#it never fails to make me go feral with rage

[velarisdusk]

Unveiled Pleasures

Day 4: Virgin | Rhysand x Reader word count: 4.3k author’s note: this was not a kink i thought i had but during planning, the thought of rhys getting a dark look in his eyes, losing himself and going feral when he finds out…… yum :) ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

A blizzard rages outside, snow swirling in the darkness. It’s been relentless; for two days, its winds clawed at windows and howled through the night. Snow accumulates in thick drifts outside, burying Velaris in a frosty silence. Inside the townhouse, the warmth of the fireplace provides a cozy, safe haven.

You and Rhysand are curled up together on the couch, wrapped in a heavy blanket. The house is quiet; Amren is back at her apartment, Cassian is in Illyria (Gods help him, you can’t imagine the storm there), Azriel’s away on reconnaissance, and Mor winnowed to the cabin last night, claiming she needed some “alone time.” But you had a feeling she just wanted to leave the two of you here, together. 

You’ve known each other for centuries, since you were all young and reckless, before the world became complicated. Over the years, you’ve become more than friends — you’ve become constant in each other’s lives, someone to rely on through war, heartbreak, and everything in between. For a while, there was something between you — something unspoken but undeniably there. The way his hands lingered when he touched you, or how you’d catch him looking at you a little too long.

But whatever it was, it never grew beyond that. Time passed, and eventually, it seemed like he’d moved on. You told yourself you had, too. You never let it become a big deal, never let it interfere with the easy friendship you shared. It was just… there, hovering in the background, a feeling you’d long since learned to live with. And now was no different, chatting and playing card games on the couch, sharing a blanket by the fireplace. You would’ve thought it cliche if not for the fact that you’d been in this exact scenario more times than you could count — and nothing had happened.

Nothing will happen. 

“Place feels off,” you muse absently, shuffling the two cards in your hand as you consider your next move.

Rhysand chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Off how? Too quiet without Cass?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Well, yeah, that… but also just calmer.” You glance up at him, noticing the way the firelight casts soft shadows across his face. “We’re usually out doing something or surrounded by other people. Just not used to this much quiet, I guess.”

He nods thoughtfully, drawing a card from the deck and placing it face up next to the 10 of clubs. Ace of hearts. “That’s true,” he agrees, glancing at the cards on the blanket. “But it’s a nice change of pace, don’t you think? A well-deserved one.”

You eye your own cards — 10 of spades and ace of clubs — two pair. You toss two peppermints into the makeshift betting pool. “Raise. It’s definitely safer,” you say with a shrug.

Rhys matches your bet, tossing in two more mints. “Safer? From what? Drunk fae trying to chat you up? Or Cassian making an ass of himself with every female in sight?” His brow quirks up as a grin spreads across his face. 

You burst out laughing, the image of Cassian’s failed attempts at flirtation all too vivid. “Both, actually,” you manage between fits of laughter, shaking your head. “That last time at Rita’s… that was something.”

Leaning back against the couch, he shakes his head with a mischievous grin. “Do you remember that awful line Cass used on that poor girl? Something about his sword and–”

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “Oh gods, don’t remind me. He really thought he was being clever.”

Rhys chuckles, rubbing his jaw. “He always thinks he’s clever. Like this—” He suddenly leans toward you, his voice dropping into a ridiculous impression of Cassian’s deep tone. “You ever heard the phrase, ‘bigger the sword, bigger the—'”

You both dissolve into laughter before he can finish, your sides aching from how ridiculous it sounds.

He grins, gaze still playful as he mimics Cassian again, this time reaching out and gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “But then he’d get all serious,” Rhys murmurs, his voice dropping lower, soft and teasing now. “He’d do this… look into her eyes and say, ‘I could spend hours just watching the way you blush, imagining what else I could do to make you look like that.’”

The sudden shift in his tone and the warmth of his hand against your cheek make your breath catch. You freeze, the playful atmosphere suddenly charged. He holds your gaze, the firelight flickering in his violet eyes, and for a moment, it’s hard to remember this is supposed to be a joke. 

You laugh, but it’s quieter now, more nervous. “Cassian really said that?” you ask, but it’s hardly louder than a whisper. 

Rhys doesn’t drop his hand, his thumb absentmindedly brushing your skin as he looks at you. “Well,” he says softly, his smile softer now, uncertain. “Maybe not like that… but, I guess… something like it.” You feel your face grow warm, a quiet tension slipping between you. His eyes search yours, and something unspoken passes between you both — something neither of you can ignore anymore. 

His voice is quieter when he speaks again, as though he’s only just noticing the change himself. “You okay?”

The question feels loaded like there’s more behind it than just casual concern. You nod, but your voice is stuck in your throat. You can’t tear your gaze away from his. He’s still so close. Rhys leans in slightly, his thumb moving to brush along your jawline now, the motion slower, more deliberate than before. His eyes flicker over your features, lingering on your lips for just a second too long. 

You swallow, heart pounding. “Just… surprised.”

“Surprised?” His brow lifts slightly, but his tone is softer, more serious now. “By what?”

By the way his touch sends a ripple of heat through you, by how your heart races under the intensity of his gaze. You don’t say that though. Instead, you let out a shaky laugh, trying to play it off. “That you’re taking this Cass impression so seriously.”

Rhys huffs a quiet laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His fingers pause for a second, lingering on your neck. He doesn’t move away. “I’m not, really… just… You’re looking at me differently,” he says softly, almost like he’s noticing it for the first time. The room feels suddenly smaller, the crackling fire and storm outside fading into the background. 

You hold his gaze, your heart pounding. There’s a question in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel the pull between you growing stronger. You’re both so close now, the warmth of his skin against yours more pronounced. 

Without breaking eye contact, Rhys’ hand gently slides down to rest at the back of your neck, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze drops to your lips, and for a moment, time seems to stretch.

He leans in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. His lips brush against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s a slow exploration, a testing of the waters. When you don’t move away, his kiss deepens, his lips melding with yours as the warmth between you ignites into something more intense. 

As the kiss between you and Rhysand grows more heated, the heat becomes almost unbearable. Clothes are shed in a frenzy of passion, and you find yourself in your undergarments, sinking to your knees on the plush carpet before him. The firelight flickers across the room, casting a warm glow that dances over both of you. You start to reach for the waistband of his boxer briefs, but suddenly, uncertainty creeps in. Your hands falter, and you pull back just enough to look up at him, a mixture of nervousness and determination in your eyes.

“I’m not really sure what to do,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s my first time.”

Rhysand’s eyes widen, his expression shifting from surprise to an intense, almost reverent focus. He takes a moment to process your confession, clearly stunned.

He speaks softly, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “After all these centuries, you’re still–”

He pauses, searching for the right words. “You’re still a virgin?” His gaze sharpens, the intensity of his stare turning into something more primal. 

When your only response is a nod, a slow, hungry smile spreads across his lips. “Gods, that’s incredible,” he breathes, his voice low and tinged with a dark thrill. Leaning in, his breath warms your ear. “You have no idea how much that turns me on. The thought of being the first one to touch you like this…” His hand slides over your head, fingers threading through your hair with a possessive caress. “The first to make you feel things you’ve never…” He inhales deeply, his nose brushing against your neck, “–felt before…”

Rhysand pulls back slightly, his hand gently gripping your chin, and he tilts your face up to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this… Guiding you through it, showing you everything…” His eyes flash with a mix of hunger and satisfaction. He traces his thumb over your lips, his touch charged. 

“Not everything; I’ve read romance novels,” you clarify, shifting your weight back onto your calves.

Rhysand’s lips twitch and he lets out the barest breath of a scoff, shaking his head as if in awe. His eyes flicker with a dark amusement as his hand trails from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fingers toying with your hair. “Romance novels,” he repeats, his tone light, but the glint in his eyes betrays something darker. His thumb brushes your cheek, and his lips curve into a slow, teasing smile. “Well, then… you’re practically an expert, aren’t you?”

You feel the weight of his gaze as you fumble for a response, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “Well, I mean–”

Rhysand cuts you off, his voice edged with raw desire. “I’m going to show you everything you need to know.” His grip on your hair tightens just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours with a possessive intensity. “Just focus on me and let me take control,” he murmurs, his voice low. “If you need anything, you speak up, alright?” The intensity in his gaze makes you feel like you’re melting.

You nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement, and his gaze doesn’t waver. His fingers trail lightly over your collarbone and down to the swell of your chest, his touch a teasing whisper against your skin. With a deep breath, you lean forward, your hands cautiously pulling down his underwear, and Rhysand’s breath hitches slightly as you expose him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand resting lightly on your head, guiding you as you lower yourself, taking him into your mouth.

The room is filled with the soft sounds of your movements and his encouraging murmurs. As you cautiously take him into your mouth, you focus on finding a rhythm, the unfamiliar texture and warmth making your pulse race. Your hands rest lightly on his thighs, feeling the tension in his muscles as you move. Each gentle stroke is executed with trepidation and eagerness, guided by Rhysand’s soft, approving sounds.

Rhysand’s hands gently cradle your head, his grip firm but tender. “Damn,” he groans, his tone laced with surprise. “You’re a natural.” His praise sends a shiver through you, mingling with the heat of your desire. Though he guides you slightly, his touch remains light and encouraging. His voice drops to a low murmur, filled with adoration. “That’s it, just like that,” he urges, his breath hitching as you experiment with different motions. His nails gently graze your scalp, and he lets out a soft, appreciative groan when you press a flat tongue to the underside of his cock. “You feel so good, baby. Just keep going, you’re making me lose my mind.”

Every word from him makes you more determined to continue, your movements growing more confident as his reactions heighten your arousal. “You can take me deeper, I know you can,” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent. “You’re doing so well, you got it,” and his hips start bucking into your mouth. Your own breathing becomes shallow as your throat constricts around him, the new sensation is overwhelming yet intoxicating.

With a low groan of approval, Rhysand suddenly shifts, his hands coming to rest of your shoulders. “Hold on a moment,” he says, helping you up from the floor, and guiding you back onto the couch with him, a dark hungry glint in his eyes. 

A hand reaches under you, deftly unclipping your bra with a single, smooth motion. He moves the other to the waistband of your underwear, and he slides both off of you tantalizingly slowly. He discards them with a casual flick, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable under his intense, appreciative gaze. 

“Go on, let’s get you a bit more comfortable,” he says, adjusting you with deliberate care so you’re sprawled out comfortably across the couch. His gaze smolders with hunger as he moves between your legs, his breath fanning over your inner thigh. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable as he begins to tease, his tongue a tantalizing caress that makes you gasp and shiver. The sounds of his enjoyment mingling with yours create a symphony of shared desire, each touch sending waves of sensation through your body. 

Just as his tongue delves deeper, the sensation blurs your senses, making the room seem to spin and float. The combination of his skilled tongue and the disorienting rush of winnowing overwhelms you with a euphoric intensity. When your vision clears, you find yourself in Rhysand’s bedroom, his tongue still lavishing attention on you. He takes his time to savor every part of you. His movements are masterful, each flick and stroke of his tongue tailored to make you writhe in pleasure. He alternates between gentle, teasing laps, and more focused, firm strokes, finding the rhythm that has you gripping the sheets. 

His hands are relentless, roaming your body, occasionally tracing the curves of your thighs or the sensitive skin of your hips. He clasps your hands tightly, anchoring you as his deep, guttural moans vibrate through you, heightening every sensation and leaving you squirming with need. 

Amidst the physical pleasure, Rhysand begins to invade your mind with a barrage of filthy, electrifying thoughts. His voice, though unspoken, reverberates in your mind like a seductive whisper. “It’s going to feel so good when I fuck you,” he promises. “Picture how good it’s going to feel when I’m buried deep inside you, how you’ll be trembling under me.” The mental imagery is a pleasant surprise — he shows you vivid scenes of him thrusting into you with relentless vigor, making you gasp and shiver. “It’ll feel so much better than your fingers, darling.”

“Can you see it? Feel it?” he sends into your mind, his thoughts a sultry whisper caressing your consciousness. “Feel me pushing into you, filling you completely. Every thrust, every stroke… I want you to feel every inch of me, how your body will mold perfectly around my cock.” The intensity of his words only drove your arousal to a fever pitch, leaving you moaning and writhing with an urgent need. 

His thoughts also weave images of you coming undone, of him making you see the stars with his touch. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t know what to do with yourself. I’ll have you screaming my name, begging for more.” The raw, possessive desire only drives you closer to the edge, each thought and image adding to the pleasure building rapidly within you. “You’re my sweet little virgin now,” his voice growls in your mind. “But not for long. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging for my cock every chance you get. You’ll be a little whore for me won’t you? Needing to be filled again and again.”

When your climax finally crashes over you, it’s intense and all-consuming, leaving you gasping and trembling. Rhysand’s mental presence remains, a constant, darkly, satisfying presence as you ride out your orgasm. 

After you’ve come down from your high, Rhysand pulls back slightly, his gaze dark and hungry. He leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks softly. “See how easy that was? You’re going to be amazing, just like that. “

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, his cock slick and hot against your folds. As he aligns himself, his voice is thick with desire “Feel how hard I am for you? Feel how much I want you? I’m going to fuck you so good, make you feel things you never imagined. You ready for me, sweetheart?” He looks up from where the tip of his cock lines up with your entrance, eyes locking onto yours with a burning intensity.

You meet his gaze, your voice trembling slightly but filled with determination. “I… I want you, Rhysand. I need you.” Your breath hitches as you look up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes matched by a fierce desire. “Please, don’t hold back.”

Rhysand’s smile turns predatory, his eyes alight with satisfaction. He maintains eye contact as he pushes inside, inch by inch, savoring every second of your tight, untried body struggling to accommodate him. “Does it hurt?” his voice drips with mockery and satisfaction when you squeeze your eyes shut. “Does it hurt having this pussy stretched out for the first time?” He watches your reactions intently, delighting in them as your expressions shift from nervous anticipation to surprised pleasure, your brows furrowing with the intensity of it all. 

He cradles the back of your head, tilting it down toward where your bodies are joined. “Look at that,” he breathes, his tone full of wonder. “Look at how you wrap around me. So… fucking tight — it’s like you’re sucking me in.”

The mewl you let out would be embarrassing if not for the overwhelming pleasure and mind-numbing stretch of his cock inside you. ���Rhysand, please,” you whisper, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to steady yourself.

“Please, what? What do you want me to do, darling?” his voice is a lazy drawl, as though he has all the time in the world to tease you, to make you beg for more. His hips are still, the need to move evident in the tense muscles beneath your hands, but he holds back, watching you writhe beneath him.

“Please, Rhys, just move,” you whine, your body yearning for more, the slow stretch making you desperate. “Just want you… Want you to move.”

“Move?” He raises a brow at you, feigning confusion. “Move where? Move off of you?” He starts to pull out, slowly, torturously, and for a moment, the sensation feels good — until the realization hits that he’ll leave you empty. Without thinking, you wrap your legs around him, arms clinging to his neck to keep him in place.  

He chuckles darkly, a low, amused sound. “You’ll have to be more specific, I need to hear what you want, or…” He pulls out further, the head of his cock barely inside you now.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “Rhys, fuck me, please.”

The glint in his eyes is dangerous, primal. He leans down, brushing his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He thrusts back into you, slow but deep, filling you completely. “You feel that?” he murmurs against your neck. “You’ve never had anyone touch you like this before, have you? I’m the first… and I’ll be the only one to make you feel this way. Your fingers don’t even reach this deep, huh? You can’t even pleasure yourself the way that I will.” His words are gentle, but the power behind them is undeniable. “So pure, so untouched. You’re mine now. I’m going to make sure no one else gets to fuck you like this.”

The way he speaks, the deliberate pace of his thrusts as he starts to push in and out of you, has you melting beneath him, pleasure and helpless surrender pooling in your belly. Every inch of him fills you perfectly.

“You’ve no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, his thrusts growing harder, deeper. “Look at how you take me, so well. So fucking tight and sweet, like you were made for this,” he growls, his breath puffing against your skin as he thrusts again, deeper this time. “You feel that, darling? That’s me, stretching you open, shaping this pretty pussy so it’ll only ever fit me.”

A gasp tears from your lips, your body overtaken by the sensation of him inside you, deeper than anything you could have imagined. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your legs trembling as you try to keep up with the rhythm he’s setting. “Rhys,” you whimper, your voice soft and breathless. “It’s so… so much.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss, a dance of tongues and lips, exchanging breath ang longing. When he pulls back, his voice is a low rumble. “It’s going to be more, sweetheart. So much more. You can take it though, I know you can.”

You shudder at his words, the physical and mental onslaught of pleasure overwhelming. “Rhys, I–” you gasp, struggling to speak as your mind spins. “I’ve never– fuck! I didn’t know it could feel this good.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he purrs, his pace quickening slightly, making you moan with every deep stroke. “You’ve never been fucked before. You didn’t know what you were missing, did you?”

Your breath catches, your hands fisting in the sheets as his words sink in. The sensation of being filled, stretched, and dominated by him is getting to be too much. “Rhys, please,” you whisper, “please, don’t stop.”

His lips curve into a wicked smile. “I’m not stopping. Not until I’ve ruined you for anyone else.” He thrusts into you harder now, making your body jolt with each sound of skin against skin. “No one else is ever going to fuck you like this. You’ll always want me. You’ll always need me.”

The pleasure building inside you is almost too much, the sensation of his cock slamming in and out of your tight heat. “It feels so good!” you cry out, your pretty noises spurring his desire. “I– I can’t… believe how good it–”

“You like that, don’t you?” he growls, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You like the way I stretch you out. The way your body squeezes me like it’s never going to let go.” He moves faster, his thrusts becoming rougher, more demanding. “Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how much you love it.”

Your head is spinning, your body trembling as the pleasure builds. “I love it,” you gasp, your voice high and breathless. “I love the way you feel inside me, Rhysand.”

His eyes harden, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “That’s right. You love being fucked by me, don’t you? You love the way I make you feel, the way I take your virgin cunt.” His hand slides down your body, gripping your hip to keep his unrelenting pace. “And I’m going to keep fucking you until you’re screaming my name, until you can’t think of anything else but how good my cock feels inside you. So innocent… But not anymore, darling, you’re going to want this every single time you see me.”

Your muscles shake as you respond wantonly. “I want more, I want you to fuck me harder.” Rhysand groans, flipping you over without pulling you off his cock. His hands grip your hips as he pulls you closer, his cock slamming into you with renewed force.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he growls, his voice rough with lust. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for. But I’ll give it to you, if that’s what you want?” He glances at you for confirmation, though he already knows what he’ll see.You’ll look back at him with a blissful nod, your eyes heavy and barely open. You cry out as his pace turns punishing, far beyond what you’d imagined during those restless nights spent desperately rubbing your clit to thoughts of him. You can barely catch your breath as he fucks you for all you’re worth. 

“That’s it,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as he pulls you up, holding you flush against his chest. His hands wander over you, the swell of your breasts, the soft skin of your neck. “You’re going to come for me again, aren’t you? I can feel it. You’re so close. You’re going to come all over my cock, aren’t you?”

You can’t speak, your voice lost to pleasure. “Rhys, please,” you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge. “I’m so so close.”

He teases your ear lobe between his teeth as he whispers, “Come for me, go on. Show me how good it feels to have your virgin cunt fucked for the first time.”

“Feels so good, feels so–”

With a final thrust, you fall apart, your body convulsing as your orgasm rips through you. Rhysand’s name is a broken moan on your lips as the pleasure floods through you. Rhysand watches you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his pace never slowing. “That’s it,” he coaxes you through it. “That’s my girl. You’re mine now, sweetheart. Only mine.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

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@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

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@elenapri0502 @randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @90angiex

[kittykattropicanna]

would you please be able to go into more detail about your prison penpal!simon? why is reader doing it, how did they choose simon (if they had a choice at all), the sorts of letters they exchange? and if they’re any sort of smutty bits for them too? your mechanic au has me absolutely feral beyond words so seeing this made me so excited.

Omg you’re my first asked AHHHHHH I want to scream thank you so much!!!!! 

Absolutely I can go into detail about PrisonPenPal!Simon :3  I can't get out of my mind how deprived he is argh!!! >:( all this time alone, and now that you're here writing him pretty little letters, he can't imagine life without you :3

TW: mentions of murder, jail, corruption kink, breading kink, masterbation (Reader & Simon), public masterbation (kinda), smut, not sub!simon but he does cum in his pants, ahhh you're both just so obsessed with each other :3

PrisonPenPal!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

I’ll give you a little back story to why Si actually ended up in jail…

I feel like he retied, left SAS and tried to integrate back into civilian life but failed miserably. He started going out to bars and drinking pretty heavily. The alcohol made him angry, he never was outwardly violent, but everyone could tell he was just a very dark, tortured guy that sat in the back of the bar every night and drank himself stupid. It was like an unwritten rule that nobody bothered him. His a massive guy who’s ex military, if you had half a brain you would leave him alone. 

One night he was leaving the pub and this stupid, stupid 18 year old kid thought it would be funny to try square up to him and impress his friends. 

It didn’t matter how many times they told him to quit it and leave Simon alone, he still trudged up to him with his head held high and chest puffed.  

This kid came up behind Si and punched him in that back of the head. It wasn’t a good punch by any means but it was more then enough to drive Simons drunk brain into utter rage. 

He turned around and punched this kid straight in the head. He went down like a stack of bricks, head making direct impact with the concrete floor, killing him instantly. 

The kid was only 18, he had so much life left to live…..

Of course Si felt absolutely disgusted in himself, he couldn’t believe what he had done. Killed a poor kid who made a stupid decision and ultimately ended his life as well. 

He handed himself over the the police without hesitation. He went quietly and respectfully, cooperated with the police throughout the whole trial, never redirecting blame onto the kid or made it harder then it needed to be. 

He pled guilty for involuntary manslaughter and assault. Gaz, Johnny and Price all pitched in to get him the best defence lawyer humanly possible……ultimately, it worked. Even though the general public was outraged at his light sentence. 

Simons lawyer claimed the punch was in self defence. Someone attacking him from behind also trigged his PTSD resulting in Simon not being able to control his actions in that moment. 

These defences along with him serving in the military for 15+ years and cooperating with the authorities got him 8 years in prison, his sentence was quickly reduced to 4 because of his good behaviour. 

It wasn’t an ideal situation by any means, but it was the best case scenario with the cards he was dealt. 

But lets fast forward to the present….. How did you decide to actually start writing to an inmate? How did you even find out about it?

I have this really cute idea that maybe you were walking through the shopping centre and there was one of those pop up markets that sit in the middle of everything, you know, with the really annoying people that flag you down and you have to awkwardly not make eye contact and walk past them while they’re try and sell you stuff?

Yeah, one of them. This specific stand kinda caught your eye though, It was called “Write An Inmate”

You talked to the guy at the stand about what exactly “Write An Inmate” was and he explained that he was part of the program when he was locked up, how much it helps inmates get through their sentence, helps connect them to the outside world and genuinely just keeps them hopeful. 

First off you were a little hesitant…..speaking to someone who’s in jail because they broke the law sounded a little scary…. 

But hell, its a start of a new year and taking some time out of your day every once in a while to write a short letter to help keep someones hopes up is the least you can do. 

Besides! One of your childhood best friends big brothers went to jail and he wasn’t a bad guy! One of your new years resolutions was to spread more kindness and this is just a perfect way to do so!

Once you got home, you look up the website on the brochure that was given to you and quickly start scrolling through inmates.

They all had profiles with information about them. You couldn’t see what they were in for, but you could see other information like their name, age, date they signed up for the program, time served/time until they get out, amount of letters they have received, a short description of who they are/what they like and a few photos showcasing what they look like. 

You scrolled through a few but they all seemed to have gotten hundreds of letters, you wanted to write someone who wasn’t getting flooded every week with letters, maybe send a letter to someone who could use a pick me up. 

Clicking on the last page you scrolled to the very bottom and click on the last inmate before it even had time to load. 

Once the page opened the name “Simon Riley” appeared on your screen

After looking through his profile a wave of sadness rolled over you 

Name: Simon Riley, most people call me Ghost  Age: 36 Joined: December 26th, 2021 Letters Received: 0 Time served: 3 and a half years  Sentence ends: Year and a half  Description: ex military. I like dogs, big ones not small ones, the outdoors, playing cards and motorcycles. The first thing I want to do when I get out is to eat a steak. 

Attached was three photos. I won’t even lie, they’re definitely dad selfies from different angles HAHAHA they’re such grainy photos too, like they’ve been taken on a 10 year old android. 

Two of the selfies are him with a black balaclava on and the last one was of his face without anything covering it, but again it so grainy you can’t really make his facial features out. 

Simon had joined the program two years ago and hadn't received one letter. You felt horrible, he joined the day after Christmas probably hoping to receive something, anything, but not one person took the time to write him….. 

So obviously Simon was going to be your prisoner pen pal, how could he not be…..

I think the letters start off pretty innocently tbh, you don’t start writing to Simon with the intention of starting any sort of sexual or romantic relationship, it truly is out of the goodness of you’re heart, you sweet girl :(

Simon had totally forgotten about the program honestly, imagine his shock when the prison guard threw him a letter. 

When he frowned and asked who its from the guard just shrugged and said “write an inmate program” and walked off completely unfazed. 

But again, starts out super innocent, things like “I saw that you like big dogs, what’s your favourite breed?” and “what’s your favourite card game? I know how to play blackjack but I’m not very good haha”

I’d like to think you don’t even disclose your gender or name at the start. Keeping everything under lock and key. 

Simon also answers back with pure intentions at first, he has an inkling you may be a women because the hand writing is wayyy to pretty and delicate to come from a man. 

But again! He doesn’t get his hopes up, it could be an old granny for all he knows, but he can’t shake the idea that maybeeeee it could be someone a little more his type, ya know ;)

After a couple weeks of writing letters back and forth you feel like you’re getting to know him a little better. He asks you to call him Simon, not Ghost and he starts writing the cheesiest dad jokes at the bottom of every letter. 

“Two fish are in a tank, one turns to the other and asks “do you know how to drive this thing?” a little army humour for ya’ :)”

His so charming in such a rough and rugged sort of way you know? It sounds silly to say, I mean, you’ve never met him! But the way his handwriting is complete chicken scratch and how he adds little “:)” “:(“ and “>:)” makes you giggle! 

You end up telling him your name and how old you are, I mean, its only fair! You know his name! You definitely didn’t tell him because you wanted to get his mind racing, get him thinking about all the different possibilities, make him fantasize…

Its fair to say you have a little crush on him :( ahhhh its so humiliating! A city girl like you, good job, successful family and a bright future laying in bed every night fucking your pussy with a brand new dildo you bought just so you could imagine Simon, a felon, fucking your little cunt :( 

When Simon sent his letter that week asking for a photo of you, your little crush just got bigger :(

“Its only fair don’t ya’ think? You know what I look like, why don’t ya’ return the favour sweetpea ;)” 

And of course you did!! He asked so politely! 

Putting on your pushup bra, doing your makeup and styling your hair all for him:(((

You get so frustrated because you don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard for him, argh! Its all so embarrassing!! Your such a needy girl >:(

You make sure to push up your tits, your bra helping them spill out over your cute little shirt and giving him a good view of your gorgeous body. 

After an hour of taking photos you finally get the shot you were looking for 

Eyes sparkling, cute little smile on your lips, light hitting your face just right, lacy bra slightly peaking out the top of your shirt just enough that it looks like an accident, beautiful tits sitting right in frame so he can get a good look and the slight curve of your waist visible. 

Its perfect, it look so effortless…..in your eyes at least

When Si received your letter, his cock got hard the second he saw your picture :((((

Since his been locked up he hasn’t been able to jerk off properly >:( 

His balls are so heavy as is, and now he has a photo of you 

He could basically cum in his pants at the thought of holding your waist as you ride him. Using his big callused hands to fuck your pretty pussy onto his aching cock >>:((((((

You’re so put together! nice clothes, from the look of the background, nice apartment, clean bedroom. Just the thought of him corrupting you, fucking his baby into you, making you move into a shitty little apartment while he works and you look after his chubby baby makes his dick start to twitch :3

Before he can stop himself, he cums all in his pants :(

He hasn’t cum properly in years! yet a simple photo of you did it for him in seconds!!! You’re such a nasty minx, you know exactly what you’re doing you dirty girl >>:(

That night he lays under the covers, his cell mate fast asleep on the other side of the room as he slowly pumps his cock to the photo of you.

Eyes closed and head thrown back against the thin pillow, he bites his lip so he doesn’t make any noise. 

You see, playboy magazines get passed around all the time, they’re not hard to find if you know the right people, but it just doesn’t do it for Si!!

Of course they’re beautiful women, there’s no doubt about it, but everything so photoshopped :(

Si likes his women natural. No skin smoothing filters or enhancements from photoshop, he likes his women real 

His so deprived that he cums in record time, his hot load shooting all over your face, the once clean photo now sticky and stained….

He wished he had it in him to be embarrassed, but he just can’t! God, he needs to hear your voice, your picture just isn’t enough anymore….

In his next letter he asks if he could use his monthly call to speak to you……Johnnys just gonna have to wait, they can talk football another time >:(

Aghhhh, PrisonPenPal!Simon is so fucking cocky it hurtssss, PrisonPenPal!Simon is open for requests so feel free to send them throughhhhh, add to the AU, ask me expand on certain topics, whatever floats your boat >:)

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

Cat divider sourced by @positively-mine from Pinterest - Pink line divider by @eloquentreverie - MDNI divider by @cafekitsune

Basic blog housekeeping -  fic requests guidelines, boundaries and my rules for minors

[blorbopostingtime]

Alr so maybeee this is a bad opinion but tbh I rlly can't keep it in anymore so imma just say it.

WE NEED MORE ANGRY BRANCH CONTENT!!!!!

Like sure in the first movie he could be classified as angry but. ITS SO MUCH MORE GRUMP AND ANNOYANCE THAN ACTUAL ANGER?!?!?!?!?!??!

I want more fics, more comics, more fanart, more everything, where Branch just flat out looses his fucking shit.

At anyone, everyone I do not have a specific thing.

Get this grump ass bitch angry at the way the village treated him for fucking years when he was grey, get him fucking angry at his brothers for leaving and abandoning both him and their grandmother, get him angry at the bergens who he lived in fear of for so so so fucking long (SINCE HE WAS BORN TILL HE WAS ATLEAST FUCKING 20. THAT IS ALL HIS FUCKING CHILDHOOD. TEENAGE YEARS, EVERYTHING. AND FOR ALL THOSE YEARS MINUS 4 IT WAS ALSO HIS BROTHERS, THE VILLAGE AND HIS GRANDMA), his grandmother for sacrificing herself to save him and leaving him grey and alone (HE WAS A CHILD. FOUR OR FIVE AND HE WATCHED HER DIE FOR HIM. DO NOT TELL ME HE DOESNT HAVE ANY SURVIVAL GUILT OR RESENTMENT AT THE FACT THAT THIS CAUSED HIM TO TURN GREY AND BE AN OUTCAST IN THE VILLAGE. I DO NOT GAF ABT HOW MUCH HE LOVES HER YOU DO NOW MOVE ON FROM SHIT LIKE THAT WITHOUT IT), his parents for never being there (whole other thing but! Still think it should be a bigger thing.): EVERYONE.

"Oh, but he got angry at his brothers in the 3rd movie!"

NOT FOR FUCKING REAL.

YOU TELLING ME THAT MOSTLY CALM ASS, SAD AND A BIT SPITEFUL SPEECH WAS PURE UNFILTERED RAGE FROM 16+ YEARS OF BEING ABANDONED, BULLIED, ALONE, AFRAID AND DEPRESSED ?!?!?!?!?!?

HUH?!?!?!?!?!??

CUZ ITS FUCKING NOT!!!!!!!!!!!

AND THATS NOT EVEN MENTIONING THE FACT THAT HE LIVED OUT IN THE WILDERNESS FOR THE FUCKING MAJORITY OF HIS LIFE TOO!!!!!

Let Branch go feral with rage, let him scream at all the ways people have failed him from the top of his normally quiet lungs, let his vision go tinted red with rage, let him fight and punch and kick and elbow and growl and bite and hurt all the people who left him, like an animal gone abandoned in the wilderness and left for dead, who manages to not only survive but fucking THRIVE as a feral beast.

Show me a Branch who screams a sound so primal the nearby birds fly from the trees, let him be louder than any other troll in the village from living in the wild surrounded by creatures that the trolls were still learning about anf befriending who may or may not havr wanted to kill him, and yet talk about how afterwards he could barely speak because after 20 years of quiet speech if that his voice still isn't used to being loud.

Show us how much Branch is ready, able and willing to to use all the weapons he makes, the rocks he collects as projectiles and bluguons, the whittled stakes and knives, the sheer everything that comes with having lived on his own in the wilderness, angry and scared and so fucking alone.

... Ahem.

Anyways, thanks for listening to my rant and

ANGRY, FERAL AND APESHIT BRANCH PLEASE!!!!!!

[emo-markie]

*:･ﾟ✧ Supernatural oc/reader fic recs

I like to read. So I read. A lot. This is my curated selection of fics that make me feral. I highly recommend checking out the creators!

REMEMBER TO READ THE TAGS!

Last updated : October 10, 2024

red means work in progress

blue means complete work

(sorted by alphabetic order)

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SAM WINCHESTER

Birdcage Fires by FallingDomino on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

After finding a naked girl on a lonely stretch of California road on a stormy night, Sam doesn't have long to try and help the amnesiac girl before Dean drags him back into the life of hunting. Over the past three years, he never really forgot her, but when they reunite, the brothers discover something much more sinister about the night Sam saved her. Sam/OC, Before S1, skips to S4

Complex by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: M

Sam Winchester will do whatever it takes to save his brother from Hell. When all else fails, he tries a spell—and botches it. Cassandra Holmes awoke from uneasy dreams and found herself transported to a fictional universe. Cass wants to go home. Sam wants his brother back. Maybe, working together, they can both get what they want.

Pie and Consqeuences by SteelRigged on AO3

Rating: T

Dean’s eyebrows were popping off his face. He looked at Sam, who had pie falling off his nose, and swallowed a smile. "You're getting slow, Sam," Dean said, and patted his brother on the shoulder. Sam wiped pie from his cheeks and chin. Veronica's rage had caught him off guard. She was one of the few people from his past he was still on good terms with. At least he thought they had been on good terms. At least neutral terms. Not pie in the face terms. “Oh Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” Dean muttered, glowing with pleasure. “Don’t worry. I’ve been there. You probably deserved it.”

pythia - a supernatural rewrite by uncouth-the-fiffth on AO3

Rating: T

John goes missing. Like every time you use your Gift to track him down, it's hardly for his own sake. If it weren't for Dean, trembling under that too-big jacket on your stoop and working up the courage to even say Sam's name, you'd happily never think about their father ever again. Or what you're doing to Sam's life by pulling him back into the hunt. If it was up to you, John Winchester would never be heard from again. But the boys need you. So, you go.

I highly recommend checking out the author's other fics here: uncouth's spn fics

The LightBringer by I_Am_A_Silver_Lining on AO3

Rating: E

Waking in the body of Lucifer, having their memories and powers, should have been horrible. And it was... ...Until it wasn't OR Kore wakes up as Lucifer, powers, memories and all. She is still herself with a little something sinister sprinkled in and decides to rip up the script and throw the apocalypse out the door. However, her True Vessel seems to still believe she wants to get in him, but he'd MUCH rather have it the other way around... OR OC invades Supernatural and takes over the world one piece of trash at a time. with ART

This Untraveled Road (series) by BAPWarrior18 on AO3

By Fate or Free Will

Rating: M

In the year 2003, a witch unleashed a powerful spell that drastically altered the fates of thousands of girls and women around the world. Some were killed. Some were protected. Many went about their lives or deaths unknowing of their transformed purpose. However, each were meant to be soldiers in the war against evil. Each were meant to tip the scales in the favor of good. For one in particular, there would have been no tipping of the scales… if not for some higher being’s determination to piggyback not only on the spell, but on the things that had already been set in motion by demons. OR In which the Winchesters meet the original breed of hunter, causing tiny ripples that turns their world on its head. And brings forth the war of change. For better or worse.

War of Change

Rating: M

THE ROAD SO FAR… The Winchesters met their bespoke Slayer, shifting the balance of their lives and unknown to them, the fate of the world. The Catalyst awakened new paths, altered goals, and shifted motivations. Like a drop in a pond transforming into a tsunami. As intended. Six Special Children survived Cold Oak. Four Slayers fought at the opening of the Devil’s Gate. One Slayer met death and lived. One Slayer confessed and vanished. All the while, two beings of undefined purpose watched and plotted. None could have predicted the drastic turn of events caused by the union of Slayers and Champions. NOW Demons and hunters scramble to make sense of the new world order. Some revel in the change. Some attempt to fix the balance. Others struggle to carry out carefully constructed plans. In the meantime, the Winchesters navigate what it means to be Champions. The Catalyst comes to understand her true gift. And the purpose of The Connected becomes clear.

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DEAN WINCHESTER

one of these nights by uncouth-the-fifth on AO3

Rating: E

“S’ a good night,” Dean tells you, beaming, “we can do another round, right?” “Hell yeah,” you shrug, and raise your empty glass, “Here’s to alcohol poisoning, baby.” “Yeah,” Dean echoes, almost slurring. “Baby."

This Curse On Our House by Sonny13 on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

Faith has battles in her bones and nothing left to lose; a dangerous combination, but perfect for a hunter. But she's got demons out for her blood, convinced she can break some kind of curse, and they call her the Child of War - whatever that means. Things might be a little easier if Dean Winchester wasn't so damn frustrating.

Toil and Trouble by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier on AO3

Rating: M

What’s the best way to infiltrate a coven? Be a witch. What does a modern witch need these days… Dean is going to be your familiar. He really wants to be a dog. He's not going to be a dog, and it works out way better and messier than either of you planned.

“Yeah, I have a Great Dean.” by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier on AO3

Rating: E

Dean is a good boy.

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CASTIEL

Angel 101 by kittenofdoomage on AO3

Rating: E

The angels are dying out in huge numbers, and Castiel, searching for a way to save Jack from being used by them, and to also save them, is called by another angel to assist in what he thinks may be the solution.

Branded by ObliviousApple on AO3

Rating: E

Basically, the first time Cas ever touches you, a brand appears on your arm. A brand that says his name in Enochian. Come along for the ride as you try to stop the apocalypse, save the Winchester's from their own idiocy, and fall in love with our favorite feathered bastard. Spoiler alert: the brand is a soulmate mark. Who saw that coming?!

David by therev on AO3

Rating: T

What if the person who found amnesiac!Cas when he stumbled out of that river in Colorado had been a man and not a woman? And what if when Dean caught up with him, he found that Cas had a husband? And what if he was a real character and not the throw-away that they made Daphne?

Empire State of Mind by saprrowed on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

Rating: E

Castiel makes a friend in New York City. And like many New York sitcoms, this is a story about nothing.

Feathers by enter_the_phantom on AO3

Rating: T

The giving of feathers and the revealing of wings is a sacred act for an angel, and it's something Castiel doesn't take lightly. But if there's one human he'd enter into such a close bond with, it's Abby Singer, the Winchesters' hunting partner and adopted sibling. Whenever he's around them, he feels things he's never felt before, and as strange as these new emotions are, he doesn't want them to stop. Unfortunately for him, Abby isn't the most receptive to his presence. They've been stubbornly opposed to his awkward attempts at friendship ever since they first met. In fact, it feels like he's the only one who can't seem to forge a relationship with the prickly hunter. Even more unfortunately, it doesn't seem to matter anyway, because another angel has already beaten him to it.

Gas-n-sip by eratothemuse on AO3

You just needed a job. Who knew that getting one at your local Gas-n-Sip would end up like this? (Set in 9x06 “Heaven Can’t Wait”)

Guardian Angel by ZonateBiscuit on AO3

Rating: M

When you feel lost, you begin to pray. Charlie Crivens is lost, but she's not sure anyone can hear her. Slow build Castiel/OFC

I Was A Stranger And You Welcomed Me by dorkilysoulless on AO3

Rating: E

Whoever he is, he's either homeless or hitching. He's also too damn pretty not to take home.

The Love Story of the Runner Up by Margo_Kim on AO3

Rating: T

“So you saw a white man in a trench coat pop out in an alley,” Paul says, “and you thought, what, ‘I want to see where this is going’?”  “If you get hung up on details like that,” Miguel says, “it will take a very long time to get through this story. For a very weird era in his life, Miguel dates an angel who is in love with another man.

The Original Cambion by thereluctantshipper on AO3

Rating: E

Just as they're gearing up to stop the apocalypse, Bobby, Dean, Sam, and more importantly, Castiel, meet the original Cambion, a half-demon half-human hybrid. And she wants to... Help them? OFC insert, starts roughly S5E16, will not follow story all the way through.

Questions and Answers by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM) on AO3

Rating: E

Castiel is becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his vessel. He comes to you with some questions.

Where Angels Fear To Tread by OrigamiDoll on AO3

Rating: E

Reader meets the Winchesters and Castiel when they roll through town on a hunt. They inadverdently expose her to the supernatural and turn her world view upside down. Soon, her house becomes a frequent detour for the boys and a friendship begins to blossom between the reader and Team Free Will. Castiel finds himself fascinated by the reader. Where will things lead?

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CROWLEY

Dead Body Moving by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: M

Nell never expected to return from her cross-country roadtrip, but when a fellow camper goes missing during her stay at the Grand Canyon, she may live far, far longer than she expected.

Like I'm Not Made of Stone by ProlixInSpace on AO3

Rating: E

In ancient Mesopotamia, one careless death-goddess invents a cruel curse. Its singular victim can never die, but will rather live the last single year of a random human life somewhere in time, every year, forever and ever. In Hell, a belligerent soul takes centuries of abuse from Lilith herself, and is molded through her cruel tutelage into something darker, more ambitious, and cleverer by far than your standard-issue demon. A pair like that can only become more than the sum of their parts.

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GABRIEL

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) by bumbleberrysky on AO3

Rating: T

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe... Chuck works in mysterious ways after all. [divergent around s13/the end of s13-- will likely have spoilers]

Along For the Ride by MyPurpleSkies on AO3

Rating: T

Danielle Awenasa Callaghan thought being a hunter was complicated enough. That is until she joins the Winchesters along for one hell of a ride that involves repeatedly saving the world from danger, falling for a Trickster that's more than he seems, hiding the fact that your godfather isn't exactly human from the boys you're beginning to see as part of your family, and discovering that she and the King of Hell share a mutual appreciation for David Bowie's music. Not to mention being told by a cupid that she's met her soul mate already. Oh, let's not forget that she nearly died and was saved by some mysterious stranger that Death refuses to tell her the identity of.

I Want to Tell you by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM) on AO3

Rating: E

He can’t tell her when she’s drunk. That wouldn’t be right. He’ll tell her tomorrow. He’ll bring her coffee and let her shower and then he’ll sit her down. Tomorrow. It’s definitely time. He has to get this off his chest and tomorrow is the day.

Kibble by The_White_Rabbit42 on AO3

Rating: T

Sam and Dean ask Gabriel to cat sit for you, and it leads to a surprising discovery.

Third Time's a Charm by The_White_Rabbit42 on AO3

Rating: E

Gabriel unexpectedly comes to your aid and reveals a part of himself you never expected to see.

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SIBLING OC

Dynamics of an Asteroid by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: T

Sam thumped a photo album down onto her desk. Beneath the thin film of dust, the cover was dark burgundy. Margo recognized it at once. “Ah.” He was here for the other reason, then. The one she’d always dreaded, even if she’d imagined it more than a few times over the years. He was here because that photo album contained pictures of Margo from the time she was born through the time she was in high school. A rare few of them even showed her together with John Winchester—Sam’s father. And also, incidentally, her father. She was not prepared for this conversation.

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CHILD OC

Along Came Sophie by LaceyoftheTypewriter on Fanfiction.net

Rating: T

Dean is still fighting supernatural crime with Sam when a pretty young plot twist named Sophie Gardner shows up claiming to be Dean's 15-year-old daughter. As she worms her way into his heart, he comes to realize what exactly he's been missing, and how far he'll go to fix what's broken.

Light of mine by TheTardyOwl on Fanfiction.net

Rating: T

A Fledgling is almost killed during one of Michael and Lucifer's explosive arguments. Gabriel steps into the role of Caretaker for the little Angel and discovers that his new charge isn't what he expected.

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PLATONIC OC

Student Housing by darkshrimpemotions on AO3

Rating: T

Sam decides to rent out rooms in the bunker to college students. Finding yourself in a housing bind just before the start of your sophomore year, you decide the dirt cheap rent is worth the risk that your landlords might be serial killers.

[indigos-stardust]

Violet, Blue, and Bruised All Over: The Shame

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4 Click for the link <3 Reblogs/comments appreciated <3

Green had a busy day. The sort of busy day that made you feel as though there was a hunted bird inside your head that was constantly flittering about and crashing into your skull.

You had to pretend everything was fine, ignore the feeling of your skin itself tensing to block out all the sensations as you went from task to task and person to person. Hide any annoyance or ire or anything that would make people lose faith in him. If the people didn't have faith or respect in him as a knight then he wouldn't be able to help anyone.

All he wanted to do was head home with Red, eat a hopefully not totally burnt dinner, and lay in the quiet darkness of his room until he was taken into the realm of dreams.

The crashes and yelling from the other side of the front door wasn't promising. He and Red rushed forward, and then pushed Red to the side (he'd express his sorry at a later time) in order to frantically scramble to open the old janky lock with his key-

Heart beating, mind even more frantic and whirling than all day had been- He forced the door open and forced himself to breathe and take everything in.

Any fears of some assassin, burglar, freakish monster spawning, medical issue, or feral racoon are immediately cut off by pure piercing biting cold striking him to his core. His heart has sank to his stomach. His mind is near silent. The only sound heard in the outside world is heaving ragged breaths.

Broken glass and pottery lay scattered on the floor. His shoulders fall. Droplets of blood shine against the floorboards. His heart constricts and expands all at once. Heavy twin thunks echo through their home. Green's fingers and eye twitches all on their own. Two familiar, near identical caught blank faces freeze.

Green is going to kill them.

"I am going to give you both five. Seconds. To give me, a good explanation," Green manages to force out, somehow emphasis on every letter.

Red tries to interject, trying to calm whatever is going to happen, placing a firm yet nervously shaking hand on his shoulder. Green shoves it off, as gently as he can despite the utter rage he feels coursing through him.

Green doesn't get mad often, he really doesn't. Sure, he could be annoyed and frustrated. Sure, he took matters into his own hands when the others pushed things too far. He goes out with his threats when he's upset, hide their items, ruin their plans, force them to do the things they hate the most. Even guilt them. Anything with a touch of irony to really teach the lesson, all with a smug grin on his face and a glorious pun or two. And a disappointed face that would immediately make them crumble. Enjoyable, efficient, and kind at the end of the day. This wasn't one of those days.

He wasn't upset. He was furious.

Blue and Vio instantly glanced towards each other for a split second, apprehension and alarm clear on both of their faces.

They mirrored each other's silence as they both turned to Green.

"IT'S HIS FAULT-" "THAT NERD-"

"ᴳʳᵉᵉⁿ, ᴮˡᵘᵉ ʷᵃˢ⁻"

"SHUT IT."

The roar was deafening.

A sob broke out from behind him. Red managed to wriggle his way into the house from where Green was still blocking the doorway.

"Hylia- You guys are all hurt! And- Is that my FAVORITE MUG? I madE THAT WITH ZELDA!"

The small outburst ended with Red's voice cracking until he hopelessly pawed against his flushed face, failing to stop the tears.

Blue and Vio meekly winced and began to intensely study the dirty floorboards as crimson began to join the colors on their bruised skin.

They both had a hand in knocking it over by accident. It'd been collateral damage.

Green pushes himself to take in a l o n g deep breath. Both boys are dragged by the ear despite their indignant protests and their squashed egos. Good.

Red's never liked fights and the tension is unbearable, he quickly excuses himself to hurry for the medical care box upstairs. Blue and Vio are sat on the couch, despite the disarray surrounding them.

With the adrenaline winding down the shame could now properly eat at them both. Extremely and obviously agonizingly for the two more prideful of the Links.

Blue's hunched over, hands grasping his knees with tense shoulders and clearly attempting to not look small as his withers into a tiny ball of shame and avoid any eye contact. Vio is still, eyes trained forward staring a hole into the wall, his face perfectly neutral and strict. Nearly a statue. Not a trace of emotion.

Unless you counted the swelling bruise on his head. Or the blood on his lip?? Was that from a bruised lip that hadn't swelled yet or-

Green couldn't do this. But he had to. So. He. Did.

He smiled, so wide and sharp that it really highlighted the gorgeous look of death and murder in his eyes.

"First of all," He starts, " I am, and perhaps you didn't notice, very tired. Exhausted really. I've had a HORRIBLE DAY." The last bit loses the infuriated sarcasm as he slams his fists into the coffee table.

"And THEN," he's gritting his teeth, a perfect image of barely restrained control, "I came home. Expecting, maybe by some miracle of Farore, that you two might be capable of making a somewhat edible dinner without killing each other!?"

Green 'rests' his chin on his clenched fists, leaning over entirely too close, "You know what I found? I Found This. Both of you, supposed- SUPPOSED KNIGHTED HEROES OF HYRULE-" Green stands, "FIGHTING LIKE A BUNCH OF MOBLINS OVER ROTTEN SCRAPS OF MEAT?!"

Green sits, head hanging low, the disappointment is suffocating. Blue swallows against his will. He's warm. Burning even. Sticky sweat drips down his neck. He hated how stupidly efficient and good at this Green was. And how it felt so targeted at just him for some reason. He hated feeling all weak and pathetic and childish.

"Who wants to explain?"

Now it was only a matter of who broke the silence first. It could mean influencing the perspective, to get Green's good grace, or facing the storm and facing the full ire of Green's righteous fury.

Next part will be posted tonight or tomorrow lol. It's very fun <3 <3 sorry that this was mostly buildup instead of the sillies but to the buildup is important!!!

[dreams-writings]

Reverse Interrogation -

Part 2

sub!Feitan x top!reader

‼️NSFW / MDNI ‼️

Synopsis: For the first time in his life, Feitan fails an interrogation. Refusing to admit defeat and give up his perfect track record when it comes to his specialty, he begrudgingly allows reader to strike a bargain in exchange for her secrets.. and is shocked to learn what she truly wants. His body. Frustrated and furious with his predicament, he angrily accepts her conditions purely for the sake of the Troupe, agreeing to do as she says. No other reason...

[afab reader is more experienced, Feitan is a virgin. This part is long, it takes a while to get him to open up.]

Tw: smut, torture, violence, NSFW/MDNI, vulgar language, Feitan gives verbal consent but still isn't happy with the situation/ (dubcon????)

Taglist: @chrollosbiggeststan

"Don't understand request.. why..." Feitan's defensive hiss of displeasure was voiced as he felt the odd and foreign sensation of body weight pooling down upon his hips. Since the start of all this, he'd begrudgingly done exactly as his prior victim asked, to fulfill his end of the bargain they made. If he followed her commands, he would get the answers he'd tortured her for earlier, and failed to pry from her lips by his own terms. Now he had to do it her way.

He'd complained through every second of bandaging her wounds, and changing her into fresh clothing before the main event - one of her first commands to him. But he just couldn't meet her gaze anymore the same way as before if he was being truthful. He was terrified to make eye contact, and melt into a visible puddle of humiliation. Just knowing what they were to do together soon..

He was worried she might see how much the proposition of sexual intercourse affected him. So, he kept his face and his eyes turned away from her in total stubborn avoidance. It was also one of the only ways he could somewhat protest without disobeying, before he figured out more that is. He could be a sly little brat to handle.

She was straddling him, and he squirmed uncomfortably. He hated this. Closeness, intimacy, all of it - Feitan found it extremely detestable and he was already overwhelmed. Feitan didn't know how he was going to get through this for Chrollo. "Why? You heard me and my standards for this little agreement perfectly fine just earlier. Far too late to ask questions now, interrogator. Besides-"

"Can't believe you would.. ask Danchou to his face for this type of arrangement.." the feral man with ebony hair and narrowing gray eyes spat at her in reply, disgust making his lip curl. He continued avoiding her eyes.

"Don't interrupt me," she said, abruptly. Feitan scoffed incredulously, his brow knitting together into an expression of fury. How dare she. Yet, at the same time, he found himself marveled and perplexed. He had to begrudgingly admit.. she had balls, talking back to him, after he was practically tearing her fingernails off not even an hour ago for a chunk of desired intel. He was still very puzzled by her bold personality and the fact that he didn't scare the living daylights out of her.

He could ruin her fucking life. And she was telling him to shut up. The audacity. Although, perhaps a bit of his rage here was tied to his hurt pride and the unexpectedness of this whole situation. He had never failed an interrogation before. This woman was just some sort of freak of nature, or perhaps bloody insane. This whole deal where she supposedly would get to use him like a toy or something.. it felt like the ultimate humiliation. Punishment for his incompetence. This wasn't going to be witnessed by anyone in person, sure - but Chrollo knew. His great respected leader. And that alone was enough to put a stain on his name, and wound his ego astronomically. Hence his rigid resistance.

Nonetheless, he couldn't find the words to bite back anyway, for what he originally meant to say. He knew the foul word for "whore" in his first language but didn't quite recall the verbage to express the insult to her face right now, in hers. He was frustrated with his lack of vocabulary with which he swore he would've weaponized a million clever offenses to cut her down. Unfortunately she had him kind of tongue tied.

A woman... A pretty woman this close.. it wasn't normal for him. Even with people he'd known his whole life. She was a stranger.

Rather, the pale raven was insistent about keeping everyone an arms length away at all times. He didn't like what this was doing to him. He was already beginning to sweat, whether it be from stress or just biological response.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" She practically purred. He felt her shift slightly, probably a purposeful move, shimmying to position herself a little lower down his abdomen. The fucking bitch could feel he was already getting hard, couldn't she?

The poor, touch starved man couldn't help it. A girl wanted to fuck him for the first time and he was furious that his yearning body betrayed him so openly. She would certainly know one way or another, eventually. So he told himself it wouldn't matter if it were unavoidable in the end, anyway.

At least, he did this to avoid the realization that something as unremarkable as her close proximity already had his bloodflow rushing south. In the past, he'd soothed his instinctive reproductive urges like any self isolated male did. Chronic masturbation.

It had been a frequent activity that was intended to simply satisfy his needs and hold him over through a life without any positive touch from anyone. It wasn't ever completely ideal when he knew (supposedly, by his male friends' unsuccessful encouragements) that women felt much better. And looked much better in the flesh than the adult content he read. But he wouldn't know what he was missing out on anyway, would he? Therefore it was all irrelevant.

It's just that he didn't trust anyone to get that close. Phinks had tried to persuade him a time or two, on rare occasions the Troupe hit up a club or bar for whatever reason. Asking him to try and aim for a girl to take home. But Feitan always refused.

"Could be spy or enemy," he would always insist with a huff. And his friends would then proceed to tell him he's too up-tight before running off to find their own temporary mistresses for a scandalous night. He would watch, perhaps feeling a tad left out but not affected enough to complain about it.. knowing full well that if he even tried, he would fail. He wasn't the charming type who could take a girl to bed after just one conversation. There was just no way he could pull that off and he didn't want to get laughed at by the others when it inevitably happened.

Phinks had a confident and self assured masculine presence about him that women were attracted to. He was also big and fit. Shalnark was clever and had a kind of boyish playfulness that often made the girls laugh when he talked. What did Feitan have? A sharp tongue and a grand total of 5ft of height.

As a result, Fei was then left to take over watch for the evening when he returned to base by himself. Someone had to do it, he told himself.

Chrollo would gaze at him as he stepped back into the building solo, giving a sigh. "Just you?" He'd ask.

"Yeah." He'd mumble. And they both understood what had happened.

He was 28 now and he'd continued to deny himself sex for what he considered his own safety. He wasn't ready for all that. Although, perhaps Feitan would have changed his mind had he known what kind of first time he would have. If he'd had any sort of experience then maybe all this repressed desire that he'd deliberately stuffed deep down, wouldn't be resurfacing at a crucially horrible time.

To his dread, all of this made his body so incredibly ready, but his brain was panicking and running in the polar opposite direction as his dick.

Why couldn't it be with a girl he actually tolerated? He'd literally just met her today. And all he knew about her was how she didn't respond to torture, and how her personality annoyed him. In fact, her hauty little attitude was peeving to him, enough that he began to dislike her in such a short amount of time. Or at least he thought he did? She was irritating indeed. But only because she'd bested him. He wouldn't admit to that, so really, who's fault was it?

He could be as horny as humanly possible but it wouldn't change the fact he didn't trust her. Not one bit. He was certainly having intrusive paranoias that she might pin him down and kill him like this if he gave in too much.. if she caught him too weak and distracted. So, he'd protest against his body with his verbal and mental self control. Easy. He had pretty steadfast faith in his willpower.

He just had to endure. Do this ridiculous form of reverse interrogation, if it meant securing crucial information. If he had pride in anything at all in this lifetime, it was that he always carried his weight in the Troupe. He was supposed to be the most reliable by his own self imposed standards. Damn this woman, for having something they needed so badly. And demanding something like this of him, in exchange for it. She must know she had sizeable leverage here.

Feitan always took what he wanted by force. He was a thief, after all. This route suddenly being unavailable to him was difficult to accept. Why did SHE get to have the upper hand and make such a mess of him?

He didn't answer her question about his virginity. Because it shouldn't matter to her. This was an empty business dealing. A bargain. She didn't deserve any scrap of knowledge about him as a person.. or what he has and hasn't lived through.

"Will you be a good boy for me and give me an answer?" she cooed. And Feitan found himself tensing, fists balling up tight as she leaned forward, stomach to stomach, lips lowering to caress his sensitive left ear as she whispered.

"You really don't need to though... I know a touch starved man when I see one. Every time I move, you make the cutest little faces. You've never been touched before by a woman, have you?" She nibbled gently on his ear in a manner that could almost be considered playful. But it made him jump, barely suppressing a yelp of surprise. Thank heavens he was on such high alert.

"Perhaps if you did... You wouldn't have such a stick up your ass." She gave a sly giggle. He was seeing red by now, especially with that irritating little sound she made.

His blood was boiling and Feitan had to practically chew on his tongue to keep from blindly strangling her. She wouldn't have anything smart to say then, would she? But he endured. For Chrollo. For the Troupe. "...fuck you," was all he could say, with all the passion and loathing in the world. His eyes bore daggers into hers as she stared him down, face to face, her lip curling into a coy expression.

"Yes dear, that's the idea. Be patient, you'll get to have that soon."

Feitan gave a sharp gasp as she smoothed her hands up his sides, molding around the shape of his slender waist, and reaching up to his toned arms. Her weight.. her scent.. the softness of her body.. he was pinned down and forced to take it all in. She was truthfully so much woman to experience, in comparison to his contrasting form of high muscle density. She was purely such a visage of femininity.

He was learning that being obsessively alert towards her every movement to ensure his safety had its drawbacks; suddenly hyper aware of the way her back arched into graceful curve when she lifted her hips to hover a little higher above him. Teasingly, her thighs spread like butterfly wings, lowering slowly till they were plush and soft against his abdomen in a tight straddle. Fuck.

"You're acting as though I intend to hurt you. I promise I'll be so gentle with you. Besides, if you really, truly couldn't stand the thought of fucking me, then - you would've declined this exchange offer. Wouldn't you? You're no pushover." She was slithering down closer to his neck now, and he felt his blood pressure rise, his heart rate doing the same as his instincts told him to protect his main arteries. His vitals where her lips were slowly advancing on him.

"Oh, dear... it's feeling a little too tight right here isn't it?" Feitan wasn't prepared for the moment she palmed him without warning, applying some pressure to send a little shockwave through his body, and he bit his lip to stifle any reaction.

"You're so terribly turned on for me right now, isn't that right, Feitan?"

"Not that simple," he spat back resentfully. She should know that. He despised what she was suggesting right now. Was she arrogant enough to think he lusted for her? His defiant thought was interrupted as she moved to reposition her hips a little lower yet again. She planned to gradually inch her way down bit by bit it seemed.. And he held his breath to keep it together through those short moments where her shifting weight provided him with some rubbing sensations to his groin, teasing his undeniably aching hard cock.

Yes.. he felt a bit of a stirring urge just now, admittedly, after watching the lewd way she opened her body up to him. But he rejected the feeling as much as he could, while simultaneously realizing he really wished there wasn't a barrier of clothing in the way.

By now her hair was cascading around him, tickling his collarbones, and he could feel her plush ass settling between the dipped junction of his thighs and hip bones. Not to mention, even through her clothing, he could make out a few anatomical details from between her legs, and determine that his dick was settled right where her clit would be. Torturously separated by undergarments and pants. Despite that, he could still feel a faint warmth, assumingly radiating from her core.

He had truthfully only ever been able to dream of sex before. Feitan knew he was undesirable to women. Short in stature and quite tense in appearance - he was also just as abrasive, cold, and detached as a man could possibly be. Any girl with a scrap of self preservation knew to avoid him.

He was lacking in physical traits that were appealing in terms of social norms, and even moreso in personality. He'd written off the idea of sexual connections entirely, and years ago at that, unwilling to try and be more approachable to achieve it. So, this happening so quickly, not only did it confuse him horrendously - why this woman seemingly thought a chance at his unappealing body was worth a damn dime, but furthermore, his unpreparedness and desperate yearning betrayed him.

He'd only ever fucking daydreamed of being buried balls deep in a hot, tight pussy belonging to a stunning woman such as her. It was so difficult not being tempted now that his own genitalia was hungrily drinking in whatever faint hints of warmth he could cling onto from beneath the crotch of her jeans, like a mouse still clings to its bait from within the trap it's sprung.

As more thoughts of denial crossed his mind, reminding himself he couldn't give in so easily, his eyes ended up transfixed on a pretty view from within the open window of her blouse. Round, full breasts that looked even softer than plump pillows.

Feitan gave a hard swallow as he felt the woman's breath fan over his neck. Was this what a rabbit felt like, cowering under a fox's intentful eye? Or even.. what his victims felt like beneath his malicious aura? A moment later she was kissing there, with surprising reserve. He'd half expected her to voraciously pounce him. He said nothing, struggling to refuse all the impulses he had to end her and this situation right now, while also quietly gulping for air as his lungs compressed inward. Again, no fucking warning was given.

He paused as his brain processed what he was feeling, being kissed. He had not expected such tenderness and it oddly made his ribcage tighten. He just had to endure. Endure. That one goal.. that one mindset was all he could drill into himself at the moment to get through it. Dammit, he could survive anything, which was why he agreed. This was extremely temporary. Hell, he likely wouldn't even be harmed. So it made logical, practical sense to accept the exchange. Suffer temporarily.. and gain a long lasting win for the Troupe. His mind had always worked this way for means of survival. Prioritizing was a skill he had to learn.

Feitan's breath was a bit labored by now, as this woman's kissing continued, and he did also notice as she began to deepen the level of intensity with which she explored the junction of his neck. Tingling butterfly kisses became more sensual and wanton. Her mouth was warm.. her tongue was smooth as she left circling patterns over his skin and then sucked softly here and there at her leisure.

He just needed to focus on something else. Anything else. The creaky ceiling fan above began to look hazy.

Fuck... Fuck, fuck.. she sounded fantastic right now, hungrily suckling on him and moaning in satisfaction as if she couldn't get enough of him. Her sighs were pleasing to his ears. He wanted to just throw caution to the wind, ignore her commands despite his promise, and flip her over into the mattress. All this, to brutally fuck her into submission until she screamed out his name -

Dammit, no- stop it.

He couldn't do that. He couldn't succumb. It was hard to focus on something else. Anything else. But he was grounded in the moment by the sensation he couldn't ignore, no matter how unshakable his willpower typically was.

Her lips were.. oh so soft. He could not block out the slight details, like the wet remnants where her intimate path had left behind, and the cold rush that followed if any surrounding air were to billow past. "So pale," she commented on his complexion, once she'd abruptly pulled away, to Feitan's surprise. Her voice unexpectedly was lacking that same sense of mockery as before. It caught him off guard and he struggled to catch back up again before she was already upon him like before. Why now, did she sound so doting?

"....you're so fucking pretty." She cooed.

I am?

He almost answered aloud.

It was mortifying that such a simple compliment made his ears redden at the tips. Did she really think that about him? He wasn't used to receiving them. It was certainly a first if someone thought that way about him, with his prominent stress lines aging his skin from years of jaw clenching and tension.. and his tired, exhausted eyes. He was too small to be attractive and too cold on the surface to draw people in. How could he be beautiful to someone with eyes?

"You wanna watch me touch myself before I play with you? Maybe then you'll appreciate it more, since you're still trying to resist what your body wants,"

She made the suggestion as she scooted back a little more, notably removing the pressure off his member for a moment, but he was somewhat relieved when it returned a second later after having been positioned to sit upright. He didn't resist.

Feitan was quiet for a moment, unsure of what to do or what to look at, as she wordlessly started to unbutton her pants. He thought he was going to have a moment of recovery time, his gaze and his thoughts distracted momentarily as he noticed some of her blood from before still caked against the steel chair he had set up for interrogations. He was about to contemplate how he ended up here.. but he was snapped back into the present when he felt her other free hand wrap around his neck.

"Kiss me.. but I also want you to watch closely. That's going to be one of my demands, actually. Don't take your eyes off my fingers as I show you how to touch women. You need to learn it."

She didn't hesitate to connect their lips into a heated kiss - suckling rather lewdly on him. He was preoccupied dealing with this, noticing she tasted sweet yet a little metallic at the same time.. probably some remnants of her blood still lingering on her mouth. He didn't mind it, being utterly desensitized to all things gore related, moreso just bothered by the fact that this was intense and he was slightly overstimulated.

His ears picked up on a sound other than the exchange of wet kisses, however, and a brief moment of confusion passed when he realized what he might be hearing. Instantly, he pulled away from her, eyes lowering to determine if he was right.

He almost gave a strangled gasp at the sight, but instead kept the outward response limited to his expression. Her drooling cunt was presented to him clearly, seated in his lap and weeping with aroused lubrication. It aided her two fingers as she rotated them skillfully in a steady pattern, drawing his attention in to the point of unhealthy fixation as he observed her getting off right on top of him.

"Fei.. Feitan.. are you watching me..? You should be watching and learning.. maybe I'll let you touch me like this if you're good to me.."

She was panting softly, her other arm wrapped around his shoulders to hold herself up, and thoughtlessly, he found himself grasping onto her to keep her still, assisting her in maintaining this position. He just watched. Hungrily drinking in every minute detail.

He was still quite resistant to all this physical touch, but mostly just struggling to accept that he was feeling a profound reproductive response throbbing from his nether regions, begging him to receive more attention from a girl who perhaps wanted him. Hell, the amount of wet slick clinging to her fingers and glistening in the candlelight definitely suggested she did. Maybe this wasn't all just mock him, after all.

He would never admit it.. but perhaps it was stupid of him to expect that this wouldn't affect him at all. That he could just defy his urges because he was stubborn and egotistical. "I can't wait to have you," she whined, with her fingers submerged up to the base of her knuckles inside her pretty hole.

This declaration left him shaken. Such a crude implication in all these words. Feitan found himself giving a helpless huff of exasperation, realizing he might think she could look cute bouncing on his cock. He was in awe, listening so intently to the heavenly sounds of female masturbation.. and becoming acquainted with the wet symphony of her fingers massaging and stretching her insides. He really liked these noises.

The steady waves of arousal that rode through his body made him grip the sheets just a little tighter when she promised to fuck him. Scatteredly, he thought to himself.. is this what it is like, to feel desirable? She said she couldn't wait to have him. God.. it was good when she said it that way. Would she say more nice things to him maybe? Even if he didn't ask? Cuz he wouldn't.

"It feels so good when you watch me, Feitan.. watch how I touch my clit.."

And he did. His intense gray hues were full of fire as his gaze bore into the space where her fingers worked, noticing the precise movements and how she would rotate between penetrative stimulation, and then back to slowly rubbing circles against the sensitive bud of her clitoris. Her pink pussy reminded him of a pretty flower, spreading apart the petals to play with the sweet nectar leaking from within.

"You want to feel like this too..? Let me teach you how to have some fun.. since you're such an overworked man."

She began to sit up, and he stayed put, still in a trance and unsure of himself this far into it. "I want your mind to be empty for a while. Wouldn't that be so nice? For a stressed and weary man like you? It's about time you got to try it too... The same kind of fun your teammates get to have with the pretty little things they find off the streets or from the bars after a mission. The fun Chrollo has had.. and likely even a creep like Hisoka too.. don't you think you deserve it as well?"

But there was no turn to speak when he found his lips claimed again by hers, melding between the spaces of his own. Her hands, they ghosted up his wrists and intertwined fingers, pressing him needily down into the springy mattress below. It gave a creak under the shifting weight distribution.

Feitan growled softly, making a grimace, but she wasn't going too fast surprisingly. The kisses were lingering, and Feitan was just seeing how all of this felt for the first time. Whether he liked it or not, and with her - this was likely the first and last time he'd ever experience this common phenomenon which was a miracle in his personal books. Curiosity existed deep down inside his mind, naturally. The more she coaxed him in with little addictive samples of touch, the more he was seduced into temptation towards her words. She was.. persuasive. Not just with her honey sweet promises but with her body too. He kind of resented her for it.. for making him feel so fragile.

He didn't kiss her back - he still didn't know how, and he was embarrassed that it might be obvious. Feitan was suddenly shy and clamming up quickly, but he was enduring. Doing as he'd promised.

His genuine surprise began to really set in when he felt something strange on his head. He hadn't noticed through her attempts to make out with him that her hand had slipped away and was now tangling up through his hair. The dark raven locks sifted between her fingers as she began to.. pet him?? It was more like little strokes, in a gradual pattern. He felt the resulting sensation against his head to actually be rather soothing for his headache. He almost always had headaches...

"W-What.. why ..." He had broken away to voice his dumbfounded concern. "Relax," she tried, and Feitan scowled. "No," he retorted. Still stubborn as ever. But something in her expression gave him the feeling that his attitude didn't actually bother her.

He doubled back when she leaned forward suddenly, to stare him down and whisper softly. A challenge in her eyes. "I could be a whole lot meaner to you, interrogator. I really could. I'm being so gracious to you, after all you've done to torment me earlier."

He just stared back at her, but his look was more calculating this time. Trying to test her boundaries here and figure out how far he could still push her, without receiving concequences. Because Feitan knew he could endure torture if that's what she was suggesting. He had before and he would do it again if he had to. To him, it was not a foreign experience by any means.

If anything, the current situation was more challenging, and more frightening. Still, the problem was that if she hurt him, he was sure he'd go ballistic, and murder the Troupe's one potential source of information. He had to stay put.

"Good," she praised, as if she could see the moment he mentally accepted his fate through reasoning. He just ignored her. He would stop questioning her actions so long as it didn't hurt.

"I'm going to start now." Even with a warning, Feitan experienced a bit of a shock as she slipped her hands beneath his garments, a slight gasp of fright, at fingers caressing his bare flesh. "My, I can tell you're a beautiful man beneath the thick clothes. You're so stunning, you know that?"

Feitan shuddered, finding himself baffled by the compliments, and unable to refuse the flush overcoming his body from more rare flattery. But it was still strange to him, her tactics, and how she spoke to him with a voice that wasn't commanding.. but moreso sweet and cunning. The confidence was jarring, because he felt he couldn't offset her goals here even with his insults if he tried. It made it tempting to give up the act. Nothing was working - his stoicism tactic was crumbling. He didn't know how to combat an approach that was so.. passive. Her tone was always sappy, like sugary syrup, since the start of this. Was this seduction? Why the fuck would anyone want to put the effort into seducing him anyway?

Feitan's muscles continued to retract and tense beneath her touch, feeling her fingers slide down the plains and ridges of his stomach. Couldn't she just fuck him already and get it over with? The more he complained though, the more she seemed to punish him by dragging it all out. He repressed a sigh of impatience.

This was taking fucking ages. And the warm stirring in his nether regions was getting a little more unbearable than even she was to him, with how painful his erection was growing. The surging bloodflow literally hurt to a degree. That stunt she pulled a bit ago with her fingers in her cunt really left him hopeless when it came to any prior potential recovery. He was doomed and horny beyond fucking belief.

With her descending movement he was suddenly, painfully aware of plush breasts cushioning themselves against his chest. His next breath was a bit heavier, and he would tell himself it was the extra weight. She was kissing him again.. it was like she was trying to condition him or something. Because it was getting a lot more bearable, out of frequent exposure. He was acclimating to the circumstances by repetition.

She wasn't saying anything to him but she did suddenly begin pushing him along into new territory by steadily rocking her hips in a sensual, hypnotic rhythm.

"Oh fuck.."

Feitan hissed at the new sensation before spitting out a curse. He legitimately couldn't spare the thought to be humiliated because the rush of relief was so fucking good. The teasing.. it all must've been deliberate, because now, he could really only think of chasing more and more of this feeling. It was just a natural reaction that he had no true willpower over.

She was using his whole stubborn act against him with the subtle, light stimulation. The fucking bitch was teasing him even more now, giving him scraps when he wanted a feast.

"How is it? It's going to get much better for you soon," she told him, and he ignored her again. He was busy trying to handle this sudden overload of sensory input all at once. His cold hands had shot up to grip her waist where the pleasing motion was coming from as she began again, hearing the bed creak in rhythm with the rocking. It was just a little bit of rubbing, getting him off through his clothes - but it was enough to make him feel extra warm down there. He groaned in a mixture of annoyance with her clever tactics, as well as more relief when he started matching her motions with a furious amount of insistence. He just wanted his cock stimulated now, that's all he cared about anymore, god dammit.

"How do you think it will feel, being inside me? We haven't even gotten close to the real thing. You're not ready. I knew I'd have to be patient with you.. but you're getting there."

It struck him as peculiar that she cared even remotely whether or not he was ready. In truth he didn't think he ever could be, but he was also not able to pay much mind to her words when he found himself preoccupied noticing other things.

The grace to her motions, the pressing sensation of her tits with every roll of her body, flush against his chest for his viewing pleasure. He was watching her spine do the work, observing the curvature of her hips and ass. What a strange way to move. Yet he found himself mindlessly enraptured. Hypnotized. He was slipping, enough not to consider trying to regain his composure now.

Fuck.. she was sexy. Always had been. He had definitely been eyeing her before during the interrogation when he was in charge of the power dynamic - he just doubted she'd notice. But there were other signs. The dragging of icy cold metal, from his tools - over compromising areas.. hoping to see a reaction. Elated, and delighting in it if there was. Even if all he got was a gasp or some goosebumps. She was a work of art. With or without his angry blades carving and bleeding crimson designs into her. Instead, apparently, he'd get to pierce into her a different way.

He didn't resist too much now, trying to just get through this with minimally damaged pride, as she kept grinding on him and soon returned back to kissing him. He didn't actively pull away or reject her anymore, nor did he return the gestures. He just sat like a puppet for use, letting her use his lips, and paying attention to how it actually felt.

Feitan's shoulders eased up a tad bit as he focused solely on that warm pit growing in his stomach. It was liberating, as well as the fact that his prior pounding head was ebbing away into something empty. Thoughtless. Perhaps it was the strokes through his hair that made him release tense muscles that he hadn't even realized were strung up tight. Or the comfort of her warmth.

Feitan had really overworked himself within the Troupe, because his duties were all he had left for a sense of purpose. It was typically something he took too far. No breaks. He was just up-tight in general, as a human being. So such a sudden release of all this pent up repression was kind of unfathomable. His mind was turning off slowly..all that could be left was primal instinct.

His victim opened her mouth and traced the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip - an open mouthed kiss for the first time was enough to make him shake, feeling a twitch between his legs, and he released his tight fists from the sheets to ball up in the material of her shirt.

He gave consistent puffs of air accompanied by a gasp or two between their tongues twirling. Without his noticing, he'd begun rolling his hips willingly, slowly in sync to meet with her fluid movements every now and again. It was truthfully a relief. he panted quietly as her hands yet again reached up to grope and feel him beneath his long tunic.

"You're feeling good, aren't you? You look so stunning. So relaxed. This is truly all I wanted from you." She purred warmly and lifted a hand to brush a few strands of hair away from his face. He winced away like a flighty, untamed cat.

Deep inside his mind, that normal part of his stubborn personality that had been melted away, yelled out that this was a trap and she must've hypnotized him with some cheap technique involving nen. He couldn't be this weak.

But since when did being weak feel so fucking good? It seemed she meant to prove her point because he realized a moment later that her head was missing. He felt her stirring to crawl beneath the thin blankets.

A groan of disappointment came from him followed at the loss of pressure around his groin area. His captor giggled. Or... Was she technically his captive victim still?

"Be a little patient for me, sweetheart. You're about to be rewarded for trying things my way. Close your eyes and relax for me, alright? I'm going to suck you off now. You're being so, so good." Being praised like a fucking pet dog was utterly humiliating, so why did his chest feel a swell of warmth?

A lurch of excitement also came suddenly with the mere possibility of receiving his first blowjob - which he kind of hated himself for too. God, he definitely had to kill this woman after they fucked if he ever wanted to see his face in the mirror and not feel his pride crumble at his feet. Where the absolute fuck was his unyielding dignity right now? He needed it. Yet the part of his mind that wanted to melt into her words and her body, told him it was fine. He could hate the woman and yet love her body simultaneously. No need to fret over it. She was making for a promising fuck so far.

"Hurry up," he demanded, and by now his blood was on fire at the sensation of lean, clever fingers lowering down his trousers slowly and pulling his out his cock, to place the tip in-between a pair of lovely lips. "I was just going to admire you for a moment.. but if you insist my love, then, as you wish." She stroked it a few times, causing him to grit his teeth.

The snug warmth that enveloped him a second later was like a fucking godsend to him. Her mouth was hot, and his dick felt great in it.

"Fuck, yes-" he cursed through gritted teeth, feeling his head fall back into place upon his pillow, a sweet sigh cascading from his mouth. His shoulders practically gave out at that moment, the usual tight expression stuck plastered to his face loosening into a blissed out look of numb content. He could see why Phinks had told him for years that he desperately needed to get laid. This was fucking great.

Feitan kind of just stayed there like that and fixated on every sensation as she got started on him. Her nails grazing over the ridges of his hip bones, her tongue prodding against the underside of his cock, then swirling across the head in a way that made him throb. She was taking her time but he didn't mind now.

Once she actually took him all the way in and started getting him off, she was messy and unapologetic with the way she sucked dick. But it wasn't unpracticed or sloppy. She blew him like a professional whore and he was a twitching, shuddering wreck. His hesitant, quiet moans were genuine, even if muffled by his hand in complete embarrassment. He was just so sensitive all over.

This woman knew how to incorporate every part of her mouth, to create the most utterly irresistible cock sleeve for his free use. Once she began to take him in deeper, he instantly loved the tight, gummy walls of her velvety throat squeezing him in a way that made him feel feral. Before he knew it, he was breathing huskily, drowning in euphoria all the while humping shallow thrusts down her throat. He couldn't help it. He could not stop.

She was salivating heavily now, creating a gutteral squelch that was muffled in the back of her mouth with every single beat of motion that had him fully sheathed, his tip kissing the part of her soft pallet which was furthest back in her throat. Better yet, she moaned after giving a slight gag, and Feitan's breath hitched as his nails dug into her head at the vibration, thin fingers dragging through her hair. "Keep.. keep on.. sucking it.. yea..." He pleaded with her mindlessly. He was sweating and hot, body heating up and flushing with more and more lust.

The dusty, echoey room was filled with a light reverberation of her gulps and his panting. He was a mess by now, head resting back on his pillow as his limbs began to feel odd. Like jelly. Was this normal at all? Whatever. He'd just keep fucking into her mouth as he pleased with wild abandon. But.. suddenly his cock was released from where he felt it should belong.

"How are we feeling?" She purred at him, after having pulled lifted the blankets to peek up at him through hopeful lashes. Feitan gave a low growl at the loss of warmth because the building, twisting sensation in his core had abruptly unravelled... Disappeared the moment she confiscated her heavenly mouth from him, holding her lips hostage away from his now twitching, aching penis.

"Why you stop?" he barked, lifting his head to glare at her. The woman just chuckled. "Enjoying it that much, huh? I thought you were supposed to be impossible to break."

He rolled his eyes.

"I only stopped because I could tell you were getting a little too close. I wouldn't want to provoke a man like you with orgasm denial. That would've pissed you off even more, wouldn't it?" She said. Her reasoning was sound of course but Feitan wouldn't say so. He also didn't like the sinister twinkle in her eye as she said that.

"Besides. I want what I came here for. What I bargained to have. I want to claim your first time, and I'm gonna take your virgin cum inside me. Once it's mine, you can't give it to anyone else the same way, ever again... Okay?"

For a second he was really questioning if she had a couple screws loose too many - but he was one to talk. He ended up deciding he didn't care enough to say anything. If she had some sort of weird fetish with the circumstances then that wasn't his business. He was just pleased that he'd get to fuck at this point.

"You know how it works?" She asked, almost teasingly, and Feitan grunted as she lifted herself up and placed her weight back down on him, her hips moreso pressed onto his tummy temporarily.

"Of course, not an idiot" he grumbled. "If you here to take innocent person, I am not."

Rude of her to assume he was that stupid. After all, he was an enthusiast about specific kinds of content that he read, which had taught him about the act and all its possibilities ages ago. Hell, he could probably put up a case that he was a shit ton less innocent than she was, based on that kind of exposure alone - but he wouldn't make the attempt. Maybe she liked hardcore BDSM comics too, judging on the way she had him purposefully pinned with her straddled legs whenever given the opportunity.

"I'm going to take you inside me now and ride you, ok?" She seemed to be trying to distract him momentarily from what was happening in case he was nervous but really, Feitan was just antsy and getting tired of waiting. He wanted that empty headed, mind numbing, drugged out feeling he had earlier which made his fucking brain empty.

"Just fuck me already, whore. No more wait," he huffed. Seems he could remember the word after all.

The girl laughed. "Talk to me like that again and you might regret it," she practically purred. He found it a bit alarming and strange that her threats always came in a chiming tone of voice. Such a light, upbeat way of saying it made him suspicious of what might happen if he did it again. He'd never seen such a tactic before. MAYBE he could admit to himself that it was a little frightening.. but he'd never give her that satisfaction.

"Now, you are to do exactly what I tell you.. this is about what I want, so you're going to just lay there and take it obediently until I'm all finished with you, kay~? You've been so wonderfully compliant and I'd hate to have to wring submission from you the hard way."

She spoke with a sly smile as he watched her arms cross over her torso and latch beneath her slightly blood splattered shirt. Another reminder of the pain he inflicted her with earlier, and how she somehow still wanted anything to do with him. It was beyond his understanding.

He watched attentively as she undressed herself completely, starring in silence as he realized this was his first time seeing a real woman completely bare. Her skin was smooth.. she was admittedly very pretty and well built. Any other guy might even say he was lucky. But right now his eyes were stuck on some of the wounds he'd given her during their interrogation. It left him baffled how they seemingly didn't bother her.. but seeing marks on her by his hand oddly amped up his arousal a bit. He'd left a few imprints on her nice little figure. She could lay claim onto him by saying she took his first time.. but her scars would last visibly forever. She was *his* first.

"You can touch.. you have my permission," she told him, and he huffed softly. He didn't need her permission, he was just going to do what he wanted to. He didn't particularly like this woman but he enjoyed how she felt and how she looked. That didn't have to have anything to do with her actual personality or their relationship of course. He could still just kill her after this, so Feitan didn't hesitate to reach for her tits and grab at them greedily with eager hands.

Arms outstretched, be began to knead them, quite interested in the way they moved. Not exactly what he had ever imagined in person but he sure as hell wasn't disappointed. Soft, and almost squishy, pooling in between the spaces of his fingers anytime he massaged them. He didn't notice that he was somewhat wearing his fascination on his sleeve here, eyes transfixed and hungry.

To his surprise she made a sound, the moment his thumbs grazed over pink nipples. A little shuddering breath - and his eyes shot up to her face, completely in awe over the idea that HE had caused that this time. So far she had only done things to him.. she hadn't let her composure slip until now.

Feitan found himself wanting more of that,to establish more control - before he could even stop himself. Though.. he wasn't the one in charge here. It was part of the bargain that Feitan follow her directions. Do what she wanted. And to his utter dumbfounded confusion she seemed to want to focus her efforts on him, instead of forcing him to do all the work. It made no fucking sense to him what she could gain by eliciting reactions from him.

His dick still wet from her mouth, she pushed his coat fully up to his hips, motioning for him to remove it entirely, and he reluctantly did so without a word. He sat up, pulling it over his head, finding himself merely a few inches away from her chest once he had tossed the article over the edge. Before he could lay back down fully however, she stopped him, lacing her arms around his ribcage. "Stay right here," she whispered. "Look at me, for every second and every inch that I take of you inside me."

The order made his stomach flip flop in a weird sort of way, but again he would wordlessly follow it, jolting as he felt her fingers wrap back around his swollen need. Her thumb brushed between the slit of his pink head, teasingly smearing a bit of precum over the top, and then he felt her begin to guide his length where it needed to be. Somehow, in that one frozen moment in time, he realized many things. That he was quivering, holding his breath, hands lowering to grip needily at her hips and pull her down prematurely straight onto his throbbing cock so he might feel the perfect sensation of sexual pleasure once again. That warm stimulation he had become acquainted with by her mouth just a bit earlier.. he really really needed that back for some reason.

Feitan gave his first real groan as soon as she stopped his insistent behavior, placing a hand on his chest, meanwhile she simply lowered herself to align him with her sopping cunt. He could feel the heat emitting from inside her..

And at that moment it dawned on him how he really felt about this. He was ready. He wanted to have sex with her and he felt prepared, thanks to her slow acclimation techniques.

He wouldn't say anything about it but it was subtly present in the way he adjusted his grip to hold on to her a little differently, to assist in her descent.

He sure didn't know what he was in for.. but he was about to find out that the beginning.. was all child's play.

She had some plans for him, that were intended to break him down further.

[silentglassbreak]

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

I’m getting some of the most amazing comments and reblogs, I thank you all so deeply!! I love this story so much. I love where I know it’s going, so please trust me?

Warnings: Good ol' fashioned misery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86

Part 4 - Graveyard

I could feel how flighty she was, like a feral cat that could scurry with any sudden movements. I held my hands out, trying to ease tension, and failing.

“Baby,” Her face was unreadable. Something between bewilderment and pure shock, but also seething rage, possibly. “nothing happened.”

She stared at me, waiting for me to say more, but I didn’t.

“That’s all you’ve got?” She was mocking me, and my stupidity. Good. I deserve it.

“Yes. Because that’s all there is.”

Her eye roll was as dramatic as they come, nearly making her head spin.

“Well, she was sure worked the fuck up, Noah. Sounded like a little more than nothing.”

The evenness in her voice contradicted her body language. She was now stood, hands in the air, confrontational.

“She’s insane.”

Her eyebrows jumped, a look of disbelief on her face.

“A girl essentially professes her love to you, and you call her insane?”

Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Leena, I’m not just being an asshole here. She has actually fucking lost it.”

I tried to mimic her calm, hoping this would steer the conversation on a healthier course.

That hope was thrown out when her voice jumped several decibels.

“Oh fuck you, Noah!” I could see them now, the hot, angry tears, rising to the surface, not quite ready to spill over. “People aren’t just so fucking obsessed with you that they make that kind of shit up!”

My eyes were staring at her, a frantic anxiety now rising inside me.

“She did! I’ve never, not fucking once, given her any ideas! She’s fucking mental, Mileena!”

“What happened at the club, Noah?” Her voice was back down, her hands hanging helpless at her sides.

“Nothing happened. We talked, and she spilled a fucking drink on me, and herself, so I-“

“Back up.” She put her hand up. “Don’t gloss over the details. Walk me through it.”

I shrugged hard. “I was alone, sitting on the couch, and she came over to talk to me. She had already had a few, and was pretty drunk when she approached me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, frustration bubbling. “She spilled her drink on both of us.”

“So you were sitting pretty close together?” She raised an eyebrow, her arms again crossed in front of her.

“Jesus, Mileena, it’s a club! It was loud!” I threw my hands in the air and eyed her, irritated. “Since when are you the jealous type?!”

Her mouth fell open, and I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth. What a stupid fucking thing to say. Of course she’s not. That’s not what this was.

“The jealous type?!” How do I delete the last ten seconds? “You think this is me being jealous?!”

Ctrl + Alt + Del?! End Task?!

“You’re the one that’s fucking insane, Noah!” She turned, grabbing her phone off of the nightstand. “Let me show you how your behavior changed since that night.”

She unlocked her phone, opened our thread, and began scrolling. I didn’t even need to be close to see, my texts were back to back, five to six at a time, or paragraph long messages. She switched to her call logs, which was just my name over and over the past several days.

I would like to hand in my resignation to life now, please.

“Since that night, you’ve been blowing me up, and being extra affectionate, and clingy.” She scoffed, locking her phone and tossing it on the bed. “First I thought you just missed me but-“

“I did miss you!”

“You felt fucking guilty, Noah!” Her voice was nearing a scream. “Now quit pussy-footing around it and tell me what fucking happened that night!”

I sat down in the bed, and took a deep breath.

“Please believe me when I tell you, nothing actually happened.”

She stayed planted, several feet away.

“We left the club, I gave her a ride because she was going to Uber, and that wasn’t safe.” She was deathly silent. “Car ride took about thirty minutes because of traffic. We just listened to music, sang the songs on the radio.”

“She made a bit of a pass at me before she got out, saying something like she wanted to get to know me better? Or something like that. I don’t remember verbatim.”

“Then?”

“I went back to the club.”

She shifted her weight, leaning back on the desk against the wall. “That’s it? That’s all?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “No.”

She visibly tensed, so I just went on.

“She texted me later. Said she left her vape in the car.” I looked up at her, trying to earn some kind of emotion. I was met with nothing but ice. “So I went to go get it.”

“She couldn’t get it herself?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. She could’ve. She offered.

“I found it, and took it to her room.” Her face almost looked like it was turning a sickly shade of green. “She opened the door, in her underwear, and a crop top.”

Her fingers were gripping the edge of the desk so hard that it was likely to snap if she didn’t let up.

“She invited me in. I left. Went back to my room. And avoided her ever since.”

Her hands eased ever so gently, but she didn’t let up her gaze. Seeing she wasn’t satisfied with that, I swiped my own phone from the table, and opened to Rachel’s text thread, handing her the phone.

“See? Nothing.”

She scrolled, eyes reading the one-sided conversation from the last few days.

“Only other thing I can tell you is that Folio told me that she said some shit to him at the bar, that she liked me? Or wanted to sleep with me?” I sighed. “I don’t know, and I don’t really care.”

She nodded, locking my phone, but still had yet to speak. She was thinking, going over it in her head, checking for holes, but there were none. That was all of it. I didn’t do anything wrong.

“I have only one question.” She handed my phone back to me, and I just nodded. “In the hall, she asked you if you considered it, going in her room. If you thought about it.”

My stomach dropped, my mouth went dry, and my heart stopped, all in the same fraction of a second before her next words came out.

“Did you?”

Where do I go from here? My brain, my heart, and all of my senses screamed at me to lie.

But I couldn’t.

Last time I lied to Mileena, I was drinking. And she left me. And who would know? Who could prove me wrong?

But…I couldn’t.

“Yes.”

I saw something, I can’t say what exactly, break behind her eyes. A tear finally spilled out over her cheek, and I saw her jaw clench under her skin. I felt as though I had just cut a cord on a rope bridge that held me up, and now I was just falling. Plummeting.

“Oh…” Her voice was so small now, and I felt something inside me shredding. Screaming. I’m such a fucking idiot.

Good one, Sebastian. Way to take it to your grave, dumbass.

But this was a grave, that I somehow ended up in, that I didn’t even fucking dig. It was fucking aggravating.

I stood up, reaching for her, but she flinched, putting an arm up between us, and squeezed her lids closed. More tears leaked from her eyes, and she only cracked them open for a second.

“Can you, uh, give me a few minutes?” She averted her eyes away, and I backed away from her out of respect. “I’m just…” She waved her hands around her head. “processing.”

I nodded. “Of course.” Shrugging, I pulled my shirt off. “I can take a shower? And we can talk more after?”

She only nodded in response, wiping her face.

I made my way into the bathroom, leaving the door open. I decided to take a quick shower, trying to wash the anxiety off of me. It was out in the open now, the fun part was working through it, and reminding Leena that no one else compared to her, and my idiotic brain was never going to turn on me like that again.

Imagine my shock when I stepped out of the bathroom, and my hotel room was empty, her bag, phone, and shoes gone. I ran over to my cell, opening it to call her when it began ringing, Nick’s face flashing.

I opened the call with haste. “What’s up?” My voice was frantic.

“Dude, what the fuck happened?!”

-

My fist was slamming into the door harder with each swing, the phone up to my ear telling me I was getting voicemail, again.

I growled, and beat on the door harder. “Open the fucking door, Rachel!”

I felt a set of hands on my shoulders, tugging backward.

“Noah! Calm the fuck down!” I fought back against Folio, as the door to the room swung open.

Rachel’s eyes were still thick with sleep, her hair hanging in a low ponytail. This time, she was fully clothed. Hilarious.

“You fucking psychopath!” My logical brain was gone, and I was fully primal, as I lunged toward her. Several hands had me around the waist, arms, and one on my chest. Nick’s face came into my line of vision.

“Noah, stop! Fucking stop!”

“No! She’s fucking insane! She knows what the fuck she’s doing!” I was baring my teeth like an animal, my hands balled into fists.

She stared at me, terrified, eyes blown wide and nearly hiding behind the door.

“W-What are you talking about?” Her words were timid, which only enraged me further.

“Don’t pull that bullshit! You knew she’d hear you! You manipulative bitch!”

A hard slap came across my cheek, and I glared over at Nick, who had taken a defensive step back.

As angry as I should’ve been, I was instead brought back to reality, realizing it was at least 1AM, in a hotel hallway.

“You good, dude?” My eyes stared at his, my body softening with each passing second. Eventually, the hands holding me loosened, and I shrugged away from them.

I nodded at Nick, who pushed my shoulder down the hallway toward another door. “C’mon dude, let’s go talk.”

“Is he drunk?” I could hear Rachel’s voice behind me, and I snarled, almost turning around before I heard Folio.

“Oh shut up, Rachel. You’ve done enough.”

Safely inside the room, I sat heavily on the bed, and dropped my head in my hands. My friends stood around me, staring down at me.

“She left?” Folio’s voice was sad, and I just nodded, staring at the floor.

“She came and got Laura about half an hour ago. She was crying. Said they had to leave.”

I picked my head up. “Laura was in your room?”

Nick raised his brows at me. “Is that really your concern right now?”

I heaved a breath and flopped back onto the bed, covering my face with both arms.

“She’s not answering my calls.”

“Fill us in, man.” Jolly sat next to me.

I had to go through all of the details again, them all asking various questions. By the end, I was more calm, but still so fucking angry.

“I’ve got to get home, man. I can’t ride back with her.”

Nick nodded. “We can rent a car in the morning? Drive back alone?”

“Pfft, and leave us with the wicked witch?”

I snorted at Folio’s comment.

“What the fuck am I going to do?”

“For starters, I’m calling Sumerian tomorrow. Figure out our options, legally.” Leave it to Jolly to use his right mind. “For now, you need to stay away from her.”

Standing up, I moved toward the bedroom door, squeezing the handle before opening it. “Not a problem. Just keep her the fuck away from me.”

Back in my room, I promptly blocked Rachel’s number from my phone, electing not to send her a last scathing text message.

I then, profusely, called Mileena. I was met with voicemail, leaving a few in my endeavor to reach her. I must have done this for hours before finally falling asleep, fully clothed, on top of the comforter.

When I awoke, Nick was jostling my shoulder, a duffel hanging from his shoulder.

“Let’s go, Sleeping Beauty. I’ve got the rental downstairs.”

I obeyed, gathering my things haphazardly, and following him to the lobby, not bothering to stop to brush my teeth or comb my hair. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered.

The drive back to Calabasas was long, hot, and irritating. I was slumped in the passenger’s seat while Nick drove. About half an hour in, I finally spoke.

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

Nick scoffed. “Please.” I glanced at him inquisitively. “She’s forgiven you for worse.”

I bumped my head back into the headrest repeatedly, groaning. “I hate this.”

“I know. But it’ll all work out, dude. Mileena loves you, and she’s a reasonable person.”

I nodded, accepting that answer.

“So…” He turned to look at me for a second. “You and Laura?” This made him crack a smile, that I returned.

“She’s fucking cool, dude.”

I slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Damn good baker, too.”

He nodded. “Yeah, she made me this cheesecake for my birthday? Fuck, man. Amazing!”

My mouth fell open. “Your birthday was five months ago!”

He laughed. “Dude, you miss a lot.”

I shook my head. “You little shit, couldn’t tell your best friend?!”

“Sure, if my best friend wasn’t always so wrapped up in his own drama.”

I punched a fist at his shoulder, laughing.

“Jackass.”

-

I opened the front door, and was met with overwhelming silence. No Angel barking. No TV playing. No voices. Nothing.

I moved slowly into the house, feeling an overwhelming nausea, as I bound up the stairs toward my room to deposit my bag. It was clear no one was here, but I didn’t know what to expect the further into the house I got.

The note was laying on the middle of the bed, but I didn’t pick it up immediately. I set my bag down and opened one of the dresser drawers, Leena’s pants drawer, which was empty. I then walked into the closet, where all I found were empty hangers on her side. I jogged down the hall to Addie’s room, where I found her walker, diapers, wipes, and clothes were gone. Even Angel’s bed that was always laid in the corner was gone.

My heart sunk, and I walked slowly back to my room, picking up the folded paper on the blanket, opening it to see her clean script.

Addie, Angel, and I will be staying at Laura’s for a while. Dad left this morning. When you’re ready to come see the baby, text Laura.

-Leena

I dropped the note, it falling gently back to the bed. Without thinking, my hand grabbed the lamp on the side table, slinging it at the wall behind the dresser, causing it to shatter.

“God damn it!” I screamed, my words echoing around the empty house. The tears fell hot onto the bed, my teeth grinding tightly together.

-

I let a few hours pass, taking a cold shower, and forcing myself to calm down. I ate a bowl of cereal, choking down each bite while fighting against the nausea settled in my gut. After I had gotten dressed, and relaxed enough to know I wouldn't explode at any given moment, I texted Laura.

Me: Hey

I didn't have to wait long.

Laura: Hey

Me: Can I come see Addie?

Laura: Of course

The drive to her house took about twenty minutes. I had rehearsed over and over what I would say to Leena, how I would convince her to come back home with me. How we could move past this.

But when I pulled up to the house, I was disappointed to see only Laura's car in the driveway, Leena's Tahoe nowhere in sight.

When Laura answered the door, she had Addison on her hip, who gave a large, single-toothed smile as soon as she saw me. Any hesitation and anxiety I had melted the very second I laid eyes on my daughter. I hadn't held her in months, and right now, all that mattered was her.

"Hey baby girl!" She reached her little arms out for me, and I scooped her up enthusiastically, planting a long, hard kiss on her cheek. She squealed in excitement. "Ugh, I missed you so much."

I squeezed her into my chest, her hands grabbing at my hair. She smelled so sweet, the baby scent still having a full effect on me. Laura moved to the side to let me in, and Angel ran up, barking in excitement.

"Hey buddy!" I squatted down, still holding Addie, and ran a hand over Angel, who licked me with fervor. "Been taking care of my girls?"

He barked in response.

I stood back up, and gave Laura a smile, not entirely sure where we stood. She returned it, a warm look in her eyes. I felt some relief, knowing I had someone on my side.

"Hey Noah." She gave me a one-armed hug, almost sympathetically, and shut the door behind me.

I walked over to the couch, sitting and letting Addie down. She began walking on wobbly legs toward her toys sprawled across the rug, Angel right behind, always watching.

"She's not here?" I looked up at Laura, who had sat cross-legged across from me on the floor. She just shook her head sadly. "Can I ask where she is?"

She just sighed. "She's asked me not to say. She wants to be alone."

I nodded, not surprised. "I don't know what to do Laura."

She leaned back on her palms, stretching her legs. "I wish I could tell you, hon. But I don't know. She's hurt."

I huffed, frustrated. "I didn't do anything. I was good, I didn't cheat on her, I didn't fuck around."

Laura eyed me, unamused. "Noah, you admitted you thought about sleeping with another woman." She put her hand up, gesturing to me. "Can you say you'd feel different if she did that to you?"

I considered this, realizing I hadn't thought about it that way at all. She had a valid point.

"Fair. I just want the chance to explain that it doesn't matter. I love her, no one else. I don't want anyone else."

Her eyes were so soft. Laura heard me, which I appreciated. Hopefully she could convince Leena of the same.

I spent two hours playing with Addie, and feeding her lunch, before Laura excused herself to the bedroom to take a phone call. I had just cleaned up Addison, and was removing her from the highchair when Laura walked back in, her phone in hand.

"Here, let me change her clothes, you take this." She handed me the cell and I looked down to see the call open, Leena's face on the screen.

I looked at Laura, who just nodded while she turned and took Addison in the next room.

"Hey!" My voice was so jumpy, I cleared my throat to calm it down. "Where are you?"

"I went to a meeting." Her words were stale, no feeling behind them.

"Oh, that's good." I stepped out the back door, pulling it closed behind me. "Are you going to come back? I really need to see you."

Her breath was loud on the other end, slightly ragged. "Noah, I don't want to see you."

What is the feeling when you feel like your skin is going to melt off, but your insides are completely frozen? Is there a name for that? Panic, maybe?

"You don't." It wasn't a question. She didn't respond. "Okay, uh," I kicked at the dirt under my feet. "I don't know what to say to that."

"I don't know if I can do this, Noah."

Shattered? Devastated? There's a fucking name for it.

"What do you mean?" I couldn't bring my words above a whisper, given the wind had been knocked right out of me. She wasn't saying what I thought she was, was she?

"There's always going to be a tour. Time away. Me home with Addie. A girl who throws herself at you. Lots of them."

"Leena-"

"And, it's just too hard, Noah."

Shaking. I was fucking shaking.

"No, babe-"

"I can't do it. Not now. Not with Addie. I thought I could. I really, really did."

"Leena, listen-" I was yelling now, but she just kept talking.

"I love you too much. And I love us. But we can't be us. Because you're a rockstar. And you have a career, and a life."

"I have you! And Addison! I'll quit right fucking now, Mileena! I will call Sumerian right now and tell them I'm out. Forever. I'll ghost write. I'll produce from home. I'll never tour again!" I was desperate. I was begging.

"No, you won't, Noah. You love it. It's your dream. I won't let you."

"I love you! I won't lose you over this! Rachel is nothing! Nothing!"

"It's not just her. How many more Rachels will there be?" I heard her voice cracking. "And I'll be at home, with Addison. We can't go on tour with you. I can't always be there. Noah, I just can't."

"Mileena, I'll do anything. Please."

"Take Addie for the night. Or a couple days. She missed you."

"God damn it Leena, stop and listen to me!"

"We can work out me having her while you're on tour. You can have her when you're home, or we can split the time if it's not a heavy year." She sighed. "We don't need to worry about custody."

"Custody?!" I was full-blown screaming. "Mileena! You're overreacting! Please!"

"I'm sure you think so. But you haven't been where I am. You haven't seen what I have! You haven't been left behind! I was, Noah! And I supported you! Through it all! I happily stayed home with Addison while you chased your dreams, and became the success you are! And when I finally have you back, I hear you almost slept with another woman?! You considered it?!" She stopped abruptly, her words blurring together, sobs shaking her words.

She took a moment to compose, which was fine, because trying to swallow everything she had just said was proving to be more difficult than I expected.

"I'm not going to do this." She paused for only a beat. "Take Addison. Let me know when I can come pick her up. The car seat should still be in your truck."

I couldn't speak, my mind was blank. My brain was flattened.

"Just be gone by six." And the line went dead, the phone beeping, signaling the end of the call.

Oh. That's what this feeling was.

Pain.

[letsunity]

With Thunder Comes Lightning

Summery: Peter and MJ tried again, but the spark wasn't there; they stay as friends to raise their soon-to-be daughter. Everything was going great until evil goop and a spooky vampire guy fall out of an orange portal. Little does Peter know that the biggest pain in his ass and future mutant best friend has landed right at his feet.

art by @Cyberdoods

Chapter 5 - Mutatis Mutandis

1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Centre, Westchester County, New York. He's never been on the property, but Peter knew where it was.

It's safer than their home.

He wouldn't be surprised if Professor X already knew they were coming.

Although Peter would've preferred grabbing what they needed and swinging to the mansion, it wasn't safe for MJ. He needed to protect her. He couldn't carry her and everything else at once. They agreed to use her car.

They also added car sickness to Miguel's lengthy list of medical inconveniences. The tablets MJ gave to keep him from throwing up had knocked the guy out completely.

"Don't blame yourself," MJ tried, but it didn't change the turmoil boiling inside of Peter. "What could you have done? Realistically?"

"More than what I did."

"You wouldn't kill someone, even if it's Manic Mike. He knew that."

Quite the nickname for the possessed vampire.

Peter should've tried, though. He could've done more. If he had killed Morbius, then Klyntarus wouldn't have a body.

In that scenario, however, since taking Miguel failed, he would've naturally gone for Peter. He would've deprived MJ of a co-parent and his child of their father. He didn't even know their name and almost lost the chance to see them.

All this happened because Peter didn't listen and wouldn't burn that sadistic bastard when he had the chance.

People were dying. Innocent civilians, his friends, and even his enemies were suffering.

"He said something down there. Klyntarus."

"What?" MJ inquired, worried.

Peter glanced at the rearview mirror. He felt a weight grow in his chest, recalling those harsh words, adding it to what he already knew.

It kept getting worse.

"Eugenics. He bred Miguel to be a compatible body."

"Fucking hell," MJ cringed, covering her eyes with disgust.

"I presume that's where the medical problems come from and why he was in a basement for so long. Thinking about it more, it was probably an underground lab."

"He's not going to stop, is he? Until he gets what he wants."

"Which is either asleep in our backseat or is in our trunk. Either way, it's bad."

"We're not letting him get either. That ugly bowling ball or Miguel. He's our friend. We don't leave people behind."

"No, we don't."

Peter looked at the rearview mirror again, taking a brief moment to analyse his passenger. It was difficult not to.

He couldn't understand why he couldn't sense Miguel but detected that feral version of him. It didn't make sense. How was he invisible but also not?

Even now, Peter couldn't detect he was there, even though Peter could see him. It was baffling.

MJ chuckled, but he didn't know why.

"What's funny? I got something on my face again?"

"You like each other."

"Of course, I like Miguel. And if he didn't like me, we wouldn't be buddies!"

"He's pretty, and you know it."

What did she mean by that?

Peter had to look again to see what she was talking about.

Miguel had cheekbones that could cut glass, eyes that smouldered like a raging fireplace and an impeccable body, but he didn't understand what she meant.

He's a nice-looking guy, but something about how she said it was so weird. Was it his voice? How those growls rumbled deep from his chest like oncoming thunder and the Spanish becoming little flashes of lightning?

The guy could read the menu from Taco Bell and make it alluring.

"Do you fancy him?" Peter inquired, confused but curious. "I can't tell you who not to like, of course. It's just... he's not from this universe. He'll have to go eventually."

Why did that fact feel sad? He should be happy that Miguel could go home.

Home. Where he was alone.

Wasn't being made by that abomination terrible enough? Nobody should endure such solitude. At least Peter had MJ; that's better than nothing at all.

Those scars, the ones that were far too clinical to be mere battle wounds. They originated from him, too, didn't they? More games by the evil sludge.

To know that you were bred solely to be the vehicle of a monstrous parasite must be horrifying. That parasite then killed your family, even your daughter, and won't stop tormenting you.

It honestly felt like Peter was continuing that torture. Thanks to him, his friend's abuser was still out there, wreaking havoc on other lives.

Why can't Peter do what's necessary? He felt so weak and helpless.

"No, Peter, I don't," MJ answered, though his confusion wasn't satisfied. "Be open is all I want to say. You've got a lot you want to talk about."

"I'm getting tired of talking."

"I know, babes. We'll figure something out."

She didn't sound so confident this time.

And Peter did want to talk, as much as it annoyed him. He wanted to hear it from Miguel, to understand his friend more and try to keep him from risking himself so much. While he didn't value his life, Peter did.

Was there anything for him to live for besides revenge? It didn't seem so.

When Uncle Ben died, Peter didn't rise as a hero without hiccups. He went after the man that took his father figure's life, and was responsible for his death, even if indirectly. It wouldn't be the first time he was tempted to break the rule of no killing.

So, so many times, Peter had wanted to end the problem. He was so scared of becoming like them, though, a villain that only hurt others.

Without Miles, Peter wasn't sure he would've kept going.

Could he do the same for Miguel? Try and start him on a journey of finding value in himself. It's unlikely, but he had to try. What Spiderman would he be if he didn't try?

Even if all of his trying appeared to end in catastrophic failure.

The mansion was magnificent and a little pretentious.

As it tended to explode once a year, Peter's very unconfident that it would last long. However, if MJ could rest easy, it could work.

And having superpowered people around your pregnant best friend made him feel a little better.

Peter felt like an idiot and knew seeing Logan after losing Matt and Luke would hurt. He couldn't imagine how he was feeling.

It would be fair to blame him, too.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," MJ said, but it didn't change how he felt inside.

"Yeah, Logan will do that for me."

"He might not."

"You know how close he was with Cage. I know he'll start a fight with Miguel, too. I'm secretly interested to see how that'd play out."

"I'd pay for tickets to see that. There's a two-foot height difference, too. It's like a chihuahua biting at a Great Dane."

"Chihuahua is the most accurate descriptor for Logan. For Miguel? I'd go more for Rottweiler. Capable of doing damage but a big softie inside."

"I know there's a Mexican version of a pit bull, but I forgot what it's called. Oh, Logan's Canadian; is there a tiny Canadian dog?"

"There is no dog more suitable for Logan than a Chihuahua. Only a Chihuahua with adamantium bones and lightsabres for knuckledusters."

That created a hilarious image in Peter's head.

He pulled the car into a visitors' parking space - heh, Parker the parker, that's funny.

MJ got out first, stretching her legs. Having a literal human growing inside of you must be so freaky.

After Peter got out, he went to the back, knocking on the roof.

An annoyed reddish brown eye peeked at Peter. He didn't know why he was so fixated on the colour or why Miguel's eye being only half open excited him.

She's not wrong. He's got a pretty face.

Rationally, Peter knew it was to protect his eyes from the sunlight. Sadly, those brilliant red eyes disappeared behind sunglasses.

"Wake up, big guy. We're here."

"I don't like cars."

MJ chuckled as she got the evil orb from their trunk.

"I know, pal."

"You've got leather seats."

"Uh, yeah. Why?" Miguel lifted his arm, showing a rash. "You're allergic to leather? Seriously?"

"That's not even the dumbest one."

"I'm almost scared to ask."

"Dermographia."

"No idea what that means."

"When most people touch me with their bare skin, I get a reaction - you can write on my skin."

"Cool and depressing. I'm glad I don't trigger that, bud."

"You don't trigger a lot of things for some reason."

He didn't know why he was pleased to hear that. Perhaps it's because Peter keeps fucking things up? That's probably why.

Peter took several steps back for the taller man to get out of the car, cracking his neck.

Seeing how in shape Miguel was made Peter feel terrible about his flabby body. If he worked out, he could look like that. What example would he be to his child if he was overweight?

How can Peter date somebody if his tummy passes the door before him?

He looks terrible, too. It's horrible that MJ had to deal with him for so long. Why did she even take him back? She's heavily pregnant and incredible.

"Mi primera universidad parece pretenciosa."

"I think I recognise university in that sentence - hey, I'm learning!"

"It looks like one of those creepy castles full of spooky shit."

"I can see it, actually," Peter agreed, pushing the gates open.

He didn't even realise there was a lock until it clattered on the pavement.

MJ sighed, picking it up. It wasn't rotten and rusted, thankfully.

She sneezed. Like always, it was loud, like a car horn. It always made Peter giggle, no matter the situation.

"Salud," Miguel stated. It's possibly the Spanish form of "bless you". "I'm only reminding you now that I was completely against this."

"It won't be that bad," MJ said, a little too optimistic. "Logan's nice!"

"There are undeniable laws in the multiverse. Lobezno siempre es una zorrita enfadada."

"You just insulted Logan, didn't you?"

"You are learning. There's hope for us yet."

Although Peter should feel insulted, it felt more playful than aggressive.

Slowly but surely, Peter is infecting this man with a sense of humour.

Several people stared at them as though they were out of place. He could feel them judging him, which was weird. There was a literal kid that looked like a bipedal ocelot, but somehow a pregnant redhead, overweight guy and giant Latino were odd.

Sure, because they're the weird ones.

He saw Storm and Cyclops outside of the main building, the obnoxious mansion.

Honestly, it's begging to get blown up.

Although Cyclops' eyes were obscured by his visor, Peter could feel the hostility radiating off the man. It was directed solely at Miguel, and Peter wouldn't allow that.

"Been a while," Peter said, trying to keep things peaceful. "We've got a lot to talk about. Is Xavier in?"

Of course, he was. Where else would he be? Smooching Magneto?

"A lot," Storm concurred, shaking her head. "Logan's not doing well. I don't think it was a good idea for you to come here now."

"Oh, right - I'll just call your receptionist. Stacy's lovely. I heard she's back from her honeymoon. She can schedule a visit after the universe has been eaten by evil snot," Peter huffed, annoyed. "Does that sound good to you?"

"Son tan útiles como un cactus en una tormenta de nieve. No malgastes tu aliento."

"You want to repeat that, hotshot?" Cyclops sneered, understanding Spanish.

Peter was a little jealous.

Sensing a rising tension, Peter put himself between Cyclops and Miguel, but the taller man only needed to lean over him.

"Eres un pony de un solo truco. Estaré encantado de enseñarte a hacerte el muerto."

"Big talk from an invader!"

"Muérdeme, colonizador."

"That's enough, both of you," came the deep English voice of Professor X, even balder than before. How was that possible? "There's been enough deaths these past few days. We don't need bloodshed on these grounds."

"No puedo prometer nada."

"You can and you will," Storm added.

Great, all of them can understand Spanish but him and MJ.

Miguel growled, irritated by the man's presence. Interestingly, Professor X realised something he wouldn't share. How rude.

With a wave, Xavier requested that they all follow him.

Of course, Cyclops had to sneer at Miguel, who only grinned back, showing his fangs.

The halls were fancy and a little over the top. It's dramatic for a barely legal school.

There were kids of all ages, from tweens to young adults.

A small quad of girls with a single boy was eating Taco Bell. It wasn't Peter's favourite, but it got him through some tough nights before meeting Miles.

Miguel made a slight growl, disgusted by it.

"What's the matter now, tough guy?" MJ questioned, slightly confused.

"Taco Bell isn't real Mexican food."

"And bacon sure ain't kosher, but it's so good," Peter shrugged, though he vaguely understood the point.

"Kosher is a beverage in my universe."

MJ passed the metal ball to Peter, shaking her hands off the evil device. He didn't blame her for not wanting to touch it.

"If Aunt May were alive, she'd be thrilled to hear that," he chuckled, thinking back to her.

Peter wasn't overly religious but was raised in a Jewish house. The traditions meant a lot to his aunt, uncle and father; it was important to them, and it felt like he got to be with them during Hanukkah and the other Jewish holidays.

It's sad knowing his child won't be able to meet them. They were great people. And unlike his egg donor, the baby will have a great mother.

Was that woman even alive? He wasn't sure, nor did he care. It wasn't like she ever cared about him, so why would he waste any precious time on her?

Mary was an awful person. How she got close enough to anybody, let alone his father, to make a child? He'll never know.

Hopefully, she was sad and alone, unable to harm other people.

As if detecting their leaders' seriousness, Rogue, Beast, and Logan quickly joined them. While Peter wanted to say something to his pal, he struggled to find the words.

How could he apologise for Luke and Matt's death?

It felt strange how they were too close, almost escorting them.

Professor X wheeled into a secure part of the building. It was like a freaky laboratory, and Peter didn't like being in there.

He didn't want Miguel in there, either. He'd spent too long in labs.

"There's a lot to discuss," Professor X said, facing them. "Storm, please take Miss Watson and get her comfortable. I'm sure she's tired."

"If anything happens to my boys, I'll find you," MJ promised, letting Storm place a hand on her back.

Peter didn't like the lab. It was too clean, too sterile. It had gadgets, gizmos and goobers everywhere.

He believed her, too. Even though she was pregnant, she was the last person to mess with.

"I take it you guys already know about the new villain," Peter said, hoping they'll help.

Miguel didn't feel the same way.

"The thing killed Matt and Cage!" Logan roared, tossing a metal table into a wall. "The fucking monster has been slaughtering people left and right, and we can barely keep up with it!"

"Cerebro detected him when he arrived. He's far worse than a mere "villain", and you know that," Professor X said sorrowfully. "I presume your compatriot is of the same origin?"

"Half right," Miguel stated. "He took over my universe some time ago. I made him run and have been tracking him for nearly three years. I got close to killing him this time."

Until Peter fucked it up.

"That's my fault," Peter said, a weight growing in his heart. "Miguel told me to burn what was left of him, but I didn't listen, and he recovered. So far, all we've been able to do is take this from him," Peter continued, placing the metal ball on a non-destroyed table.

"Without a compatible body, that is how he survives. He feeds off universes by destabilising them. He's so parasitic that he rots everything he interacts with, so he's not hard to follow," Miguel added, sounding angry. "He calls himself Klyntarus. Son of a bitch is so obsessed with his "species' superiority" that he named himself after his home world."

"Can't be that superior if the dang sludge needs some ping-pong ball to stay alive," Rogue commented, which was a fair observation.

"That's great, but how do we catch the fucker?" Cyclops asked, glaring at Miguel. "Sure, we can destroy this ball, but that won't stop him from taking bodies."

"If I repair this - we use it to travel between universes - I can call for backup. We've got technology designed to handle anomalies like him," Miguel stated, showing off his funky watch. "It'll be a pain, but I can make another - albeit smaller and weaker - Venom Burst bomb to harm him. It'll be easier to contain and eliminate him after that."

"How hard could that be? You're making a bomb. You already made a dimension hopper," Rogue questioned, confused.

"Because it's my venom. Do you know anything about venom milking? I can only make so much. I had to collect for months to get enough."

"I can make something to boost production," Beast said, but Peter didn't like hearing that. "An important question needs asking - how does Klyntarus destabilise a universe enough for him to consume it?"

"Currently, it's only a hypothesis, but it's the Canon Theory. For every Spiderman I've encountered, some criteria are met - if they're disturbed, the universe becomes unstable. Cause enough disturbance, and it breaks apart. He'll deliberately interfere with "canon events" to make it easier for him to flee or feed."

"Fantastic. How many times has he fought us?" Logan grumbled, irritated by Miguel's very existence.

"Every time he entered a universe with you in it. He's familiar with your abilities, even if you use them differently. You're not to engage him directly. You'll die or, worse, become a puppet, and he'll use your powers. It was bad enough when he got Professor X once. He killed every mutant on this planet with a thought."

Everything was stacked against them. That sludge was a threat they had never encountered before. He knew all of their abilities and then some. What could they do against such power?

They do everything that they can.

While Miguel continued elaborating on the situation, Peter felt like a piece of furniture, watching it all unfold.

In the pit of his stomach, something told Peter that he made a mistake.

Deadpool had a point when he said that Xavier looked like Mister Clean.

Peter wasn't sure what the wheelchair superbrain wanted and didn't want to know. He knew that it involved Klyntarus in one way or another.

If he wanted details about the monster, he would've spoken to Miguel. The Professor had been weird with his friend, which was unusual, even for the X-Men's head honcho.

"Do you know why I asked you to speak with me alone, Peter?" Charles asked, his accent thick and English. It sounded so fancy compared to Peter.

A funny thing about Spidey's sense is that it interfered with telepathy. Instead of a clear picture, mind readers received static and grainy images. It made Peter quite irritating to those attempting to read him.

Is why Klyntarus hasn't tried taking Peter over? Or it's to hurt him until he's satisfied. Either way, he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

Whatever Klyntarus wanted, he couldn't get. No matter the cost.

"My amazing improv."

"It's certainly a bonus, but I'm afraid not. I want to speak with you about your "friend"."

"I don't like how you put that in quotes."

"My apologies. I wasn't certain how close you were, despite him not even being here a week."

It didn't feel that short.

"Haven't you read him?" Peter questioned, awkwardly sitting on the chair across from the Professor. "You're super talented with that stuff."

"In a peculiar way, your friend is telepathic. He has an intriguing mental ability that negates detection or being accessed entirely. He is invisible to Cerebro, me and Jean. I suspect your "Spidey sense" cannot detect him, either."

An invisibility cloak, but mentally. That's a fascinating concept. It's why Magneto and Juggernaut wear those stupid helmets.

It explains why Peter couldn't feel his friend. It is also why Klyntarus can't track him down so easily.

Unfortunately, this felt like a deliberate ability. Why would Klyntarus have a host when a telepath such as Xavier can free them from the mental shackles of Symbiote possession?

It's like everything was deliberate, and even still, Miguel used those powers against the one that gave them to him.

What was the purpose of his venom? The claws? The heightened senses? Why did he have so many medical problems?

Using his brain - horrifying - there was a possible reason.

Klyntarus made it so that Miguel was in pain without him. A horrific and disgusting possibility, but given how the Symbiote operated, it was likely. If Peter was a mega-evil pile of sentient snot, he might've done something similar.

Peter already respected his fellow spider, but to still refuse the Symbiote despite that only engorged that respect. It swelled like the feeling in his chest whenever he saw those eyes.

That posed another issue, however.

"I can't feel him at all - like a weird black spot - but the other day, Klyntarus triggered something. It was angry and feral, and he wasn't in control. I felt that. How can I feel that but not him?"

"Though I cannot read Miguel, I have felt what you're speaking of," Xavier said, confusing him. "It's quite evident that Klyntarus used his DNA in creating his "perfect host". That would make him part Symbiote."

Fuck. That made too much sense.

"And even the smallest part of a Symbiote is sentient," Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his wonky nose. "It didn't behave like a Symbiote, though. It was so wild and, well, not in control."

"The piece within Miguel isn't conscious - it isn't alive, strictly speaking. It doesn't comprehend friend or foe, only threats to Miguel, which it doesn't distinguish itself from. You have been deemed not a threat."

When Miguel questioned how he didn't hurt Peter, that's what he meant. This freaky mode attacked everybody, following only instinct and the need to survive. In a way, that was the most terrifying of foes.

For whatever reason, it decided that Peter wasn't a threat.

Weirdly, it felt like a compliment.

"Why're you talking to me about this? Why not talk to Miguel about it?"

"There is a lot at stake, Peter. Many lives will be lost if we don't defeat this enemy. To trap this thing, we need... bait."

"No," Peter stated firmly, scowling. "You're not going to use Miguel as bait for that thing. Nobody is going to be bait."

"We use Miguel or the unnamed sphere. At least Miguel is capable of refusing Klyntarus."

"That's a shit plan. You don't trap something like that. You've got to burn him until there's nothing left."

"Peter, I understand that you've lost your friends to this entity-"

"He wants to hurt my best friend and my unborn baby! Now you want to take the primary victim of an abusive monster and dangle him like a carrot for a donkey! Doesn't that sound fucked up?"

"So does the death and destruction of an entire universe. Not only ours but many more afterwards. It's better than Logan's suggestion."

Peter didn't need to hear it. He already knew what Logan would've suggested.

"I'm not allowing that."

"I won't lie to you, Peter; it's not something I take lightly. You're a smart man. You've thought of it."

"No, actually, I haven't. I'm not a damn lunatic!" Peter shouted, standing in anger, the chair falling behind him. "You don't kill somebody for being the victim!"

"What suggestions do you have, then, Peter? We're empty of ideas. We've never faced something like this - it's a graver threat than anything ever known."

"That doesn't give you a get-out-of-jail-free card. I'm not surprised by Logan, but you, the smart one? I'm disappointed. You're supposed to help, not make things worse!"

"Worse for who, Peter? Because I know you aren't referring to us or even your unborn child," Xavier sighed, looking sorrowful.

"We'll make a different plan without using Miguel as bait or fucking killing him like damn cowards. It doesn't even make sense to think of that!"

"People can only take so much. If we don't defeat him, it's only a matter of time before Klyntarus succeeds."

"If there's one absolute certainty about spiders, we never give up, even when we're at our breaking point and desperately want to," Peter growled, hitting his hand on the desk, reducing it to splinters. "We're making a different plan, Professor, and that's the end, understand?"

Peter left the room, refusing to say more.

He went to the X-Men for help. They're supposed to help. He's not surprised by Logan, but Xavier? He's disappointed and disgusted.

They weren't helping. At best, they can keep MJ safe.

Peter won't sit idly by as someone tries to abuse somebody else. He keeps messing stuff up, but he's still going to try. He knew Miles would be heartbroken if Peter ever gave up, no matter how badly he wanted to.

He and Miguel can figure something out alone.

The man paused and glared at an open hallway, and Logan merely shrugged.

"I know you've got problems with it, Pete, but I doubt Taco Bell hater does."

"And you don't see an issue with that?"

"Of course. Look, I get that you like the guy - fuck knows why, he's an asshole - but we make sacrifices to save others. This isn't a loser with nothing better to do, Peter. That thing wants to down us like I do beer, and I'm a damn alcoholic."

"There are sacrifices, and then there's just plain wrong."

"You're feeling guilty. Personally? I believe you should, but logically? Not as much. How could you know the snot was an interdimensional super dickhead?"

He couldn't, and Peter knew that. It didn't matter, though. His Spidey senses were explicit and had never failed him before.

He didn't listen, and everyone was paying the price for it.

Peter still wasn't listening; Miguel didn't want them to go to the X-Men, and he was right not to.

Did he know what Logan suggested?

Did he know what Xavier wanted to do?

The worst part was that Miguel would go through with it.

Anything if it meant destroying the damned creature that created him in the first place.

Peter's not going to allow that.

Why didn't he listen?

Special thanks to spider-the-bat for the borders!

[codename-adler]

Sunburns! (@stabbyfoxandrew)

thank you @stabbyfoxandrew for allowing me to nerd out <3

Adler’s PiPs ~ Project: Sunburns

if my memory doesn't fail me (which it ALWAYS does), i believe the start of PiP: Sunburns goes back two years, with this little piece i wrote. basically i craved violence and thus the idea of feral Jeremy was born. i know fanon is in love with the Trojans getting their first red card in defense of Jean, and for Jeremy to get it, but i wanted more. as much as Jeremy would allow Jean to find the light, i wanted Jeremy to be allowed to tap into his darkness. NOT THAT JEAN MAKES HIM GO MORALLY GRAY. Jean does not ask for anything. it's more like a mama-bear instinct? at least that's what Jeremy tells himself at first. he'll come to realize, on his own and as Laila and Alvarez point it out to him, that it's definitely more than that.

because the Trojans cannot be as 'damaged' as the Foxes, per their status, the uni they play for, the big team they have, etc., i still couldn't resist giving the characters some touch of angst, because that's what i do, duh. difference is, Trojans have more resources, sympathy and means to deal with their shit. or they're just better at repressing shit, i.e. Jeremy Knox. that's why i say Jean's presence and being allow Jeremy to let go of the obsessive control he has over his person. while Jean never asked for anything from his new captain, and though he isn't impressed by Jeremy jumping to his defense, it sort of... comforts him, to see that Captain Sunshine isn't as peachy and sunny as he would like people to believe. that this little bit of darkness in him means Jean won't be tainting him with his own dark presence. that Jeremy can understand things, Jean's things. Jean is not scared. it is admittedly a tiny bit weird to witness rage not aimed at himself, but for himself. that he is real, and alive, and in fact so real and alive that people, Jeremy, are actively fighting for him to stay and live his life to the fullest.

but what is the fic about, Adler? well: it's a 5 + 1 thing format. of course, 5 times Jeremy went feral for Jean, and 1 time... eh, haven't figured that one out yet.

1 time Jean went feral for Jeremy? 1 time Jeremy didn't need to because Jean handled it himself? 1 time Jeremy went soft for Jean? 1 time the Trojans went feral for Jean? or 1 time Jean went feral for the Trojans? 1 time Jean went feral FOR HIMSELF? 1 time Jean realizes he truly is a Trojan? 1 time the Trojans realize Jean really is one of them now? i! don't! know!

i do have the 5 times where feral Jeremy lashed out, and i hope these will allow you to glimpse at just how serious i am about Jeremy going apeshit:

0.5 The OG incident that pushes Jeremy to do a thorough background check of every Raven (this fic is also me pushing my hacker!Jeremy agenda)

1 Jeremy goes after a Raven (classic)

2 Jeremy goes after a Trojan stepping out of line

3 Jeremy goes after a reporter, privately and publicly

4 Jeremy goes after a Fox [redacted]

5 Jeremy goes after Ichirou & the Moriyamas

as for the title, the draft remains titled "Sunburns" because it's the shortest version of all the titles i'm considering, all inspired by the idea that being the sun doesn't mean just 'light'. the sun is a ball of burning fire. it was upon playing around with that that i stumbled upon this PERFECT quote by Ilona Andrews (i have no idea what book this is from tho):

He bared his teeth in a happy feral grin. My own personal psycho.

that's what i got for now! i'll post updates when i start writing from the outline i have.

coming soon in an Ao3 near you!

if there's a project of mine you'd like to know more about, head over to the pinned post on my blog titled "Adler's WiPs" !

<>

special thank you to my dear Ukamushu who was the first to know about this project and who let me share my thoughts and helped me in return with hers. i love you forever 🤍

[imagionationstation]

Feral Raphie

Playful in the most violent way possible

“Now. Now, now, now, now, mine, now-“

“Just give me a minute!”

Raph makes a grumbled sound under his breath, the rumble registering as a pout to Mikey’s inexperienced turtle-ese, and Mikey allows a hand to stray from his t-phone just long enough to pat his older brother’s head before he was back to blowing up the zombies on his screen. “Good Raph.”

Raph sulks off the couch and leaves his vision, so Mikey turns his full attention on his video game. This proved a mistake, and the next thing he knows, he’s flat on his plastron with the full weight of a turtle on him, eyes watering as the beak that slams the floor stings. “Dude!”

“Ha!” Raph expresses his triumph with a few additional chirps, remaining perched on his carapace. Mikey hopes that ignoring him will make him actually give up this time, but when he gets no reaction, Raph growls in new frustration, and digs the nails that he refuses to let them trim into his shoulders. “Ow, ow, ow-!”

Mikey raises his arm and smacks his forehead with the t-phone, startling Raph enough that he’s able to knock off his weight, rolling and then rising into a crouch. He glances at his shoulder, finding that one area is dotted with blood. “Bro! Not cool!”

Raph lowers his plastron to the floor, very clearly about to pounce a second time, and Mikey slips his t-phone into his pocket. The only way to keep him from actually wounding anyone is a game of keep away. It’s exhausting to all parties, but as Donnie and Leo are busy, Mikey is going to have to be the fun brother. “Fine! You want to play? Come get me!”

More than slightly overprotective. (If you are his, no one else may touch you.) Doesn’t trust humans, even ones his brothers say he should trust.

“Jones, I am going to kill you!”

“I told you it was an accident!”

“I told you I was busy!”

“Well, you always say that!”

“Because it’s true!”

“I didn’t even do anything! You’re the one who-!”

With a cry of fury, Donnie tackles his lab’s intruder to the ground. The blind rage swallows any chances of rethinking a fight next to the lab table covered in the reminent of his latest project. Even with their missing brother returned home, he wasn’t sleeping very well, and Casey had the unfortunate timing to interrupt while he was in the middle of a sensitive part of his experiment.

Never one to back down from a fight, Casey knocks him off and aims to sock him in the face, but Donnie blocks and then kicks his side, sending him rolling. He gets to his feet, and goes to leer intimidatingly over the human, but Casey chucks a puck, and it slams him into his forehead. He yelps in pain, and Casey jumps up, tripping him when he instinctively stumbles back.

He lands on his rear and then finds himself in a headlock, hands coming up to grasp the jacket sleeves even though he knows Casey wouldn’t really choke him. “I didn’t mean it, dude! Now say uncle!”

That is not about to happen, because giving him a win is the last thing his pride will allow, and Donnie snaps, “Just let me go, meathead!”

“Mine!”

The new voice barely registers when a Casey suddenly releases him with a scream. Donnie dives back and whirls in shock, horrified to find that Raph had sunk his teeth into the teen’s shoulder, a low growl rising as Casey tries and fails to shove him off.

“Raph, no!” Donnie rushes forward and puts hands on either side of his jaw, digging into the the back and forcing his mouth to open.

Casey falls forward, and Raph spins to face him, blood staining his bared teeth. Donnie puts some distance between them, prepared to defend. The fury is blinked away before his older brother darts to his side, walking around him and checking him over for any wounds. Casey starts to rise of the floor, and Raph growls, placing himself between them.

“Raph.” His older brother tilts his head slightly, eyes barely pinpricks.

“Raph, it’s not what it looked like.” Donnie hurries to find a reasoning that he would understand. “It was just- like playing! A game! That’s it. He’s not a threat.”

Raph frowns and Donnie insists, “Just playing. Not a threat.”

He looks between them and then narrows his eyes. “Mine. No play.”

“No more playing,” Donnie agrees nervously.

Raph stomps over to Casey, glaring him down. “Mine.”

“No fighting your bro. Got it.” Casey consents warily.

Raph appears satisfied, and he lowers himself onto all fours, dashing out of the room. Donnie sprints to Casey’s side the minute that he’s out the door, looking over the bite, “Are you okay?”

“He just took a bite out of me. That is so metal.”

“Idiot. Hmm, let’s get this cleaned.”

“Since your crazed brother attacked me, does that make us even?”

“No, it means I won.”

Loves cuddles, hates sleeping alone (reminds him to much of his nights in a cell. #Gone Feral Trauma)

Leo doesn’t know how it’s possible for his brute of a brother to retain ninja-sneak-instincts as a literal brute, and yet still not know how to locate an arm not at all hidden under a blanket.

“Gah!” He clenches his teeth and he jerks it to his chest, pain banishing sleep as he glares at the shelled figure who’d just stepped on his wrist. “Raph!”

Raph crouches down to sniff Leo’s abused appendage and then lets loose a puff of air that almost sounds like a scoff, lowering himself between Leo and the edge of the bed. Leo scoots back until his carapace touches the wall to offer room, and the grumbles, “I thought you were with Mikey.”

He’d put some distance between them, but Raph closes it now, nudging his shoulder with his beak. Leo goes to push his face away, wondering what ungodly hour he’d been woken up at, and then he pauses, his hand curving to cup the damp cheek. “Hey. You okay?”

A soft grunt and he presses his face into Leo’s hand, and Leo complies by running it over his head. He’s careful not to touch the scars left over by the muzzle, moving to scratch the back of his neck, somewhere the carapace prevents Raph’s from reaching.

Raph drops and settles on his side, a position that he leaves him vulnerable, trusting Leo with this truth. Leo stops scratching to grab the extra pillow, handing it to him. Both hands kneed into it, adding new tears to the old, and giving him something that isn’t flesh to satisfy the terror-fueled need to hurt back.

Leo wraps the arm around him, looking into the dark as he feels his brother’s faint trembling. “It was just a nightmare. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

A soft whine. “Mine.”

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He somehow manages to tuck himself closer to Leo, a purr vibrating between their plastrons, easing the worry that plagues his older brother. Leo closes his eyes, “You’re home. You’re safe. I promise.”

[rey-jake-therapist]

Elementary fandom vs other fandoms

A while ago I posted about Elementary after I watched a couple of episodes to say I didn't like it. I was just fresh out of watching the four seasons of the BBC Sherlock and it just didn't feel right, I didn't like it at all.

Finally, because I was too lazy to look for another show to watch, I kept watching and now, I'm at season 7 😅 Did my mind fundamentally change? Honestly, no. BBC Sherlock will always be superior to me, I don't care it's trendy to hate it now. I do like Elementary now, though. Sherlock and Joan (well especially Joan) have grown on me. I still think Elementary lacks originality, I find the structure of the episodes too rigid, there are way too many episodes, things in the global story I really don't like. The copaganda for example, urgh... There's a lot of screen time dedicated to the cops and how good and honest and united they are. There are some bad apples but we're really supposed to believe that they're *rare*.... And I love Marcus Bell and Captain Gregson but they're so smart you even wonder why they need Sherlock in the first place 😂 But there are things I really love too: Joan being more than a sidekick to Sherlock is one of them. She has agency, he trains her, respects her.... I must say, it's pleasant to see. Also I love seeing Sherlock being a mentor. That's what he should be, really...

Another thing this show did for me was to convince me to read the ACD canon books. I read a couple of them when I was a teen but I was more a Hector Poirot girlie - EDIT: damn autocorrect! his name's Hercule of course). I know for a fact that Elementary Sherlock is closer to the book that BBC Sherlock, and the show makes multiple references to the ACD canon but I'm unable to identify most of them, which probably influences my reaction to the show. I need to read the books and watch the show again :)

So, it's a fine detective show, a feel good show as well because the morals is always good, characters given a second chance when they mess up, bad guys punished as they should.... Johnny Lee Miller does a fine job at showing the character's complex personality, and his partnership with Lucy Liu is flawless :) They're just adorable together. They totally remind me of Mulder and Scully, but without the unbearable sexual tension, which is why I spent 6 seasons 1/2 being fine with the fact that they wouldn't end up together as a couple.

I wish I had known the fandom when the show was broadcasting, because I haven't heard of any fit of rage when Joan and Sherlock didn't become canon?? And yet lmao, at least 70% of their interactions is romance-coded. Like, if JohnLock shippers think they were baited, Sherlock and Joan shippers were baited much, much more. Seriously, there's even a declaration of LOVE. When Sherlock has to run away to London, Joan follows him there!! They're completely co-dependant, all their attempt to have romantic relationships with other people fail... At some point Joan needs to go her own way and Sherlock respect that.

They take care of each other, all the time. If one is in danger, the other becomes feral. Sherlock especially would do everything to protect Joan from getting harm, and surely so would she. There are so many moments that could be confused with jealousy/possessiveness, so many sweet speeches that probably made the shippers think, "no way this is platonic!" .

Not me, though, because I believe in platonic love, always did, and that's what Sherlock's story was always about: a strong, unbreakable bond between two people who love each other but don't need to have sex to feel or express it. I say they remind me of Mulder and Scully because in both cases, it didn't have to become a romance. I shipped Mulder and Scully, yes, but for years I was quite certain that they woud never become romantic and I was fine with that. What they had was already beautiful.

And frankly, Joan and Sherlock's friendship higlights everything that's wrong with Sherlock and John's in the BBC show. It's a balanced relationship! they didn't have to become a romance because they're a perfect friendship, but if they did it would be ok, because it would not be toxic. Joan never beat Sherlock up, for a start. She never slaps him, they never insult each other. Sherlock is sometimes a prick to her but he always comes around because he respects her a lot. There's nothing in their interactions that makes me think, "wow, if they were a couple that would be so fucked up!", while, sorry but I had this thought about John and Sherlock a dozen of times, especially during season 4 but even before that.

So if I'm not wrong and shippers were cool with the ending, well... kudos guys.

@tickldpnk8

[hermesserpent-stuff]

reader beware evil spoilers in there!!! Spoilers for transmutation of the soul~

--

Viggo swallows and grips the railing. He watches the waves rise and fall under the pale moonlight. Wind swirls around him, almost like it is trying to cool off the rage that burns him. The heat of his rage at himself threatens to tear him apart. He watches the waves as they rock the boat, watches the endless oceans that had acted as an escape route for children that had no reason to fear him or Ryker, but feared anyways. 

Could he have stated his intentions differently? More neutrally? More flowery? What could he have done to make the answer a yes and not a terrifying no that could be permanent? No. It cannot be permanent he refuses to accept that and-

“Long night?”

His brother comes to lean his back on the railing beside him, polishing one of his blades that really does not need polish. But Viggo cannot blame his older brother for seeking comfort in familiar motions. Viggo frowns down at the waters that keep moving, uncaring of the human fates that are made upon them.

“Yes. Too many thoughts. A southern fort with the Hysterics would be beneficial but Im not sure they are here.”

His brother hums in reply. Out of the two of them, Viggo was the planner. And he should have planned the offer of adoption better. He had known better!

Air comes out of his mouth in a hiss.

“Gods.”

He snarls at himself willing his brain to just shut up about his failure so that he could sleep for the first time in four days. 

“Viggo?”

His brother’s voice has an echo of worry he does not deserve. It is his fault, after all, that they are on this journey to find the two children. The two children he should have been able to keep safe. But he failed over and over. He feels tears warm his cheeks. He wonders if Hiccup had shed any more tears, fist in his mouth to silence the noise to hide away. He wonders if Dagur had to fight to keep his brother and draw blood with his blades and had his own blood drawn in turn. He wondered if either was less whole than he when he saw them last. Had a leg or arm been lost? Had they lost those delightful sparks of life that merrily burned in their eyes that lit up in defiance of a cruel world that had cast them aside? 

Viggo gags as he forces down sobs that threaten to rib him like the Raincutter’s talons that had tried to snatch away his own life. He clenches the railing, bending his head in defeat at the weight of his pain. 

“I… I'm sorry. I scared them off and I should have-”

A familiar warm hand comes to rest on his back. 

“It is my fault. I pressed and pressed you, brother. You never would have done anything if I had not been so pressing.”

“And yet, I was the one with the choice to act, brother dear. Have you ever known me to be someone who can be forced to do what I do not wish?”

He asks, while his heart screams. He is a fool. A fool that could be oh so clever and then fail at the most important moment. His tears warm his cheeks, but no tremble enters his voice and he is not sure that his brother knows that he is crying. He hopes not. His heart throbs and he tries not to crumble like the ash from a burning forest. Viggo has to go on. He does not flinch as Ryker punches the railing, sending rattles through the wood. 

“How can you try to take all the blame?!”

“I've always been the more selfish of us two, my dearest brother.”

He whispers deathly calm filling his voice as surety of his guilt soaks his chest.  His moves to be head tilting upwards as tears drip down his cheeks, touching his lips, slipping down to his neck, and then winding beneath his armor. The wind picks up as if agreeing and it spirals around them. Ryker hits the railing again and snarls ferally.

“You’re not! You aren't!! You have never been- you always- How dare you say such things?! Do not take on my guilt!”

Ryker snaps and snarls and hits the railing again and again, splintering it again from rage. A rage that is a screeching blaze demanding to be heard and felt and yet… Viggo looks to the stars and wonders for a moment what it might be like to join those lights in the infinite void of darkness that fills the night. He knows the stars would reflect in the water below if he just looked. That he could join those lights if he just stepped over the edge. But then he would not find the two.

“But I am-”

His sentence is interrupted as Ryker yanks his arms and grips both of his arms hard enough to bruise and Viggo is forced to look into his bothers pained face. Ryker is red with rage and grief and Viggo is silent in his tears. They stare at eachother. Ryker’s hand comes to his cheek, wiping the tear and leaving a thin trail of blood from his broken skin in its place. Viggo finds his tongue.

“I am chief. I make the calls. And I made the wrong one.”

He whispers, voice finally trembling.

“And I advise you. And my advice was wrong.”

Ryker’s voice is now hushed.

“Maybe you should both just say you hold part of the guilt and the other part belongs to those boys’ fathers for being unsuited to raisin��� either of them and get some sleep so that you might actually be of use tomorrow.”

Both startle at Gobber’s voice cutting in and the man raises an eyebrow. 

“I… yes. That would be wise.”

Viggo whispers. Gobber nods as they start to move.

“And treat that wound.”

Gobber adds. Ryker makes a small embarrassed noise.

“I.. didn’t notice that.”

Gobber snorts at Ryker's words. 

“You’re a lot like them you know. Hiccup was always overthinking and Dagur was a quick spark to rage.”

Both stutter a bit at the comparison. 

[arcadianmoonshadowjedi]

My theories (and some hopes) on how Season 3 of The Bad Batch might go:

I think I’ll do this in bullet points so that it’s better organized. Since this is a pretty long post, I'll keep it under the cut.

The season would probably start off with Hunter, Wrecker and Echo continuing their search for Omega, but are seeking help from Rex and other clone rebels they’re working with. Heck maybe Senator Chuchi hearing about Omega being captured, she’ll be completely devastated and will do everything in her power to find out more about Hemlock and help the batch with info they would need.

I personally don’t think the batch would find Omega in episode 1 or early in the season, but are working hard to find her. They may even have failed mission attempts along the way.

PHEE!!! Poor Phee! 😭 I’m definitely sure she’d be heartbroken about Tech and devastated about Omega getting captured (the last thing she told her I can’t 😭😭). I think she would join the batch in their rescue efforts.

FERAL RUTHLESS BROODY HUNTER NOT STOPPING AT ANYTHING UNTIL HE GETS HIS DAUGHTER BACK!!!! 😤

At the same time, Hunter will be shattered and feel like a failed leader 🥺💔 He’ll feel like he failed to keep his squad safe and together and blame himself for losing Tech and Omega and eventually break (Please let this man cry!!! He’s been through so much he needs it!) Aaaaand I think he might have so many conflicting feelings on Crosshair (might make a separate post for this one).

Poor Wrecker will probably not be as cheerful and goofy this time around 🥺

Echo trying to convince Hunter to join the clone rebels even after they rescue Omega since the Empire won’t stop being a threat but Hunter’s still traumatized from losing Tech and Omega and is brutally terrified of the Empire’s power (and honestly he has every right to be). He just wants to settle down and put his soldier days behind him.

Would actually love to see more of Wrecker’s stance on whether to fight the empire or not, since he loves anything that goes “BOOM” and loves to put up a good fight (and would bet that he would love to see the Empire burn) but he also enjoyed something as peaceful as fishing on Pabu PLUSSS he was actually full for the first time! It was so good to see him happy! 🙌🏽

More on Phee, I feel like she might be a shoulder that the batch can lean on, someone to help them through their grief and trauma. She helped them so much in season 2 and I can see her continuing that.

I know this one’s controversial but just hear me out. I’m angry at Cid more than anything right now, Buuuuuuut I still can’t ignore how sad she was when she betrayed the batch even though that doesn’t justify what she did. So, my theory is that she will feel so much regret because she knows what she did was beyond effed up and will try to make things right with the batch, even offering to help them find and save Omega. Obviously the batch would hate her and not trust her nor are they willing to forgive her (and they have every right not to) and refuse her help several times. Heck I would love to see Hunter in a fit of rage scream at her that if it hadn’t been for her, Omega would’ve still been with them and not in the hands of the Empire. Cid feels so much regret for putting Omega in danger since I know she’s always had a soft spot for her regardless of all the times Cid did them wrong, so obviously she would have to do everything beyond her power and genuinely try to regain the batch’s trust and show that she definitely wants to help them (ofc she would also have to accept that her days of exploiting the batch will never come back and prove it to them). I guess she might be key in getting important intel for saving Omega and they may have to reluctantly trust her? (Then ofc I would still want them to permanently part ways with Cid afterwards because she’s done enough to them and doesn’t deserve their forgiveness like ever).

We could also be getting a lot of focus on Omega and Crosshair on Mt Tantiss simultaneously with the batch attempting their rescue efforts. Crosshair would be shocked that Omega’s there despite him previously trying to warn the batch to hide. Omega fills him in and tells him they tried to save him but Tech “died”. I think we’ll see him devastated and potentially feel guilty for not being there to protect him or feel that his attempted rescue was the cause. Either way I still feel like Crosshair will feel so much guilt over his past actions with the empire and betraying his brothers and Omega trying to assure him that it wasn’t his fault or something like that. Definitely would love to see lots of Crosshair and Omega bonding!

Omega trying to devise a plan to escape the facility and trying to get Crosshair to help her but he feels like it’s hopeless. Omega being herself refuses to give up and thinks that there’s a way to reach her other brothers and is trying to get Crosshair to not give up.

Omega will probably scold Emerie for working with the empire on doing experiments and torturing her own brothers and it potentially may be revealed that Emerie is forced to do this?

More backstory on Emerie and potentially Omega(?), maybe force sensitive Omega gets confirmed but at this point I’m not even sure (this could be a post for another time).

Emerie might redeem (?) and help Omega and Crosshair escape covertly, but can’t stop experimenting on her brothers. Maybe until later?

I would predict that if there would be a successful rescue mission, it would be during the midseason. Maybe Crosshair and Omega might be able to send a transmission to their brothers in secret with Emerie’s help?

HUNTER AND OMEGA HUG PLZZZZZZZ 😭❤️ PLZZ DAVE I NEED THIS MORE THAN ANYTHING!!! Plus seeing Hunter and Omega reunite after everything that’s happened and all that time they were separated, I think a hug would be most impactful here!! I wanna see Hunter be the one to initiate the hug and hold her so tight! 😭 I wanna see him be so tender with her and Omega hugging him in tears so happy that she’s back with her dad! 😭❤️

I need a happy reunion not just with Hunter but I wanna see Echo and Wrecker being ecstatic that Omega’s back!!! 😭❤️ Ofc I will not forget about Phee!!

I almost forgot, AZI!!! I love this droid so much and I hope he can be more active this season and we can see Omega back with her bestie!

Omega would probably get a new weapon since I think her energy bow is long gone 🥲

Crosshair rejoins the batch! But wait. Just because he’s back, doesn’t mean that everything’s back to normal. Wrecker might be the happiest to have him back but still wouldn’t be his playful goofy self around him just yet. I feel like the one relationship that needs the most mending is Hunter and Crosshair and hopefully we see that play out. They both need to work on rebuilding trust and forgiveness in each other. Crosshair will still probably feel guilty and try to make things right with his remaining brothers and re-earn their trust and forgiveness.

More on the last point though, I feel that despite the damage in Hunter and Crosshair’s relationship, Hunter still genuinely cares so much about his brother (which I might elaborate in another post as mentioned above). Once he finds out what happened to him on Mt Tantiss, I can bet that he’ll go feral on Hemlock and everyone in that operation.

Now here’s another theory on the darker and less cheerful side. I’m definitely believing that Tech is still alive since we neither saw him hit the ground nor did we see his body and that’s a general rule in the Galaxy. Heck we saw Maul get cut in half and survive, Anakin get burned alive and survive, Boba was trapped in the Sarlacc for who knows how long and guess what? He survived that! Hunter even fell from up high on Daro and was able to use his vibro knife to ease the impact of the fall along with the trees helping, and I don’t even believe he got injured from that. So I definitely think Tech is smart enough to find a means to survive the fall somehow. He had his legs broken in the season 2 premiere and yet he still managed to follow Echo and Omega and hold his own in combat against several troopers, so unless we see some sort of confirmation, I’m convinced he managed to survive.

More on the last point, I definitely think that he would be pretty badly injured or potentially in a coma. His goggles may have fallen off which caused them to break so if Tech managed to wake up, he could’ve potentially escaped(?). I’m definitely leaning more towards Hemlock finding him unconscious and taking him to Mt Tantiss for experimentation (potentially Winter Solider-type experiments or something similar to what the techno union did to Echo(?)), but he’s being held separately. And he was merely using Tech’s goggles against the batch to manipulate them.

As for how the batch would find out about him being alive, I definitely have multiple theories about this. Either Omega and Crosshair could find out while they were at Mt Tantiss and try to rescue him. Or the rescue attempt might fail but they might tell the batch and they may have to attempt a different rescue effort. Ooooooor I think Emerie might be assigned to work on him but might end up helping him out (Ok I know I keep bringing her up but I just can’t see her as genuinely evil). I feel like he could either get rescued with Crosshair and Omega or towards the end? Would he end up with cybernetic enhancements? Brainwashed into fighting his brothers? So many questions!! 😭 And again, Phee!!! I would love to imagine how a rescue effort or reunion would look like! I think we would all know how it would play out in different situations! 🙌🏽

But seriously if Tech’s alive and well and recused by the batch, I wanna see a happy reunion! 😭

CLONE UPRISING AND REBELLION!!! BRING DOWN MT TANTISS OPERATION ONCE AND FOREALL!! 😤🙌🏽 SAVE THE CLONES!! JUSTICE FOR THE CLONES!! 🙌🏽

I think the clones trying to take down Mt Tantiss might be the finale plot of the season. If word does get out about Mt Tantiss, I think Palpatine might handle Hemlock the same way he handled Rampart, while still maintaining even more secretive cloning operations on other planets, including Exegol(?).

Not in the intended order but maaaaaybe we get a teen Penn Pershing??? It would totally make sense considering his research being focused in cloning and that he started his career young!

Will we see Pabu again? Lyanna? Shep? So many questions I have around this one.

Theories on who might die this season:

Unless this would be the final season (idk if it would be since I feel like there’s a lot of storytelling potential, ideally up until season 4 or 5), I highly doubt any of the batch would die too soon. And I honestly would rather them not die since I feel like having main characters die at the end is so overused in SW it would actually be satisfying to see a happy ending for once. Esp for the clones since they were created to be “dispensable military units” and I really wanna see not only the batch, but several of the surviving clones being given the chance to live normal lives outside being soldiers. 🥲🤞🏽

Nala Se: I’ve had a theory for a while that she might get killed trying to free Omega or keep her safe from the empire. Even though this will never justify her past actions, she might also have regrets(?). I feel like Omega would break down from this.

Emerie: though I’m against redemption=death for the most part, I feel like she might killed trying to help Omega and Crosshair or if she stands up to Hemlock and refuses to work for him any longer (again I maybe stretching it with her not being a villain or her potentially getting redeemed but the fact that she’s a clone opens up so much potential for her).

Lama Su: Plzzzzzzzz!! I would love to see this man get killed and not get his freedom! He totally doesn’t deserve it!

Hemlock(?): Not sure if he would get killed or arrested like Rampart? But honestly it would be satisfying to see him get killed eventually.

Any clone we may have known or yet to know (since tbb writers love making us fall in love with these clones then killing them 🥲)

Phee(?): I really hope not, but at the same time I’m trying not to only focus on characters I hate/dislike with this list.

Aaaaaand that’s all I have. I know this is a super long post so I congratulate you for making it to the end lol. Of course, these are all just my opinions and theories so any or all of them could be wrong. What do you think? Feel free to comment and reblog if you wanna add anything! 😊✌🏽

[yanderes-galore]

Could you do prompts 12, 14, 23 and 35 for 2012! Leatherhead?

Yeah I can try! These are my prompts for those who wish to know.

Yandere! Leatherhead (2012) Prompts 12, 14, 23, 35

"You were never meant to see that! Oh, what have I done...."

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!"

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

"Stop screaming! I can't take it!"

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Kidnapping/Isolation implied, Delusional behavior, Murder, Forced companionship, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Blood.

Leatherhead didn't like being a monster. Deep down, however, he knew he couldn't hide the truth.... The Krang made him this way.

He is a killing machine.

He wants to get better. There's only two ways he found that work for his anger. Being alone... and being with you.

Like Michelangelo, you helped him not be angry and aggressive all the time. He found your presence calming.... Even more so when he held you in his strong claws.

He wanted to hide his more aggressive side from you. For the longest time, it worked. Although... the Krang messed that up to.

Why wouldn't they...?

It had all happened so fast. He saw the Krang approach you and lost it. It all went black after that. He had no idea how intense his rage was....

While his senses shut down, you saw how feral your friend was. He tore into his enemies like they were toys. His anger scared you...

His anger made you scream.

He growls out phrases. He says you're his. He tears into them for touching what's his. He's always been a monster... an animal... and this proves it.

It stops when he hears your scream.

"Stop screaming! I can't take it!"

Leatherhead stops admist his carnage once the Krang pose no threat. He covers his head with his hands and roars in anguish. His eyes swap from white to green... which then stare at you in disbelief.

He's blown it... you're scared of him.

"You were never meant to see that! Oh, what have I done...."

He's panicking, breath shallow and fast. He looks around him at the mess he's made. He was... protecting you. Why does he smell blood?

He hears you crying now, soft sobs echoing through the little hideaway he resides in with you. You huddle in a corner to stay away from him. He didn't like it when you cried....

"I'm sorry...! I'll do better! I'd never hurt you. I was just protecting you! You have no idea what they could've done to you!"

"Please... no-"

He ignores your words. He's convinced he's saved you. Were you scared of the oil on his scales? It did smell strangely metallic....

Sobs wracked your body as you sob into your hands. Leatherhead crawls closer despite your protests. He can't just let you cry....

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

Despite your struggling he manages to force you into his chest. The mutant gator rolls over with you in his arms and his tail wrapped around your smaller body. Your sobs got worse, yet he only acknowledged it with a quick affectionate lick to the face.

"No need to cry... you're safe! I'm here... even if I did get mad-"

He's heavy on you, nuzzling into your softer flesh. You fit so well in his arms. He felt as if he was holding a squishy teddy bear compared to his rough scales.

You always made him feel better... he hopes he does the same.

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!"

He mutters towards your sobbing weak body.

"I can keep you safe from them. If I didn't help you... you'd be dead."

His tone is sad and full of remorse. He was guilty for scaring you, but your safety came first. After all, the Krang nearly took something else of his.

What he failed to realize is that... those may not have been Krang.

You weren't scared of the Krang... you were scared of the people he killed. You were even more terrified of the blood that now stained your clothes and skin. Leatherhead can't control himself in his rage.

It's even worse if his rage is caused by delusions.

Leatherhead used to be your friend until he revealed he's unstable to you. While you lay in the gator's arms, you can only hope it ends soon.

You weren't scared of Leatherhead's strength or the fact he was a mutant animal...

You were scared of his unstable mind and unpredictable behavior around you the most.

[feline-evil]

Oh yeah i forgot to say here too cuz i'm more likely to stay at least a little active on here through it since it serves me slightly less rage inducing dickheads that i'll pick a fight with, but something upsetting as happened and i'm definitely not going to be in a good mood for a while so my activity online may go down.

My cat unexpectedly declined rapidly overnight and had to be put down yesterday, i do not always cope with loss well, i've lost a lot of people and animals in my life. We buried her, i helped dig, i dug with my bare hands because i couldn't wield the shovel properly with how fucked my arms are and my entire body started shaking halfway through and is still trembling the day after. I had to look after my parents through this, they cried, i didn't, emotions don't work right in me anymore. I'm giving all this information to paint a clear enough picture as to why i'm not here to be fucked with at the moment. I don't want to deal with stupid fucking twitter discourse that makes me want to punch a wall, i don't want to deal with pathetic cunts who have a problem with some nobody like me and harass me whenever i have anon on here, so as you can imagine considering both of these are fucking constants when im online for some fucking reason, my activity might be spotty.

I loved my cat a lot, she was already nineteen when she turned up outside my door terrified of people, scrounging through the small food waste bin. She looked so starved and feral i thought she was gonna die back then, i spent days slowly working up her trust, sitting by my door talking soft, not making eye contact, just letting her get used to me; i needed to check her condition, needed to know if i could help. She was filthy, flea ridden and starved, her little bald ears burnt and painful. Eventually she trusted me enough to take food, then be touched, and then a week later she was in the house. Two weeks she stayed the first time, kept warm and safe with blankets and food; a toothless, ancient cat i felt sure we were given a few final days respite before she passed. Her owners turned up after those two weeks. Our neighbours two doors down. They took her back, i was not happy. But as soon as they let her outside again she ran right on back to us purring and purring as much as she could, curling right back up in her blankets. After this happened time and time again eventually the neighbours let us keep her, i'm so glad that they did because she began to heal. Her ears cleared up, her fur became soft and silky, she started behaving like a normal cat again; she put a little weight on, never a lot, but enough to not look starved, and she even tried to gain her meow back (she was a silent meower, that she never managed to fix, but she did start to make a little noise).

She was with us for three years past that, or nearly three it wouldve been three next month, and she was the sweetest cat in the world; she didn't often have energy to play, she wasn't the adventurous sort, she just wanted to lie near you and purr. She'd cry and howl if she couldnt find us, she never bit or deliberately scratched, she was an absolute gentle soul. When we moved it was the best thing for her, going to a smaller, easier to navigate house with a lovely safe, enclosed out door space; she got to feel the sun and the dirt again for those last few months, but safely, not as some poor frail animal left outside to fend for herself.

The vet told us her organs had failed when we took her yesterday, that even if she were a younger cat she'd be a candidate for humane euthanasia. There was no coming back from that. It was her time, we knew, the decline she had overnight was a sign she was ready to go; to keep her from saying goodbye would be crueller than letting her go. She was 21, nearly 22. I found fragments of a blue china plate in the dirt we dug for her, i kept it, its so pretty. I made her a bouquet out of tiny wild flowers from the garden. She's buried in her favourite spot. I'm really happy i got to put in the work to give her the life she deserved even if it was only for her last few years.