#it hurts to think what had to have impacted him that hard to chip out his plastron

[snackugaki]

i typed what i typed

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

"A Different Approach" Ending

Having seen this episode twice, I think the ending does work. I know some people aren't happy and I understand why. I really do. But, I have faith that the creators will handle this situation well.

Spoilers below

Omega and Crosshair came home. I am beyond happy to see them finally reunite with their family. Now, I know it wasn't my ideal fanfic fluff reunion where Crosshair gets hugged liked crazy and everyone cries. For Omega, that makes sense. However, I do think this ending was realistic from a narrative POV. Forgiveness, especially in a complex topic like this, doesn't always happen overnight. It needs to be earned.

Crosshair's absence hurt Hunter deeply. Hunter had to watch his own brother, whom he grew up with, shoot his family. He had to watch his brother hunt him down. He had to watch his brother try and hurt the kid Hunter loves so dearly. It doesn't help that Crosshair lured the others to Kamino using Hunter and later rejected Hunter's offer to come back. From Hunter's POV, Crosshair doesn't want to come home nor understands the Batch. Simply put, he doesn't trust Crosshair and still is in pain from past grievances.

Wrecker being upset also makes sense. The last time he saw Crosshair, his brother rejected the opportunity to rejoin. Furthermore, Cross wasn't exactly in the brightest mood. Imo, Wrecker feels betrayed and hurt, but not to the degree Hunter is. He wants Crosshair back, but past grievances remind him of the pain he felt. Also, Wrecker wants to keep Omega safe and he knows Crosshair doesn't have the best track record with making good decisions.

Then, there's Crosshair. I LOVED that we hear his new theme when he walks out. This is not the same Crosshair from season 1. He is a changed man who's gone through so much suffering to get to where he is now. There is a lot of unspoken pain and turmoil going on inside him. Hunter and Wrecker don't know what he's been through. Over 6 months of separation and there's been no contact except for the warning message. Crosshair knows that Hunter and Wrecker don't trust him. Deep down, I believe Crosshair wants to go home, but his internal conflict and abandonment have impacted him hard.

Now, this is where the family therapy section starts. Crosshair, Hunter, and Wrecker will not bounce back to their original relationship prior to Order 66. They may fight side by side, but they won't have that bond that they had before. For these brothers to slowly build back their relationship, they need to acknowledge their shortcomings but also work towards solutions. This is mainly for Crosshair and Hunter.

Cross made mistakes. He needs to accept that, even if it might be hard to admit. I do believe he also needs to acknowledge Hunter's feelings. Hunter did feel betrayed. He didn't fully understand what was going on. Crosshair, through his actions, needs to show he's changed. By being open with Hunter, hopefully both brothers can begin to understand each other better.

Hunter needs to acknowledge Crosshair's pain and feelings of abandonment. Because yes, Hunter never really did anything to try and get Cross back or wonder about the chip. He goes back for Omega, but not Cross. And it's established that Crosshair wasn't completely in control at the start. Hunter also has a lot of other issues he needs to accept, including his own identity issues.

TLDR: both sides need to put a lot of effort into repairing their relationship. Hunter was hurt, Wrecker was hurt, and Crosshair was hurt. They need to acknowledge their shortcomings and the other party. But I'm confident that the brothers can do it. Their loyalty and love for each other, particularly with Omega to mediate, hopefully will pull them through to the end.

[my-hyperfixation-hell]

Katara belonged in the final Agni Kai

I was thinking about ATLA again, particularly about the common fandom complaint I hear that Katara was out of place in the last Agni Kai, and it should have been about exclusively Zuko and Azula, or that because Katara technically finished the fight, Zuko doesn't "count" as Firelord; he never won.

But I think that Zuko and Katara winning it together is actually crucial for not only Katara, but Zuko as well.

Let's start with Zuko by examining what the Agni Kai is to begin with. We've seen Zuko engage in two Agni Kais before; against Admiral Zhao, and of course, Firelord Ozai. The notion of an Agni Kai in theory is to prove one's honor.

In practice, it has been used as a means of displaying your power over someone else through firebending. Ozai overpowers Zuko, and Zhao intended to do so over Zuko, but failed.

It's reflective of Fire Nation society as a whole, and the way that displays of power and force have become more valued than actual honor. This is the lesson Zuko has to learn, too; no one can give him honor or take it away, especially not through violence. He cannot earn his honor back through acts of violence, either.

The final Agni Kai, for Azula, was once again about power. Her goal was to overpower Zuko and force him to yield. Zuko's goal was different, he wanted to save the world, and fighting was the way to do so.

Another issue Zuko had to overcome was not allowing others to help him. He rejects help at every turn in the past, most notably from Iroh and Katara, back in Ba Sing Se, when she was sympathetic towards him but he still chose to side with Azula.

Additionally, I'd like to point out the episode where Zuko's crew finds him irritating and self centered, and Iroh explains his backstory to them. Then, Zuko makes the decision to save a crewmate, earning respect for the first time through genuine means.

Lastly, remember why Iroh taught Zuko to redirect lightning to begin with; lightning bending is symbolic of the Fire Nation royal family's abuse. It's a protected secret, a display of force and firebending prodigy. Iroh teaches Zuko to deflect his father's abuse in a very literal sense.

Now, tie all this in to WHY Katara steps in; when Azula lightning bends Katara, Zuko takes the shot for her.

Zuko, the Fire Nation prince, takes the shot from Katara, the last bender of the Southern Water Tribe, one of the areas most impacted by the Fire Nation's cruelty.

This is reflective of Zuko choosing above winning, above the misguided beliefs his family had about what honor is, to protect his friends, his chosen family, and the rest of the world from what the Fire Nation is doing.

By becoming Firelord not by the rules of the Agni Kai, but through the help of a friend, Zuko breaks the cycle of violence that it represents.

Now, onto Katara. This is the finale, the final fight, and it lets Katara shine, too. Remember, here she is, the last Southern Water Tribe bender, putting an end to the rule that had hurt her people.

I don't think bearing that in mind it's any question whether or not Katara deserves to be there.

But it's more than that. Being present at the final Agni Kai lets Katara shine both as a master bender in combat, and as a healer, two skills that she worked hard to grow over the series.

When Zuko says he's going to fight Azula alone, Katara initially protests, pointing out the intention from the beginning was to get help from Katara. Zuko changes his mind because he believes he can do it alone, seeing Azula isn't at her best, and Katara ends up respecting his decision, until the chips are down.

Like Zuko made the split second decision to save her, Katara then saves him, first by beating Azula in a remarkably clever way. The freezing-the-water-around-them trick was a brilliant stroke of creative thinking for her.

Then, after the fight is over, she begins to heal Zuko from a BLAST OF LIGHTNING TO THE CHEST. Iroh made it very clear how dangerous that was when he instructed Zuko to redirect lightning. Always through the stomach, never through the heart.

Zuko isn't 100% healed, as evidenced by him still being in pain during his coronation, but even being alive at all is pretty miraculous by that point.

She shows that she is a waterbending master both in combat and healing.

And more than that, think about what it means for Zuko and Katara as friends. Katara is the last to accept Zuko into the Gaang, because she is not as ready to forgive as, say, Aang, or like Toph who wasn't there when Zuko was the gaang's main threat and had her talk with Iroh.

When she and Zuko do bond, it's over grief for their mothers, and, I think, the fact that Katara can finally recognize Zuko the way she started to see him in Ba Sing Se; as someone else the Fire Nation has hurt.

Zuko, on the other hand, disregards Katara quite a bit during the earlier seasons, as he does Sokka. His focus is primarily on Aang and capturing the Avatar, and I think he falls short of seeing her for the powerful bender she is.

But when it comes down to fighting Azula? Zuko didn't think he could do it alone until he saw her slipping. Katara was the one by Zuko's side. The one who perhaps best understands and shares in his pain, as he understands and shares in hers, after they bonded going after Katara's mom's killer.

She, too, was hurt by the Fire Nation, lost her mother to them.

And the focus of that episode entirely! Katara wanted revenge, she wanted to kill for her mother. Zuko was ready to support her in that (and ironically going back to my earlier point about how Zuko used to disregard Katara and Sokka, being focused on Aang, it was definitely one of those moments where he realized just how strong she was).

Katara bonded with Zuko and healed the part of herself seeking revenge for the ways she'd been wronged at the same time. Their stories of grief are intertwined and I think that's beautiful.

Really, what better character to participate in the Final Agni Kai?

My last point is this; ATLA from the very beginning stresses co-existence and harmony, balance. The Fire Nation waging war upset this balance.

I think a water bender helping restore power into better hands in the Fire Nation fits in with this idea of balance and harmony, with the nations working together rather than against one another, or an "every nation for themselves" alternative.

So, basically, TL:DR; Katara belonged in the final Agni Kai, and her helping Zuko win does not make it any less of a victory for Zuko.

[lakesbian]

so i blinked & accidentally wrote 2.4k words of alec analysis, content warning for extended discussion of child sexual abuse

i am actually like. genuinely surprised by how common of an alec opinion it is that people would probably feel more negatively about him if we had a chapter from the perspective of one of his victims or if we had more details on his life prior to the undersiders, because the idea goes directly counter to one of the core Things you have to get if you want to understand alec: much like taylor, you should take absolutely fucking nothing he says about himself at face value, because--also much like taylor--he is Absolutely Fucking Terrible at understanding himself!

and speaking of taylor, she is also absolutely fucking terrible at understanding alec. nearly all of the commentary we get on alec is from taylor’s point of view, and she’s frankly incredibly ungenerous towards him.

her very first thought about his childhood mentally classifies him as not being one of heartbreaker’s victims, and the pity she’s offering him wears out pretty quickly when he doesn’t speak about the abuse in terms she finds palatable--while she does secondarily recognize that living with heartbreaker impacted him on some level, she regards him primarily as someone who does Bad Things because he’s a Bad Coldhearted Person.

she and alec are fairly similar--they’re both people who have been abused, people who are remarkably desensitized to violence because they’ve been abused, they’re both people who have ended up on the same villain team where they regularly commit terrible acts of violence, and they’re both people who are terminally oblivious to their own emotions while they commit those acts of violence. their actions are both similarly horrifying from an outside viewpoint, but by sectioning alec’s actions off in her mind as being horrifying because he’s ontologically a bad person w/ no interiority or justifiable reasoning for his actions, she doesn’t have to face that her own actions are horrifying regardless of how she justifies them to herself. neat little compartmentalization trick! alec stabbed that guy to death with a fork because he’s a Bad Person, but when she used triumph as a bargaining chip by filling his lungs with bugs, it was for Understandable and Interiority-Having reasons, so she’s fine.

what this means is that nearly all of the commentary we get on alec is from the perspective of someone who has a very strong psychological incentive to avoid being fair to alec.

much of what taylor thinks about alec is blatantly irrational and wrong, and the fact that he (similarly emotionally oblivious wrt himself + probably entirely unaware she feels this way about him) never directly confronts her misconceptions means that we spend the entire book being told “hey, here are the reasons you should think alec sucks” without any alternate viewpoints to consider. i think that if we saw the worst things pre-undersiders alec did without the repressed way undersider alec describes them or taylor’s biased perspective obscuring what actually happened, most people would feel Really Fucking Bad for him!

even in the very first discussion of his childhood, it’s clear that taylor’s reading of the events is wrong--aside from the fact that she’s not classifying the kids as victims (girl what), there��s these lines from alec:

“[He] pushed my limits, made me do stuff that was dangerous, stuff that was hard on my conscience.”

“I had convinced myself I didn’t care about the people I was hurting or about this guy I’d just killed, and maybe I didn’t. Maybe I don’t, still. Dunno.“

taylor’s response to this is:

“He’d been made to do it, he’d been in fucked up circumstances with no real moral compass to go by, still a kid. The way he described it, though, it didn’t sit well with me. Cold blooded murder.“

that is not how he described it. 

1. he outright says that what he was forced to do was “hard on his conscience”

2. he outright says that he “had convinced himself he didn’t care about the people he was hurting,” i.e he was a 10-13yo child being forced into extreme violence by his ridiculously abusive father & he naturally repressed his emotional reaction to it because there’s no other way to feasibly psychologically cope with feeling the full brunt of the emotions that induces. he’s not a Cold Blooded Bitch, he was a kid desperately convincing himself he didn’t care because he couldn’t care if he was going to survive.

3. yeah, he says “maybe i don’t [care], dunno.” this is because the 3+ years he spent learning to cram every emotional response he had to his abuse into a box & then solder-iron that box shut do not magically disappear the second he escapes from his father. it’s not at all unreasonable that taylor (also 15 and horribly emotionally repressed) misses this, but the “maybe” and “dunno” are indicators that he genuinely can’t tell whether or not he cares! as imp points out after he dies, it’s not that his emotions aren’t there at all, it’s that he has no ability to read them--much like taylor, he’s great at convincing himself of things regarding his feelings and then genuinely believing those things. he’s fifteen and has been out of his abusive home for all of 2.5 years--he’s not capable of grasping the full impacts that the abuse had on his psyche, and the way he describes everything from a detached perspective and waffles about on allowing himself interiority is a natural result of that.

if we saw this or any of the other murders alec was forced to commit as they were happening, we would not be feeling less generous towards him, we would be thinking “i want to beat heartbreaker to death with his own bones, because this is an evil thing to do to a child.”

okay, that’s the murder out of the way. now onto the significantly more controversial aspect of what alec did as a 10-13yo.

taylor generally regards alec as a special type of ontologically real & distinct class of person called a rapist. many people in the fandom share her viewpoint on that one. and, like, objectively true--he is a rapist, he raped people. but applying “rapist” as a descriptor meaning “evil piece of shit who sucks, but i guess he gets some leeway since he was a kid, but he still sucks and is bad and probably a sociopath” is massively flattening the circumstances under which he committed sexual violence & severely underestimating how it impacted his psyche.

taylor--and again, most other people in the fandom--tend to unilaterally go “gross and fucked up, he sucks, moving on” during bits where alec discusses that aspect of his childhood. but if we actually pause to read between the lines for the details and then address the actual context (which alec is not capable of doing, because 1. emotional repression to hell and back and 2. it was, as he said, normal to him), it becomes very clear that it’s unjustifiable to slap the “Sucks + Evil Predator” label on him and then move on feeling comforted by the straightforward moral judgement.

“’Sure,’ Alec drawled. In a more normal voice, he said, ‘But what I’m saying is he wouldn’t mind. Now, it’s been a little while, but there was a time when I had someone in my bed every night.’

‘When you were with Heartbreaker,’ I said. From the look of disgust on Aisha’s face, and what I imagined was a similar expression on my own, I suspected we were on the same page. At least on this one thing.

‘Sure. Cape groupies, my dad’s girls, people I used my powers on toward the end.’

There wasn’t even a trace of guilt or shame on his expression, no regret in his tone. He just looked bored.

He went on, ‘What I’m saying is that I’m speaking from experience.  Having someone cuddled up beside you, even if it’s a little bit of a pain in the ass, having that body contact isn’t so bad. Especially when you’ve had a bad day.’”

like, okay. let’s unpack all the implications there.

1. alec is bringing up this whole topic as an attempt at empathy--aisha is effectively saying “i’m pissy at taylor for being intimate w/ brian while he’s experiencing the worst pain of his life” and alec is effectively responding with “i support them, because when i was in similar circumstances, physical intimacy made me feel better.” it is extremely notable that he’s implicitly comparing brian’s “bad day” (getting fucking bonesawed!) to his own “bad day” (living with his dad)!

2. alec grew up in Emotional Neglect & Abuse: The Household. this is established in buzz 7.1--he recounts that there was zero attention paid to him & the other kids except for when heartbreaker was terrifying the shit out of them for either a perceived slight or in an attempt to force a trigger event. he also grew up in Sexual Abuse: The Household. as detailed in one WoG, the heartbroken were a massive group hiding out in significantly less massive houses--6-8 people sharing a room was common. alec was constantly in close quarters to normalized sexual abuse from the ages of zero to thirteen, e.g the memory mentioned in his interlude where he starts crying over not being given the TV remote and a sweaty, wearing-nothing-but-briefs heartbreaker stomps out of the bedroom to terrify alec for interrupting what was, very presumably, a marathon of sexual assault. exposing children to abuse happening in their environment is a form of abuse itself. there’s also the WoG in which this is mentioned:

“Look at it this way - at the age that many boys are raising an eyebrow at boobs, family members were saying 'hey, here are all the boobs you could want...’ Interested in dick? ... Dad's not that into it but a sister can hook you up. At an age when many are just figuring out enough of the world to ask 'what's heroin?' or 'what's weed?' he was given heroin and weed and everything else that was theoretically obtainable and told to only indulge if it was someone else's body. At an age when many are saying 'sex must be awesome' he was given free reign.”

which is sexual abuse! it is in fact exceedingly sexually abusive for alec’s father & older siblings to go “hey, 10-13yo son/little brother, i notice you are Hitting Puberty! here’s a fucking tidal wave of sex and drugs, have at it.” he didn’t magically get the idea to commit acts of physical violence w/o grooming & coercion from his family, and the same goes for the sexual violence. it’s not a hard extrapolation to make that after 10 years of isolation and abuse he leaps on the chance for physical intimacy, for something that actually makes him feel good when good is a feeling he’s never really gotten to have before--and how would he have a frame of reference for this being bad when his childhood was one long march of his own autonomy being violated + constantly seeing other peoples autonomy violated?

alec did not leave the house as a kid. alec Wasn’t Even Thirteen. the people he assaulted were victims, but he’s inarguably not the person with primary culpability for the assault--that would be the family members significantly older than alec who directly groomed him into hypersexual behavior, kidnapped + brainwashed victims also significantly older than alec, shoved them at alec, and said “have at it, buddy.” (which he, considering it to be normal and desperate for any positive attention or emotion, immediately adopted as a coping mechanism.) it would be absurd not to regard alec as a victim in this circumstance as well, and the fact that the way he was victimized led to him hurting people doesn’t change that. he was a chronically abused and manipulated preteen--he couldn’t issue meaningful consent or exercise any real autonomy in his decision-making. his lack of emotional reaction to casually sharing the story isn’t a moral failure, it’s an indicator of how badly the abuse skewed his perception of what’s normal.

and despite All Of That, taylor’s immediate reaction is to judge his lack of guilt, shame, or regret. which isn’t a wholly irrational reaction from her by any means--it makes complete sense given who she is and what information she has. but it does mean that the judgement we’re given on alec in this moment is nearly entirely detached from the material reality of what happened & how that reality should reasonably be regarded.

3. i think i’m literally the only person i’ve ever seen point this out--the first category of person he lists off as having slept with is “cape groupies.” as in, fans of capes. 

what kind of person do we suppose would be a fan of heartbreaker’s cult? what kind of person would have a thing for heartbreaker’s sexual abuse and mind control cult? the fact that he specifically mentions “cape groupies” means these were people who liked the heartbroken and were picked up by it voluntarily--what kind of person would want to sleep with one of heartbreaker’s barely-pubescent superpowered children?

yeah, that one sounds less like alec committing rape and more like heartbreaker providing access to his children to pedophiles w/ a Thing for the powers involved, presumably because it was a fantastic honeypot for people he could drain for money or otherwise use as a resource (which was his primary method of staying undercover & getting by). which alec parses as normal enough to casually slip into a random sentence.

alec’s childhood was not a lengthy tour of him committing sexual violence because he sucked, it was him being sexually abused, and a portion of that abuse included him being groomed to perpetuate it onto others. because that’s one of the Core Things about his character: he was a victim of grooming to perpetuate a cycle of abuse, he ran away from it at an impressively young age, and he spent the rest of his life making stumbling attempts to jerry-rig a distinct system of ethics & decision-making so that he wouldn’t be like his father.

no, the abuse he experienced & the way he responded to it wasn’t straight-forward or palatable. he’s not a stereotypical or idealized Good Victim--none of the traumatized teens in worm are. the specifics of what happened to him & what he did as a result are uncomfortable. he participated in hurting other people very badly. he still doesn’t really understand everything that was wrong with what happened. he doesn’t open himself up for pity or add caveats when discussing it to make it clear that he’s viewing his childhood the Right Way. he doesn’t feel or talk about it the way he’s “supposed” to. he doesn’t understand why or care that it upsets and disgusts people. the abuse left him with low to no empathy, and he’s not ashamed about admitting that.

and absolutely none of that changes that he’s still undeniably a victim, and if we saw any of the things that happened to him from the perspective of anyone involved, if we saw the abuse he experienced without the normalized lens he views it through or the villainizing lens taylor views it through--everyone would probably feel really fucking bad for him.

or in other words: alec vasil is a little boy whose life fucking sucks, and we all have to be nice to him, okay?

[crucifiedfaerie]

Gibson Girl | Pt. 3 ༉₊˚✧

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

➴ Summary: After you reach your breaking point, Kylo does something you never expected to see from him.

➴ Part One | Part Two

➴ Word Count: 2.4k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dom!kylo, slowburn, soft!kylo, we are so back!!, crylo ren, an insurmountable amount of angst (swearing, yelling, crying, kylo's internal suffering, brief mention of death but nothing happens), lots of fluff, SMUT (unprotected PiV sex, oral f!receiving, overstimulation, devoted!gentle!kylo, watch as i describe cunnilingus in excruciating detail for 5 paragraphs) typos probably

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: guys, gibson girl is officially complete. im actually so proud of how the entire fic turned out and i just wanna say thank you for the love you've given it. <3 it genuinely made me wanna keep writing and i hope you stick around for my future works, because i have so many good ideas in store. anyways, enjoy the third and final part of gibson girl. this is by far my favorite chapter of this trilogy, i was giggling, kicking my feet, and possibly crying while writing this... dare i say that this chapter is my magnum opus.

You approached his door, ears ringing from your rapid heart rate and the electric hum of the hallway lights. You wiped the sweat from your palms on your pants and let out a deep breath.

Before you could even think about knocking, the door shot open and you were forcefully pulled inside by two large, leather clad hands.

Kylo gripped your waist hard, and kicked the door shut with his boot. You yelped as he pushed you against it, hitting the back of your head on the durasteel.

He leant down, the cold metal of his mask grazed the fading bruise on your jaw, sending goosebumps crawling across your skin. "Gods, I've waited two weeks to feel you again. Im so glad to be back." Kylo purred, his modulator crackling in your ear. He reached up to begin unbuttoning your shirt. He only made it past the first button before the anger rose inside you.

You brought your hands up to his chest, pushing him off of you. "What the FUCK Kylo!" You yelled at him, feeling the tears prick your eyes. Surprisingly, he didn't stop you, taking a step away from you and tilting his head ever so slightly as if he were confused, which only made you angrier.

You were past your breaking point. "What is wrong with you?! You invite me here, whisper sweet nothings in my ear, then all of a sudden you hate fuck me and kick me out like I'm the problem?!" You sobbed and were practically screaming at him, you didn't care if he got mad, you needed to say this. "And now you invite me back acting like it never happened, wanting to- to what? Hate fuck me again?? You make NO sense, Kylo! It's like you're two different people!" You paused, breathing heavily and collecting yourself a bit before continuing. "And you wanna know the fuck of it all? You haven't even kissed me- gods!- You cant even face me. You hide behind that mask and hurt me like I'm some pet you love to hate." You spoke calmly now, the anger subsiding into a strange mix of sadness and apathy.

The apathy, however, was short lived. You had never snapped at Kylo like this before and he was the most feared man in the galaxy after all. The images of the many ways he could kill you flashed before your eyes. A lightsaber through the abdomen. Force choking the life out of you until your neck snapped. Slamming you into a wall until every bone in your body was shattered. You shut your eyes tightly and braced for impact, but it never came.

Each word you yelled at him had chipped a piece off his emotionless façade, and Kylo thought his heart might shatter along with it. The killing blow was how you stood before him terrified, shaking, waiting for him to lash out and strike you out of rage. He wasn't weak for loving you, he was weak for hurting you and he knew he couldn't do that to you anymore, not now... not ever. He felt something- someone inside of himself he hadn't felt in years, a man he thought he had killed, a man who he had almost forgotten the name of.

You only opened your eyes when you heard the click and hiss of his helmet. When he pulled it off you were met with his concerned, brown eyes. You stared at him in shock and awe, taking in every detail of him. The way his long, dark hair fell around his face, his perfect aquiline nose, the beauty marks that scattered like stars across his already beautiful face, the scar that began just above his brow, trailing down his face and disappearing below the neckline of his dark uniform.

Kylo dropped his helmet to the floor carelessly, the metallic clang loud enough for someone down the hall to hear. He pulled his gloves off quickly before throwing them to the ground and rushing over to you, taking your face into his hands and crashing his lips into yours.

His kiss was electric and full of desperation. As if he were a man lost in the deserts of Tattooine and you were Oasis East, Kylo drank you up feverishly. He was warm and tasted divine, like cinnamon and smoke.

When he pulled away, you both breathed heavily, lungs searching for air. "I don't hate you. Please don't say that." Kylo's voice broke, he was almost pleading with you, his eyes searching your face as if he were trying to get you to understand how he felt about you without him having to admit it out loud.

"Kylo... I-"

Suddenly your feet were off the floor, being carried over his shoulder to his bedroom once again, just like the first night he invited you here. Only this time you didn't feel like a bug caught in a spiders web. You felt safe. Needed.

As Kylo carried you, you kicked your shoes off carelessly, letting them fall to the floor of the hallway and you heard him breathe out a small laugh.

He sat you down on the bed and you noticed how he now handled you ever so gently, as if you were a precious, fragile thing he didn't dare risk breaking.

Kylo knelt in front of you and unbuttoned your shirt, taking extra care with each button before he slid it off of you. He gently looped his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear, pulling them both off in one go, leaving you completely naked.

He peppered kisses down your thigh before standing up, taking a step back to admire you, his dark eyes filled with adoration. With him being maskless, you became hyper aware of your nakedness. Your face flushed pink and you looked at the floor.

What he did next though, was something you weren't expecting. You watched in awe as Kylo kicked off his boots before shedding his cloak, his outer robes, his inner robes, his belt, then began methodically working at his shirt.

Oh my gods- why do you wear so many layers?

He shut his eyes and his mouth tightened into a thin line, as if he were stifling a laugh from hearing your thought. Kylo sighed, "Hush, its very cold on Starkiller, you know." He laughed softly as he pulled his shirt off, exposing the scars that littered his perfect frame.

He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them off before making quick work of his underwear. There Kylo was, standing before you completely naked, looking down at you with soft eyes. Not a creature in a mask, stalking you like prey, but a man carrying nothing but adoration and desire.

He stepped forward before leaning down and kissing you again, pushing you flat onto his bed. His hands explored every inch of your body, bare skin touching yours and for the first time you felt like equals. Two living, breathing human beings who needed one another desperately.

Kylo's hands had found home tangled in your hair and the sound of him moaning into your mouth was heavenly. He pulled away, hovering above you, his hair falling around his face like a dark curtain. "Please. Please let me show you how much you mean to me, little star." He was practically begging, his eyes searching yours. This was a version of Kylo you didn't know existed. It was as if he had been completely stripped of his coldness and apathy, left only with warmth and compassion.

You nodded, and he trailed his kisses down your neck and bare chest, his soft lips grazing your nipple, causing you to let out a soft whine. He smiled and continued down your stomach and hip, to your thighs. Each kiss sent warm tingles down your spine.

Kylo lifted your legs over his shoulders and kissed down your thigh, stopping at your heat. His cool breath made you shiver. Before you could form even a single thought, his face was buried between your legs.

The way he lapped you up like spring water and how his tongue grazed over your clit made you crumble into a whining mess. Your fingers weaved through his dark locks and you pulled instinctually, causing him to moan against your cunt.

He was knelt before you like a sinner at the altar, worshipping his god and silently begging for forgiveness through your pleasure.

"Mhm Fuck- Kylo I- Stop you're gonna make m-me cum." You whined. He knew you couldn't hold on for much longer, and he didn't care, your sweet moans only inspired him to go faster. He hummed something unintelligible, a wordless approval for you to let go.

Your thighs trembled around his face as your body unraveled on his mouth. The pleasure he gave you was divine, euphoric, and your vision clouded as he rode you through your high.

He pulled away from you panting, his mouth and nose damp from your juices. You felt the bed dip as he situated himself above you, his hips between your legs. He kissed you deeply and you could taste yourself on his tongue, tangy and sweet like summer fruit.

He pulled away "Gods- I've waited what feels like forever to do that." He whispered.

You held his face in your hands and kissed him again. "Please Kylo I need you." You wrapped your legs around his waist.

He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed in slowly as he held you. He paused when he bottomed out, allowing you a moment to adjust to the size of his cock. You moaned loudly, still sensitive from the wonders he performed on you with his mouth.

Kylo began to move, slowly increasing the pace of his thrusts but still taking extra care not to be too rough. He looked down at you, his pupils blown with lust and love. He studied your face and how your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. Kylo wanted to savor every detail of this moment, no dark visors obscuring his vision of you.

"I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now my star." He purred as he hit that sensitive spot deep inside you.

You moaned at the overstimulation. Kylo tilted his head down to kiss at your neck and your brain felt like static as you struggled to find words. "I- I was gonna say- hmm fuck- say the s-same about y-y..." You trailed off, lost in the pleasure.

Kylo chuckled against your neck, amused at your futile attempt to articulate a coherent sentence. "You're getting close again, sweet thing, I can feel it. S-so am I." He moaned, faltering at the end of his sentence.

You could only give a small hum and nod of agreement, words were too much for you, the contents of your mind had been completely emptied and replaced with thoughts of only him. Your desperate whines rang through his bedroom.

"Hm, fuck- cum with me. Cum with me my little star. Shit!" He was desperate now too, his thrusts sloppy as he held you in his arms.

You both reached your climaxes at the same time. Your visions clouded with white-hot stars, as if fireworks were going off in your brains. Kylo desperately muttered a long string of profanities as he came inside of you. He collapsed on top of you, panting heavily before rolling over so you were laid out on top of him.

You felt his cum leak out of you and onto his thigh as you rested your head on his bare chest. He reached for a random article of clothing that had been discarded on the bed and used it to clean you up before throwing it to the floor. He didn't care what it was, he would deal with it in the morning.

He sat up slowly, pulling you both back towards the pillows, and situating you so he could hold you and look you in the eyes.

He noticed you shiver and pulled the duvet over the both of you before speaking. "I'm sorry I made you feel like you didn't mean anything to me- for hurting you. I did it out of not wanting to seem weak, and yet I did the weakest possible thing I could have ever done." His eyes were filled with remorse and concern, his voice laced with shame. "The truth is I do care about you. The day I realized it was the day I hurt you and sent you away... and if could go back and change how I treated you I would." His voice broke.

"Kylo-" You began to speak but he quickly cut you off.

"If you hate me, please don't tell me." He begged. "I understand why you would, but I don't think I could bear hearing you say it out loud." He now spoke in a low whisper, as if he were terrified of his own vulnerability.

"Kylo I dont hate you, I promise. I just didn't understand you, but now I do and I lo-" You cut yourself off this time, thinking maybe you shouldn't say that to him. You couldn't handle rejection from him for a second time.

"I love you."

You heard his voice say it plain as day, you know he said it. You couldn't have imagined it. You didn't see his lips move, yet Kylo's voice rang loud and clear through your head. Your eyes darted to his and you saw him scanning your face nervously for a reaction.

Your eyes widened. "I love you too."

Is that what my thoughts sound like to him?

Kylo smirked, attempting to hide the large grin threatening to creep across his face. "Yes, I told you they're loud."

You laugh, causing him to laugh with you.

It was such a tender moment. Two human souls laughing together under the warmth of the covers, intertwined with each other, and floating in the vast, inky expanse of the galaxy.

[xxavengingangelxx]

Long Way From Home 2/?

TRIGGERS: Implied attempted suicide/self-harm, torture, threatened rape. Dark fic! OC is POW and Graves is a war criminal. Link to part 1 below! This is DARK so I'm still not sure how it'll do but it seized my mind and has to come out. Let me know what ya'll think!

When you woke up your body was hurting everywhere. Your head continued pounding. Your ribs protested when you sat up. It was hard with your hands still ziptied behind you. You realized you were against a concrete wall. But that was all you knew. It was pitch black besides a large air conditioning control screen on the wall adjacent to you. It read 60 degrees Fahrenheit. You shivered because your clothes were still drenched. They were probably doing it on purpose to keep you uncomfortable.

You didn’t even know how much time had passed. Your mouth was still taped shut and you found that especially frustrating. You wanted to holler and curse out the bastard who next stepped through that door.

A heavy door swung open and the dim lighting from the hallway made your headache worse.

Graves. Piece of shit. Piece of traitorous shit.

He was holding something.

A video camera?

“We got somethin’ Shepherd.”

“Better be good.” The voice from the other end said. Shit, Shepherd was in on this too? He approved of this shit?

Lights clicked on and you squinted although your eyes adjusted fast than you expected. The bastard was filming you.

You heard Shepherd laugh as Graves pointed the camera at you. “You got 141’s puppy?” He asked, dark humor in his tone. “The one who follows them everywhere? That cute little thing?”

“She bites, though,” Graves chuckled.

“Teach ‘er not to,” Shepherd responded. “She could be useful.”

“Now see that’s what I told her. She doesn’t wanna believe me.”

“Listen young lady,” Shepherd spoke to you directly. You couldn’t see him but he could clearly see you. “Oh,” he paused. “Jesus, Graves you did a number on ‘er.”

“She won’t talk.”

“She will,” Shepherd said, so sure of himself.

You shook your head. And with your defiance you leaned forward off the wall, brought your ziptied hands to the side of your hips and gave them both the middle finger.

Shepherd and Graves laughed. It wasn’t a laugh of humor.

“Spitfire,” Shepherd said.

“Yeah, I gotta teach her some manners,” Graves responded.

“Do what you have to. I want her working for us.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep her alive. She’s gonna be our bargaining chip.”

-

Graves closed the video camera, giving you a cold, unforgiving glare. “That was your superior you flipped off,” he snapped.

You shook your head. Fuck no he wasn’t your superior.

“Let’s knock you down a few pegs, huh?” Graves walked towards you, knife in hand.

You tried to scoot back but the cold cement wall behind you stopped you.

He knelt in front of you, grabbed your shirt and pulled you off the wall. He left small cuts on your forearms as he sliced through the zipties binding your wrists.

That was all you needed. The adrenaline from earlier was making a comeback and you immediately brought your hands in front of you. You launched a punch, which he blocked easily.

He stood up and so did you. You wasted no time in peeling the heavy tape off your mouth and off your face. The rest of it was still tangled in a sticky mess in your hair. You were sure you had red marks on your face from where the tape had probably peeled the top layer of your skin off.

“You filmed me like a fucking terrorist would film a hostage,” you snapped.

“There’s that mouth again,” he sneered. “Why don’t you put it to better use?”

You gritted your teeth at his sexual advance and lunged at him. He launched a punch but you blocked it, sidestepped him and delivered a round house kick to his stomach. He felt the impact through his vest.

“Still got some fight in ya,” he said, “That’s okay. I like it.”

And with that he stepped towards you, swept his foot under you, and knocked you flat on your back.

You mouth opened in a silent scream as you rolled over onto your side, unable to breathe. Your ribs were definitely either cracked, bruised, or broken from the bullet your vest absorbed earlier.

Graves approached you and used his boot to nudge you onto your back. He then descended on you, placed his knees on either side of you, straddling you. He easily reached up and pinned your wrists above your head before leaning over you. He still had the sickening smell of blood, sweat, and gunpowder.

“Get off!” You kicked and flailed but it was no use. He was too strong. You were hurt. And you were about half his size.

“This is gonna go a whole lot easier if you cooperate,” he said simply, not loosening his grip.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

“You’re gonna be useful one way or another,” he explained. “You can be a hostage or you can work with us.”

“Never,” you wanted to spit in his face but was afraid he would hurt you more if you did.

“You’ll be a lot more comfortable if you just give us updates on your team and work with us,”

“I’m not a traitor,” you snapped.

With that he got up, forced you onto your stomach and pulled your tattered uniform shirt off leaving just your bloody tank top. You immediately thought the worst: that you were going to be raped.

So you instantly arched your back and neck, feeling the back of your head come into contact with his mouth before you heard him full on growl like a wild animal. When he forced you onto your back again and straddled you, you could see your strike had made him cut the inside of his mouth on his teeth. He was bleeding.

You laughed when you saw him bleeding and it seemed as if something clicked in his eyes. You thought he was going to kill you. He wrapped his gloved hands around your throat and squeezed. You gasped, fighting for breath, scratching at his hands in wild abandon. You tried to buck and kick him off but he was too heavy. You felt yourself losing consciousness and in your mind you thought that at least they wouldn’t be torturing you anymore, that they wouldn’t be brainwashing you to work for them just to deal a blow to 141.

He suddenly released you and then he did the oddest, crassest, cruelest thing he could’ve done. He leaned forward and kissed you, his lips and tongue forcing your mouth open. Your hands went to his Kevlar vest and gripped it, trying to push him off. You closed your teeth around his bottom lip and he stopped, pulling away.

“If you bite anyone again, I’m gonna break your fucking jaw,” he stated.

With that he got up and off of you, leaving you to curl up on the floor in pain and humiliation.

“Next time I won’t stop there,” he again threatened you with sexual assault. “So you better be ready to talk when I come back in here.”

The lights were out and you were in total darkness save for the air conditioning panel. The cement floor was cold and you shivered, curling in more to try and keep warm. You promised yourself that no matter what they did to you, you wouldn’t talk and you sure as hell wouldn’t work for them.

-

You woke up with a gasp. You had no idea if it was day or night or how long you’d been out. The air conditioning panel read 55 degrees. You couldn’t change you could just watch as the temperature got lower. They were purposely making you as uncomfortable as possible. Your teeth nearly chattered.

In your almost delirious state you wondered if what Graves had said earlier was true. Did 141 hear you scream for help and not come? You shook your head. He had already started trying to brainwash you without you even knowing it.

You passed out again.

-

You woke up and felt yourself being dragged somewhere. One man on each side held your arms as your boots scraped on the ground. You were trying to stay awake but there were periods of blackness.

You woke up on your knees. You weren’t restrained in any way, which you found odd.

“This is probably one of the more brutal ways to try and get information out of someone,”

That voice: Graves.

You met his gaze and glared although even you felt like your glare was losing its power, it’s intensity.

“Show ‘er,” Graves stated.

Rough hands…not Graves’s…grabbed you and before you could register what was happening your face and head was underwater. The water was freezing and you had to effectively stop yourself from taking a breath. They kept you under until you saw black edges in your vision.

Then you were pulled out and shoved backwards, landing on your back, gasping and coughing, and fighting for air.

Graves stepped into view. “Where were you and your team planning on going after this?”

You couldn’t answer on account of you gasping for air.

You shook your head even when you could talk. Catching your breath, you said, “They don’t…they don’t tell me that shit.”

“Really now?” Graves inquired.

You saw he was wearing different clothes so that told you it had been a last a day or at least 12 hours since you were taken. He looked refreshed, rested.

“I’m a translator,” you added. “I’m just on for the Mexico stuff.”

“Bull,” Graves snapped.

“I’m bilingual, you moron,” you snapped. “I don’t know other languages.”

“You’re clearly not understanding the severity of the situation here and how badly I want that intel,” Graves responded calmly.

“I don’t have it!”

Graves signaled and although you tried to push those coarse hands away from you, you were unable to. You were too tired, too injured, and you were honestly losing your will power.

You found yourself submerged again and while you couldn’t really tell time anymore, you could’ve sworn that they kept you under longer.

They kept it up and you eventually lost count of how many times they submerged you in the cold water. You could tell it was a while because the water was getting warmer and warmer.

“Jesus Christ, Val” you heard Graves’s voice but it sounded far away. He called you by your nickname (Val from Valdez). He knelt in front of you, making his voice sound clearer.

You wanted nothing more than to lash out and hurt him but there was no way you could. You were weak and dizzy.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Graves added. He reached out, creepily pushing your soaked hair out of your face.

Your gasps for air were the only answer you could give him. You gave up on trying to stay conscious and let the darkness claim you. It was the first time you started thinking about finding a way to take your own life.

-

Graves and his demons came at unpredictable intervals. Several times they brought a Taser. Another time they’d just try and drown you either with actual water or waterboarding. You stopped counting how many different ways they inflicted pain.

Other times they just kept you awake for what seemed like forever.

Graves hadn’t touched you despite his threats of rape. At least not that you remembered. But who knew?

-

You woke up back in the same room you’d been in since you were taken. It was still cold or so you thought. Semiconsciousness was keeping you kind of warm. You didn’t feel pain, at least not much. You still had no idea how long you’d been held hostage.

You forced yourself to sit up and look around. With your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, you could see the room wasn’t large but your brain wasn’t able to come close to calculating the dimensions. A glint of light caught your eye. It was something under the air conditioning control panel.

You walked over to it, stepping quietly to prevent your boots from making noise and attracting unwanted attention. You found yourself unsteady on your feet as you knelt next to the item. It was glass.

A piece of glass big enough to…

You grasped it. You gripped it tightly and it cut into your right hand. The shrill pain was welcome only because you were inflicting it on yourself. Your hand became warm and sticky with blood. It was definitely sharp enough.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to go through with it now that the situation was right in front of you. Maybe just cut deep enough to force them to bring you to the emergency room? Were there even any emergency rooms around here? You had no idea if you were still even in Mexico.

The horizontal cut to your wrist oozed blood. You almost instantly regretted your decision. But then again did you really? You could only take so much more of this. You were terrified that you’d break and reveal something. Even if it was trivial you still considered it treasonous. And the last thing you wanted to do was be like Graves: a traitor.

You lowered yourself to the ground and dropped the piece of glass next to you. You sat in a corner. The corner faced the door diagonally so no one would be able to sneak up on you. You pulled your knees to your chest and rested your head on your knees.

You weren’t sure if it was exhaustion or death gripped you but you allowed it.

-

You woke up and you weren’t sure if you were dead and in hell or whether you were alive, right back where you started.

Someone was kneeling over you and you instantly knew who it was. He made your skin crawl. You felt him grip your left wrist in a tight grip. Blood still seeped through his fingers.

“Fucking hell,” you heard him whisper. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

That last word echoed in your head for what seemed like forever.

-

“That was an insane thing to do,” Graves’s voice cut through the comfortable cocoon you were in.

You felt different. You were lying on cold concrete like you had been for who knew how many days and nights.

You were in…a bed? Had you been rescued? Maybe you’d only imagined Graves’s voice.

“Hey,” Graves’s voice again.

You tried to push him away from you but found your right wrist cuffed to something.

“I’m in hell, aren’t I?” you croaked.

“A version of it,” Graves replied. “You don’t have to be though.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you groaned.

“You needed stitches,” he said.

Everything came into focus and you were on a bed with a thin mattress. Your brain still couldn’t comprehend what you cuffed to.

“Can’t have you doing that,” he then paused before sadistically adding, “if you wanted to finish yourself off you should’ve cut vertical.”

You remained silent and simply let that same darkness consume you again.

[sleepy-achilles]

How is that fair?

------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew jolts back as the bigger man storms towards him.

Taker grabs the younger man by the hair and pulls him close.

"You are not good enough for my son. He may not see you love, but I do. Stay away" Taker growls. Drew stares at him shocked as the ref separates them. "Off the hair!"

Taker knew.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Taker knew.

Taker knew times changed. They changed quick. Last time he saw Drew Mcintyre he was some scrawny kid with a crush on his boy.

Now he's some big oaf still nursing a crush.

"I want him." Taker mutters. Hunter looks to see taker staring Drew down across the canteen. "Mcintyre? Why? Vince already has plans for him." Hunter asks sitting back. "What plans?" Taker asks, keeping his eyes on the man. "Teaming him with Lee." Hunter answers. He watches the other man's jaw tighten. "Tell him to put him against me first." Taker growls. "Ill do my best." Hunter sighs pulling his phone out.

Drew keeps his eyes on his plate. "Well, either your match had a bad impact on him, or he's got the hots for you." Sheamus smirks. "Not funny. He knows." Drew whispers. "Knows?" "About Leon." "And what, Leon doesn't? Jesus I think I need to get that boy out more." Sheamus huffs. "No, you're not listening, he's known since I first stepped into the company and now I'm back, he knows it still a thing" drew snaps. "My advice? Don't fall in love with the undertakers son. Or befriend Shawn so that way you have immediate protection. That's what I did and I only wanted Leon friendship" sheamus suggests as he pinches a chip off Drew.

"He won't let me near his son, you really think he'll let me near his husband?" "Good shout" sheamus nods looking past drew. "Oop, here he comes." Sheamus whispers. "Fuck."

He flinches as a firm hand lands on his shoulder and squeezes too tight to be human. Drew closes his eyes as Taker leans down. "My threat still stands. You stay well away from Leon." Taker whispers. Drew just nods. "Attaboy." Taker hums pulling away. Drew opens his eyes as the man walks off and finally looks away from his plate. His eyes immediately land on Leon who's staring at him confused.

"Shit" drew mutters standing and rushing out. He cannot let Taker bully him. Not anymore.

-------

And somehow he ended up stood across from taker in the ring. Again.

"Just weaken him! Then tag me in!" Shane barks at him. Drew frowns and turns away, he keeps his head down. But that's when he hears taker chuckle.

Chuckle.

He moves forward, raising his head and getting into takers space. Taker stares him down. "Im not scared of you." Drew states. "You sure?" Taker asks. "And I'm worthy. I work hard and I care too damn much about him to let you try and scare me away. He's a grown up." "Hes my son" Taker growls stepping impossibly closer. "And I'd never hurt him. Unlike you" drew growls back.

The ref is quick to separate them. "Youll live to regret that Mcintyre" Taker snaps, ignoring Romans and Shane's concerned looks. "I don't reckon I will." Drew snaps back.

Sheamus smiles backstage. "The hell is mcintyre doing?" Sheamus turns to see Leon stood behind him. "Finding his balls." Sheamus smiles. "Why's my dad obsessed with him?" Leon questions. Sheamus pauses. What's he supposed to say to that?

He claps Leon on the shoulder. "Your guess is as good as mine bud" sheamus smiles. Leon frowns and moves closer to the screen.

What's the deal with these two?

------------------------------------------------------------------

Taker crosses his arms. "Put him with randy." "God no. He's teaming with drew and that's final." Vince snaps. Taker sighs and drops his arms. "Why? Why drew? Why Leon. Put him with dolph or something." "Because I reckon they'll get along a lot better than you think. What's the issue? It's not like I'm putting a baby face with a heel. In fact I reckon we use this to finally get a face Leon. Fans will love it." Vince explains. Taker goes to speak when he hears fussing outside. He turns to the door as Leon slams it open. "Why have you got us waiting outside like children?" Leon demands. Drew appears behind him looking sheepish. "Because I'm having a meeting?" Vince questions. Leon looks at taker.

"Why am I here?" Leon asks walking in. Vince sighs. "Come in drew." Drew slowly walks in. Stepping away from both men. "I want you to tag team with Drew." Vince states. "No." Leon immediately responds. Drew looks at Leon with hurt. "Told you." Taker smirks at vince. Leon looks at taker. "Exactly. Yeah, sure why not. Couldn't hurt. Just don't expect me to play nice." Leon shrugs. Taker looks at him shocked. "Thats the point. You don't play nice, I want people to believe this tag team won't work." Vince tells him. "Cool, see you Monday partner" Leon nods at drew before walking out.

Drew glances at vince. "Thank you sir" "Anytime." He looks at taker. "Guess I'll be spending a lot of time with him now." He smirks before walking out. Taker growls and slams the door shut.

Vince raises an eyebrow. This seems like a problem.

A Shawn problem.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"Whats your problem with Drew?" Shawn asks. Taker looks up from taping his wrists to see his husband stood infront of him, arms crossed, head tilted. Shit.

"Whatever do you mean?" Taker asks. "Dont play stupid. Him and Leon have been tag partners for five months and you won't even look the man in the eyes or shake his hand after a big win. Do you know how unfair that is when you hug John and cassies partners?" Shawn asks. "Dont be silly.-" "Dont you even. What is the issue?" Shawn snaps pulling the tape out of takers hands. "Maybe I dont trust him. Maybe I think he should be nowhere near our boy." Taker snaps standing up. "Who gives you the right? You don't know that boy enough to judge him" Shawn whispers. "I trust my gut. My guts never been wrong" Taker snaps. Shawn scoffs and moves away.

"Your gut is the most ridiculous gut I've ever met. That's the same gut that trusted Paul." Shawn points out. "Now Paul? Paul hurt Leon. But drew? Drew cares about Leon and is willing to go to hell and back for him." Shawn defends the Scott. Taker shakes his head. "Hell didn't Paul do this exact thing to you when it came to me?" Shawn suddenly asks. Taker bites his lower lip. "That was different." "Yeah, was it now?" Shawn scoffs throwing him back the tape. "Grow up Undertaker."

Leon moves from the door and hides as his Papa walks out.

Huh, fancy that.

He smirks to himself as he pushes off the wall and makes his way out of the arena.

--------

Drew smirks as the shield talk amongst themselves. He listens as Leon takes his jacket off, he also watches as the Shield pauses and stares. "No fuckin way" roman huffs. Drew turns to Leon and his eyes widen. "Fuck"

-

Shawn smiles at the screen as Taker walks in. "What?" He asks. "Look at this" Shawn nods. "I think your attitude is having the opposite effect" he states. Takers eyes widen as he sees it. Its hard not to with the camera zooming in on it.

Drew written above his right collar bone.

Shawn watches as Taker subconsciously touches his name which sits upon takers neck. Shawn smiles softly as he looks back at the screen to see drew practically cornering Leon to look at it.

Yeah, he's the one for his boy.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew leans against the tiled wall, watching the freckled hand rub over the letters. He can't help but smile as it doesn't watch off or fade. "I can't believe you did that." Drew comments. Leon glances over at him. "It was our 5 months as a tag team. Had to do somethin" Leon smirks. "Nothing to do with your dad's blanted hatred of me?" Drew asks. "That too I guess." Leon shrugs looking back at the wall. Drew watches as Leon tilts his head back letting the water hit his face. "What do you know?" Drew asks moving closer. Leon lowers his head. "He doesn't think your good enough for me. My pa reckons we are just like them." Leon comments.

Drews face heats up slightly. "And you?" Drew asks quietly. "I don't do love. Can't be like them." Leon mutters. Drew frowns and steps back. "Dont do love ay?" Drew whispers.

Leon looks at drew to see his back to him. He turns back to the shower. "I.." Leon tries to find a response. They've been working together for months now and he cannot open up to him? Not that he opens up to anyone, but something in him, wants him to open up to drew.

"Im poison." Drew looks at Leon quickly. "I hurt anyone around me. I won't mean to and they won't do anything wrong but I...I just..I can't help but poison people." Leon whispers. That's when drew finally understands it. All of it. So many times people have called this man a monster. Not once have they told him differently. "Guess I'm immune." Leon looks at drew. "What?" "I must be immune. Because, I enjoy being your partner. Even when you say those hurtful things about me. I enjoy being your friend" drew shrugs. Leon's eyes widen. "Friend?" "Yeah. I hope you see us as friends." "....Yeah. Yeah I do." Leon nods. Drew smiles at him.

"Maybe your pa didn't mean it in the romance way you've seen it. Maybe he meant it like their friendship, their bond." Drew suggests. "Yeah. Maybe that's it" Leon whispers as drew begins washing his hair. "Maybe that's it." Leon mutters to himself, his fingers lingering over the name tattooed onto his body.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Leon is knelt in the ring, hands shaking as the crowds scream and cheer. The belt is lowered into his hands and he stares at it. "We did it!"

We did it.

It isn't Leon's first time holding these belts...but this? This is different.

As the hand rests on his shoulder, the knees touch his. He looks up to see drew knelt next to him, a massive smile on his face. "We did it!" Drew smiles squeezing his shoulder.

Leon doesn't know what comes over him. One minute their kneeling, the next he's throwing an arm around drew and hugging him, squeezing the back of the mans neck. Drew hesitates before hugging him back.

--

"Wow." John huffs watching his baby brother hug someone who's not family. "Hes really grown on him" Randy comments unscrewing his waterbottle. "Yeah, that's what worries me." John mutters. Randy looks at him as he drinks. "Why?" Randy asks confused as Taker and shawn walk in. John just looks at his parents. "Our baby has his first non family tag belt" Shawn smiles at John. "He does, and he's having a cuddle over it" John jokes. Shawns smile widens as he looks at the screen.

"Of course he is." Taker mutters. Shawn smacks his arm and frowns. Randy just glances at John.

It wasn't a secret taker hated drew. Randy never understood how taker could like him but hate drew. But he wasn't going go question it.

"Dont be a dick" Shawn scolds. "Difficult for him." Leon comments as him and drew walk in. "Congrats lee" "congrats both" the two different responses makes leons smile fade. "Thank you" drew smiles as John shakes his hand. Leon just stares at his father. "Say congrats to drew." The room falls quiet.

"Leon...don't." Drew murmurs. "No. He worked damn harder than me that match, say congrats to him." Leon pushes. Taker meets his sons stare before looking at drew. "Congrats on the win drew." "Thank you sir." Drew nods. "And look at that the world didn't end!" Shawn claps. "After cassies match we are taking you all out for food. Including you drew" Shawn smiles. Leon doesn't take his eyes off his father.

------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a wacky year.

Leon knew it was a bad idea stepping into Goldust bar.

"Ah! Lee Lee!" Goldust cheers pulling the youth into a hug. "You look stunning" goldust purs cupping the boys face. Leon chuckles. "Hello Goldie" "I invited some of your and cassies friends" goldust smiles. "To our parents anniversary party?" "My party my rules" goldust tuts. Leon's eyes spot him straight away. Sat at the bar with cassie laughing about something. "You invited drew?" Leon asks shocked. "Hes your friend no?" Goldust questions. "Dad hates him." "Wasn't my question, was it" goldust smirks.

Leon ignores goldust and moves over to the pair.

"I don't know Cas..." Drew signs. "Dont be a downer. It'll be a world full of fun. Not every day we have a pay per view and a smackdown in death Valley" cassie smirks. "Yeah, it's because they've just finished the stadium, now scram brat" Leon buts in. Cassie frowns. "Im tal-" "I didnt ask. Go" Leon orders pulling her up and pushing her away.

He sits in her seat and motions for a drink. "She made me come." Drew states. "I aint got a problem with you being here. Just rather I get the shit for it than her." Leon states accepting the drink. "Hey, he's with me alright?" Leon asks the bartender. "I should really ask gold-" Leon's eyes glow purple. "With me." "Alright man, shit." The bartender huffs putting money infront of Drew before walking off. "What?" Drew questions taking his money back. "Youll be treated like shit for the next few hours, might aswell make sure you don't go bankrupt too" Leon smirks before downing his drink and waving for another one. "Leave the bottle yeah?" "I forgot how much of an asshole you are" the bartender grunts before he slams the bottle down and walks off. "Mmm sure you did." Leon smirks as he watches him walk off.

"Takers gonna go mad" drew whispers. "Fuck him. Who cares? If he's stupid enough to let you ruin his anniversary thats on him. We are going to have a good time whether he does or doesnt" Leon tells him. "Ill never understand you Lee." "Good. I like to be a surprise." Leon smiles at him. Drew can't help but smile back as Leon raises his glass.

The men clink their glasses as the couple of the night turn up. Leon glances at his parents before back at drew. "Happy valentines drew." Leon hums. "Happy valentines Leon." Drew smiles softly. John suddenly rushes over and grabs Leon. "You didnt say Happy birthday to cassie?" John snaps. "Im sure the hell of a gift I left in her room makes up for it" Leon scoffs. "Thats why you were late?" "Yes that's why I was late. I didn't forget my baby sis birthday. I'm not that much of an animal" Leon rolls his eyes as he sips his drink.

"Well, your friends have been waiting for ya" John states. "Im busy." Leon mutters nodding his head towards drew. John looks at drew before back at Leon. "I tho-" "you got something else to do other than bothering me when I'm trying to drink?" Leon snaps looking at his brother. John chuckles and steps back. "My bad. Don't forget you've gotta lead the hoedown" John smirks before patting his back, hard, and walking off. Drew raises his eyebrow. "Thought you weren't a stereotypical cowboy?" Drew asks. "Oh don't. You'll be joining us" Leon smirks behind his glass. "What?" "I didnt bring two cowboy hats for nothin" Leon states putting his cup down. "You didnt." Two shadows form infront of Leon and fade to show two cowboy hats. One black the other a dark blue. "You did." Drew huffs. Leon places his on his head before grabbing the blue one and leaning forward. "Of course." Leon smirks placing it on drews head.

Leon leans back and looks at drew and can't help but smile. "Better say hi to the folk. I'll catch you in a minute." Leon hums before pushing away from the bar and walking off. "Hes a good kid." Drew jumps as Kevin takes Leon's seat. "I know" drew nods. Kevin glances at him. "Real loyal when you get past that tough guy bullshit." Kevin adds. "I can tell." Drew mutters looking at Leon with his family and friends. "He'd be real lucky to have you." This takes Drew by surprise. He looks at Kevin. "What? Don't you me-" "God no. He's a fucking asshole and you'd deserve better. You? You see through that, I don't know how but you do. You don't see him as a monster, you see him as a person. He'd be lucky to have you." Kevin states as the music starts. "Thank you?" "Just don't let it ruin you. Too many have fallen to the Michaels Curse. Including themselves." Kevin hums pulling Drew up.

Drew just looks at him. "Good luck." Kevin walks off leaving drew stood confused. "Cmon drew!" Leon calls. Drew looks at the other and finds himself drawn to him.

The Michaels Curse..

------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew could not give a flying fuck about the Michaels Curse.

Leon Thomas Michaels is and always will be hot.

Drew would gladly fall victim to him at any point in the next five seconds.

Drew knows he's staring, but he doesn't care. Leon's chest heaves as he throws the chair out of the ring, towards the men stood on the ramp. "Back the fuck off!" Leon yells. He turns too drew and kneels infront of him. "Are you good?" Leon asks cupping his face with bloody knuckles to examine him. "I uh...what?" Drew asks. Leon frowns and tilts his head as prods a bruise forming on drews temple. "I asked if you're okay?" Leon pushes. "Your shirtless." Leon michaels was never without a vest on infront of the cameras.

And boy was he beautiful. "Yeah..I was in the middle of getting changed when you got jumped." Leon nods as if it's obvious. That's when drews eyes fall down to see Leon's jeans not even done up. His belt hung around his waist and his button popped open. "Jesus" drew chokes. Leon chuckles and tilts his head up. "I reckon we need to get you too the medic. Get your head checked" Leon smirks. Leon stands and pulls drew up. Drew takes a moment to examine Leon's tattooed torso. He lean figure. His sharp, hard abs. The scars that litter his body. "Your so hot." Drew whispers. "Yeah yeah, I know cmon before you confess which diva you've got the hots for" Leon chuckles leading drew out the ring.

You.

Is what drew wanted to say.

But he decided to keep his mouth shut.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Leon was busy setting his makeup out when he felt the presence behind him.

He glances up and his brain stops working.

His eyes scan Drew massive back.

Whilst there's only a inch between the men in height, Leon never realised how fucking small he looked compared to drew until now. Drew is pure muscle. And Leon knows he's been working out to look bigger a lot more recently. Infact, Leon knows drew hates that he used to be small, so instead of focusing on defining his muscles, like Leon does, he's focusing on bulking up.

And Leon didn't release he was this big until now.

Drew turns to look at Leon in the mirror, leaving Leon staring at his chest.

Drew, compared to himself, was bigger, softer and hairy. Leon felt small. Jesus is this how his father felt compared to everyone.

Leon is sharp, stone like, skinny and just ugly compared to him.

He's never really appreciated drews beauty until now.

Jesus maybe he did need to get laid, it has been awhile.

"Leon!" Leon's eyes snap up to meet Drews concerned gaze. His face brings Leon guilt. The bruises and cuts from his own father getting drew jumped."Yeah?" Great he was caught staring at drew chest. "Are you okay? Zoned out on me for a moment" drew asks, voice full of worry. Leon can't help but chuckle. God, big, beautiful and dumb. Leon's sure got a type. "Yeah I'm good big guy, just thinking about things" Leon smiles.

Drew raises an eyebrow. Leon just called him big guy. The same Leon that cringed whenever his father used the term.

"You sure?" Drew asks. "Mhm" Leon nods collecting his face paint. "Well, I asked if you wanted anything to eat" drew repeats. "A milkshake will be good. Just need some sugar." Leon answers. "Alright. Be back soon" drew smiles pulling a tshirt on before leaving.

Leon presses his forehead against the mirror. He slaps the back of his own head. "You idiot" he scolds.

------------------------Meanwhile------------------------------

Shawn watches as Taker enters the ring. "I want you to look at the tron." Shawn tells him. Taker pauses and looks. It's Leon smiling. "Wanna know who did that?" Shawn asks. "Who?" "Drew." It continues to show drew turning towards Leon, his own little smile on his face. "Look at them." Shawn orders. A bunch of clips of the pair smiling and laughing together show before it's back to them. "That man brings our son happiness and you...you hurt him for that? How is that fair?" Shawn asks. Taker accepts a mic. "This isnt about fair. It's about what's right. What's right for our son." Taker states. Shawn scoffs. "You know what's stupid. I look at those two and you know what I see? I see us, I see us at their age. Running around, causing vince headaches, having fun, only enjoying each others company, feeling unstoppable. Like no one in the world gets us but each other." Shawn states. "And what I see when I stand here, with you, is Paul. That figure who doesn't want that happiness in a young man. That wants to destroy a growing relationship." Shawn snaps. Takers jaw tightens.

"Hating drew won't separate them. Infact, it'll make their bond stronger. He's your son taker. He will do anything to go against you. And along the way, he's formed a friendship. A friend he cares too much about to lose." Shawn tells him. "And what do you do? You go and hurt that boy! What is wrong with you!" Shawn yells. "I am doing what's best for-" Shawn scoffs and goes to turn away when Taker grabs his arm and pulls him in. Shawn levels his gaze with takers as Taker lowers his mic. "Im doing what's best for everyone." He growls. Shawn pulls out of his grasp. "More like what's best for you and only you." Shawn snaps before dropping his mic and climbing out of the ring.

Taker faces his husband and watches as he walks up the ramp. His head tilted and he's refusing to look back. Taker sighs and rubs his temple. Boy he's in trouble. Shawn always look back. This means shawns extremely pissed, especially if he's head tilted but still not looking.

-----------

"In other news, WWE tag team, The Scottish Warrior and The Skeleton King, consisting of superstars Drew Mcintyre and Leon Michaels have taken the Internet by storm lately after Mcintyre was attacked by Michaels father, The Undertaker" the reporter explains. "Fans and non wrestling fan have come together and started editing the pair and complying evidence that the stars could be in a relationship. They also bounded together to make edits explaining why both stars, separately, are attractive after they brush off comments about them being so." The reporter continues. "The pair have rised to the top in a short amount of time, making a new record for the Internet and the fandoms on it. They are literally everywhere. A photoshoot they did recently for their merch was even posted on timesquare without any input from wwe themselves." The reporter chuckles. "Vince Mcmahon has commented on the situation, let's take a look"

-

Vince looks at Michael Cole. "Whats your view on what's going on with mcintyre and Michaels?" "Im extremely happy that they've become so popular, I even more happy that they are bringing in non wrestling fans. I mean that's what we aim for right? They've come such a far way and grown so much together it's amazing to see how much they've improved. How much they've improved each other." Vince comments. "And the relationship rumours?" "I will officially say that as of right now, Drew and Leon are just good friends and are very comfortable with each other. No offical relationship has been reported or announced." Vince nods.

-

"Mcmahon made the rule of relationships being announced after the drama that went on between Michaels parents Undertaker and Shawn Michaels in the 90s. So as far as it goes. Deon is not official. Onto other sporting news-"

Leon tilts his head at the tv. "The fuck is a fandom?" Leon asks looking at cassie. "You know, your fans. The work they make about you." Cassie states as if it's obvious. "Right." "Yours call themselves the royal guards." "Thats a stupid fucking name." "Its because your the skeleton King?" Cassie points out. "Its still stupid. Why not call themselves knights or I don't know Warrior's? Why royal guards." Leon pulls a face. "Mine are warriors" drew hums. "Really? I'd called them Klits" Leon comments. "That is good!" Drew smiles. "Are you two not even slightly weirded out that people think you are dating?" Cassie asks. Then she looks at them, drews arm around Leon's waist, a bag of crisps in his hand that Leon is helping himself to whilst leaning against drew.

"You know what, I take back my question" cassie huffs. "Why would we care?" Leon asks. "People think pa dated half the kliq" Leon shrugs. "He slepted with them, not dated." John comments from where he's working in his script. "Are you two dating or fucking?" Cassie asks. Both men stay quiet. "No." Leon mutters. "Dont sound so disappointed" John chuckles. "Ill make sure your the first to know if we do tho" Leon smirks glancing at his big brother. "Fuck off. Not again. I will block your number." John gags. "Does this mean we are the top superstars?" Drew suddenly asks. John looks up. "Dude, you are the top stars in all of Hollywood right now. No pressure." John tells him.

"Fuck"

"Fuck" Shawn whispers turning the tv off. "Its not going to go down the same way." Hunter hums. "I don't want their friendship to get ruined because of some rumours." Shawn frowns. "It won't." Hunter promises. "Im worried how takers gonna react. I haven't seen him since raw." Shawn whispers. "This is the perfect time to push that vlog idea with them" vince speaks up. Both men look at him. "The fuck?" "Leon will not do it."

------------------------------------------------------------------

"We are currently backstage" sheamus smirks behind the camera. "Drews about to go fight and Leon's preparing to speak to his father" sheamus states zooming in on the pair. Leon crosses his arms, ignoring the man. "You don't have to do this." Leon states. "He wants a fight. I'll give him a fight. Just gotta get through tonight. If you two can't make it work, I will." Drew states. Leon frowns and shakes his head. "My...my dad isn't someone you want to goto war with." Leon whispers. "Its okay. You're worth it" drew states before leaving. Leon's eyes widen and his face heats up.

His eyes immediately land on sheamus. "Turn it off!" He barks as sheamus giggles like a little girl. "Dont be mean! You two are so cuteeee!" Sheamus coos before running from the other.

--

Drew shoulda known to keep his guard up. He snarls at seth when suddenly something hits him in the back.

He groans as he hits the matt. He glances to see seth nodding and rolling out of the ring.

He huffs and turns onto his back to see Taker stood, staring down at him, chair in hand. "Just couldn't do it, could ya?" Taker growls reaching down, grabbing drew by his hair, pulling him up. Drew groans weakly and grabs at takers hand, his other hand landing on takers waist area. "You just had to stay away" Taker snaps. "I love him" "you do not know love!" Taker barks at him. "Stop! Dad!" Drew hears Leon yell as the younger man runs down the ramp. "Your not hurting me." Drew snaps looking at taker. "Your hurting him. And that isn't fair." Taker stares at him, even as Leon pulls the chair off him and throws it out.

"Let him go!" Leon demands grabbing takers hand. Taker looks at Leon before letting go. Drew slouches as Leon pushes Taker away from drew. He stands between the two men. "Why? What has he ever done to you!" Leon yells. "I warned hi-" "Why! You don't warn cassies friends! You don't warn John's! Why drew! Why!" Leon snaps. "Because they don't love them!" "So what! So what if he loves me! What if I love him!" Leon yells. Drews eyes widen as he looks at Leon. "Whats it too you?! I'm a adult!" "You do not kno-" "the consequences?! I know the consequences of people loving me! It's the same for you! And yet look at you, happily fucking married with kids!" Leon barks shoving the man.

"How is that fair?"

"What?"

"Why do you get love but i do not? How is that fair?" Leon pushes. Shawn stands on the stage. He came out here to break it up, but right now, despite unable to hear them, it seems things are fixing themselves. Leon looks back at drew. Leon helps drew up and allows the man to lean against his back as he faces his father. "I don't need or want your approval. Hate him all you want, but you leave him alone. You take it out on me. Not him." Leon tells him. "Youll never lay a finger on him, ever again." Leon warns, pulling drew along, shoving the older man out of the way.

Shawn nods at Leon as they pass each other on the ramp.

Shawn stands on ring side.

"It wasn't going to end how you wanted it too." Shawn states softly. Taker looks down. "And right now, you can't even justify why you've done what you've done. And you know what? That's good. That's amazing, because that separates you from Paul." Shawn explains as he climbs into the ring. Taker glances at him. "Your not angry?" "I think our sons anger, but also your anger at yourself is more than enough. Disappointed? Yes. But I can see why you are so protective of Leon. He reminds you of yourself." "He reminds me of you." Taker corrects.

This stuns Shawn. "What?" "Yes, he's different like me. But he looks like you, he has your emotions. Your mindset. And I failed you, I didn't want to fail him" Taker whispers. Shawn takes his hand. "You didnt fail me and you will not fail him, as long as you accept drew. He clearly cares about him, pushing drew away, pushes Leon away." Shawn sighs. "They love each other." Taker mutters. Shawn smiles. "I know that. I've known since day one. As have you. But like you know, its up to them to discover that. Maybe you've helped them do that, maybe they'll thank you for this period of time one day, but right now? Right now they'll hate it." Shawn explains.

"I have to make it up to him." "Im sure you will"

---------------Oh boy this is getting long----------------------

"So you two accidentally confessed your love for each other but you've not actually talked about it or made any steps to make it official?" Sheamus asks. "No." Drew mutters stabbing his food. "And whys that?" Finn asks confused. "Its Leon. He...he doesn't do emotions." Drew huffs leaning back. "No. That is valid, I take back my question" finn chuckles.

The boys fall quiet as yelling grabs their attention. "The hell is that?" Sheamus asks as Seth walks in. "Bearer and Kane are back-" drew is straight up and running towards the hallway. "Drew? Drew!" Finn barks following him with sheamus.

"You don't fuckin scare me!" Leon barks. "Thats why your hands are shaking?" Paul asks. Leon clenches his shaking hands. Panic building in his chest, taking over him like a disease. He brings his hands up to his chest. That's when his view of Paul is blocked. "I think you need to get leaving." Leon looks up to see the back of drew. "And you are the Michaels new play thing, huh?" Paul asks. "I won't tell you again." "Is that right?" Paul hums. "Back the fuck up." Drew growls. "Or what?" Paul asks. "I aint scared of you or your dog. You need to stay the hell away from Leon or I'll fucking kill you" drew threatens. Leon's eyes widen. "You heard the man." His dad's voice calls. "Taker! My boy, I'm so proud of you"

The sentence makes taker feel sick. "And that's exactly why I'm so ashamed of myself. I never want to be like you, or for you to be proud of me." Taker hisses. "What?" "Because that would not be fair for those who love me." Taker hums moving to stand next to drew. "Now, drew advised you to get to stepping. I'm telling you to get stepping, or I will make you." Taker growls. "I need to meet with vince anyways. I'll be seeing you." Paul mutters before walking away.

Taker turns to drew. "I apologise for my behaviour." Taker states. "I don't expect you to forgive me. But I appreciate you Standing up for Leon. I'm glad he has someone who cares so much about him." "Ill always have his back sir." Drew nods. "And I do forgive you. I understand why you did it." Drew adds. "Yeah?" Taker asks. "Hes your son. And he's a lot like Mr michaels." Drew shrugs. Leon glances at drew. "Fresh beginnings huh?" Drew asks holding his hand out. Taker chuckles and shakes his hand. "Fresh beginnings kid. Now, how about you two go out for lunch yeah?" Taker smirks. "What?" Leon blurts out.

"Shit Leon, keep up, go out together, alone. I'll buy you time, gives me time to sort Paul out" Taker huffs. Leon looks at drew. "It'll be fun. Cmon" drew smiles holding his hand out. Leon looks down at his hand.

"Ah fuck it, I'm always down for some fun" Leon smirks accepting the hand.

Taker watches as they walk away. "Mmm, remind you of something?" Shawn smirks. Taker turns to look at his husband. "You really need a bell" Taker huffs. "But yes. Yes it does" Taker smiles taking shawns hand.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"In wrestling news, Fan favourite, The Scottish Warrior and The Skeleton King have been confirmed to not only be dating but married. Its unsure how long it's been going on but the couple along with their boss announced it after Mcintyre referred to Michaels sister as his sister in law. We send our congratulations to the married champs."

---------Notes--------

This got so long I forgot what I was doing.

But give me credit, I started this yesterday night and finished it the exact time I started it yesterday. Been working on it on and off since.

I wanted to do something based off the gifs but went completely rogue.

Shock

Anyways I love writing deon, I adore them, so honestly I'm not angry.

[melisusthewee]

Hi Mel, happy Friday! For Horatio, from the dialogue prompts, how about "It wasn't your fault."? Hope you are inspired!

Thank you for such a great prompt! I really liked being able to focus on Morris as just a solo piece where he's in those awkward young adult years but also getting a chance to do a bit of world building surrounding the ins and outs of the Grand Tourney.

I Want to Be Ser Morris Word Count: 1,124 words Rating: PG for @dadrunkwriting

Ser Horatio Morris never pulled his punches.  He'd been taught that you never swung a fist or bludgeon or any such thing unless you meant it.  That had been a problem the first time he stepped into the melee ring, dressed in piecemeal armour and clutching a blunted hand axe that he knew looked more like a hatchet than anything else.

Which was why he now sat on a patch of grass, his face smeared with sweat and dirt and a vacant expression on his face as a lone elf swept fresh sand to hide the splatter of blood Morris - no, his opponent - had left behind when two healers had dragged the man's lifeless body out of the ring.

Because he never pulled his punches.  Because he didn't know how to.  Because his first opponent had a chip on his shoulder and something to prove, and had taken one look at Morris and his ill-fitting iron that clanked and rattled as he moved, and asked him whose arse he'd buggered to get himself entry and a fancy title.

So Morris had hit him, because wasn't that the point of the melee?  And Morris had made sure to hit him hard to show him that the "ser" had been properly earned.  The strike had been sudden and quick, because Morris had a friend who had taught him that opportunity and surprise were sometimes more important than brute strength.  But in Morris' sudden burst of movement, he had not quite turned the hand axe so the flat edge of the head made impact.  Where he had intended to simply knock the man backwards or perhaps daze him, he had instead cleaved off part of his jaw and left him bleeding in the dirt.

His first tourney.  His first match.  And he'd maimed someone.

At first he thought he'd be arrested or at the very least disqualified.  But while the adjucator blew the horn to end the match, Morris was declared the victor and told to clean up, rest up, and prepare for the next round.  Morris didn't want to move on to the next round.  He wanted to go be sick somewhere and then he thought he very much wanted his mother.

"Your gear will rust if you just let it sit there."  A familiar gravely voice broke through the fog filling Morris' head.  He looked up to see Ser Calanth, his old mentor now even older and somehow smaller than he ought to be.  Morris wasn't used to seeing him out of his jousting armour and down on the ground without a horse.

"Did you see what happened?" Morris asked hesitantly.  If he felt bad for having sliced open a man's face, he knew he was about to feel even worse under the gaze of the man who was practically a second father to him.

"Not many people can say they won their very first match with their very first swing," came the answer.  "I think it could have used a little more showmanship for the crowd's benefit, but you'll get better at that with time."

"You what?"  Morris turned and stared at the old man incredulously.  Was Calanth going blind in his old age?  That could be the only explanation for why he was praising Morris for what he had done.

But Ser Calanth's gaze was as sharp and steady as ever as he looked at Morris.  "People bleed in the melee, lad.  They come away with bruises and cuts and all sorts of injuries.  Half of them don't even have proper armour.  It's why they dull the weapons.  Did you think when you chose to do this that you would go your entire career without hurting anyone?"

"You never did," said Morris.  He'd always thought that Calanth was one of the kinder knights in the joust, perhaps because he didn't have the same drive for glory and fame that so many of the others did.  He'd treated Morris well as a boy which wasn't something every squire in the Grand Tourney could always claim.  Morris had looked up to him, and had grown up wanting to be the sort of knight he felt he was.

Only Morris wasn't very good on a horse and couldn't afford one anyway.  He'd arrived at this year's tourney having borrowed his father's draft horse which was good for ploughing fields and pulling carts but not much else.  He wasn't built for jousting anyways as he'd grown from an average-looking boy into a broad shouldered and stocky young man.  He was made to hit things from on the ground, not atop a horse.  But he hadn't wanted it to be like this.

"I'm sure every man who was knocked off his horse by the impact of my lance would disagree."

Morris knew it was intended to comfort him, but he didn't think their circumstances were the same.

The elf had finished up their sweeping of the sand.  The next two challengers on the list were preparing to square off against one another.  All evidence of Morris' fight was gone.

"You're a good lad, Morris, you always have been," said Calanth after a time, "but you're a soft one too.  We're all here performing various kinds of blood sport for entertainment.  When your opponent bleeds, it isn't your fault.  It's his for not being quicker or smarter."

When Morris didn't say anything, Calanth added, "You can always quit if you want.  It's a choice to be here and you can go back home if being a farmer is what you prefer.  You should be making this choice for yourself, not because you feel you owe me."

Morris looked up at that, frowning slightly.  He had wanted knighthood for years.  He was grateful to Ser Calanth for the education he provided and the allowance he had always been able to bring home to his parents, but that wasn't why he was here.  Squiring had been a job, no different than all the work he'd done on his father's pig farm.  But Morris had kept at it because he had decided long ago that he wanted very much to become a knight instead of a farmer.  He'd seen other boys grow up and disappear from the tourney either because they weren't good enough or didn't want it.  But Morris wasn't one of them.  He wanted to be here, he wanted to fight and drink and be a knight.  He just hadn't expected it to feel like this.

"I don't want to be a farmer," he said softly.  "I want to be Ser Morris."

"Do you?" asked Ser Calanth.

"Yes," said Morris, and then more firmly, "yes, more than anything."

"On your feet then, lad, and get yourself watered.  There are more matches to come."

[anxiously-kk]

ok so i’m about to be reflective and rambly about some of my thoughts on the season so im putting it under a read more incase you want to skip because it is soooo long omg

ok so a lot of criticism on this season has been about The Flip™️ and how it ruined both corys game and the season. but i don’t think it’s that simple. to me there are many moments and choices that get made that helped build into the situation we are in now. flipping the vote on reilly week two which gave matt a huge chip on his shoulder and a wild vendetta against those who wronged her leading him to base so many moves on what she would want. was it good for cirie and izzy at the time i think it was but it did have long term consequences. you could also say that hisam telling his alliance they had to get matt out next but them flipping on hisam instead plus cirie green lighting matt saving jag(this isn’t all on her but she said she regrets not trying to stop him harder so i added it) lead to them forming a super tight bond that has helped them run the back half of the game. you could say leaving cameron (and bowie to an extent) out of the red blindside turning cams focus onto the ladies was unnecessary and it would have been better to include them. maybe that was the smarter play cause cam would have tried to stop it or maybe it made an unnecessary enemy. Maybe if meme hadn’t also been left out of that blindside till the last second cory wouldn’t have been able to get her to go along with the flip.

now in regards to the flip in question by this point that early core group had flipped (and blindsided) their alliance members more than once and cirie told matt she played path to power but not cory which eventually got back to him gave cory a reasonable opinion that they didn’t trust him and could cut him easily just like hisam and red. when you add that info to the fact that jared was acting like a total fool and on some extreme anti-cory shit that week plus izzy saying point blank america needs to go asap i wouldnt have felt secure with them either. now let’s be honest should have flipped that vote at that time even with all that info most likely not in my opinion because izzy at least liked him and was working with him while felicia could never let go of the belief that he was untrustworthy and that hurt him down the road. but would that have got him much further in the game? and would it have stopped the matt nag show? that’s hard to say because you can’t change one variable and assume every other event stays the same you know? like if izzy stayed but cory grew closer to america would they have gotten sketched and cut him earlier, or if he decided to ditch america would she have felt like she couldn’t trust cory and tried to turn people against him, if the blow up didn’t happen that week jared probably wouldn’t have been evicted that same night, so who would have gone in his place and how would that impact the game, if two people who were evicted didn’t have a whole week to chill in the house and put the game on pause would it not have given jatt time to set themselves up as the power structure or would cory have been able to keep momentum going and put together a solid group? instead? so i do think they should have taken out felicia that week probably but i don’t think doing so guarantees better results. i think its physics that’s like every action has an equal and opposite reaction and that’s true here too. this is a living game where people react to what is happening around them. every choice someone makes builds on each other any of those moments that i mentioned could have the right move or they could have backfired but they don’t exist in a vacuum you can’t isolate them from each other because one scenario only exists because of a choice someone else made

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Less Than Dirt. by ulexite

fandom: Supernatural

pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester

word count: 40k

Is it explicit: no

Bottom line: when they say “go hard gencest or go home” they are referring to this fic, which went so hard that it ground up my insides and fed them back to me in a tube

In this early-season AU, Sam is beset by visions and the boys are keeping it from John. Who knows what John would do if he knew, right? That’s present-day 2006. In 1997, fourteen-year-old Sam and eighteen-year-old Dean tangle with some hunters who turn out to be bad hombres. I think either plot thread could have stood on its own—the 1997 story is entirely self-contained—but when ulexite braids them together the impact is like an airplane landing. This fic is about Sam defending Dean, and Dean defending Sam, against all comers. “All comers” unfortunately includes John. There is some violence done to John’s canon characterization but in service, I think, of a good cause. If you’re familiar with ulexite’s other work it’s probably If Gold Rusts…, which is a fantastic fic. It’s also 130k long lol which is why I wandered away before finishing. Luckily this one’s more digestible.

In 1997, while John is off on a case, the boys have been left to rusticate in a motel in Nowheresville, USA. John deliberately leaves Dean behind to punish him for fucking up on a recent hunt. We are told baldly the nature of Dean’s fuckup: his actions proved that Sam’s safety—not killing monsters—was his top priority. As a consequence his father is putting him in the equivalent of kiddie timeout. In the aftermath, there’s a lot of discourse between the boys about who John’s favorite is. From Dean’s perspective:

“Look after your brother,” Dad had said, “since that’s what you’d rather be doing.”

And from Sam’s perspective:

Might as well have said: “Look after this burden of mine so I don’t have to.”

This is classic they each think the other is John’s favorite, and it’s just as aggravating to me, the reader, as it’s intended to be. So this whole ball of recriminations is sitting between them at the beginning of the 1997 arc. Sam and Dean are not on the easiest of terms with each other.

Enter the bad hombres.

They’re hunters. They’ve worked with John before. They’re looking for backup on a werewolf hunt, and since John is unavailable, they’ll take the next-best thing, his teenage sons. Yeah you heard right these guys just press-ganged a fourteen-year-old into forced labor, all the while relentlessly belittling him. It’s frightening how simple it is for a pack of complete strangers to drive a wedge between Dean and Sam at this fragile moment. All they’ve got to do is treat Dean like one of the guys—like a grownup—and ice Sam out by treating him like a useless hanger-on kid. Here is Dean defending his unilateral decision to 1) join these randos on a hunt and 2) lie to John about it:

“Yes, Sam, I lied to him, and you better not even think about calling him again to tell him we’re going on a hunt. You’re still my little brother, and I’m still in charge until Dad gets back, so do as you’re told for once.” He doesn’t feel like pointing out how infrequently he doesn’t do as he’s told. Everyone’s always accusing him like he makes a habit out of disobedience.

This is grossly unfair! The charge is that Sam has a “disobedient” temperament rather than that he has done xyz “disobedient” thing…which makes it impossible to refute. Again and again canon shows us Sam being punished for what he is rather than what he does—“freak” is an epithet that targets his nature which he cannot control rather than his behavior which he can—and it hurts extra coming from Dean, the person whose opinion he values highest. Sam is gravely wounded by Dean’s betrayal. Still, even hurting as he is, when the chips are down you will never find Sam anywhere but in Dean’s corner:

Outside, Donovan lines up empty beer cans along the stack of firewood and tells Dean: “Time to prove you ain’t all bark, Winchester.”

He’s both proud of Dean for making every shot even with his eyes bleary from the early morning and his hangover, and also wondering why he couldn’t just tell this man “I don’t gotta prove shit to you” and walk away. But then he understands it when the gun’s put in his hands, and the cans are lined up again, and he’s being told to give it a go.

As soon as Dean says “Show ‘em what you got, Sammy,” the need to impress makes all the sense in the world. Just that Dean’s the only one here whose opinion matters to him, and letting his brother down, especially now when he needs Sam on his side the most, even if he doesn’t know that? He makes damn certain he doesn’t miss a single shot.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that in this section of the fic Dean is 18, the age of majority, the age at which he might assume legal guardianship of Sam were the worst to befall John (an eventuality he has definitely contemplated more often than is healthy). It’s not clear to Dean what Sam’s role is—is Sam his charge or his peer—and that flare of pride he gets every time Sammy does something well? Some skill Dean taught him? Muddies the waters even more. But we’re not done with this scene yet! We have to see with our own eyes exactly why these bad hombres are bad news:

Sam holds out the gun, but before Dean can make a step to start setting the cans back up, Donovan takes the gun and turns the opposite way from their makeshift targets, aims his gun over top of their heads, and shoots a starling right out of a tree overhanging the driveway. “That’s what it means not to hesitate,” Donovan tells them, sickly pleased that Sam can’t even bring himself to look at the felled bird wherever it landed. “You’ll learn, kid. Or you’ll die. One or the other.”

This dude just shot a living creature dead for NO REASON wtf?!

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

Ok so long story short our boys get separated, the bad hombres stake Sam out for werewolf bait without even bothering to arm him with a weapon, Dean shows up to clean up the werewolves but is obviously livid about the way they deemed Sam expendable. Dean feels an obligation to stay and finish the hunt, but he won’t countenance Sam remaining if it will endanger Sam (which it will, since these dudes are psychos). So Dean deliberately picks a fight. He says the only thing he can to get Sam voluntarily onto the first bus to wherever-the-hell-John-went.

“Sam… I’m staying, alright? I’ve gotta see this through. I can’t keep fucking up and getting people killed, and you’re a distraction for me. Dad’s right about that.”

“…I’m a distraction?”

“You are.”

His eyes are burning, white-hot emotion, sadness disguised as fury. “So I’m just in your way, is that it? You want me to leave?”

“This entire time you’ve been nagging and nagging at me that you wanna go home, Sam. I’m saying if you wanna go then go. But I’m needed here, and they’re right. You’re not a little kid anymore, you don’t need me to protect you like you used to.”

I am a kid, Sam thinks, enraged, and so are you!

“I want you to come with me, Dean! I don’t trust these people, I haven’t trusted them from the minute we met them!”

Sam leaves. Then he changes his mind and returns, because Dean sent him packing with their only gun, and Sam can’t bear the thought that he left Dean alone without a weapon. Thank god he does, too, because the scene Sam walks in on is one of these psycho hombres murdering Dean. It’s the real unhinged one, Donovan. Donovan is hurting Dean for fun, just like he shot that bird for fun. Dean is badly injured and unarmed but still fighting back because the son of a gun has said he will go after Dean’s little brother next, and THAT threat never fails to make Dean see red. Of course he’s losing badly until Sam shows up and shoots Donovan cleanly in the back. Aaaaand scene.

What stands out to me about this episode is not that fourteen-year-old Sam killed someone, but that the two of them tacitly agreed to let Dean take the rap for it (Sam was after all not supposed to be there). They let the victim’s relatives believe for nine years that that’s what happened, that Dean killed Donovan. When the inevitable reencounter occurs in 2006, John is entirely in the dark—the boys never told him what happened back in 1997—so John is caught off guard when Donovan’s brother and nephew draw their guns on Dean, and Sam gleefully claims credit for Donovan’s murder (“you’re pointing those at the wrong guy”), and then uses telekinesis to turn the guns on the other two. It’s hard to tell if John’s madder that he’s been kept out of the “Sam is manifesting psychic powers” loop, or madder that two dudes just tried to murder his son. One of these things is maybe a slightly bigger priority, John! It seems worth noting that Sam’s psychic powers are triggered, as usual, by a bodily threat to Dean’s life or limb. Also that John seems to assume that if people are trying to kill Sam, they probably have a good reason (instead of that people are fucking psychos). It’s this unwarranted presumption of guilt that steams my beans. There is not a shred of evidence that Sam is endowed with an evil nature or doomed to walk an evil path, and yet John’s conviction is nigh unshakeable. The visions that Sam was having at the beginning of the fic? Those were premonitions of his own death at John’s hands. He’s been seeing visions of plenty of people getting murdered, he just didn’t realize it was himself he was seeing. Omg when the dashboard read 3am I should have known I should knownnnn. ulexite is good at a lot of things but this descriptive passage stood out to me because it is BUSSIN:

Trees. He sees trees. A grey morning, barely out of the pitch of night, only knows it’s morning and not evening because of the dew clinging to the earth, the sense memory for a thing that hasn't happened yet telling him he shouldn't be awake. Dirt and mud, rotting leaf litter, new blood. He can smell it all, iron and loam. Yet, as soon as he tries to turn his head to look around, that’s when the pain hits, a needle from one temple to the other, straight through the cortex like his premonitions are killing him.

Dw John does not put a bullet in Sam because Dean shows up at the last second and he puts a bullet in John instead. And that’s our story all tied up with a bow.

Now, do I think ulexite’s characterization of John is true to canon? No, I think this is a very selective and unsympathetic reading of John. I think in this fic the boys are conflicted in their feelings for John, but John is never shown to be conflicted, up to and including when he’s about to put Sam in the ground he’s certain that he’s doing the right thing. Canon!John would never. That’s fine though, as long as the fic’s John characterization is internally consistent I’ll buy it. What really sits at the core of it though, the thing that sank a grappling hook into my heart, is the evolving relationship between Sam and Dean and the different roles they occupy for each other as they grow up:

The weight of his amulet, a constant reminder that Sam loves him the most, feels like a noose around his neck all day long, until finally he gets the courage to apologize to Sam

and

It’s not Sam’s fault Dean conspired to keep him young forever and has just now changed his mind. It’s really not. But sometimes Sam grates on him and it’s not because of any real discernible reason other than that Dean thinks sometimes he was made into a parent at four years old and that just kinda sucks

Idk this may just be my own hobbyhorse, maybe y’all don’t care and it’s just me on my soapbox watching these boys agonize about whether I’m parent or peer of what. But I mean:

“Do you hate me?” he asks, not even meaning to, it slips out insecure and irrational, unchecked.

Dean is quiet for a few beats too long for comfort, but he wraps an arm around Sam’s shoulders and he’s pretty sure Dean kisses the top of his head, and he says “You’re my little brother, you know I love you.”

He wishes that answered his question, but in this one instance, it doesn’t. It really doesn’t.

My first thought was: When Dean put a bullet in John that pretty definitively answered the question, wouldn’t you say? “I choose you, Sammy” is what I thought that bullet was saying. But on my second readthrough I’m not so sure. “I choose you” is not the same as “my love is unadulterated by other, more complicated feelings.” I think what Dean’s bullet does establish is that there’s no room in the SamDean relationship for anyone else, even the man who raised them.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

fic ask game, 2, 7, 17, 18?

2. What fanfic do you wish you got more response on?

this one's hard because i feel like the response on my fics so far has been like extremely generous. like i feel like the things i decide to hyperfixate on are like, dead characters who people don't really seek out fics for, like lisa castle or jack murdock, so i don't exactly expect a big response?

i'd probably pick porcelain chips, if i had to pick one. I loved porcelain chips. it's probably one of my favorite things i've written.

porcelain chips happened a bit on a whim, a bit because i couldn't figure out how to get across why peter was like that in the first step of kintsugi. like, so much of peter's motivations in pottery shards was a lot of moments that formed his subconscious and impacted him forever. frank wasn't going to fucking figure it out--one of the main conflicts in pottery shards was that frank and peter are very different people and they don't really understand each other either. But I don't think peter's emotionally processed his own motivations and life experiences in a way that's simply put into words. the first step of kintsugi is a very straightforward, traditional narrative. but peter's mindset was always this kind of dreamlike compilation of these little moments that sort of chipped away at him and made him who he was.

like, how can peter explain that he thinks the sound of his uncle's door closing on the day daredevil took down the NYPD carved its way into his brain, and it's never quite been buffed out again. ben is someone who's a monument in his mind, and he had a very quiet anger to him that Peter's constantly trying to understand and unravel. there's so much of peter wrapped up in the moment he realized the thoughtless cruelty of people who price epi-pens, of the constant worry around money, of how badly he just wanted ben to be proud of him. so porcelain chips became this very poetic series of snapshots that i loved. peter in the first step of kintsugi needed an origin story, and i'm really happy with the one in porcelain chips.

7. What’s a troupe you love to write?

okay so like. i'm very obviously an angst and hurt/comfort writer, but that's kind of broad.

it's ironic that i'm going to say these are my favorite tropes, considering it's nothing i have on my AO3, but i love fake dating with a twist. i've got this hugely elaborate BNHA Fake Dating AU--except it's more as like, All Might and Inko being fake bitter divorcees. I've got Captain America and Sam Wilson fake dating, I've got Captain America and Matt Murdock fake dating. It's to fight Nazis. I've got May and Natasha fake dating. It's also to fight Nazis. I've got jon and gerry and danny all fake dating to fight evil and get free desserts (not in nhthcth). god why have none of these seen the light of day yet.

17. Are there any writers and/of stories that you consider an influence?

so, Kurt Vonnegut is probably my favorite author of all time, and a lot of my style came from cramming pieces of his works by the handfuls in my own pockets and walking away very very quickly before security spotted me.

i read slaughterhouse five in high school, and the non-linear narrative structure became something that immediately became a hallmark of how i wrote. my favorite of his is cat's cradle. if you read anything of his, i'd suggest slaughterhouse five, cat's cradle, mother night, and--if you really like his style--breakfast of champions.

I think the biggest takeaway's of kurt vonnegut's style, besides extremely fascinating narrative structures, is 1) he's a masterclass in messy characters, and 2) he's a fucking genius at embracing the narrative he's in.

There is not a single character in Vonnegut's works that's truly good or likable. they're just people. they're understandable people, but they're people. there aren't heroes. there isn't nobility. just humans. i think a big core of vonnegut's works is the absence of the divine plan (read sirens of titan if you really want biting commentary in the absence of divine plan). people can be good, if they fucking go out and do it. the world is fixed or broken on our terms. so you get these horrible, ugly, messy portrayals of humanity that's weirdly hopeful at the same time.

but vonnegut's also visceral because he refuses to flinch. if you want to see how little of a narrative flinch instinct this man has, read breakfast of champions. like, there's this entire part of breakfast of champions where he includes a character's dick length in the descriptions. cat's cradle includes this entire thing about feet. he will have weird shit in his writing that lesser writers would flinch from as being too scandalous or alienating to the reader. it somehow underscores his point perfectly and makes for a visceral gut punch of a story.

Terry pratchett's discworld series is also a must-read that influenced my style a lot. he's also got a very serious-funny style. like, his books are hilarious, imaginative, and his style is incredibly distinctive and unique, an he has some very incisive commentary on the world that comes through a very funny story. absolutely amazing stories all around. read small gods, the rincewind storylines, and the night watch story lines.

neil gaiman's also one of my favorite authors of all time, and he's sort of got this amazing balance of these amazing, imaginative, mystical worlds, absolutely beautiful and poetic prose, humor, and compelling narrative structure. like, the man knows how to nail chekov's gun to the wall and convince you that it's just a decoration, nothing to see here. he's also really good at not having a flinch instinct in his writing, like vonnegut. neverwhere, american gods, and a short story compilation called fragile things are some of my favorites.

lastly, there was this one fanfiction i've already rec'd, but it's probably the fanfic that was most influential on my own writing. it's a mirror, darkly by silverpard, and some of the lines in it are just so hauntingly visceral that it really made understand in a second what the character's felt. like, their entire description of jack the ripper is probably something i've been chasing in writing for a long time.

18. Recommend someone else fic! (And tag them if they have a tumblr!)

I made a daredevil fic rec list here ages ago, renewing shoutout to these authors.

if it's magnus archives, i'd recommend terror management theory by @prismatic-et-al. it's a really interesting concept, and it's super well executed as well as beautifully written.

for marvel, i'd recommend Steve Rogers is (Not) A Good Influence by attackofthezee. I think they're @stevergrsno on tumblr now. it's so funny, and i absolutely love the characterization in it.

[sleep-deprivedracoon]

When they get a tooth removed – Drugged AF HC’s

Note - your genshin man just had to get his tooth removed. Drugged and out of his mind, he shows a side of him that you have never seen before.

Characters - Venti, Kaeya, Diluc, Zhongli, Albedo, Childe, Xiao, Itto, Thoma, Ayato, Gorou, Kazuha

Warnings- Drugged state, inappropriate language, fluff, slight smut

Part 3:  Childe, Kazuha, Gorou x f!reader

Part 1 | Part 2

CHILDE

It was a surprise to you that your boss wasn’t in a situation like this before. Given his appetite for a good fight, he had his tooth chipped when he fought with the famous traveler. You had lost count of how many times the Harbinger had fought the traveler. Baizhu, a mysterious pharmacist helped remove the tooth and your boss was woozy with the herbs that were given to him to numb the pain. What was worse was that he consumed fire-water against everyone’s advice to help him with the pain.

“(Y/N)….. hic…” He wobbled towards you.

“Yes, sir!” You curl your lips in order to fight back your laughter. It was not often that you saw this side of your boss.

“Gather the.. the… trooooops. I-I want to… to.. train them.” He slurred.

“Sir, with all due respect. You should be resting right now. Training can wait.” You try to reason with him.

He frowns. “You- You think… I am we-weak, don’t yuh? Hmph.” He crossed his arms. “D-do as I-I say… I w-will sho-show you I am strong and I can – can – can pro-tect you.”

“Boss – I …” You sigh. “Nevermind, I will gather the troops.” You leave and do as he says.

Once the troop have gathered outside Liyue city, Childe sits on a rock as he observes the training. You were one of the few people in the troop with a vision instead of a delusion. Ideally in your training, you were discouraged to use your vision as it gave you an unfair advantage. You were fighting against a hydro gunner who was proving to be quite a challenge. At one point you stumble and fall due to the impact of the water shooting from the gun. Before you could get up and fight back, you see that the hydro gunner was already pinned to the ground with your boss holding a sharp arrow against his neck.

“Y-you you… really thought you.. could h-hurt (Y/N) on.. on my watch?” He glares coldly at the fallen man.

“Boss. What are you doing?” You rush towards both of them. Everyone around you had stopped training.

“Boss, please… I was just training.” The hydro gunner gulped nervously. “See.. she’s okay.”

Childe lets go off the man and spits at him. “Ne-next time if any… one lays a finfinfinger on my girl, I won’t won’t be so kind.”

Your eyes widen at his declaration. His woman? What? “Sir?”

“It’s Ayyyjaaxxx.” He winks as he falls face-first to the ground. You rush to check on him and find that he was passed out. You look up to see all the Fatui look at you nervously keeping their distance from you. The conversation when he woke up was going to be….. interesting.

KAZUHA

This wandering nomad started complaining about a toothache a few weeks ago. On your trip through Liyue, a healer determined that his tooth was infected and had to be removed so that his other teeth did not catch the infection. A potion was given to him and the tooth was skillfully removed. You always found Kazuha aloof which is why you were never confident to confess your feelings to him but in his newfound state, Kazuha was doting on you.

“(Y/N), let me make some tea for you.” He smiled wide.

“Uh.. No… You need to rest.” You shake your head.

“How about a nice massage instead? You’ve been really tense around me the past few days.” He places his hands on your shoulder.

“I am okay, Kazuha… Really.” You squeak.

You hear him sigh and pull away. This trip was really getting hard for you with your festering feelings for your friend. You really respected and admired him as a friend which made the situation difficult. You couldn’t lose him and you knew he couldn’t lose you either. He’d already lost so much. From the corner of your eye, you look at the man who got your heart beating as fast as a butterfly’s wing. He was writing something on parchment, a poem you presumed. He was really good at it. You sit in silence while he pens down. This was normal for him and he did not like to be interrupted.

Eventually, you get up and go to buy some food.

“(Y/N), wait..” He pouts.

“Yes?” You turn around.

“Where are you headed to?”

“I am going to buy us some food, Kazuha.” You smile at him.

“Before you go, I need your opinion on my new poem.” He looked frustrated.

“Alright.” You nod and take a seat opposite him.

“Don’t look at me … okay?” You see his face turn red.

“Fine!” You roll your eyes. You couldn’t wait for the potion to wear off. He was too pushy and demanding like this. You turn to look away from him.

He clears his throat. “Ahem. So here it goes. Love’s keen sting is so cruel but then it is also kind and so my heart loves.”

You wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. “That’s it?” You raise your eyebrow.

“Yes. It is a haiku…” He avoids your gaze.

“I am not going to lie, Kazuha your work is usually better than this.” You bite your lip hoping he wouldn’t take offense.

“So… you’re rejecting me?” His hands tremble as he crumples the parchment.

“Huh?” You looked confused.

“I just poured my heart out to you…” He pouts.

“Oh.” You smack your head. Wait, Kazuha loves you? Kazuha loves you. KAZUHA LOVES YOU. You jump from your seat and quickly embrace him.

“You’re really confusing, (Y/N).” You feel him relax. “Does this mean, you like.. me?”

“Yes, you drugged idiot.” You giggle.

“That’s wonderful!!! I should write a poem to commemorate this moment.” He pulls away from you.

“NO.” You pull the pen from him and throw it out of the window. You knew he would thank you for that later, after all the poet in him right now was better off not writing.

GOROU

“Can… Can you call me a puppy?” His tail swishes from side to side as drool slips out of his mouth.

You wipe the drool from his mouth. “Gorou, for the last time, please go get some rest. You’ve been given numbing medication for your tooth.”

“But, darling. I am your puppy, aren’t I?” He whimpers.

“Yes, you are.” You smirk at him.

Your general and fiancé had to get his tooth removed after it started to ache when he was chewing on a bone shard from a vishap. To this day, you could not wrap your head around his canine urges but you loved him nevertheless. He tried his best to keep it under control but sometimes it would slip out and in his current state, he was more of a canine and less of the man you knew.

“Can you… Can you… pat my head?” He looked at you with his goddamn puppy eyes.

You sigh and give in. You pat his head and scratch him behind his ears. You see him tapping his leg.

“Okay, now go get some rest.” You try to lead him to your bedroom.

“(Y/N)… (Y/N)…(Y/N)…. I have something to show you.” He jumps into the closet and starts searching for something.

“Gorou, I swear to god, if you mess up the cupboard, you’ll have to be the one cleaning it up when you recover.” You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Shh.. I almost got it.” He pulls out a box.

You’d seen this box multiple times. It belonged to him. Since you respected his privacy, you never opened the box and you hadn’t even given it much thought. “What is it?” You ask.

He opens the box and pulls out a couple of photographs. He looks at them and growls as he hands them over to you. The pictures were of a female canine-human in an elegant green kimono. She resembled your fiancé but the only difference was that she was heavily endowed in the chest region.

“Is she your relative or something?” You were nervous. Was she someone from his past? Did he keep her photo and belongings in the box as a keepsake? You didn’t know how to feel about this.

You see him sulk and drop his head. “(Y/N)… I am not a good boy.” He whines. “That picture… is me…” His wagging tail comes to a halt.

“Wait.. what? Are you into cross-dressing, Gorou? Why were you hiding it from me? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone has their kinks!” You try to reassure him.

“IT IS NOT MY KINK!” He barks. “THAT STUPID FOX PRIESTESS MADE ME DO IT. Guuji Yae!!”

You looked confused as hell and Gorou explains everything to you and how Miss Hina became a part of his identity.

“Hahaha. Oh Gorou, you poor thing.” You caress his cheek. “You don’t need to be worried about this. However, I should say that this kimono in your picture suits you well.” You wink at him.

“Sh-shut up.” He crosses his arms and blushes.

“What else is in the box?” You try to peek into the box and catch a glimpse of the green Kimona. You gasp and clap your hands in excitement. “Can we try it on you again??”

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head.

“Gorou, pleaseeeeee.” You pull out the dress from the box and walk towards him.

“No. No. No. No. No.” He steps away from you and starts to run. You chase after him. You had to see your man in this, who knows if he would ever do this when he was sober.

[makeitagood0neao3]

Safe Inside

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2,754

Warnings: Non/con. Explicit sexual content. Dark!Peter Parker AU. 18+ only!

The knock on your apartment door couldn't have come soon enough. After a long, tiring day working virtually, all you wanted was your take out, likely still warm from the restaurant downtown. Hair in a messy bun, long shirt covering a pair of shorts you padded to the door. Looking through the peephole, just to be safe. You couldn’t be too careful nowadays.

You opened the door to see your usual delivery guy standing before you, grey Supreme hoodie beneath a black coat, the hood pulled over his head. In his hand were the handles of a plastic bag as he balanced a soda on top of it.

“Greek delivery for a pretty lady in apartment 410?” He asked, barely able to contain his smile.

“Hey Pete,” you greeted, matching his energy. “I just Venmo’d you.”

“You better not have included a tip, Y/N.” Peter handed over the soda and bag before grabbing his phone from his pocket to check for the transaction. “I told you to stop tipping me.”

“I know you did,” you answered smuggly. “But you deserve a tip when you give me life by baklava.” He smiles back before peering into the apartment behind you. He was always doing that; checking, observing. You only ever ordered dinner for one, but that didn’t stop him from being curious. Not one to easily trust, you know the little world you built can be easily destroyed if you let the wrong person in.

He never asked if you were seeing someone or overstepped. The most flirting you had done with this younger man was to tell him that if he got straight A’s this semester at the university, you’d invite him inside for a drink. 

“Yeah, yeah. I appreciate you. I gotta run, but I’ll text you.” He waved and made his way down the hall.

Using your foot to kick your door closed you locked it with your free hand and set the food down on the counter. Setting your Spotify playlist to shuffle on 80’s rock before digging in at your tiny dining room table that barely fits in your small apartment.

You met Peter on a whim. Never one to plan meals out in advance, you were often left to starve or eat cereal for dinner after working. Never one to leave your apartment when it was dark out, you settled for having dinner delivered. Peter was delivery guy on a food delivery app and learned your dinner routine and favorites quickly. Which was surprising, because you couldn’t possibly be the only person in Queens ordering take out every other night.

And he couldn’t be the only delivery guy around, but he somehow became your usual delivery guy and you, his regular. Usually one to get chips as a side at a nearby deli, you didn’t order any one evening. He messaged you No chips tonight?

It surprised you, but you brushed it off, telling him you were cutting back on junk food. He dropped off the meal at your door with a knock, but by the time you opened it, he was gone. Sitting at the top of the paper bag was a bag of your favorite chips.

Always one to drop off your food quickly and not stay to chat, you caught him one night to thank him and tip in cash. Since then, you two would talk in your doorway briefly, mostly keeping your friendship to text as you were both busy. After a year of limited in person social interaction, any casual conversation over your threshold was greatly accepted. One day soon you’d venture outside, but with the availability to have nearly everything delivered, you doubted that day would come soon. You just weren’t ready.

Soon you ditched the app and just text him when you wanted dinner and he dropped it off to you. The price for you didn’t change, but gave him some extra. You honestly didn’t know why he chose to deliver food; he was always dressed extremely nicely in name brand clothes and you later found out he has a lucrative position at Stark Industries.

Once you had asked him why he chose to do this, in the literal rain and snow, and he told you that it was something to do. He got bored often and it was better than sitting in a lab all night. He made it seem like he did this for several people, but you didn’t see how he had the time to.

In the middle of scrolling on your phone, there’s a slow delay in registering what you’re seeing. Shaking your head and blinking hard, the sensation didn’t go away. Your body seemed to relax as a deep buzz set in and your body movements sluggish. Bringing the fork up to your mouth for another bite, you missed completely, the rice pilaf dropping onto the table. You tried for another bite and this time succeeded.

Are you... high?

You tasted the mineral chalkiness before you noticed the white powder poorly mixed into your rice pilaf. Brain fuzzy, you tried to analyze the substance. Thinking it strange, you drank from your take out cup of soda to wash it down. It became harder to swallow each sip, but you had already finished half the meal.

A knock at your door echoes through the wood. Each footstep towards the door bounces between your ears. Struggling with the lock, you finally got it open, your legs almost numb and your arms heavy. On the other side of the threshold stands Peter, his hood over his head, eyes assessing you through his lashes as his head angles down.

“Pete?” 

You feel his arms around you before the whoosh registers in your head. Blinking hard, you are lying on your back, limbs heavy. Some time must have passed, but you can’t be sure.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered from above you. “I think I gave you too much.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, a shiver blankets your skin. You let out a whine when your tongue refuses to curl with your words. It lies heavy, your jaw loose as you slur out questions.

“Peter?” You try again. Your question is slurred and there’s a pitched whine to your voice.

“Shhh, this is for your own good.”

“Mmph” you mumble, unsure if you actually feel hurt right now at this moment. Your movements are heavy and slow, like running through water. Your back is against something soft that smells like your fabric softener. Your bed. When did you get here?

“I’ve wanted you for so long. Now I can finally have you.” His hands seem to be frantic as he pulls your shorts from your hips and down your thighs before discarding them. Is he frantic or is this normal speed? His coat is gone and he pulls his hoodie over his head, his shirt stuck inside it. He’s next to you a fraction of a moment later

His warm hands graze your hips as he pulls the oversized shirt off of you, the crack of static electricity sparking from your hair as it's pulled through the collar in your ears. His hand gently rests your head back down on the pillow. You whine again and try to cover your bare chest with your small hands. He notices and pulls them away. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he reassures, mistaking your modesty for insecurity. He’s lying on top of you now, chest to chest. The heat of his bare skin as he presses into you, his hands tracing the shape of your waist and hips. He seems to be mesmerized.

“We can’t-” you want to scream, but even you aren’t sure your thoughts matched what came out of your mouth. Your hands try to push him off of you, but he’s too solid, too in control. When that doesn’t work, you slap his chest, but you don’t really feel the impact on your palm. You’re too numb. He grabs your wrist.

“I don’t use my hands to harm and you won’t either.” He says this firmly, eyes locked on yours, but follows up with, “Behave or I’ll have to tie you up so you don’t hurt yourself.” The latter comes out softer, more timid like the Peter you know.

His head dips down as he places sloppy, unpracticed open mouth kisses on your neck and shoulder. Quickly this turns into full sucking. You angle your chin to the side, scanning your nightstand for something, anything to help you. You eye a book, hardcover, heavy hand reaching up to grab for it. Maybe you can hit him hard enough to buy time.

Peter catches your movement and lets out an irritated, though shaky, sigh as it leaves his lips. “What did I say?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, silver device. He grabs both of your arms and places each palm on an iron bar on the headboard before a white, sticky, material shoots from it and seals your hands to it. You pull, but they don’t budge. He tosses it aside and slides down your body as you fight against your restraints.

The cool air brushes against you where your panties were. Vision unfocused, try to reconcile the split image of him and merge it into one. It’s dim in here, but it looks like he has your panties in his fingers as he tosses them aside. He lowers himself to his forearms, eyes never leaving your face. Or you think he’s looking at your face.

His nose brushes against your slit, tentatively, as you flinch. Your tongue is motionless in your mouth, but feels swollen, like it will suffocate you. All the things you want to say are being swallowed in your constricted throat.

His tongue pokes out as you manage to shake your head a fraction bit side to side. It probes your folds, uncertain. It takes him a few attempts, but he seems to find a technique he likes. The flat of his tongue swiping up as he breaks eye contact and his eyes roll back, indulged in the taste of you.

The sight of him enthralled in your most delicate region forces a squeak from you. His eyes snap open and his hands grip your hips a bit harder as he dives his mouth onto you. Seemingly encouraged by your noises and movements.

“You taste so good, baby.” He says, breathless, before he dives back in. Suddenly, his mouth finds your clit and he flicks his tongue against it hard. It’s too much pressure and it has you wriggling, brow furrowed.

He seems to notice this, because he modifies and begins sucking on your clit instead. A shock wave is sent through you, your hips angle up to meet his mouth eagerly. Taking this as a sign to continue, he inserts two fingers inside you, stretching your hole.

Quivering, you try to fight off the orgasm building, thighs clenching his head. He seems superhuman as his fingers never cease their rhythmic curling inside you and his mouth sucks the life from you. Whatever he gave you makes it impossible for you to take deep breaths and the orgasm that drenches your body in sweat steals the air from your lungs. He slows his motions as you ride his fingers and mouth before slowly removing both from you.

He seems proud of himself as he says, “I’ve always wanted to do that to you.” It’s almost endearing, but then you remember you’re drugged and bound.

Stalking you like the prey you are, he crawls up your body and slides his pants and briefs off his hips. He’s already hard as you try to focus your vision on him. Unable to tell how thick he is, you wonder if it will hurt. Perhaps if he caused you pain, your body would snap and find the adrenaline you need to get away. You pull against the bars again, hoping to break free. In the very least, your head lulls side to side in protest.

“I didn’t bring a condom, but we don’t need to worry about that. I’ll always take care of you.” He says, his forearm resting next to your head while his other hand reaches down, lining himself up with you. He pushes forward, breaching your entrance. Removing his hand, it moves to cup your head in his hand, sound muffled as he presses his palm hard against your skull.

Unable to move your head as he cradles it, your eyes flutter, unable to make him out clearly. His eyes penetrate yours, his eyes a deeper brown than you noticed before. His lips are parted as he catches his breath.

He slowly pushes forward, inch by inch. Your wet channel stretches and forms to him as he slips inside you. Despite the heaviness in your limbs and numbing to your skin, you can feel how your body accommodates him. The feeling of him is amplified by his heavy breathing in your ear as he pulls back and slams back into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” You try to tune him out, the only thing you really focus on is the wet sound of your slick as he draws more from you. Your body operates on sensation alone and all you can feel is him. He finds a rhythm that seems inhumanly fast as his hips push yours into the mattress harder and harder. 

He presses his chest against yours again and you can’t tell whose body temperature is higher. The desire within you builds. Fighting through the haze, you cry out, spine arching off the bed. The fabric is damp beneath your hips and you wish you could be embarrassed by it.

Both of your breaths grow louder, more frantic. On particular thrusts when he tilts his hips. the tick of his cock angles up to hit your g spot, you let out a moan. Encouraged by this, the corner of his mouth lifts into a cocky smile.

“Louder, baby.” He commands breathlessly, seeming to find his courage.

He lifts his chest from yours and kneels, his hands lifting your hips up with him, your ass no longer on the bed. Grabbing for your ankles, hooking your heels over his brawny shoulders, he slams back into you. His forearm wraps around your shins, holding them in place while his opposite fingers find your sensitive clit. Letting out breathless gasps, you can’t catch your breath or restrain your vocal cords. He continues plowing into you, fingers rubbing diagonally, frantically, against you.

“Come for me, Y/N. Soak my cock.” Something about this version of Peter, this feral side of the sweet delivery guy you thought you knew, makes you come again. Eyes rolling back, your lids closing as his hips become frantic. He squeezes your legs like a lifeline as he comes inside you, a loud grunt from above you.

He pulls out of you and lowers your hips to the bed. The euphoria sets in and your taught muscles relax into the bed. Leaning over you and he connects his nose with yours as he catches his breath. You’re both hot, a thin layer of sweat over your skin, but that could be from whatever he gave you. Your shoulders are stiff and you try to tug again on the headboard.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “those will dissolve soon.”

Abruptly, he gets up, wiping his cock against the inside of your panties, before he slips them back on and settles them on your hips. His come drips out of you and into the panties, keeping you wet and reminded of him. How did this happen? You never let anyone inside the safety of your home.

Moments pass as you process this. Faintly, you hear his feet on the carpet before he’s back in your room, sipping on the soda he brought you.

“Thirsty?” He asks and angles the straw to your mouth.

“My shoulders hurt,” you murmur out.

“Then next time don’t fight me. I think you understand that now, don’t you?”

Even without touching you, he is still inside of you. There is a faint pulsing from your clit that radiates down to the soles of your feet. Rhythmic and matches your pulse as you come down. Your arms and thighs goosebump from the chill in the air and you can feel the balloon in your head deflate. But you’re still unable to respond to him so you lie there, surrendering to his power over you. 

[keysmashingfantasies]

Bloody Comfort

pre borderlands!Niragi x fem!reader / Niragi x fem!reader

A/N:  i feel like i only post Marvel on this blog and i missed my show so here it is, finally an AiB fic! :D also, minigame: how many alice in wonderland references can you spot? also also, bloody comfort is an awesome name for a band and if you do name your band that, i want my money. enjoy the fic! also also also i didn’t proofread SHIT so sorry for any grammar mistakes.

trigger warning: bullying, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic, i think but beware nonetheless), death (graphic. i mean, i’m not that good of a writer but still, beware), very slight mentions of nsfw, especially torwards the end, niragi (HE’S A WARNING OK), niragi having disturbing thoughts (what else is new. but fr, ok), sliiiiiight yandere niragi torwards the end. (also I tried not to describe in too much detail the bullying that niragi and the reader suffer in the fic so it wouldn’t be too sad). 

@dreamingofanisland here it is bestie! 

Niragi couldn’t pinpoint when he stopped being sad and when he started getting angry. From a suffocating hopelessness came a desperation he could only describe as feral. He often fantasized about just jumping over his desk and strangling each one of them to death but his thoughts quickly ended with Niragi envisioning himself being overpowered and beaten. He started to not only get angry at his bullies, but people in general. Things. Life.

How could so many people turn a blind eye? How could life be so unfair to give people like this the upperhand and not him? Not him that clearly deserved it? This world was backwards.

-

He knew he was fucked when he saw the bat, and although he braced for the impact he couldn’t help but fall to his knees and wince at the sickening sound that the baseball did in contact with his nose.

He just sat there and while all he wanted to do was to rip their throats with his teeth all he did was to endure a few more punches before they left with a promise that there would be more. He sat there trying not to cry with sheer frustration. His papers were scattered around, the left arm of his glasses was broken and his pristine black outfit was now covered in dust from the gravel, his hands scratched. He could taste blood on his tongue and he felt a sick satisfaction, pretending for one moment that it was another person’s blood he was tasting.

“Do you need help?”, a voice woke him from his violent daydreams. Suddenly everything boiled over and he felt an overwhelming anger rise inside of him. In a blink of an eye he was standing up, yelling at a somewhat blurry image of a girl who he towered over, even more as she shrunk under his anger. If he wouldn’t be so busy screaming profanities, he would be madly aroused.

“WHAT, HUH? CAME TO SEE THE SHOW? TO LAUGH AT ME?”, he was furious, and as he approached her, she proceeded to walk back.

“No. I just wanted to help”, she said. It seemed another flash and suddenly he could see a bit clearer. Although startled, she didn’t seem afraid of him, and was extending him a tissue. “Your nose is bleeding”, she said, and Niragi wanted to scoff at her for stating the obvious. But she was being kind. And as angry as he was, kindness wasn’t something that he could say no to. He tried his best to control his shaky hands as he took the tissue from her hands and carefully dabbed his nose, as she ducked to collect his papers, and tuck them back into his bag.

“Saw what they did to you. ‘m sorry”, she mumbled. Niragi wanted to strangle her out of sheer embarrassment.

“And you just took some popcorn and enjoyed the spectacle?”, he spat.

“I wanted to help but I wasn’t sure what to do. Would you rather if I had called someone?”, she asked. He breathed once, twice. She wasn’t mocking him, but was unnervingly calm. Something about her being calm while he was practically foaming at the mouth had him seeing red and suddenly he regret having wiped the blood off of his lips.

“No”, he said, calmly. “No, I wouldn’t. Sorry. I have to go”, he said, ripping his bag from her hands with such force that he tugged her arm with it.

“Wait! I mean what I said! I want to help!”

“You, help me? What are you going to do, huh? Be my bodyguard?”, he mocked her one more time. He couldn’t help himself, his brain got used to this. Fight or flight. His adrenaline was pumping and everytime he was around school grounds he looked over his shoulder.

“Hmmm, sorta? Not exactly but I could show you a place. A safe place”, she said. He just looked at her.

“If we get there and it’s a prank of some sort I’ll let you punch me. Square in the face”, she said.

“Are you insane? You just go around letting people punch you in the face?”, his mouth was quicker than his brains and suddenly he felt his face grow hot at the irony of what he had said. But if she noticed it, she didn’t mention.

“Let me help you”, she said.

And he did.

He followed her through a wooded area near the school grounds after walking through a hole in a fence.

He was getting ready to beat you to the punch and hit you so hard that you’d bleed as hard as he did, until you stopped until you reached a very underwhelming toolshed with a padlock.

“We’re here”, you said, and he realized that she sounded different. All this time she was on edge. ‘Of course, Suguru, you threatened the girl like, 3 times’, said the voice in the back of his head. She pulled a key from her bag and the padlock opened easily and they heavy chains fell to the ground and she pushed open the door, going inside. He hesitantly followed.

The inside is nothing as he thought it would be. For starters, it was surprisingly clean and  it didn’t smell bad. And instead of tools and brooms and leafblowers, it had bean bags, blankets, a table with a radio full of knickknacks in the corner and a chair that had clearly seen better days but looked comfortable none the less. The girl walked to a corner of the room and his eyes followed her as she closed the door, which had small sharpie drawings on it. She reached for a white box and settled it on the floor between the two bean bags, and reached inside a very small thermos to pull out an artificially blue isotonic drink and settled it down too. Then from the plastic bag he previously assumed was trash, she pulled a bag of chips.

She then patted the bean bag next to hers. “Welcome to my clinic”, she said, placing the white box on her lap.

-

After an entire afternoon of bonding over unhealthy food and an impromptu first aid rescue, Niragi learned that her name was Y/N, she was a year below and that this little world she created was her refuge from the girls in her class that picked on her.

“I found this and decided that it would be nice. No one’s using it, it’s far from everything. It’s on the Beheaded Woman’s territory”.

Niragi heard the rumors through his bullies. “One day we’ll drag you to the Beheaded Woman’s woods and fucking kill you”.  After further investigation, he learned that allegedly a girl was dragged through the woods and beheaded with a blunt axe.

“I made the rumors up. I had to make sure no one would find my safe haven”, she explained. “And once you write something in the girls’ bathroom stall, there’s no turning back. It’s out there and it’s truth”, she sighed. “I would know”.

He wasn’t the most up to date in all the gossip but she told him her story. The rumors they spread, the things they did to her. She almost seemed amused. He in turn told her his story. By the end of it, he could kill someone. She then offered him the other key to her safe haven.

“You can decorate it too. Don’t tell anyone else and make sure to lock it after you use it. Use it as much as you want, just make sure they don’t follow you, okay?”

He took the keys with shakey hands, a knot on his throat. Another type of adrenaline was pumping through his veins. When a few moments ago there were a fast white heat, coursing through him like an electric current, this was slow and almost overwhelmingly warm, like molten lava.

“Why are you doing this? Being so nice to me?”, he whispered as if it was a secret, as if this moment was another fantasy, a deer that’s easily spooked. He had fantasized about this too. A safe haven, an ally. A friend.

“Because we’re the same, you and I”.

-

You hated him. You hated him with a burning passion. What was at first an act of pity, born from the empathy you felt by seeing someone go through what you did, quickly became a friendship and like a disease, it spread to beyond your safe haven. You would spend your free time together, walk home together. You became friends. And what did he do? Exactly what he told you he would.

“Sometimes don’t you wish to disappear?”, he whispered to you once.

“Yeah. Like, run away? Yeah, I do”, you replied agreeing with him.

 ‘You’re the only one that understands me. We really are the same’, he would say. What at the beginning of your budding crush on him gave you butterflies on the stomach now made you want to throw up.

You lost your only friend. You despised the sound of music now, because every single song you heard, you shared with him. For the same reason, you didn’t enjoy your favorite movies anymore. Your bullies banded together to target you. And the worst part of all, is that you couldn’t even care. There was no silver lining anymore.

“Don’t you get furious?! Don’t you want to hurt them, make them pay?”, he said as he watched you apply concealer to a bruised cheek.

“I mean, I get angry but I try my best to not let it get to me. It’s what they want. I despise those people, I can’t get in a funk because of them”, you said nonchalantly.

But you had loved him. And now you felt like even moving around was an herculean task, like you were almost dead trying to get to safety. But there was no safety anymore.

Ironically, you started to understand him more and more after he disappeared. The anger, the hatred. How could anyone just follow their lives? When there’s people like you just suffering through yours?

Suguru Niragi was an illness, a parasite. He carved his way under your skin and into your heart, laid eggs of his hate on your veins and sucked you dry of your life’s essence. Then, after you were a shell of a human, he disappeared out of thin air, leaving you alone. Leaving you with those people. Leaving you to die.

And you were still in love with him.

-

You thought you were finally insane when it happened.

The streets were empty. Absolutely no one. You wondered for a moment if you felt so alone that your mind convinced itself that that’s exactly what had happened, if any moment now you would be locked in an insane asylum for running around and screaming until you throat got raw.

It took you two games to understand what was going on. You made sure to change clothes. Running shoes, leggings and a warm hoodie that you never let the hood down. You decided to significantly shorten your hair after you saw a man pull a young girl by the ponytail in a spades game. You loaded a backpack with food and bottles of water, anything you could find. And an axe that you took from an emergency box from the building you slept in.

It was on your 5th game that it happened. You saw people die in these games, but none of it was hands on for you. You just watched your back and hoped to win and let whoever was running this show take care of the rest. Honestly, you didn’t even wait to know if anyone even survived. You were done doing that.

When you got there, there were five people already. They banded together and whispered amongst themselves as you passed them by and grabbed a phone. Probably just a group of friends that got stranded at the same time and decided to stay together. You clutched you axe harder.

You didn’t even realize that you had zoned out until you heard hollering and four guys heavily armed walked you by. Where the fuck did they get guns? One of them let out a boisterous laugh that reminded you of someone that you wanted desperately to forget. You couldn’t even get over him during fucking Saw? That sound made your skin crawl.

Registration closed, said the mechanic voice. Difficulty: 8 of clubs. The first 5 players will be the first team and the last 5 players will be the second. One team must eliminate the others without losing any players. Both teams will be identified by the color of your screen, and will have one minute to hide.

You saw the armed guys’ screens light up red. You sighed in relief as yours did too. You made sure to keep your head down and thank whoever that not killing teammates was a part of the rules. They seemed amused and absolutely calm, and the guy with the rifle laughed again. You were shaking by now.

When the minute started, everyone bolted in different directions. You didn’t even look back to see if your teammates had accompanied you but by the sound of your footsteps crushing leaves, you were alone. You decided to go back after a while, looking around. A lamppost. Huh, lamppost it is. You leaned against the cool metal and focused on the silence. The minute had ended but they were still hunting. You didn’t come across anyone, which was good. After a while, all you could hear were distant gunshots.

You looked to the floor, only to see a shadow approaching you quick. You barely had time to dodge before a man hit you behind the head with a rock. You reacting made him lose his balance, falling to the floor and letting go of the rock. You looked at him. It was one of the boys from the other team. He had on a white button up blouse and a black hoodie. His hair had fallen over his brown eyes and he looked so scared and so alone.

This will have to do.

You didn’t stop, suddenly lifting the axe and bringing it down was like an automatic thing.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME? AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU! YOU ABANDONED ME IN A MINUTE, LEFT ME ALONE IN THAT HELL!”

You didn’t stop when he started praying and then screaming. You didn’t stop when he started bleeding profusely or when the strength of your movements made your hood slide down from your head. You didn’t stop when his head got detached from his body and if you weren’t so angry, you would’ve listened tfootsteps. You didn’t stop until you had made mincemeat out of his face. Just for the sheer audacity of reminding you of him.

He looked at you from afar while you looked at the body of the boy whose skull you just had destroyed, a maniac, victorious smile on your face. You were pretending the boy was him. You really thought he had abandoned you? He would be absolutely heartbroken if he wasn’t so aroused. That’s what he always wanted to see, the instincts that you tried to push down. You were right, you were both the same. He wanted to lick that blood off of you, use it as lube to take you right there. When he first arrived at the Borderlands, when he first killed someone and liked it, he thought you would be disgusted by him. But look at you now. You were here, perfect for him, soaked in blood, feral. He’s never been so hard.

“Y/N”, he said.

“Niragi?,” you said. He ran to you, held you even when you fought back, even when you screamed bloody murder that you were going insane, begging to die already, even when you passed out on his arms. He licked a drop of blood from your neck.

“Let me take you to our safe haven”, he whispered against your skin.

[lovelycleon]

So I decided to make an analysis about the last scene of Infinite Darkness

But before I start with the fun part, I just want to tell you that my history with “angst ships”

I had a bad experience with another ship, soul mates full of angst tropes and true love, beautiful... and a really bad ending because the showrunner fought with the actors (I wasted years watching and I regret it).

Anyway, after suffering that kind of pain, no other ships and angst scenes can hit me hard enough. I'm numb or just got used to it. You choose.

So maybe the scene of Leon and Claire's argument wasn't that impactful for me because of that. But for all the fans who felt hurt, I understand and it's okay to feel that way, because the scene was meant to hurt. The scene exists because of that. And your feelings are valid.

So let's get to the fun part.

spoiler alert, it's not that fun, it actually hurts 😅

The scene starts with Leon going to meet Claire at the gates of the White House.

I don't think anyone denies the fact that, whatever Leon is doing, he just wants to protect Claire. And he doesn't want her involved because of it.

But this dialogue makes this even more evident if we analyze how it begins.

Nothing in a show or movie is by accident. Everything is handpicked for one reason or another. The meaning is not always that deep, but there is still a meaning behind it all.

So when – of all the ways a conversation can be started – they decide to make Claire joke that she sneaked out of the hospital, Leon takes it seriously and she has to clarify that it's a joke, there's a reason:

Show that Leon is taking what happened to her too serious, and Claire not that much.

When Claire makes a comment about when he's going to stop treating her like a kid and he says probably never. There's a reason:

Show that Leon wants to protect her (or being overprotective) and Claire doesn't like it.

Of course, some might argue that this specific line is capcom trying to show that their feelings aren't romantic and sink the ship completely. And, ok, people are free to think that.

But if they really wanted to sink cleon forever, they shouldn't have done the scene of Leon saving Claire the way they did. They did it because they knew it would tease a certain part of the fans... They knew exactly what they were doing...

And there's simply no reason to tease a ship you want to sink.

So no, I don't think that's it...

For me the scene means the classic and simple: "stop being worried about me🙄" "noooo🗣️"

Another way to intensify Leon being overprotective is Claire's broken arm. A reminder that she was injured following his plan. Just as she was hurt the last time they saw each other in Harvardville.

And yes, I know Degeneration made Claire hurt to take her out of the action. It is undeniable. But somehow I don't think the same situation and reason applies to Infinite darkness.

Because Claire was already out of combat, following Leon's plan and showing no intention of doing anything different. It's not like she's going to attack the monster that is several platforms higher than where she is. She couldn't fly around and there were no guns where she was anyway.

So why hurt her to get her out of combat if the story itself has already done that?

Again, you are free to think differently. Capcom made Claire dirty, she was underestimated and they wasted her potential. I won't argue with that, I'm also on the team Claire deserves better.

I just don't think it fits this specific situation.

The injured arm is there and a awkward conversation about Leon being overprotective starts because of it. I think it makes sense.

So moving on.

Claire mentions the chip and Leon looks disappointed for a moment and says he thought they were going to dinner.

This is to indicate that he didn't come to see her with the intention of breaking their friendship. Leon just wanted to spend a good time with her and nothing more. Some place a little more normal, maybe?👀

But Claire wants the chip and tells Leon her plan. The same plan that Shen May was killed trying to convince her partner to follow. Is there a parallel here?

The only difference is that Jason broke her neck while Leon decided to break Claire's heart.

Okay now I could show more parallels between them, but I won't because this is already too long and I know maybe I'm reading too much into this. Resident Evil isn't that deep most of the time 😂

Anyway, Claire asked for the chip and Leon said no.

And that's the point, right.

The climax of the conversation and the turning point in their relationship.

Note that Leon took a few seconds to say he couldn't. That was the moment when he made his decision...

He went to meet her for dinner, remember? He didn't expect to have this conversation or make a decision like that. But he had to.

Now, I'm not from the US and I don't trust politicians in general, fiction or not. But I admit this sounds realistic.

Just imagine if the president makes a speech about peace and prosperity and whatever and the next day the media reveals that members of the government are involved in BOW and planning an attack on another country.

At the very least, it won't look good.

In the worst case, it will be a catastrophe 😂

So... I don't agree with Leon, but I understand why he chose this.

It's an important decision, however. And how long it takes him to say something and how he's quiet after saying it shows he knows what's on the line. Not just the security of the country and “peace”, but also his relationship with Claire.

And despite everything... He didn't lie to her.

It would be much easier for Leon to simply say "the chip was destroyed in the fight" when she asked. Claire would never know about it and probably never doubt him. And they would still be fine with each other and having dinner.

But he didn't lie. Why?

Because their relationship is not based on lies. And it's not based on betrayals.

And while it may be hard to believe right now and it hurts to think about it, this relationship is still based on truth and trust in each other. And now their relationship is being tested.

It's easy to trust someone you're on good terms. How hard it must be to trust someone who has let you down.

There is a lot of room for development here.

Obviously Claire felt hurt in this moment. Maybe even betrayed. Heartbroken. I think we all feel that same way.

But Leon played fair there. He said he had the chip, showed it to her, and then said he wouldn't give it to her.

He was honest with her. And this act also shows respect.

They are two people with different points of view and that truth hurts.

There is silence as they look at each other. She never asked his reasons and he obviously never told them. The exchange of glances is enough for them to understand what was happening.

When Claire says “you do things your way and I do mine” it's almost like “do you know what that means? ”

Then Leon nods and another moment of silence. The time they need to accept that the relationship is broken.

Now that's angst

Interesting choice of camera angle. Showing her broken arm as a visual reminder of why he was pushing her away like that.

Claire leaves, but looks back and says again that his outfit doesn't suit him.

What's interesting here is that the director has done a few interviews over the past few weeks and he always said that the suit is a representation of Leon's position in government.

Claire commenting that it doesn't suit him is basically the writers/producers/directors admitting that this position doesn't look good.

And while all the characters praising Leon for his success, Claire is the one who sees this reality and who he truly is out of the suit (position)

And that's good angst.

Claire walks away and Leon with a sad look watching her leave and he has to say to himself "I will stop this".

Could it be just one of his one-lines? Yes.

Could it be a way for him to remind himself why he's doing this, even if it means sacrificing his relationship with Claire?

It's already done, now he has to make it worth it.

Whatever happens after that is a mystery.

I don't think Claire believes that Leon is going to cover up the government's involvement in things (their discussion would be much more intense if that were the case), she probably thinks he's going to resolve it internally without taking anything public, which is precisely what she wants to do.

I also don't think Leon believes Claire is going to give up on the investigation, he probably thinks it's going to take some time to her to get real evidence and he has time to carry out his plans.

But this is capcom... They are masters of forgetting plot points. So who knows.

Angst is only good if it has a good closure. I hope they keep that in mind.

In any other tv show that used this kind of angst trope and drama I would be completely fine...

I would expect a sequel to this plot. The characters find each other unexpectedly, having to work together and acting awkwardly because they don't know how to stick around each other after the argument. Then the story would develop and they would gradually mend their relationship.

That's the trope.

So that's all I can hope for.

[lis-likes-fics]

Exhilarated

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Reader Word Count: 4,602 words heheh Warnings: Car crash (again), smut Author's Note: Took too long because I'm ✨inconsistent✨.

~~~~~

Y/N sighed deeply as she drove down the dark road, headed back home from out of town. A friend of hers had invited her to her birthday party and she accepted, reassuring Carlisle that she would stay safe while she was out. He had promised her that he would always be by her side, and he took the promise to heart. He was reluctant to let her go by herself, but she convinced him that she would be alright.

Now she was on her way home to Carlisle. She was peering through her windshield when her phone began ringing beside her, the sound was loud and it startled her. She tore her attention away from the road for a moment to decline the phone call, she'd pick it up when she stopped.

Y/N looked back up to the road, cursing loudly when she saw a deer beginning to cross the road. She yanked on the steering wheel, swerving out of the way of the deer that had frozen in the street, staring at the lights that flashed at it.

The car jerked over, just missing the deer. Y/N slammed on the breaks as hard as she could and the car skid across the road. She crashed into a tree, the airbag deploying and smacking Y/N in the face, disorienting her for a moment.

It when she smelled the gas when she knew she had to get out of the car as fast as possible. Her heart pounded in her chest, she could hear her pulse in her ears. She opened her door, struggling to move her legs as she looked down. She groaned when she saw her foot stuck in the car, preventing her from moving.

She wiggled her feet out of her shoes and managed to get her legs out of the car. Just as she was out of the car, the vehicle blew, throwing her in the air from the impact of the explosion.

She let out a strangled yelp when she landed on hard, rolling over the ground before being abruptly halted by smacking another tall tree. Another cry escaped her as she felt a terrible pain in her lower back that soon spread all over her body. She was sure something was broken, and it was something vital. Blood soon started dropping her mouth, creating a bad taste in her mouth.

As if she'd be able to summon him, she choked out a strangled call, "Carlisle…" Her voice was barely audible or understandable, but she didn't stop. She needed him. Her body hurt so badly, she was in need of his aid.

However, it seemed as though he could hear her calls as a black Mercedes came racing down the road to get to her, screeching to a stop before the door was opened and Carlisle was coming out to her within the next second.

He was kneeling at her side, looking her over with worried eyes as he spoke, "What is it with you and cars?"

She chuckled weakly, wincing and coughing up more blood. "I'm sorry," her voice cracked as she got the words out. He shook his head, placing a hand on her cheek, "It's not your fault, dear."

He continued looking her over, trying to make note of everything wrong. She spoke, struggling to get the words out of her mouth, "Carlisle, I can't m-move my legs."

Carlisle acknowledged her words, "I'm going to move you onto your stomach, okay?" She gave him a nod and allowed him to do so. He felt around her back along her spine, asking her questions about how it felt and what happened.

At the end of his assessment and her recap, he let out  a heavy breath and gave her a sad look. She couldn't comprehend it, she had started to fade in and out of focus, looking around her surroundings.

When she hit her back so hard on the tree, it fractured part of her spine and paralyzed her from the waist down. Along with that, she was bleeding internally and he knew she wouldn't have enough time before she actually passed out. He knew it would be bad if she passed out, it wouldn't end well at all.

And he couldn't lose her.

With glazed eyes, Y/N turned her scarce attention to Carlisle, "What's….wrong?"

Her breath had become heavy, the other effects of the accident were starting to sink in. Carlisle looked her in the eyes, as if he was memorizing every detail in them. She weakly moved an arm with the intention of placing her hand on his cheek. He took her hand in his, holding it to his cheek as he savored the warmth of her hand.

"Carlisle-?" His name was interrupted by a painful cough that riddled through her. He told her with a sad voice, crying without tearing up. "I don't think you're going to make it. You got hurt really badly."

She wasn't concerned about herself, she was concerned about him. She didn't want to leave him alone, she didn't want to leave his side after promising a million times a day that she never would.

Fresh tears stained her face to cover the old ones, not from physical pain but from emotional pain. "I'm not leaving you," she whispered in a hoarse voice.

He sighed and nodded, "I know. You'd never forgive me if I let you, and I'd never forgive myself if I let you."

She knew what he was getting at. For a moment, she was scared of the physical pain that would come with his cure, but the fear ceased when it was challenged with the despair of even the thought of leaving Carlisle's side.

She gave a weak smile and nodded, "Do it…"

He had a pained expression on his face as he considered the option again. It was the only option where she would come out alive-- or at least for the most part.

Carlisle stroked the side of her face with his thumb, gazing over her features as he looked past the injuries, looking at her true self as if it was the last time he'd see it.

He whispered in a clear but saddened voice, "I'm going to miss these eyes." She smiled at him, swallowing thickly.

Carlisle lifted her head carefully, kissing her deeply with as much meaning as he could without hurting her further. She kissed him back, it was one thing she could focus on fully with her mind slipping in and out of attention.

He whispered in her ear, "I'm so sorry."

She shook her head and told him in a broken voice, "I love you."

He kissed the side of her face, "I love you, too."

He braced himself before finally biting into her neck, his teeth piercing the skin and drawing blood. He fought off his urge to suck her dry quite well, more focused on saving her than he was on tasting her blood.

Y/N inhaled sharply, a strangled sound caught in her throat as she tried her hardest to hold in her scream. She could feel the venom already spreading over her body, burning her up from the inside out with such excruciating pain.

When Carlisle finished, he wiped his mouth and gazed at her painfully. He hated seeing her in pain, he hated seeing her looking so broken.

Try as she did, she couldn't stop the cries from leaving her body. Carlisle wiped at her tears as she squeezed her eyes shut tight, every fiber of her being struggling through the pain.

It felt like she had been lit on fire, for a moment she thought she would be hurting like this forever. She screamed and writhed in unbridled pain, her body jerking all over the place as she clenched and stretched her fingers repeatedly.

She almost wished the bottom half of her body stayed paralyzed, but she decided not to. It was better to go through the pain and spend eternity with Carlisle than it was to die and leave him without the love of his life.

Y/N opened her eyes, forcing a breath out of her lunges before sucking another back in. Her eyes fell on Carlisle. She found some remedy, thought very little, for the pain as she looked into his eyes. Beyond the agony he felt for putting you through such pain, she could see the love he felt for her that justified the physical pain.

It was that love that made him strong enough to do what he needed to do.

She didn't know how long she would be in this state-- it was different for everyone-- but she knew it would be worth it if it meant she would get to spend forever with him.

~

Y/N had been moved by Carlisle to his home, they couldn't stay out in the middle of nowhere while she was turning. In the safety of the home, she continued through the change.

She felt bad for putting everyone through the ordeal of having to listen to her pained screams as she turned. They wouldn't blame her for that, of course. They knew the pain she was in, they'd endured it before. That didn't stop her from feeling like she was burdening them. If only she'd been a little more careful, they wouldn't have to go through the mess that is changing.

While Edward could hear the thoughts she was having while she turned, he wasn't in the room to dissuade her from thinking those thoughts. Carlisle was right by her side the entire time. He refused to leave her, nothing his children could say would make him for even a second.

They eventually had to move Jasper out of the house. Her change was affecting him because, along with the physical pain, she was going through the emotional pain of having to watch Carlisle watch her turn. It hurt her to cause him any pain and Jasper wasn't holding up because of it.

She was in transformation for four days.

If she hadn't known physical pain before, she definitely did now. While changing made her exhausted, once she was a vampire, the exhaustion disappeared into a drained feeling.

She looked around the room, as if seeing everything for the first time. She could see every small detail in everything she laid eyes on.

She felt this strange feeling in her throat and chest, as if something was wrong, something was going against her natural instinct.

She finally put a finger on it when she realized she hadn't started breathing yet. She didn't need to, so she hadn't realized it when she didn't.

She took in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. She could smell so many different things at one time: the trees outside, the fresh morning dew, each distinctive smell of each person throughout the entire house.

She listened closely to the sounds around her, the quiet shuffles of the residents in the house, the chips of birds outside, the light breathing of someone sat next to her.

She turned her head to look at the person next to her. A smile spread across her face as she gazed at him, looking at every small detail of his face, listening to every breath he took as he watched her with his own large smile.

"Hey," he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper but perfectly audible to her. She felt as though she might cry as she stared back at him, she was so glad to see him, even if she was with him for the past four days. She was seeing him clearly, there were no tears in her eyes.

She overestimated the amount of strength she needed to use as she got off the bed Carlisle had in his room solely for her and hugged him, straddling his waist as she buried her face in his neck, holding him a little too tight.

He let out a hearty laugh at her enthusiasm, holding her to him just as tightly. She took a deep breath in, inhaling his scent and memorizing it instantly. He was perfect in every single way.

She gripped him tight, carefully not to break him as she tried not to underestimate her strength. She breathed a sigh of contentment.

When she finally let go, it was only enough so she could kiss him. As soon as their lips touched, she sighed. The kiss alone was exhilarating.

She intertwined her fingers in his hair, letting out a soft moan against his lips. His lips tasted sweet, it was a taste she'd never experienced, but she liked it-- loved it, even.

When she pulled away, it was strange to not be gasping for breath. If she were human, she would have been.

She smiled back at him again with loving eyes, "Carlisle." She was surprised by her own voice, it was clear and seemingly perfect in every way. Carlisle watched in admiration as she experienced these things as if for the first time.

She looked back at him, "I sound…"

"Beautiful," he finished with a smile, "as always."

He kissed her again, wrapping his arms more securely around her as he stood, setting her on her feet as he pulled away. He grabbed her hand, guiding her to the bathroom connected to his room, despite him not needing to use it.

Carlisle pulled her in front of the mirror, his arms wrapping around her waist from behind and his head lying in the crook of her neck. She held his arms around her, locking her fingers with his as she stared at her reflection.

It seemed as though all of her imperfections before had been corrected, painting this perfect version of herself that actually seemed to compliment Carlisle now.

Her skin was smooth like silk, her hair was styled to perfection, despite the mess it was in, her crimson eyes were deep but they shone like stars. Even if they were yet to be the honey gold of Carlisle's eyes, they were still strangely appealing to gaze into.

She had always felt like she didn't look right next to him, she felt out of sorts. He seemed like a perfect sculpture carved from the most divine marble while she was a jugged wood carving placed next to him.

Now she looked as flawless as she did, she felt like she finally completed this perfect pair they seemed to form.

She turned her attention to Carlisle, his eyes trained on her face as she looked at him through the mirror. She smiled at him, turning in his arms to lay a hand on his cheek.

She went to kiss him again, but was suddenly distracted by a burning in her throat that made her reach to touch it. Carlisle nodded lightly, "You need to feed."

She sighed softly and nodded, taking his hand in hers and allowing him to lead her out of the house. As they walked downstairs hand in hand, the Cullens were all downstairs waiting.

She paused next to Carlisle, moving her free hand to hold their intertwined hands. She felt strange under their looks like this, like there was something wrong with her. She tensed under the eyes, a strange feeling rising in her as she grew anxious. There was this strange instinct in her that made her feel threatened, thus moving her to be hostile.

But before these instincts could properly kick in, they were smiling at her and rushing over to give her hugs. She was startled for a moment when Alice rushed into her arms happily, slightly squealing at her. She settled and hugged her back, eventually exchanging hugs with everyone in the coven before getting a giant bear hug from Emmett-- and she expected nothing less than that.

They gave her a proper welcome into the coven, expressing how happy they were that she was alright. Before she could strike up some conversation, Carlisle pulled her away so she could feed. "You can catch up afterwards," he smiled at Y/N.

~

Y/N found that she wasn't clumsy anymore. It was as if being a vampire cured everything wrong with her and made her this perfect woman. It made her feel like she was actually worth Carlisle's time now. She never said anything before, she didn't feel like it was appropriate to, but she always believed that she was far less than Carlisle. She never believed she was really that valuable, Carlisle's reassurances could only last her for so long.

After teaching Y/N how to properly hunt, they returned home. She was smiling the whole way, happy with her new self as she walked with Carlisle.

A few days passed and Carlisle started to notice she felt a lot happier than she had when she was human. He was curious to know why the change was such a big one, she was brighter, more radiant, as if things were finally working out for her.

One night while everyone was out feeding, Carlisle and Y/N were still at home together. He questioned her, "You're happier than you used to be. Even Jasper can feel the difference."

She shrugged, "I am." The simple response was enough to make Carlisle push on. "Why weren't you this happy before?"

Y/N looked at him, her red eyes staring into his golden ones before she sighed. "I'm different now. Before I was this clumsy, accident-prone, mediocre girl and now I actually feel…strong."

Carlisle took her hand in his, bringing it up to kiss the back of it, "Y/N."

She nodded, "I know, I know. I wasn't mediocre before, and I'm not mediocre now. I'll always be special to you."

He chuckled lightly before licking his lips, "Why did you think you were mediocre?"

She shrugged and sighed, "I mean…you literally look like a perfect specimen, like a beautiful statue. I…didn't. I was unimpressive and boring. But now I'm strong and I'm beautiful and…I'm perfect now."

Carlisle said exactly what she thought he would, but it somehow still managed to hit home with her.

"Y/N," he said, "when you were human, I cherished you for what you were. I still cherish you for what you are. Do you want to know something? The only difference I see between you now and you then are the color of your eyes. You were always beautiful, you were always strong, you were always perfect, and you always will be. To be honest, I do miss the clumsiness."

She chuckled at the last part, kissing his cheek, "Yeah, because arriving at the ER at least once every two weeks was fun."

"It amazed me how much one human could get hurt in a month," he replied, a soft laugh erupting from his chest.

Y/N smiled brightly and sighed. Perhaps she was hard on herself. All of her self-doubt wouldn't disappear in one night, but perhaps it would over her time with Carlisle. He would definitely do everything in his power to make sure she knew her worth.

She leaned over to him, kissing him gently before smiling and telling him genuinely, "I love you, Carlisle."

"I love you," he smiled. He took her face in his hands, kissing her lips softly. She moved so that she was sitting in his lap, happy to be with him, as always.

Carlisle's hands smoothed over her back, his touch was soothing over her skin. She pulled away from his lips, her eyes closed, her mind focused on his hands on her. It was such a soothing and exhilarating feeling. Her skin tingled wherever his hands dragged as he watched her sigh in pleasure.

Her voice was feathery as she spoke, "What's happening?"

His smile was one of adoration, "Your senses are stronger. You can feel every touch, smell every scent, hear every sound, taste every taste, and see every sight on a higher level."

She nodded, "That makes sense." She'd never felt anything like this. But, to be fair, she'd never been in a relationship as close and intimate as with Carlisle-- or anywhere near it.

She leaned forward again, her head in the crook of his neck as she pressed her body against his. "Do it more," she whispered.

And he did. His hand glided over her skin, grazing her up her back, over her shoulders, and down her arms. His hands gripped her, his thumbs brushing her skin, before moving back up her arms and down her sides.

Y/N turned her head and kissed his neck. Carlisle's eyes fluttered closed, his hands grazing down her outer thighs, moving back up and starting over running up her back.

She adjusted herself so she straddled his waist, locking her legs behind him. She loved being this close to him, he always felt so wonderful.

"How do you feel?" He asked her in his honey smooth voice.

She smiled, "Really good." She leaned forward, her hands cupping his face affectionately before kissing him again. He hands supported her back, pulling her impossibly close.

He stood, his arms wrapping around her waist to carry her. Laying her gently on the bed, he kissed her more desperately than he had before. Y/N sighed, moving her arms to wrap around his neck.

With every second, her need for him at that moment became more than just for care. She wanted him, needed him. With every kiss, her carnal need for him grew stronger.

Carlisle didn't need to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking. He whispered into her ear, the words so delicate in the air, "Say the words, and I'm yours."

She moaned lightly, nodding her head before giving him another kiss, "I want you, I want this. Please make me yours."

He smiled, kissing her hastily. His hands moved down her sides, gripping her waist as he pressed his thumbs into them. She grabbed his shirt, initially going to take it off of him before deciding to just rip it from his body completely.

He found that amusing as he allowed the piece of fabric to fall to the floor. He chuckled lightly, shifting her to move farther onto the bed. His hands pulled down her pants eagerly. He let them drop to the floor, kicking them out of his way.

She watched him intently, her eyes clouded with lust. He smiled at her and snuck his hands into her panties, rubbing her clit expertly.

She sucked in a breath, gripping the sheets for dear life as she let out a loud moan. Carlisle couldn't believe his eyes at the sight, it was beautiful, she was beautiful.

His finger moved quickly, applying just the right amount of force. Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him close to her. He moved back over her and kissed her again, swallowing her moans hungrily.

It was ridiculous how fast he made her reach the edge. She was getting close to meeting her release and all he did was kiss and touch her. If she was this sensitive, she could only imagine what he would feel like inside of her.

She was getting so hot thinking about it.

"Carlisle," she moaned before he stopped his ministrations, he knew how close she was. She whined and he told her in a surprisingly seductive tone, "I love the way you look when you get close, but I don't want you to come yet."

She couldn't believe his words as she looked at him pleadingly. She was so ready for him. She was so ready to feel him.

She reached down his pants, undoing his belt eagerly. His eyes closed momentarily before he looked back at her, his eyes liquid gold as he gazed at her. When she had his pants down, she palmed him through his underwear, moaning lightly.

Carlisle groaned at her contact, kissing her neck and earning a sharp gasp from her. One hand went back to his head, holding him down next to her. Her other hand continued before going to take off his boxers entirely.

She let out a soft sigh when she saw his impressive length. He wasn't small, that was for sure. He let out a sigh of his own before whispering in her ear, "Are you sure?"

She bit her lip, kissing his cheek before telling him, "Carlisle, I love you. I want to share everything with you, especially…"

Carlisle glanced at her after her hesitation. "Especially what?" He asked.

She sucked on her lip before admitting, "Especially my first time."

He shared a long, meaningful look with her. He kissed her again. Despite the disheveled state they were in, the kiss was slow and sensual and managed to convey their love for each other with such depth. When he pulled back, he gave one last look to her before she nodded confidently.

He contained eyed contact with her before sliding inside slowly. She threw her head back, closing her eyes and gasping. She let out a loud exclamation as he buried himself deep within her. He groaned into her skin.

He pulled out slowly until he was left with just the tip inside of her before pushing himself back inside. She wrapped her legs around his waist, so eager to keep him close. "Oh, please," she moaned.

Carlisle sighed, a sound so full of pleasure at hearing her voice pleaded for him like she was. His excitement exploded, he had to try and control himself.

Carlisle's breath picked up, he tried to keep himself on as much control as possible, doing his best to keep from pistoning in her.

However, when she got used to his impressive size, tightening her grip around his neck. "Oh, yes," she sighed, "More. Please, Carlisle, more."

He almost lost it when she said his name in such a way. He didn't realize just how much power she had over him until she moaned his name in her plea. He obliged to her pleas and his thrusts became faster and harder.

Her sounds filled the room and his sounds began to mix with hers from his excitement. She could feel a knot in her stomach as she felt herself getting closer to her release.

She cursed under her breath, moaning his name in his ear. Carlisle could feel her squeezing around him, which only spurred him on as his thrusts became more erratic. Her moans, her cries, her pleas, they were so seductively precious to him. He wanted to pull them from her night after night. He wanted to have her forever.

"I'm so close," she whispered, her mouth hanging open as she moaned out.

"I know," he said, "I can feel you."

She smiled, panting heavily as Carlisle thrusted into her so deliciously. He was getting so close, he was just at the edge of his release.

She sighed, the words sending them both over the edge with such force, "I love you, Carlisle."

They gasped, holding their breath as they finally reached their sweet release together. Y/N intertwined her fingers with his, kissing him deeply as she moaned into his mouth.

They chased their highs together, the feeling so intense, so euphoric, so exhilarating.

When they finally started to come down, he eased her through it. Their breaths mingled as they pulled away from the kiss. Carlisle pulled out of her. He brushed a thumb against her cheek, pulling her into another kiss.

She smiled, holding him impossibly close to her. When they pulled back from the kiss, Carlisle whispered, "I love you."