even stupider human inability to deal with them. But he looks like he might cry, like he might prove to Dean to that all of his celestial holiness was just a rouse and that he’s always been harboring this deep seated sadness underneath. 

“I—” Cas starts to say, but whatever response he had is lost to the sound of Sam opening the door finally.

“Hey,” Sam says hurriedly, and there’s a smear of blood on his cheek. He stumbles into the room, the hand on the doorknob stopping him from toppling over completely. Once he makes it in the room he pauses, seeming to notice the tension that’s suffocating them. His eyebrows rise as he glances between the two of them. “You guys good?”

“No,” Dean answers immediately, the curse beating Cas to the punch. “We’re not.”

That seems to catch Sam off guard and his hand slips off the doorknob as he regards Dean. He probably wants to ask some question that would make Dean rehash this entire thing, probably wants to do something stupid and sentimental like sweep him up into a bear hug and tell Dean that everything will work out. But he seems to sense the severity of the situation, the levity of the expressions on both of their faces. He shuts his cakehole.

“No,” Cas agrees after a moment, and his voice is thick with emotions and whatever words he was forced to swallow back down when Sam barged in. “But we will be. Right, Dean?”

Even the curse doesn’t have an answer to that one, leaving his throat completely dry as he tries to swallow, letting him give whatever kind of response he wants. “Yeah.” He chokes out after a moment, not meeting the gaze of either of them. “We always are.”

[lovecolibri]

SaL anon here bestie, ready with the gin to endure whatever nonsense Eddie's plot is devolving into this week. God I hope the focus on Henren or Bathena so I can walk away with some sense of satisfaction. I'm not even going to attempt to say something good might come out if it, since history isn't on our side this season wrt Eddie. Tim needs to lay off his Hitchcock obsession, he did Psycho on LS last season, is doing Vertigo now, and both plots were utter nonsense. At least I got a good laugh today looking at the stills from the Oliver and Lou interview. Somebody should have told Oliver to blink 3 times if he's there against his will, though the fact that he looks like he's actively leaning towards the nearest exit probably says it just as well.

Yeah, the sooner bucktommy ends the happier I'll be. The relationship itself is fine, on par with every other BS relationship Buck was in really, but the fandom around it is exhausting and the active attempts to erase any semblance of Eddie in Buck's life is just so, so dumb (and pointless, like Buck wouldn't be the same without Eddie in his life just as Eddie isn't the same without Buck). Anyway cheers friend, we're on the precipice of something that looks both exciting and annoying, let's hope the scales tip in our favor 🍷🍸🥃.

Well, as I'm sure you guessed by my late answer, I saw this and waved at you from post limit jail, due to the d20 finale last night. I wish Tumblr would have a pop up like, "hey, you have 5 posts left before you hit post limit today!" or something so I could prepare!

So, good news, the Bobby and Henren stuff was *chefs kiss* angsty and dramatic and pulled at my heartstrings! The Bobby montage as he's giving his Captain Dad advice and having Buck cook, and calling Hen "Mother Hen" (while looking at Buck and Eddie 👀👀👀), giving the prayer book to Eddie, giving tips to Ravi, calling out orders on scene, it was all so much! And GOD, them taking that poor little girl away, and Denny stepping between that man and his sister, I was in TEARS! The Bobby and Athena talk got me too, and then him seeing his dead dad?! Bobby is going THROUGH IT and I ate it up!

As for Eddie I- legitimately do not know what to say. The whole thing was a mess, Kim giving herself bangs?? to roleplay with a stranger?? was just SO WEIRD and off-putting. Sorry I guess I'm just a hater but I think Eddie getting stuck with actresses like GW and EG means that him having scenes with anyone else feels good? but I'm not falling all over myself about any magical chemistry 🤷🏻‍♀️I hate this storyline and I'm tired of the narrative that this was some great love Eddie is missing out on when season 2-3 gave us actual canon evidence that it isn't true, and it feels more like Tim wanted Devin back and thought he could get away with it now that the audience had some space and KR spent all last season pretending Shannon was some saint (when he killed Shannon off so quickly originally because he said the audience wasn't going to forgive her and he didn't want to waste screentime on that when grief tied in with anger and abandonment was a more interesting storyline for Eddie and Chris). I'm also VERY curious about where the "Eddie realizing he's been looking at the relationship with rose colored glasses and living in delusion about it" is because GIRL that wasn't it. Eddie crying about her being the great love of his life and how they could have had it all is NOT him taking off the rose colored glasses, no matter how pretty Ryan looks when he's crying.

ANYWAY. I was already not on board with this but the writers dragging Chris into it too just gives me the ick. And it might resolve fine, but GOD!! THE JOURNEY MATTERS!! It matters how the characters get places! And this is just...not just a mess but a completely unnecessary one. They could address Eddie's grief and delusions about his relationship with Shannon (and her relationship with Chris because don't think I didn't clock him bringing up her (shit ass guilt trip) letter but not that she abandoned her son and cut off all contact for years) without resorting to trashy soapy doppelganger nonsense and cheating drama. And it's WILD because Bobby's arc this season and his relationship with Athena, and Henren's storyline have been SO GOOD, and even though there were some pacing and tone issues, even the Madney stuff has been good (and Kenny always slays the dramatic arcs!). Buck has taken a mostly supportive backseat this season which, while I ADORE him, was needed after the mess KR made of his character and her apparent lack of interest in the majority of the other main characters and his personal storyline (the bi realization, being Eddie's partner for all the big emotional talks) is also fine, it just got hijacked by some absolutely bizarre shipping strangeness over a couple minutes of screentime. But GOD Eddie's shit has been such a weird mess! It wasn't enough to be stuck with the transphobe all season, we also had to add in this nonsense?! Thanks, I hate it. At least we might finally be allowed to let Shannon go?? I am literally begging at this point.

As for th b/t of it all, I have literally blocked it from my mind and out of my existence (the ONE perk of my tumblr app still not working and having to do most of my stuff in my phone browser means I haven't really seen my dash lately and I've been smart about staying out of the tag for once) because it's just not worth the headache the bad takes give me. I'm just...so tired. I was willing to watch it play out (felt very much like Ali as the first step post-Abby, something background setting up for more later *cries in s4 Buddie canon*) but go at this point I just need it to be over for EVERYONE'S sanity. Especially Oliver's because like, girl. Why do you look like you're trapped in that loft with MW again?! Why so haunted? Girl, are you okay?? Oliver?? And how he continues to just post Buddie/Ryan stuff?? Loud.

I'm just...tired. So tired. And I need a drink. Imma go find some absolutely filthy/funny/fun Buddie fic and drown myself in that because I have the unfortunate feeling it's gonna be a LONG fucking hiatus.

Cheers friend. I know I always say if we can survive RNM (with it's own doppelganger storyline) then we can survive anything but GOD it would be nice to not have it be so hard.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Coward

Selene reunites with Rolan at Last Light and then saves him a few more times. SFW.

It was bad enough that the Shadow Curse was worse than anything she could have imagined, but Selene was not prepared for just how badly her reunion with Rolan would go.

Drunken yelling.

He hates me.

He hates me…

That first night at Last Light she cried herself to sleep, tail wrapped around a leg. It reminded her of when his tail curled around her calf at the celebration.

And then he kissed me---clearly very nervous. Gods, how I wanted him to touch me…

Now he never will because he hates me.

He hates me…

***

“The last winged horror…it’s by Rolan! At the bar!” Astarion yelled from outside Isobel’s room.

Rolan.

In danger.

Winged horror.

He hates me.

I love him.

ROLAN.

I’LL SAVE YOU.

With a snarl, Selene Longsong ran and leapt from the second floor of Last Light Inn and landed on her feet less than a foot away from the monster next to Rolan.

I’VE GOT YOU.

She screamed as the Everburn Blade struck a killing blow, her rage-inducted gaze meeting his.

“That’s it! That’s the last!”

Selene shook herself out of her rage and felt panic rising in her chest.

Oh shit.

This is the first time he’s seen me rage, and he hates me.

Great.

Fantastic.

For a second, she thought she saw something kind glimmer in his eyes.

But then he opened his mouth.

“We won’t even have to go out into the shadows to die now that the cultists have found us.” He sneered, tankard back in hand.

For fuck’s sake, Rolan. “Nobody else is dying. I’ll deal with the cultists.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure they’re cowering in their heavily fortified tower knowing you’re on the way.”

Turning to leave with Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart, Selene muttered a barely audible, “You’ll see.”

I’ll save them all.

Then maybe…he won’t hate me anymore.

***

Selene nearly throttled Rolan after she and her party rescued him in the Shadow Cursed Lands.

How could he be so stupid?!

FUCKING WIZARDS, MAN!

After using Misty Step to reach him, Selene fired what turned out to be the killing shot at the shadow creature.

Rolan, however, was not pleased that once again I saved his life. Fucking hells. “Gods damn it all. I can do nothing right—not a damn thing.”

“You’re supposed to be at Last Light!”

“I’m supposed to be saving Cal and Lia! Instead, I found myself cornered by shadow-fiends and in need of rescue. From you, of all bloody people.”

What the fuck does that mean, Rolan?!

Without thinking, Selene snarled, “Should I have left you to die?”

“At least dead I’d have a purpose—perhaps as an appetizer for some cursed monster.” The wizard seemingly deflated in front of her, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve failed Cal and Lia, again. Be on your way—I’ll return to Last Light…I know when I’m outmatched.”

Gale offered to send a familiar to follow Rolan…to make sure he actually went back.

But he’s not going to do it again.

And he still hates me.

***

Selene was still stewing about him and possibly still hoping that maybe he doesn’t hate me when Lae’zel slid a letter under the flaps of her tent. Isobel gave me a room at Last Light, but I don’t go there until after everyone has turned in for the night.

“The stupid teef-ling wizard told me to give this letter to you. Why he does not simply say what he wants to say I do not know, but I do know this---by not facing you, he is a coward and thus, unworthy of you.” There was a long pause. Too long. “Goodnight.”

Well, that was weird.

She opened the letter and inhaled sharply.

My dear lady,

I am ashamed of myself.

I am ashamed of my treatment of you.

I am ashamed that I am too afraid to speak these words to you but say them I must.

I beg your forgiveness, Selene, for so many things. For my arrogance. For my drunkenness. For raising my voice to you. For being ungrateful to you time and time again.

I am so deeply ashamed and embarrassed.

I can understand, of course, if you do not wish to remain cordial with me but once again, there is something I must say.

I am in love with you.

I fell in love with you that first evening we spent together at the grove. I didn’t expect to find you on my walk that night, but I’m so glad I did. The joy of being by your side…feeling as if we’ve known each other our entire lives…the way my heart continues to flutter at the thought of your touch…it has overwhelmed my senses, warming my heart and soul.

If you don’t share these feelings, then I beg your forgiveness again. One word from you, and I won’t bring it up again. This I swear.

But forgive me, dearest Selene, I had to at least try, or I would regret it for the rest of my life.

Most sincerely and ardently,

Rolan

She blinked several times.

He doesn’t hate me!

HE LOVES ME!?!?!?!

With relief washing over her as she breathlessly laughed, Selene held the letter against her chest and cried.

***

She found Rolan a little while later (after I stopped crying and gathered a few things from my tent to bring back to Last Light), at the bar not surprisingly. Not wanting to startle him, she spoke softly as she approached.

“Rolan?”

If he heard her, he barely reacted. He continued to stare at the bottle of Arabellan Dry in front of him.

She placed the envelope containing his letter on the bar next to him. “Rolan, did you mean what you wrote? Because I—”

“Every word.”

Oh. My. Gods.

Breathe, Selene. Breathe.

Licking her lips, she whispered, “Can we talk in private?”

He nodded wordlessly and followed her upstairs.

Breathe.

Breathe.

BREATHE.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, she rushed to Rolan and hugged him tightly. “I love you too.” Even saying it, I can’t stop smiling. He makes me want to smile.

His hands settled on her soft hips, rubbing them gently. “Thank the gods! I thought perhaps I had ruined everything.” Relief painted his usually serious features, a genuine smile on his face. “But no. No, I haven’t, and I swear I’ll—”

Selene silenced him with a kiss that ended with her tugging on his lower lip. “Rolan, less talking more kissing.” PLEASE.

“Ha, yes. Of course, my dear. Of course. Yes.” He laughed breathlessly, his hands now traveling to her behind. “Yes…” He kissed her so sweetly but then he grabs my ass and squeezes. Good gods, I’m in love.

She brought her long arms around his neck and undid his hair tie, tossing it on the bedside table. He is so gorgeous. So gorgeous. He loves me?!?!? “Rolan, I…I thought you hated me.” Selene said softly, blinking back tears. “I meant what I said. I’ll bring Cal and Lia back. I promise. I promise.”

Rolan shook his head. His hands, still on her hips, squeezed gently. “No. I never…I’ve never hated you. Been incredibly frustrated by you, yes. Constantly!” He chuckled. “But no, I’ve never hated you. Never.” Oh fuck now we’re both crying. “I have faith in you, my love. I know you’ll bring them back. All of them.” One of his hands rose to stroke her cheek. “I’m sorry. I—”

“You’re good, love. Just don’t do it again.” Making that absolutely clear, saer. Leaning into his touch, she sighed happily. “Wanna lie down? It’s been a long day.”

“Right! Oh yes, of course. I, um, can leave you to it…” He sadly let go of her and stepped back, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

You have got to be kidding me.

She giggled. “Rolan, I want to cuddle with you in bed!”

He blinked. “Oh. Yes. With me.”

Or not?

Her heart began to pound in her chest. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought it would be nice.” I want to hold you and tell you everything is going to be okay. I’ll take care of you.

“Oh gods, please don’t misunderstand—I do want this. It’s just been a…um, a very long time.” He smiled ruefully, tugging on his collar. “Some years, in fact.”

Without thinking, she blurted out, “Well that’s okay because I’ve never done this!” Shit. “With a man. Or anyone really.” Stop. Talking. “Thought maybe there was wrong with me.” NO STOP TALKING. “Because it honestly felt like I was the only person who was unlovable, and—oh!”

Rolan rushed to her and silenced her with a passionate kiss, moaning in her mouth. “Woman, you are…so…frustrating…” And yet you love me anyways! Cupping her face, he smiled. “You’re the most beautiful, beguiling, enchanting, perfect person I’ve ever seen.” His smile grew wider as he kissed the tip of her nose. “Now, let’s get you in bed.” His eyes widened as she laughed. “Not like that! Not like that! You…you…”

Aww he’s so cute when he’s pissy.

“Me. Me. Me. Come on, handsome.” Selene grinned, tugging him to bed. Both quickly got down to their smalls, and Rolan insisted on being the big spoon because he’s actually quite sweet when he wants to be.

For the first time since her abduction, the barbarian slept peacefully in the arms of my favorite wizard.

Sorry Gale!