#maybe she's just violent and that's all there is to it

[br0kenangel]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐝♡𝐰𝐧 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Yandere Survivors x Survivor Reader part 1

Summary: you survived. You survived the zombies. But you can't hide for too long. You have to go out. You have to find food and water. And you did but it didn't go according to plan now, did it?

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. And yes it's basically watership down characters but in a zombie au where they are humans. Hope you enjoy!

Original gif by @mikelogan ♡

The days had blended into an endless stretch of silence, fear, and aching hunger. Y/N sat on the floor of the small, darkened house, her back pressed against the cold wall. The room was a suffocating tomb of shadows, barely illuminated by the slivers of light that crept through the cracks in the boarded windows. Her stomach had long stopped growling, replaced by a hollow, gnawing pain that felt like her insides were turning to dust. She had run out of food days ago—maybe longer. Time didn’t feel real anymore.

Her lips were dry and cracked, her throat burning from thirst. The last drop of water had been carefully rationed, but now even that was gone. She knew she couldn’t last much longer like this. Every muscle in her body screamed for rest, but sleep wasn’t an option—not when the slightest sound, the tiniest movement could bring them.

The zombies outside weren’t the shambling, mindless creatures of fiction. They were quick, calculating, and relentless. She had watched them, their movements eerily coordinated, like packs of wolves hunting. They were always looking, always listening. And they were smart. Smart enough to sense a human’s weakness, smart enough to track her down if she made the wrong move. The memory of their bloodshot eyes, snapping jaws, and the awful sounds of their shrieks haunted her every waking second.

She shifted, her body stiff from days of sitting in the same position, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. But she didn’t dare make a sound. Not even a whisper. Her breaths were shallow and slow, each one carefully measured as if the air itself might betray her.

Her eyes flicked to the window, the boards creaking slightly as the wind pressed against the house. She stared at the shadows outside, her heart racing in her chest as her mind played tricks on her. Was that movement? Was something out there? She couldn’t tell anymore. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen one of them, but that only made the fear worse. The quiet—the not knowing—was driving her insane.

Every small noise outside made her body tense up, her mind racing with the possibilities. Maybe they were waiting. Maybe they knew she was in here, hiding, too scared to leave. Maybe they were just biding their time, like hunters watching their prey, waiting for her to make a mistake.

Y/N's hands shook as she reached for the small knife she had kept beside her, the only weapon she had. It felt pitiful in her grasp, barely enough to protect her from anything, but it was all she had. Her fingers tightened around the handle until her knuckles turned white, as if gripping it harder would somehow give her more strength, more control over this nightmare.

She couldn't keep this up. The hunger was driving her mad, the constant edge of fear leaving her brain in a foggy haze. Her vision blurred, her head throbbing with each heartbeat. She had tried to sleep once, for just a few minutes, but every time she closed her eyes, the nightmares came. Horrors of being ripped apart, of being trapped, screaming but unable to make a sound.

Now, she was too scared to even try. If she slept, she would be vulnerable. If she slept, she wouldn’t hear them coming.

She bit down on her lip, hard, the metallic taste of blood flooding her mouth. It was the only thing she could do to stop herself from crying. She couldn’t cry. Crying would make noise. Noise would bring them.

Her stomach twisted violently, and she doubled over, gasping silently as the hunger pain sharpened into something unbearable. She had never felt so weak, so helpless. Her body was eating itself from the inside out, and all she could do was sit here, paralyzed by fear.

The worst part was the loneliness. She had been alone for so long, her mind starting to play cruel tricks on her. Sometimes, she thought she heard voices—whispers in the dark, like someone was calling to her. But when she strained to listen, there was only silence. Sometimes, she swore she could hear footsteps, slow and deliberate, right outside the door. But when she looked, there was nothing there.

She was going mad. Slowly, painfully, she was losing her grip on reality. The isolation was eating away at her, just as much as the hunger.

Her eyes darted back to the window. No movement. No sounds. Just the wind. But she knew better than to trust the quiet. The quiet was deceptive.

Her breath hitched as a shadow moved in the corner of her vision, darting past the window too quickly for her to see clearly. Her heart pounded in her chest, a sickening rhythm that made her feel like she was going to pass out. She held her breath, knife trembling in her hand, as she stared at the window, waiting for the inevitable.

She was going to die here. Alone. Starving. Too terrified to even try to escape.

The darkness of the room pressed in around her, suffocating, as her thoughts spiraled deeper into despair.

She didn’t want to die. Not like this. But what choice did she have?

The zombies were everywhere. The world was gone. And soon, so would she be.

Y/N’s hunger had become unbearable. The sharp, hollow ache in her stomach twisted and churned until it was impossible to ignore. She could feel her body weakening, her limbs trembling as she sat in the dark, staring at the front door of the house. She had resisted for so long, too afraid to make any noise, too terrified to go outside. But now, she was past the point of fear.

Her body screamed for food. Water. Anything. If she stayed here any longer, she would die.

She swallowed the thick lump in her throat, pushing herself up from the floor, her legs shaking beneath her. Every step toward the door felt like it took all her strength, her mind screaming at her to stay hidden, to stay safe. But her survival instincts—those primal, desperate needs—were louder.

With a trembling hand, she carefully unlatched the door, moving it just enough to slip out into the alleyway. The cold air hit her face, sharp and bracing, and she froze, listening for any sign of movement. But there was only the wind, a gentle rustling of leaves in the distance. No growls. No footsteps.

She moved quickly, keeping low as she crept through the deserted streets, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The store she had seen before—what was left of it—was only a few blocks away. She just needed to get there. Get something. Anything.

As she approached the crumbling remains of the building, her heart raced in her chest, her fingers twitching nervously. She knew it was a risk, but her body had overridden her fear. She needed food.

Slipping through the broken door, Y/N’s eyes scanned the dark, empty aisles. Shelves had been torn apart, broken glass scattered the floor, and debris littered every corner. But there were still a few things left—cans, boxes—anything she could find would do.

Without thinking, she grabbed a dusty can of soup, her hands shaking as she tore it open. She didn’t care that it was cold, that the smell of it was faintly metallic. She ate greedily, stuffing the food into her mouth, her stomach growling with hunger as if it had been waiting for this moment.

For a few blissful seconds, she forgot everything. The hunger, the fear, the world around her—it all faded away as she ate, her body rejoicing in the nourishment. But then, in the quiet, she heard it.

A low growl.

Her body went cold. She froze, her eyes wide as the sound echoed in the distance. She glanced toward the shattered window at the front of the store, her heart pounding in her chest. Shadows flickered outside—shapes, moving quickly.

They had heard her.

The growls grew louder, closer. Panic surged through her as she backed away, her breath quick and shallow. She had made a mistake.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and they rushed in—three of them, snarling, their pale, sunken faces twisted in hunger as they lunged toward her.

She ran.

Her body screamed in protest, weak and exhausted, but fear drove her forward. She could hear their footsteps behind her, fast, relentless, like predators on her heels. She stumbled through the store, her breath ragged, her vision blurring as tears stung her eyes.

Just as one of the zombies leaped toward her, its teeth snapping inches from her neck, a blur of movement appeared in front of her—a man, tall and strong, slamming the zombie back with a brutal force.

“Go! Now!” he shouted, his voice urgent as he fought off the creature.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She ran, her legs carrying her faster than she thought possible. The stranger was right behind her, the sounds of the zombies fading as they sprinted through the streets together. Her lungs burned, her muscles ached, but she couldn’t stop. Not yet.

It wasn’t until they reached the outskirts of the town, far enough away from the chaos, that they finally slowed down, gasping for breath. Y/N collapsed against a wall, her chest heaving, her heart still pounding in her ears.

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even process what had just happened. The adrenaline coursed through her veins, her entire body trembling. But when she looked up and saw him—really saw him—a wave of relief crashed over her like nothing she had ever felt before.

He was real. Another person. She wasn’t alone.

Tears filled her eyes, and before she could stop herself, she started laughing—soft at first, then uncontrollably. The sound was strange, unhinged, mixed with sobs as the weight of everything came crashing down on her. The loneliness, the fear, the hunger—it all poured out of her in a wave of raw emotion.

“I-I thought it was just me,” she gasped between sobs and laughter. “I thought I was the only one left.”

As Y/N’s laughter faded into soft, hiccuping sobs, he remained kneeling beside her, his hand a steady presence on her shoulder. She wiped her eyes with trembling fingers, her breath still shaky from the emotional release. She could feel his eyes on her—kind, patient, as if he understood everything she had been through without her having to say a word.

“I... I’m sorry,” Y/N stammered, her voice hoarse and raw. “I just... I haven’t seen anyone in so long...”

He shook his head, offering her a gentle smile that eased the tightness in her chest. “Don’t apologize. I get it,” he said, his voice low and warm, like a calming breeze after a storm. “You’ve been through hell. We all have.”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Thank you... for saving me. I didn’t think anyone would...” Her voice trailed off, still unable to fully believe she had been rescued.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his tone firm but kind. “I couldn’t just leave you there. Not when I knew you needed help.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the world around them eerily still, like it was waiting for the next move. Y/N glanced at him again, really taking him in—his sharp features, the light scruff on his jaw, and the intensity in his eyes that hinted at the weight of what he had been through. He looked strong, but there was something about him—something gentle, too.

“I’m Hazel,” he finally said, breaking the quiet. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she managed to say, her voice still weak but steadier now. Saying her name aloud felt strange, like a reminder that she was still here, still alive.

Hazel nodded, as if committing her name to memory. “Y/N... it’s good to meet you, Y/N. Even if it’s in the middle of all this.”

She let out a small, shaky laugh at that. “Yeah... could’ve been better circumstances.”

Hazel’s smile widened a bit, though it was tinged with sadness. “You’re not alone, Y/N. There’s more of us. A group. We’ve been sticking together for a while now. Safety in numbers, you know?”

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “A group? There’s... more of you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s not just me. There’s a few of us—good people. We’ve been scavenging, keeping each other alive. It’s tough, but we’ve got a better chance together. You should come with me. Join us. The more we are, the better our chances.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as hope surged in her chest. She hadn’t even dared to dream of this—other survivors, people who could help her, protect her. After being alone for so long, the idea of being part of a group again seemed like a dream. A miracle.

“Really?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’d... you’d let me join?”

Hazel’s expression softened even further, his gaze holding hers. “Of course. We don’t leave people behind. Not if we can help it.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes again, but this time, they were different—tears of relief, of gratitude. She had been so close to losing hope, so close to giving up entirely. But here, in front of her, was a lifeline. A chance at survival. At something more than just existing in fear and hunger.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, nodding quickly. “I... I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

Hazel’s smile returned, gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to say anything. Just stick with us, and we’ll figure this out together.”

Y/N felt a surge of warmth in her chest at his words. She hadn’t felt this kind of connection with anyone in so long, hadn’t felt safe or cared for. But here, with Hazel, there was a glimmer of hope. A chance to live again, not just survive.

She managed a small, but sincere smile. “I’ll come with you. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Hazel’s hand gently squeezed her shoulder, his voice low and steady. “You’re not alone anymore, Y/N. You’ve got us now.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N believed him.

Y/N’s legs were shaking as she followed behind him, trying to keep pace. The hunger gnawed at her insides, and her body ached from exhaustion. Her throat was dry, her lips cracked, but the adrenaline from their earlier encounter with the dead still burned in her veins. He hadn’t left her behind. He’d saved her.

Now, he was leading her somewhere safe—or so he promised. But after days, maybe weeks, of hiding and surviving alone, the word safe felt foreign, almost unreal. The building they approached was crumbling like all the others. It felt as though it might fall apart at any moment, much like her frail body. Her mind screamed at her not to trust anyone, that safety didn’t exist anymore.

Still, she followed him. Because she had nothing else.

They slipped inside, through a small gap in the side of the building. Y/N had to squeeze through, her pulse racing as the walls seemed to close in on her. She didn’t speak. He had told her to keep quiet when they were running. The zombies were too fast, too clever. They could hear, smell, and even sense movement like animals on the hunt. She hadn’t made a sound since.

Inside, there was a hidden stairwell leading downward into darkness. Her heart pounded louder with every step, echoing in her ears as they descended into the depths. The air grew colder, heavier. Her stomach churned with nausea, and a deep, primal fear started crawling up her spine.

When they reached the bottom, a single dim light flickered on, illuminating the underground space. It was larger than she expected—too organized, too clean for this new world they were trapped in. And that was when she saw them—several figures, standing, watching her in silence.

Their eyes were hollow, dark with suspicion. Her pulse quickened again, her breath shallow and labored. She wanted to shrink back, to disappear. There was something unsettling about the way they stared—like predators deciding if she was worth the effort to keep alive. She felt raw, exposed, and very, very small.

One of them, tall and lean, stepped forward. His eyes weren’t as cold as the others, but there was still an edge to his gaze, as if he was trying to read her thoughts, her past, her worth.

"Who is she?" he asked, his voice calm but filled with doubt. He looked past her, speaking to the man who’d saved her.

"Someone who needs help," was the quiet response.

Y/N could feel every heartbeat echoing in her chest, each one louder than the last. She didn’t dare speak, afraid that if she opened her mouth, the wrong thing would come out, or worse—nothing at all. Her throat was too tight to form words. Fear hung over her like a shroud, suffocating and heavy.

Another figure, a woman this time, stepped forward. Her face was sharp, hard. She didn’t look at Y/N with anything close to kindness. “She’s a risk. What if she brings them here? We don’t know anything about her.”

Y/N swallowed, her mouth dry. She wanted to scream, to beg them to believe she wasn’t a threat, but the words tangled in her throat. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The room felt like it was closing in.

"She doesn’t look like much of a threat," came a low, gruff voice from somewhere in the shadows. The man who spoke stepped into the light, his arms crossed. His eyes were cold, calculating. “But we’re already stretched thin. We can’t afford dead weight.”

Dead weight. That’s what she was to them—useless. Disposable.

Her hands trembled at her sides. She could feel their eyes on her, boring into her skin, judging her every flaw, every weakness. She wasn’t strong like them. She wasn’t capable. She was nothing.

“Look at her,” someone else muttered from the back, a rough laugh following. “She’s already half-dead.”

The weight of the words made her chest tighten, her breath quickening. It felt like the room was spinning, tilting, and she had to fight the urge to collapse. The starvation, the terror, the constant silence—it had eaten away at her, and now, standing here, she felt like a ghost of herself.

The man who had saved her finally spoke again, his voice calm but firm. “She’s not a risk. She’s alone. She’s been hiding for who knows how long. We all know what it’s like.”

But his words didn’t seem to be enough to sway the others. The murmurs grew louder, more voices chiming in, each one cutting through her like a blade. She wasn’t wanted here. They didn’t trust her. Why should they?

Before the argument could escalate, one of the larger figures—the tallest in the room—moved forward. He was broad-shouldered, his presence commanding and hard to ignore. His gaze wasn’t cold, but there was something intense about the way he looked at her. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood between her and the others, as if creating a barrier. His eyes held hers for a moment, and in that brief second, she felt something shift—like he understood.

“She stays,” he said, his deep voice breaking through the noise.

The room fell silent, the tension thick in the air. His tone was final, not up for debate. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but no one challenged him.

Y/N’s legs trembled beneath her, the adrenaline finally wearing off, replaced by an overwhelming exhaustion. She wanted to collapse right there, to give in to the crushing weight of everything, but she forced herself to stay upright. She couldn’t show weakness, not now.

The tall man—her unexpected ally—looked at her again, his expression softening just slightly. “You’re with us now,” he said quietly, his voice a bit gentler than before.

She nodded, too drained to do anything else. The fear still lingered, but the relief was there too, creeping in like a slow tide. She wasn’t alone anymore. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she wasn’t alone. But that didn’t mean the fear was gone. The hunger still gnawed at her, and the cold, calculating looks from some of the others told her this was far from over.

As the others dispersed, muttering to themselves, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but when she turned, it was him—the man who had saved her. His eyes were soft, warm, filled with understanding.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmured. “We’ll keep you safe.”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that she could trust them, that this nightmare might finally be over. But as she looked around at the faces of her new group, the doubt still lingered. Safety was an illusion in this world.

And yet, it was all she had.

Y/N sat on the cold, dusty floor, leaning against the crumbling wall of their underground hideout. She couldn’t stop shaking, her body weak, almost numb from hunger and fear. The moment they’d brought her inside, she had felt an overwhelming rush of relief, but it had been quickly replaced by the gnawing need for food and water. The world around her seemed to blur as her mind focused on one thing—survival. She had been running on empty for far too long.

A large shadow approached, the tall man who had stood up for her in front of the others. He carried a small bottle of water and something wrapped in cloth—a bit of bread, maybe. She could hardly care what it was at this point; all that mattered was that it was food.

“Here,” he said, crouching down beside her and holding out the water. His voice was calm, though his presence was still intimidating in its size. “Drink this first.”

Y/N’s hands trembled violently as she reached for the bottle, fumbling with the cap before she could unscrew it. She took a sip, and the cool water hit her parched throat like a punch, almost too much at once. She coughed, sputtering, but forced herself to drink more. It was like tasting life itself after being so close to death.

The man—her savior, really—sat beside her, watching her carefully. His presence was strangely comforting, even though he was a stranger. “Take it slow,” he advised softly, though there was a trace of amusement in his voice.

But Y/N didn’t have time to listen. As soon as he handed her the food, she tore into it like a starved animal, her teeth sinking into the bread without hesitation. She barely chewed, forcing herself to swallow each piece. Her stomach roared with hunger, but the food felt like sandpaper against her throat. She was desperate, too desperate to care.

A piece of bread lodged in her throat, and for a moment, panic surged through her chest. She coughed violently, her eyes watering as she gasped for air, still trying to stuff more food into her mouth. She didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to risk the chance that it could all be taken away.

The man next to her—he was watching her with a raised brow, his lips twitching as if he was trying not to laugh. “Careful,” he said, his voice lighter now, the edge of seriousness softening. “You’re going to choke.”

Y/N sputtered, a piece of bread half-swallowed, half stuck in her throat as she coughed and gasped. The combination of hunger, exhaustion, and embarrassment hit her all at once, and she couldn’t help but glance at him, her face burning with shame. She didn’t want to be seen like this, so desperate, so weak.

“I—I’m fine,” she managed to choke out between gasps, waving her hand weakly as if to reassure him.

He chuckled, and it wasn’t unkind. “Yeah, sure looks like it.”

Her heart sank. She hadn’t meant to make him laugh, especially not at her expense. But the sound of his laughter wasn’t cruel. It was… warm. And something about that made her want to keep talking, even through her embarrassment.

She managed to swallow the rest of the food, sitting back against the wall, still clutching the water bottle tightly. Her hands were filthy, her face streaked with dirt and fear, but for a moment, just sitting here with him, she felt something that wasn’t pure terror.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her voice raspy from both hunger and choking. “I… I haven’t eaten in a while.”

“I figured.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his broad chest, still watching her with that calm, assessing gaze. “You looked like you’d been through hell when Hazel brought you here.”

Hazel. That was the man who had saved her in the store. The one who had promised her safety and a place with them. But now, this man—the one who had stood up for her—was sitting beside her, talking to her as if she weren’t just some desperate stranger. It felt surreal.

“I’m—" she started, hesitating for a moment before deciding to offer her name. "Y/N.”

“Bigwig,” he replied simply, his voice carrying a hint of pride in the name. It wasn’t a real name, not in the traditional sense, but it suited him somehow. Strong, unmovable.

Y/N blinked at the name, nearly choking on another piece of bread as she processed it. She tried to stifle the laugh, but a small, surprised giggle slipped out despite herself. She coughed again, covering her mouth, trying not to make a fool of herself.

Bigwig looked at her, and for a moment, his serious demeanor cracked. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. Weird name, huh?”

She nodded, still trying to swallow the last bit of bread, though her face burned with embarrassment again. She wasn’t laughing at him, but she felt like a mess—like this starving, desperate girl who was sitting next to this towering man, choking on food while he tried not to laugh at her. It was absurd, and for the first time in so long, the absurdity of it all made her feel something that wasn’t fear.

Bigwig leaned back against the wall beside her, his presence calm and steady. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, offering her a reassuring look. “The name, I mean. And everything else.”

Y/N smiled faintly, wiping at her face with her sleeve, the remnants of the meal still sticking in her throat. The tension in her chest started to ease, even if only a little. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “For… you know, sticking up for me.”

Bigwig shrugged, though there was something softer in his expression now. “Don’t mention it. You’ve been through enough already. Besides,” he added with a faint grin, “it’s better if we stick together. The more of us there are, the better chance we have.”

She nodded, taking another careful sip of water, feeling it soothe her dry throat. For the first time since all of this had begun, she felt a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And sitting here, with someone who had looked out for her, who didn’t see her as a burden, that flicker of hope felt like it might actually grow into something real.

Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

It was night and Y/N was still catching her breath when she heard footsteps approaching, soft but steady. The moment she lifted her head, she saw Hazel’s familiar silhouette appear in the dim light. He carried something under his arm, something soft and warm-looking.

“You doing alright?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful not to disturb the others. He knelt down beside her, his presence so calm and reassuring. It was like the chaos of the outside world didn’t exist in his company.

Y/N nodded, her stomach still full from the food Bigwig had given her, though her throat was a little sore from nearly choking earlier. "Yeah... better," she murmured, though exhaustion weighed heavily in her bones.

Hazel smiled gently, his dark eyes scanning her face as if to check if she was really telling the truth. Then he unfolded the bundle he’d brought with him—a blanket, soft and worn but warm-looking—and draped it over her shoulders. The simple act of kindness nearly made her want to cry again. She hadn’t felt comfort like this in so long, not since before everything had fallen apart.

“Here, this’ll keep you warm tonight,” Hazel said softly. “It’s cold down here.”

Y/N clutched the blanket around herself, feeling the warmth of it immediately start to seep into her skin. She looked up at Hazel, her heart skipping a beat at how close he was, how gentle he seemed. His face was so beautiful, framed by the faint light. Even in the harshness of the world they lived in now, he still looked... perfect. Too perfect, almost. Like someone who belonged in a world before all the death and destruction.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Hazel smiled again, a little more brightly this time, and he sat down beside her. “It’s nothing. You need to stay strong if you’re gonna survive this.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence between them, but Y/N couldn’t stop staring at him. The more she looked, the more she noticed—his strong jaw, the softness in his eyes, the way his hair curled slightly at the ends. He looked tired, like he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but still, there was something about him that made her feel safe.

“You... you saved me back there,” Y/N murmured, her voice wavering slightly. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

Hazel shook his head gently. “You don’t need to. We’re all just trying to make it through this nightmare. And now... well, you’re part of the group. We look after each other.”

His words made her heart swell. Part of the group. After so much time alone, so much time spent hiding and starving, she had almost forgotten what it felt like to belong somewhere.

She shifted a little under the blanket, her gaze still fixed on him. “It’s just... I didn’t think anyone was left. I thought it was just me.”

Hazel’s expression softened, and he turned to face her more directly. “You’re not alone anymore. We’ve got a little group, and we stick together.” His voice was so steady, so certain.

Y/N smiled faintly, though her eyes were still filled with awe as she looked at him. She was so tired, so drained from everything that had happened, but sitting here with him, she felt... lighter. Less like a ghost of herself and more like a person again.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Hazel said, standing up slowly. He gave her one last look, something soft and reassuring in his eyes. “Get some rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

Y/N nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around herself, feeling the warmth from his words and the blanket wrap around her like a protective shield. “Goodnight, Hazel.”

He gave her a small smile before turning and walking away, his footsteps fading into the background. She watched him leave, her heart still beating a little faster than it should have, but not from fear. This time, it was something else. Something warmer, something that made her feel like maybe... just maybe, she wasn’t as lost as she thought.

She lay down, curling up under the blanket. Her mind was still racing, but there was something different now—a spark of hope that hadn’t been there before. She closed her eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a small, genuine smile tugged at her lips.

She was safe. And she wasn’t alone anymore.

Sleep came easier than it had in days.

In the dead of night, Y/N stirred, her body tense beneath the blanket. Something had pulled her from her sleep—no, someone. There was a noise, faint but unsettling, like the sound of muttering mixed with ragged breaths. Her heart jumped in her chest, and she instinctively reached for the blanket, clinging to it as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of an old lantern in the corner, casting long shadows on the walls. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her surroundings, until her gaze landed on the source of the noise.

In the far corner, huddled against the cold stone wall, was a figure. At first, she thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her—a shadow—but no. It was a person. She squinted, heart pounding, and recognized the small, shaking form of one of the men from the group, the quiet one with wide, haunted eyes. His back was turned to her, his shoulders trembling violently as he whispered feverishly to himself, over and over, the same words that she couldn’t quite make out.

Her throat tightened. Something about the scene felt wrong, like she was witnessing something she shouldn’t. The darkness felt heavier, suffocating, and her own breath came in short, shallow gasps. Part of her wanted to stay where she was, stay silent, but another part of her—a stronger part—knew she had to do something.

Slowly, Y/N pushed the blanket off and sat up. The floor was cold beneath her feet, sending a shiver through her body, but she forced herself to stand. She took a hesitant step forward, the faint creak of the floorboards echoing in the eerie silence.

The man—Fiver, she remembered his name now—didn’t seem to notice her. His muttering had grown louder, more frantic. He rocked slightly, his arms wrapped around his knees as if trying to hold himself together. The closer she got, the clearer his words became.

“They’re coming... they’re coming... we’re all going to die...”

Her stomach churned at the sound of it. There was something off in his voice, something desperate, like he was trapped in his own mind. Her heart ached for him, but fear gnawed at her too. What had made him like this?

Y/N crouched down beside him, hesitating only for a moment before she reached out to touch his shoulder. The instant her fingers brushed his skin, he flinched violently, a sharp, guttural sound escaping his throat as he recoiled from her touch. His head snapped toward her, his wide, terrified eyes locking with hers, and for a split second, he didn’t seem to recognize her.

“No!” he gasped, scrambling back as if she were one of the undead. “No, don’t—don’t touch me! It’s too late! They’re coming, they’re coming!”

His voice was raw with terror, and Y/N’s heart shattered at the sight of him. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know how. He was unraveling right in front of her, consumed by whatever horror was playing in his mind.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “It’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe. We’re safe here.”

But Fiver’s eyes darted around the room, seeing things that weren’t there, his breath coming in rapid, panicked bursts. “No... no, you don’t understand... I’ve seen it. I know what's going to happen. It’s all going to fall apart. They’ll break through. We’ll all die. You... you’ll die.”

Y/N swallowed, a cold dread creeping down her spine at his words. His fear was contagious, and she could feel it sinking into her bones, making her hands tremble. But she couldn’t let him spiral any further. She had to do something.

“Fiver,” she said more firmly, trying to make her voice soothing despite her own fear. “Look at me. Please, look at me.”

He was shaking harder now, on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. His hands clawed at the floor, his breath hitching painfully in his chest as if he couldn’t get enough air. His muttering had devolved into incoherent gasps, and Y/N knew if she didn’t calm him down soon, he would lose himself completely.

Without thinking, she reached out again, more forcefully this time, and pulled him into her arms. He resisted at first, his body stiff and trembling against hers, but she didn’t let go. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, holding him as he struggled, whispering soothing words even though her heart was hammering in her chest.

“Shh... it’s okay... it’s okay. You’re safe. We’re safe. Just breathe, Fiver. Just breathe.”

At first, he didn’t respond, still caught in the grip of his terror. His breathing was ragged, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. But slowly—agonizingly slowly—he began to calm down. His gasps turned into deep, shuddering breaths, and the tension in his muscles started to ease. He slumped against her, exhausted, his head resting against her shoulder as he finally let go of the panic that had consumed him.

Y/N held him close, her own breath shaky as she ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him like a frightened child. “You’re okay,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Fiver’s breathing steadied, his body relaxing into hers as he leaned into the warmth of her embrace. His voice was hoarse and broken when he spoke again, barely a whisper. “Something bad’s coming... I can feel it.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. The weight of his words lingered in the air, heavy and foreboding, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she held him tighter, letting her warmth shield him from whatever horrors haunted his mind.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she promised, though she wasn’t sure how much she believed it. But it seemed to be enough for him.

Eventually, his breathing slowed, his trembling stopped, and he drifted into a restless sleep, still clinging to her like a lifeline.

Y/N stayed awake long after that, her mind racing with fear, dread, and the chilling words he had whispered to her.

“Something bad’s coming...”

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[uglygirltrying]

summary - enemy!ghost x enemy!reader - both have been separated from their teams. in the middle of desperation, and a snow blizzard, ghost makes the (stupid) choice of helping the enemy.

you kept falling in and out of consciousness, your eyes fluttering open for a moment, and then closing again the next. cold snow surrounded you, as you laid limp on the ground, heavy blizzard blowing down on you and wind hitting your face. the adrenaline started to slowly wear off, and you could to feel the bruises all around your body from the explosion. suddenly, you perked up. footsteps, coming from your three, snow crunching under the heavy steps of whoever was coming towards you. your breath came our desperate and slow. your eyes fluttered open once more. but this time, even through your hazy sight, and the blizzard around you, you could make out a shadow standing above you. your breath hitches, but you couldn't find the strength to keep your eyes open any longer. you went under again. how convenient.

your head throbbed violently, pain radiating around your body. crackling of fire filled your ears. it's warm. hot even, compared to how you were, in your mind, just a moment ago. slowly, and with great effort, you managed to open your eyes. you're in a cabin. not a fancy one unfortunately, a rotten, and dust filled one. but at least you're out of the snow.

"stay calm." ghost didn't want to spook you, but he wanted you to know about his presence. even if it came at the price of your tiny frame tensing up and looking around franticly. finally you found him, your brows furrowed, and your eyes wide, in fear. ghost sighed. he just had to make his life even harder. but he couldn't resist a pretty woman. even less, a pretty damsel in distress. even if she's supposed to be the enemy.

"yer lucky you didn't need stiches. wrapped you up bloody good tho." ghost murmured, standing up from his spot, and making his way closer. he kneeled down beside your form, snug in his sleeping bag. your wide eyes followed his movements, obviously wary of him, the enemy.

ghost ignored your stare, knowing that you're still far too weak to attack him, even if you wanted to. ghost ripped open a mre packet, and began to feed you crackers. embarrassment flooded your mind, being hand-fed by a intimidating enemy soldier. the brit chuckled at the blush decorating your soft cheeks. eventually, he tossed the mre packed aside.

"you gonna let me in, luv?" ghost sighed, pulling down the sleeping bag's zipper. you couldn't keep in the whimper as he slowly moved you. "i know, luv, i'm sorry..." ghost murmured, gently moving you, until he fit next to you in the sleeping bag. his big arms wrapped around your small form.

"you gonna kill me in my sleep?" ghost chuckled, his fingers running up and down, on the bare skin of your arm. your head shook meekly.

"no?"

"bet yer afraid of what i might do..." ghost darkly chuckled in your ear, and nuzzled against your soft cheek. ghost basked in the feeling, when you kept quiet without an answer.

"don't ya worry, luv... i'll make sure we'll be alright..." he told you. his arms were wrapped around you, the fire and his body kept you warm, your wounds were taken care off, and your stomach was full.

maybe you'll be alright.

tried to write in another style. first person pov makes me kinda uncomfortable because i don't like to force the reader to accept one thing without alternatives idk ifykyk 😭that's why she doesn't say anything, sorry if this is crap, im just yapping

[cherubharrington]

I only have eyes for you

18+mdni

Authors note: this is part 2 to Rafe staring at reader.

You tried to rationalize him staring at you. Especially that intensely. Maybe he was zoning out. You decided to chalk it up as that. To not think so hard on it.

Until he did it more times than one. His eyes moved any direction you did.

You felt your niece tuck at the bottom of your dress. You looked down at her as she stared up at you. She gesticulated for you to come closer, so you bend on your knees to hear what she had to say.

“Why is that guy staring at you?” She whispered into your ear. So you weren’t the only one who saw that. “He’s creepy.”

You don’t know how you caught the attention of Rafe Cameron. You never would have assumed you were even on his radar. You always had your nose in a book. There wasn’t anything you thought made anyone think you were interesting. Which you took offense too because you felt like you were actually more interesting than people would think. But you knew you couldn’t control how people felt about you. So you just ignored it.

But Rafe Cameron? That was weird and didn’t make any sense to you.

“Don’t worry about it. He’s probably just zoning out.” But even your niece wasn’t convinced.

A few more instances of this occurred, and you were confused. You didn’t understand why he was staring so much. You tried to ignore it but finally, it was like he knew you were frustrated. He had finally decided to approach you.

“Hey, I’m Rafe Cameron. But you probably know that already.” He said smugly.

“Yes, Rafe. I know who you are. You’re all any girl can talks bout.” You say, annoyed. He smiles at you, his gaze drinking you in from head to toe. It’s silent as he does so, you can’t exactly hide from him. Your crop top and low rise denim shorts, didn’t really leave much to the imagination.

“So, how come I didn’t see you until midsummers?”

“We just moved here. Like two months back. Wasn’t really in the mood to go into the heat when the ac did me just fine.” He smiles at you, his hands finding yours. Rubbing his thumb on your skin.

“A pretty girl like you coop up in her room for two months. Must have been boring.” A blush appears on your face, betraying you. “You don’t have to worry about being bored anymore.”

His dick was deep inside of you, your hands on the sides of his face. You watched as he disappeared into you and out again.

“Fuck, this pussy.” He says, he’s bending your legs back for easier access. His hands on your thighs. “I couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.” He grunted.

“Fuck, Rafe. I-“

“Yeah, yeah. You love my dick huh? Can’t even speak.” His thrusts speeds up, more violent as he does so.

“Mhm. I love your dick.” You breathe out. He lets go of your legs, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He cups your face, bringing your face up to stare at him. “Pretty girl. So fucking pretty. Look at you, the way I’m destroying you. You’re mine. Never letting anyone take you now.”

The lewd noises of him thrusting in you fills the room. You can’t even think, but a part of you is conscious enough to think “did I just make a mistake?”

Taglist

@sublimepenguinpeach-blog @queenvane64 @modesttiger

[loveesiren]

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 5)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Midsummerrrssss and sex :P

Warnings: Smut, language, alcohol,

Word Count: 4.5k+

Midsummers had finally arrived and you were ecstatic. Courtney had been telling you all about it for years and it always sounded so amazing. The fact that you'd be walking in with the Cameron's made it even more exciting.

In the short amount of time you'd been on the island, you'd become the official Kook Queen. People feared you and that fueled your fire. Even though your dad was never around, everyone knew who he was and respected him.

You'd made a reputation for yourself. You weren't one to fuck with. You were loyal to your friends. And you and Rafe were a packaged deal. When it came to him, you were a lioness, ready to protect him at all costs. He did the same for you.

"You look amazing!" Courtney gushed as she looked over your dress. It was light blue, to match Rafe's suit. Floor length and silk, it hugged your body just right. Slits coming up both sides, dangerously close to exposing you. Your breasts pressed against the fabric perfectly, showing just the right amount of cleavage.

"Thanks, Court! So do you!"

You and Courtney sported matching hair. Straight and long. Simple, but the two of you made it look breath taking. You decided against your regular gold body jewelry and opted for the silver necklace Rafe had gotten you. A diamond studded R hung from the simple chain and it was absolutely gorgeous. You were proud to wear it. Proud to make it known that you belonged to him.

"So, are you nervous to meet his family?" Courtney asked.

"Yeah, kind of," You admit. "I just hope they like me."

"What's not to like?"

"I don't know, maybe the fact that I'm a violent junkie who's richer than everyone on the island, including them." You say, anxiety coating your voice.

Courtney sighs. "Listen," She starts as she picks up your brush and runs it through your hair. "You're strong and smart as hell. You hold your own and you'd do anything for Rafe. Just be yourself. They are going to love you."

You smile at her in the mirror and nod. "Okay," You agree.

"Y/N?" You hear Rafe call from downstairs.

Your stomach drops. "Fuck, I'm not ready for this."

"Here," Courtney says, pouring you a shot and handing it to you. You throw it back quickly and ask for another. She pours you one and you drink again. "Now go be the bad bitch you are!" She says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You and Courtney make your way downstairs. You stop in your tracks when you see Rafe. Holy shit. His hair was slicked back, blue suit and bow tie, flowers in his hand. You swear you'd never seen a more perfect person in your life.

Courtney ran and jumped into Kelce's arms. You snapped out of your trance and walked over to Rafe. You could see a nervousness on his face.

"Oh my God," He said. "Y-You look like an angel."

You bit your lip, looking down to hide the red glossing over your cheeks.

"You don't look half bad yourself, Cameron." You said with a nervous giggle.

"What are you two like in the fourth grade?" Kelce asked. Him and Courtney laughing at your nervous exchange.

Rafe shot him a look.

"We're gonna head out," Courtney says, pushing Kelce towards the door. "We'll see you guys there!"

"Uhm, these are for you," Rafe said as he handed you the bouquet of pink and black roses. Your favorite.

"They're beautiful," You say with a smile. You walk over to the kitchen and grab a vase. Setting the flowers up in the middle of the island.

"Baby," Rafe says as he walks over to you. "You look so fucking perfect."

Before you could say anything, his lips were pressed to yours, kissing you hungrily. You knew you were going to have to fix your lipstick but you didn't care. You brought your hand up, running your fingers through the back of his hair and you pulled him deeper into the kiss.

"Hands where I can see them," You heard your dad enter the room.

Rafe backed off quickly, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Dad," You hissed. "What are you doing here?" You hadn't even heard him come in.

Your dad just laughs. "Don't worry, son," He says, placing a hand on Rafe's shoulder. "I don't own a shot gun."

Rafe relaxes with a nervous chuckle. "Good to see you again, Mr. Y/L/N."

"Please, call me Elliot." He says with a smile. "I assume you are taking my daughter to Midsummers?"

"Uh, yes sir. We were just about to head over to meet my family."

"Dad," You interrupt. "What are you doing home? I thought you were gone this week."

"I head out again in the morning," He said. "But I have a few business strategies to run by some folks at Midsummers tonight. Including Mr. Cameron." He says as he looks to Rafe again.

"I-I'm sure my dad would appreciate that, Sir." Rafe says with a smile.

"Okay, well, we have to get going," You say as you pull Rafe towards the door. "See you tonight, dad!"

"Drive safe!" He calls after you.

Once you reach Rafe's truck, he pulls the door open for you and helps you in. Once he's in the drivers side, he lets out a sigh of relief.

"Sorry. I had no clue my dad was going to be home."

"It's okay, baby girl," He said, placing his hand on your thigh. "Just, caught me off guard is all."

You smile at him. "You look so handsome."

He looked away as his cheeks turned bright red, making you giggle.

"Let's go," He said, starting the car. "Rose will kill us if we're late."

____________

"Wow," You said as you pulled into Tanneyhill. "This is beautiful."

"Yeah, uh, Rose works really hard on the garden."

Rafe goes to get out of the truck but you stop him. "Rafe?" You ask, a tinge of fear in your voice.

"Yeah, baby? What's up?"

"Uhm...What do your parents know about me? Do they know about the...uh...the overdose." You ask disappointed in yourself.

"Y/N, baby," He starts, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb across your skin. "Look, I have no idea what they've heard but I know they will love you. And we are both clean now. That's what matters."

You smile at him. You always got lost in his ocean eyes. The way his eyes could change from a calm sea to a hurricane in an instant was one of the many things that turned you on about Rafe Cameron.

"You ready?" He asks.

You shake your nerves away. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Rafe comes around and helps you out of the truck, being careful of your dress.

You cling to his arm as he walks you up to the front door and into the house.

"Dad!" He yells as you enter the home.

You swallow your nerves and put on your confident front.

"You're late," A young girl scolds at she enters the foyer.

"No, we're not, Wheeze."

"Who's this?" She asks, looking you over.

"Wheezie, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is my youngest sister, Wheezie."

"Nice to meet you," You beam.

She offers you a small smile. "You too,"

"Wheezie, go tell your sister it's time to go." A tall blond walks into the room, fiddling with her earring. "Ah! You must be Y/N!" She squeals as she comes over and hugs you. You were taken aback but returned the hug. You watched as Rafe rolled his eyes. "I'm Rose!"

"It's really good to meet you!" You say with a big smile. Happy that his family was taking to you well.

"Ward! Y/N and Rafe are here!" Rose yells. This makes your stomach turn slightly. Rafe has told you all about his father and you know how badly he wants his dad to accept him.

"Coming, honey," Ward says as he steps out of his office. You could feel Rafe tense up at the sight of his father. You brush your thumb over his, reminding him you're there. "Son, good to see you," He says as he approaches you and Rafe. Then he turns to look at you.

"Dad, this is Y/N." Rafe says without hesitation. "She's my girlfriend."

Ward gives you a kind smile. "Y/N Y/L/N," He says. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm looking forward to meeting your father tonight."

"He's looking forward to it as well, Mr. Cameron." You say, confidence filling your voice. You knew your dad had influence over the island. Whether Ward really liked you or not, he was going to respect you. And seeing the way you clung to his sons arm seemed to make him almost proud. The fact that his son was now dating you gave him an instant in to doing business with your dad.

"Y/N! Rafe!" You heard Toppers voice cut through the moment.

You turn to see him and Sarah descending the stairs. "Hey, Y/N," Sarah says. Offering nothing but a glare to her brother.

Topper approaches you and gives you a hug and dapping Rafe up.

"Are we all ready to go then?" Rose asks, impatiently ushering everyone out the door.

"I'll drive Y/N, Topper, and Sarah." Rafe offers.

"Okay perfect. We will meet you all there." Ward says.

Rafe helps you into his truck and Topper and Sarah climb in the back. Sarah seems less than happy to be here but you couldn't care less.

"Y/N," Topper says, leaning forward and offering you his flask.

"Oh thank God," You say as you take the flask and begin to chug.

"Hey, Top?" Rafe says as he backs out of the driveway. "Don't get my girlfriend wasted." He scolds.

"Just gonna get a little buzzed," You promised your boyfriend before handing the flask back.

Rafe smiles at you as he drives. His arm rested on the center console and you ran your fingers over his open palm.

"They like you," He said, grinning from ear to ear.

"They like her dad's money," Sarah scoffs.

"Sarah," Topper hisses.

"What was that?" You turn and look at her.

"Oh you really think you're anything special? Rafe's just dating you so my dad will let him back into the house." Sarah spits.

You feel Rafe's hand on your chest, pressing you back against the seat as he slams on the breaks.

"What the fuck, Rafe!" You hear Sarah yell.

Rafe turns around and points his index finger in her face. "Don't you EVER say some fucking dumb shit like that again, Sarah!" He says, chest heaving. "You don't know shit about me or my relationship and if you wanna keep running your mouth I'll kick you out right here and you can walk your sorry ass to the club."

You smile, loving the way Rafe stands up for you.

He turns back around and places a kiss on your cheek before settling back into his seat and driving off.

You can hear Sarah and Topper bickering in the back seat as Rafe clutches your hand tightly. You run your fingers over his skin in attempts to calm him down.

As much as you didn't want to believe it, Sarah's words lingered in your head.

When you pulled up to the club, it was already packed with people. Sarah and Topper got out to meet up with Rose and Ward. You began walking with them but Rafe grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.

"Y/N, listen," He said, his eyes following Sarah as she walked off. "I don't know why Sarah is being such a bitch but I need you to know what she said isn't true."

"I know, Rafey," You said as you reached up and fixed his hair.

"Baby, whether my dad says I can come home or not I really don't care. As long as I have you I'm happy. There is nothing I want more than you."

You smile up at him. You believe every word he says. Sarah hasn't liked you from the beginning and you know her and Rafe had never been close. She was just trying to get under your skin.

Rafe cups your cheek and pulls you into a kiss. You smile against his lips as you savor the moment.

"Rafe!" Wards voice cuts through the air.

You pull away from each other quickly. Your cheeks turning red as you'd been caught for the second time today.

"Coming, dad!" Rafe shouts back. He holds out his arm to you and you link yours through it and smile up at him. "Shall we?" He asks.

People began clapping as the Cameron's entered the party. Rose and Ward walking in first. Rose's golden head piece making an instant talking point.

Topper, Sarah, and Wheezie just behind them.

You and Rafe walked in last and all eyes instantly fell to you. Rafe stood tall and proud knowing he had the islands prettiest girl hanging on his arm. You took confident strides, smiling and waving at people as you walked by.

"What an entrance," Courtney said as you approached her and Kelce. You flipped her off. She chuckled and handed you a glass of wine. "So, how was meeting the family?" She asked as she pulled you slightly away from the boys.

"It went really well for the most part," You said. "But Sarah..." You said as your eyes trailed to where her and Topper were arguing.

"Yeah, she's always been a bitch."

"She said Rafe was only dating me for his fathers approval." You confessed.

Courtney snorted. "That's a load of fucking shit. Rafe's been drooling over you since the second he saw you."

You smiled at her words. You knew deep down Rafe really loved you.

"I think...I think I'm going to do it. Tonight."

Courtney's eyes widened. "Really?! Oh my God I'm so proud of you!" She said as she brought you into a hug. "Are you positive you're ready?"

You nod your head excitedly. "I love Rafe so much. I want it to be him."

Courtney gives you a genuine smile. "I'm really, really happy for you, Sunflower. Rafe's a good guy. I like him."

You beam up at her. "Me too."

You feel Rafe's arm snake around your waist as he pulls you close and kisses the top of your head. "What are you ladies talking about?"

"Oh, just girl talk!" Courtney shrugs.

"Greeeeat," Kelce intervenes. "They're probably talking shit."

"Exactly." You confirm with a shit eating grin before sipping your wine.

"Man, fuck this shit!" Topper said as he approached your little group. He stole Kelce's drink and downed it quickly.

"Alright, alright, guess we're getting shitfaced." Rafe laughs.

"Your sister's a bitch man," Topper snarls.

"Tell me about it," Rafe says, taking a sip of his beer.

"She's cheating on me. I know it."

"Fuck Top, I'm sorry." You said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You deserve better."

Topper laughs. "I, uhhh, I'm pretty sure it's John B."

"What?" Courtney asks. "She's sneaking off with a fucking Pogue?"

"Why can't they just stay on their goddamn side of the island?" You add as you glare over to where Kiara and Pope were standing.

"Come on," Courtney says dragging you to the dance floor. "Let's have fun!"

_____

You were smiling up at Rafe as you swayed to the music. Feeling lost in the moment when people started clapping again.

You look over to see your dad entering the party. You sigh and lean your head into Rafe's chest.

He smiles and runs his fingers through your hair. "We should probably go say hi." He says.

You nod in agreement. "Fine,"

You make your way over to where your dad and Ward were talking.

"Ah, there they are!" Ward says as you approach. "He places his hand on Rafe's shoulder. Beaming with pride. "Elliot, this is my son, Rafe."

"We've met!" Elliot smiles. "Spends more time at my house than I do," He laughs.

Rafe smiles uncomfortably.

"You two seem to have gotten really close," Ward smiles at you.

"Yes sir," You respond. "Rafe's been really great to me since I moved here. Your son is really special, Mr. Cameron." You smile up at Rafe, lacing your fingers with his.

He glows at your words. "I love you," He mouths.

"I love you, too."

"You help your father out with the business, Rafe?" Your dad asks.

"I, uhm, I-"

"He does!" Ward interjects. "He's been on a bit of a break, you know, to be there for Y/N. But now that she's doing better I think he's ready to get back to work."

Your father looked at you, slight disappointment in his face at the fact that the island knows about your overdose. You bite your lip as your eyes fall to the floor.

"Well thank you for being there for her," Elliot says. "It's nice to know she's in good hands when I'm away."

"Of course, sir." Rafe says. "I'll always be there for her."

"You kids go have fun," Elliot says. "Ward and I have a lot to discuss." He smiles.

"See you later dad, Mr. Cameron." You nod in their direction before pulling Rafe away quickly.

"My dad wants me back at work," Rafe said with a smile.

"That's great, babe! He seems proud of you."

Rafe gushes, smile wide on his face and it makes your heart swell to see him so happy.

Courtney and Kelce come stomping over to you. "JJ's here," Courtney announces. You glare in JJ's direction as you see him pass something to Sarah.

"You know? I could go for a drink. What about you Kelce?" Rafe asks.

"Yeah, I'm feeling a bit thirsty myself." Kelce responds.

You and Courtney watch as the boys head off in JJ's direction.

"When will they learn?" Courtney sighs.

"RIP to JJ," You laugh as you watch the boys take off after JJ and chase him through the club.

"So," Courtney says as she turns to look at you. "Did you tell Rafe you wanna do the dirty tonight?" She teases.

"No. I want it to like happen naturally."

"Are you nervous?"

"Kind of. I mean yes and no. I just want to make him feel good."

"Remember what I taught you," Courtney winks.

Topper approaches you, drink in hand, wearing a look of irritation.

"What happened, Top?" Courtney asks.

"Saw Sarah talking to someone. When I asked her about it she denied it but it's so fucking obvious."

"You can do better, Top. If she wants to be a Pogue then she can go live on the Cut." You say.

"I'm sorry for what she said in the truck," Topper says.

"It's not your fault she likes to run her mouth, Top."

"Yeah, but she's wrong for that. I was there the night Rafe saw you for the first time. If that wasn't love at first sight then I don't know what is. He hasn't shut up about you since."

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face.

The three of you turn to look at the commotion that suddenly started. JJ was being dragged from the club by security.

"Hey baby," You heard Rafe say from behind you as he wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head.

"What'd you guys do?" Courtney laughed.

"Just told him where he belongs," Kelce said as he stood beside her.

"Safe travels back to the Cut!" Courtney yelled as the four Pogues walked away from the club.

You turned around in Rafe's arms and wrapped your arms up around his neck. "What do you say we go back to your place?" You suggest, giving him lustful eyes as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

Rafe smiles down at you knowingly. "We're gonna head out guys," He announces, not taking his eyes off yours. "We'll see you tomorrow," He begins to usher you out of the party before you could even say bye to your friends.

"Subtle," Kelce chuckles.

Courtney smiles as she watches you walk away, skipping happily alongside Rafe as the two of you hurry out to his truck.

____________________

The ride back to Tanneyhill was full of sexual tension. You were both quiet for the short drive back but you could feel yourself getting more aroused with each passing second.

Rafe helped you out of the truck and led you inside. The rest of the Cameron's were still at the party so you had the house to yourselves.

The second the door closed behind you his lips were on yours. Kissing and nipping at your lips down to your neck. You jumped up and wrapped your legs around him. He gripped your ass tightly as you went at each other hungrily.

"Take me to your room," You breathe. Rafe did as you asked, careful not to trip up the stairs as he carried you.

Once you were inside his room he put you down. Still keeping his lips locked on yours as he ripped his jacket off and threw it to the floor. He brought his hands up to cup your face. "I love you," He whispered between kisses.

"I love you too, Rafey." You smiled. You reached behind you and unzipped your dress. Rafe watched you as it fell to the floor. Staring at you intently, taking in all of your beauty.

You stood before him in your bra and panties and bit your lip. He loosened his bow tie and unbuttoned his shirt, adding it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor before picking you up and carrying you to the bed. He let out a moan as you sucked at the sweet spot on his neck, leaving as many marks on him as you could.

He unhooked your bra and pulled it off of you slowly. He kissed his way down your neck and chest before sucking on your left nipple, palming the other one as he did.

"Fuck, babe." You moaned. You could feel his erection growing against your core.

"Is this okay?" He whispered against your skin.

"Yes, baby, please keep going." You beg.

Rafe kisses you down your stomach, running his fingers over your clothed pussy. You squirm beneath him, silently begging for him to do more.

He places kisses up and down your thighs. Feeling his breath on your skin sent shockwaves through your body. You felt him tuck his fingers under the hem of your panties and pull them slowly from your body. You were completely exposed to him now.

"So fucking beautiful," He says against your skin. "I want to make you feel so good."

Before you could say anything his tongue was exploring your folds. "Holy fuck!" You cry out at the sensation. Your fingers found his hair and you grasped onto him for dear life as he tongued circles around your clit.

Your legs were over his shoulders and you were afraid you were going to suffocate him as you climbed to your high.

"Oh...my god," You moan. "I'm gonna...I'm-"

You couldn't even get your words out as you reached your orgasm, your body vibrated as you squirted on Rafe's face.

You gasped and clamped your hands over your mouth, completely embarrassed at what you'd just done.

Rafe looked up at you wide eyed and smiling. "Holy fuck, that was hot." He panted.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know I could do that!"

Rafe crawled back up your body and pressed his lips to yours. "Do NOT apologize. You're fucking amazing." He says as he licks his lips. "You taste so fucking good."

You smile and pull him in to kiss him again. His hands run freely up and down your body and you can't deny that you want him. Need him.

"Rafe," You whisper. "I need you."

Rafe pauses for a moment, lips hovering over yours as he looks you in the eyes. "Are you sure, baby?"

You nod eagerly. "Yes. Yes, please." You find yourself begging again.

He smiles and quickly stands up, ridding himself of his pants and boxers.

You bite your lip with both nerves and excitement as you take in his size.

He climbs back into the bed, pulling you under the covers with him. He places kisses all over your face as his hand strokes your hair.

"You really want this?" He asks, unsure of himself.

"Yes, Rafe. I'm in love with you. I want it to be you." You respond.

He presses a kiss to your forehead. "I'm in love with you too." He says. He positions himself between your legs, running his tip through your folds. "It's going to hurt for a second, babe." He told you.

"I know."

"I'll go slow,"

"Okay," You nod, clinging to his biceps.

He lines himself up at your soaking entrance and slowly pushes into you.

"Ow, ow, ow!" You cry as your fingers dig in to his skin.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, keep going." You demand.

Once he bottoms out he stays still, smiling down at you. "Are you okay baby?" He asks as he lets you adjust to his size.

"You're fucking huge," You laugh.

Rafe smiles and kisses you again. You run your fingers through his hair as you enjoy the feeling of him inside you.

"Do you want me to move?"

You nodded needily. "Yes, please."

He pulled out slowly and pushed back into you again. The first few thrusts hurt but as he kept going it began to feel good. Really fucking good.

"Go faster," You breathed.

You kept your hands tangled in his hair as he rested his head against your shoulder, thrusting into you faster. He brought his thumb down to circle your clit and and your breath hitched at the sensation.

"Fuck, baby, I'm close." He whispered in your ear.

"Me too, oh my God."

You wrapped your legs around his body as you climaxed together.

His thrusts got sloppier as he released himself inside you. Your body vibrating under his.

Rafe was still inside you as you both fought to catch your breath.

"That was fucking amazing," You sigh.

Rafe pulled out of you and laid on his back beside you. "I'd do fucking anything for you," He admits, eyes closed and a smile wide on his face. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"A little bit." You admit. You run your hands over your legs, feeling the wetness that lingers there. "Fuck, I'm bleeding." You say as you bring your hand up to examine it.

"That's okay. That's normal, baby. Let's go take a shower." Rafe says as he gets out of the bed.

You scoot towards the edge of the bed but Rafe picks you up and carries you to the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," You whisper as Rafe sets you down and starts the shower.

"Sorry for what, baby?"

"I'm bleeding everywhere." Your eyes begin to water.

He turns to you and cups your face, forcing you to look up at him. "Sweetheart," He begins. "You were a...a...you were a virgin. Bleeding is normal."

"I just don't want to make a mess."

"D-do you regret it?" Rafe asks, his voice almost pitiful.

"No!" You say without hesitation. "No, I don't regret it, baby. I'm just...overwhelmed." You give a small laugh.

"Let me take care of you, pretty girl." He says as he pulls you into the shower with him. He sits down and pulls you back against him.

You lean back and rest your head on his shoulder as he slowly spreads soap over your body.

"Do you realize how perfect you are?" He whispers in your ear. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."

"I can't remember what life was like without you," You confess. "Please don't leave me."

"Leave you?" He scoffs. "I can't live without you, Y/N." He reaches down and takes your hands in his. Rubbing his thumbs over your fingers. "One day I'm going to put a ring on your finger."

You smile at his words. "Endgame baby."

"Endgame." He promises.

[drbased]

ok I have to talk about 'the dialectic of sex' by shulamith firestone because it was one of the first proper feminist books I read and I didn't have the confidence back then to address this book:

so this is still the only book I've read so far that actually uses the words 'radical feminist' - except her definition of this politics is essentially transhumanist luxury space communism. because her understanding is that the 'root' of women's oppression is our reproductive capacity and therefore no matter what happens society will never fully be able to share the burden of childbirth and child-rearing across both sexes.

this book feels so evocative of its time - like there was a small window of pure hope shortly after the invention of the pill and the hippy movement where everything entirely changed for women. like, think about it: up until that point unless you use some sort of condom (which men don't like using - and also not 100% effective anyway) you're basically always vulnerable to being impregnated by a man during piv, which is considered the basic form of sexual intimacy wth men, which women are expected to engage in to be considered full members of society. so women would have all been in some sort of constant state of low-key fear; one sex - or rape - away from having a child that would change their entire existence. that's got to really fuck you up, especially your relationship with your own body. and you could get an abortion but only if you're incredibly lucky, and still getting an abortion is probably more like surviving a car crash than anything - like you're glad you made it through but also you're still damaged psychologically and probably physically as well. and it's such a silent fear as well - because women are supposed to want babies and babies just happen so you're not allowed to complain that this is because your husband always wants sex and he's the one who impregnates you but if he does people say 'she got herself pregnant again'. like there's layer upon layer of psychological terrorism surrounding men's impregnation of women and that's gotta mess you the hell up.

so the invention of the pill - holy shit, just imagine it. the hope. you can take the pill in secret, you can take the power back, you're not uniquely vulnerable to your own bodily forces anymore, that gives you time to fucking think, to be alive, to feel, to feel vulnerable, to feel free. it's like literal magic. if the most basic of happenings - pregnancy - can be actually prevented, then what else can we do to the body? what else can science do for us?? how more free can we get?? It's women's first time to (ironically) feel like a god, able to transcend the body. I'm actually surprised that I've not found more writings like shulamith's - that there weren't more women spurred on by this amazing discovery into further transhumanism. I guess the problem was that women were starting to notice that whilst women were able to change their own individual lives with the pill, that wasn't making men behave any differently.

but I still find it fascinating how this definition of radical feminism hasn't survived at all. as it stands on radblr, the 'root' of women's oppression is men, and therefore the only real solution is separatism. but like, what happened to the brand of feminism that says, uhhhh isn't it actually kinda fucked up that half the human race are burdened entirely with pregnancy, birth and child-rearing? and could we maybe be freed from that if we used science to bring about children another way? I'm not even agreeing with her that that would solve everything (because regardless even if we *could* make babies in a tube, that doesn't mean all women are going to magically become infertile, and it certainly doesn't mean than men are going to be less violent against us), but I'm very interested in questioning what the 'root' of women's oppression is - because modern 'radical feminism' has a lot of gaps to allow for a simplistic narrative that I'm sure many in the community, definitely myself included, are rapidly tiring of. and I think it shows in the separatism debate, which rages on because no one can think of any other solution, because the unspoken tenet is that what the 'root' is is solved and agreed-upon, and therefore the answer is just so damn obvious that the women who don't agree must be scared and stupid. I've been wanting to address this in some form or another for years now, and I guess I'm dipping my toes in it now.

at the very least, I'd like to know if someone has a good source on where the term 'radical feminism' came from and how its meaning has evolved over the years. in ariel levy's 'female chauvinist pigs' she touches on this debate that started in the late seventies that led to the fracturing of feminism and the creation of liberal feminism - and it seems to be along these same lines of separatism vs fucking men. I've always found it odd that there's essentially no middle ground here - like you don't need to embrace 'sluttiness' in order to want to have a healthy sexual relationship with a man, but it seems the liberal feminist side chose that, meanwhile the only other 'mainstream' option seems to be separatism. obviously a lot of the women in radblr don't actually fully agree with that - but all us hetties are suspiciously silent on that subject.

to me the issues with separatism go further than simply sex with men - sure it's psychologically good for you to only purchase from women owned businesses and only read books by women etc etc, and it financially uplifts other women. but also we live under capitalism, which obscures our reliance on each other. when you buy from that woman-owned business, the person delivering your package is likely to be male, the person who assembled the vehicle he drives is likely to be male, the person who constructed the roads he drives on is likely to be male. this is not to say that men are vital - but rather, your 'separatist choice' is a fundamentally capitalistic one that exists more for your peace of mind than being anything actually radical - as in, nothing about the 'root' of women's oppression is addressed in doing so. there's no ethical consumption under capitalism yadda yadda. and only speaking to women irl is also less of a capitalist action but still ultimately an individual one. there's so much emphasis on personal actions as the height of feminism and it screams liberal individualist to me. like you took 'the personal is political' and ran with it.

but if the root of the problem is men, then that's simple, isn't it? just don't interact with men. don't have sex with men. don't pay men, apart from the men who happen to be an inescapable part of the supply chain, they will inevitably get paid by your actions anyway, but you don't have to think about that because that's what capitalism does: it makes you think you have this magical power as an indvidual to make real radical choice in the world, to 'vote with your dollar'.

I'm not exactly calling for firebombing a walmart but I'm bored with the capitalism-loving individualistic liberalism of what this community calls 'radical feminism' - but that same thought-terminating cliche keeps getting thrown at us: 'we're radical, which means we grasp at the root, and the root is male violence, so you can't call yourself a radical feminist if you don't want to do the basic things of not wearing make-up and not fucking men'. and nobody ever seems to stop and question, does any of that actually address the root of our oppression? capitalism isn't the only economic system that has ever oppressed women, but it's the one we live under, and it's very good at sneaking into the backdrop of our lives and naturalising hierarchies - capitalism becomes its own justification, e.g. women choose low-paying jobs just because that's what we gravitate to, yanno?

being genuinely anti-capitalist recomplicates politics all over again, because suddenly it's not an easy men vs women but also men vs women vs rich people, some of whom are women??? and like, what's the solution to that? do we stand with men agains the capitalist system and risk our voices getting silenced, or do we go full single-issue and just go fuck it, capitalism was created by men for themselves like solanas said, so if we stand against men then idk capitalism will just sort of fall by itself? or in reality it's just not addressed at all. separatism itself always sits there as a thought-terminating cliche in and of itself - an accusation ready to be levelled at anyone who wants to question any of these unspoken tenets of radblr. and the goal-post is ever-shifting - separatism is women's land, but if you say that's not a real solution in our capitalist interconnected world then you get accused of not wanting women's spaces because that's obviously what separatism has been about this whole time. also separatism is not fucking men, actually it's not about that it's about prioritising women (vague), and on and on and on - the argument always shifts so the word stays pure. but like, is separatism an end-goal? a political tactic? something you do to enrich your own life and psyche? something to give space for consciousness-raising? I saw someone ages ago claim that the suffragettes wanting the right to vote was somehow separatist because idk, the women were making spaces for themselves? but wanting to involve yourself in male politics is literally assimilationist, no??

I'lm going to stop rambling for now but this was good to get my thoughts out there - I enjoy my theorising in this space but I'm also deeply interested in questioning. I've noticed time and time again that discourse is always stopped by 'you're not a real radical feminist if you do/don't do x' and I've found it really odd and telling that no one's questioned that? like sure I know we've built our whole political framework on 'words mean things' but also it's always worth questioning the definition of 'radical' and what the 'root' of our oppression is, and what we can actually do to address it, and if our narratives and assumptions are too simplistic. the community would be all the better for it imho. I already think the influx of 'tirfs' in the community and the khelif debate has been opening up these unspoken simplistic narratives on the nature of gender vs sex, of socialisation vs low-key biological essentialism, and I think we can push that kind of questioning even further. ramble over.

[blindmagdalena]

Ok so binge read anon here again. My last ask got me thinking….. in Gilded Cage he’s already memorized her heartbeat. So I’m just imagining he’s out one day (rally, patrolling,something where he’s in front of a crowd) and senses Y/N’s heart rate increases dramatically. At first he’s likes like “oh? I wonder if she’s thinking about me 😌”. At this point I imagine he’s already told her his really name so he’s feeling giddy. However he can tell there’s a sense of fear with her heartbeat so he immediately worries.

Context is maybe Madelyn or someone came into the apartment uninvited and came across Y/N. Madelyn isn’t impressed with Y/N and tells her she’s not good enough and threatens to get rid of her. Idk maybe things get violent, Y/N gets put in a headlock so she’s like “John,John please come back, I need your help”. He hears and immediately flies home and sees what’s going on. Angry, he handles everything however he sees just. Y/N is visibly shaking upset and bruised, so he tries to calm her down with a nice warm bath that involves lots of protective cuddling and hair washing 🥰 and then she falls asleep against John in the bath who is of course ELATED

okay. first of all... i need you to know i'm genuinely in REAL TEARS from laughing so hard at the mental image of madelyn putting anyone in a headlock. chasing the reader around like a WWE cage match.

“OHHH MY GOD INCOMING MADELYN! MADELYN WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!!”

i'm not even kidding my stomach hurts i'm sobbing. this is the best thing i've ever been sent. this sounds like a dream homelander would have after he felt like he fucked up telling madelyn about the reader.

THAT aside, i do very much fuck with the idea of Something Scary happening that causes the reader to be freaked out and require much love and attention. especially because it means homelander finally gets to be the hero he sees himself as in their eyes.

i freaking LOVE the comforting bath. i think i've ended at least 3 fics with a bath. there's just something so supremely intimate about bathing with your lover!!! washing their hair and soothing their frayed nerves. aaahhh, this fic just keeps getting longer the more ideas i get. i've already bumped it up from 6 chapters to 8... might be 10 at this rate!

[writeriguess]

imagine if katsuki bakugou went to karen’s diner

Karen's Diner: the infamous restaurant where the staff are rude, the customers are sassy, and no one leaves without getting roasted. So naturally, Katsuki Bakugo thought it was a perfect place to test his temper. He was no stranger to confrontation, and if anyone thought they could out-yell him, they were in for a rude awakening.

He pushed through the door, his scowl already in place. The diner was buzzing with loud chatter, sarcastic remarks flying from waiters and waitresses like bullets. He spotted a table and sat down with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

A waitress in her mid-twenties approached, chewing gum obnoxiously loud. She gave him a once-over before rolling her eyes.

"Wow, another angry dude with a superiority complex," she said flatly. "You must be fun at parties. What do you want?"

Bakugo's eyes twitched, but he kept it together—barely. “Tch, I’ll have whatever's the quickest. I don’t have all day to deal with your half-assed service.”

The waitress raised an eyebrow. "Oh, someone's got a hot head. What, you run out of hair gel or something? You look like a discount Super Saiyan."

Bakugo’s hand gripped the edge of the table. His eye twitched again. “What the hell did you just say, you extra?”

She smirked. "I said, you look like a Super Saiyan knockoff. But hey, it’s cute you think you’re intimidating."

Bakugo could feel his blood boiling, but part of him knew he came here for this exact reason—to be challenged, to see if anyone could really get under his skin. And damn, they were trying.

“Cute? I’ll show you cute when I blow this whole shitty diner sky high!” His palms began to spark as tiny explosions crackled from his hands.

The waitress, completely unfazed, snapped her gum. "Wow, big threats from someone who can’t even handle a little banter. You want a sippy cup for that attitude, sweetie?"

That was it. His chair scraped back violently as he stood up, leaning over the table.

"Listen here, you—"

Before Bakugo could finish his sentence, another waitress passed by with a tray of food, purposefully bumping into him, spilling a drink all over his pants.

"Oh no!" she said in the most monotone voice possible. "My bad. Guess you can’t stop blowing things up long enough to dodge a little water, huh?"

Bakugo stared down at his soaked pants, his fists clenched at his sides. He was on the verge of exploding—literally—when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A group of customers at a nearby table were recording him, their phones aimed right at his face. The smirk on their faces told him everything he needed to know.

They wanted a reaction. They wanted him to lose it, to go full "Bakugo" in Karen’s Diner for the entertainment of social media.

Bakugo took a deep breath, the explosions in his palms subsiding. His eyes narrowed at the waitress, who was still standing there with her smug look.

"You’re not worth it," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The waitress shrugged, unimpressed. "Good choice, blondie. Now, how about that order?"

Bakugo plopped back into his seat, glaring at her. "Just give me a burger. And make it fast before I change my mind and torch this whole place."

As the waitress walked off, muttering something sarcastic under her breath, Bakugo sat back, arms crossed tightly, his scowl deeper than before. Karen’s Diner might have won this round, but Bakugo knew one thing for sure—no one would get the last laugh on him for long.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d come back. Just to see if they could do better next time.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[abigail-pent]

Thoughts on HTN Act Five on ??th reread:

- the joke about the Ninth knowing a thousand shades of off-white is absolutely a 50 Shades of Grey reference

- Ianthe wonders what Harrow's face "could have done to it" - ohhhhh yeah she is doing hella cosmetic "surgery" on Corona. this still isn't explicitly canon as far as I'm aware, but that line makes it pretty damn close

- Harrow Nonagesimus breaks into the Tomb and Harrow Nova breaks into the Anastasian. Baby girl is the same in every universe

- Harrow Nova is "the unfulfilled vow" and "the bloody teeth of the unkissed skull" AND THEN ALECTO KISSES HARROW NONAGESIMUS IN FULFILLMENT OF THE VOW AND SHE BLEEDS. I've connected these things, I've connected them

- ok if Harrow is pulling everyone who's dead into her River bubble, then doesn't that mean that in the BARI Star AU she is actually interacting with the actual spirit of Gideon Nav?

- I don't know if we talk enough about how Harrow actually becomes a full Lyctor after she's stabbed and remembers Gideon. It feels kind of weird that her body only gets Lyctoral healing once her soul is gone from it. The construct in her skull is still there, it stays there until Gideon talks to Mercy and hears her name.

I mean, the weirdest thing about it is it implies that John and Gideon the First were right that they could fix Harrow by killing her. And given that the sort of cav Gideon becomes is explicitly and canonically analogous to the sort of cav Pyrrha is - still conscious and able to pilot the body in the absence of the necromancer's soul - that makes me wonder if maybe this happened to Gideon the First too. Like maybe that's why he's described as such a zombie, and maybe that's why John seems to know that killing Harrow would "fix" her, and Gideon agrees.

- Abigail talks about the place over the River the way John talks about the place beyond the stoma - it's an undiscovered country he knows nothing of, where his power is meaningless.

- Mercy says if Gideon Nav were Alecto, she would have "gone for me already" - so yeah, Alecto wasn't just incredibly weird and creepy, she was directing violence at Mercymorn. Pyrrha later says Alecto wasn't so bad (but that absolutely doesn't preclude Alecto being super violent to Lyctors, Pyrrha would respect the shit out of that), and of course it seems like she and Anastasia loved each other. But: John says that anger was Alecto's sin; The Unwanted Guest implies that that anger may have been John's, but in a different body; and it seems like this anger got expressed at Mercymorn and probably other Lyctors too. When Gideon meets Augustine she says he looks at her eyes in Harrow's face like they were the last thing he'd ever see; which suggests she took her anger out on Augustine too. But why was she angry at them? Was it because they ascended?

- "I gave you one damn job, and instead you rolled a rock over me and turned your back!" Harrow IS the Ninth House for real... (this is exactly the problem Silas has with the Ninth)

- in GTN, in the Cytherea fight, when Gideon looks back at Harrow right after she says "Then we're all dead, Nav, but let's bring hell first" 🤝 in HTN, in the Sleeper fight, when Ortus looks back at Harrow who has just followed his lead to recite the Noniad ... the way both of her cavaliers are a little surprised, but very impressed and comforted, by her loyalty to them and trust in them ... I am very fine and normal about this

- when Abigail summons Nonius: blazing like a flare from an alien blue sun! appearing to hold a book made of blue radiation in her hands! soaking wet! everything smells like water and brine and blood! she screams as though there are a multitude of voices in hers! time seems to slow way down! her eyes become dark and liquid and feral! this is both extremely fucking cool and probably meaningful. the smell and wetness are for the River, the many-voiced quality recalls Alecto and her many voices, the time slowing recalls John's ability to stop time, the eyes recall John's (so, Alecto's) as well. SHE IS ABIGAIL FOR HER MOTHERS AND PENT FOR HER PEOPLE AND I LOVE HER

- I love that Nonius canonically fought Gideon the First, and calls him "a rival and ally". I'm not much of a fic reader myself (heresy, I know) but I absolutely want to read a fic about "we met long ago, and I fought him."

- "Genuinely sad, bordering on very funny" legitimately could have been the tagline for this book

- Augustine says that if it's really Wake, then Gideon has proved "yet again" that he's unfit for any job besides making simple gruels and stews. Yet again??

- it's probably Augustine that Mercy tried to kill tbh

- I think Wake recognizes Pyrrha in Gideon's face when no one else does. That's why she looks at her like that.

- the way Gideon Nav has always yearned for her parents vs the way her bio-parents treat her... oof ohh oww... Pyrrha Dve is the only parent I will diplomatically recognize for Gideon Nav

- Alecto's eyes end up in John's genetic code - Lyctorhood doesn't only meld souls, it melds bodies as well.

- John says Mercy and Augustine killed Alecto because he told them the truth about her; and Augustine says he told them that because Alecto also knew the truth. But ... which truth was it? When we hear from Alecto, she seems to have a fuzzy memory.

Also, worth mentioning that this is a different account than what Teacher offers. Teacher says that the Lyctors asked John to kill Alecto after they ascended and "found out the price." If this account is correct - and why wouldn't it be, it comes from Augustine, who was a key player - then the "price" wasn't the death of the eight cavs, the "price" was something to do with the truth about Alecto. And whatever this truth is, it isn't that Alecto was John's cavalier, because Mercy and Augustine are only finding out about this now. I suspect the "price" is the price of creating necromancy - murdering the 10 billion - and then when Mercy and Augustine know that Alecto is the Resurrection Beast of Earth they ask John to kill her. So I was wrong, and he must have basically told them "lol we've been hanging out with an RB this whole time."

- when John reconstitutes himself, the light he emanates leaches all the color from the room and turns everyone into shades of gray. LIKE WHEN SILAS SIPHONS COLUM. It makes sense that he's taking thalergy from somewhere to build himself back up, but where exactly is it coming from? Alecto?

[katyspersonal]

Someone really said we shouldn't take Messmer's last words ( when he cursed Marika) seriously because he was demonically possessed by the abyssal serpent ijbol

I do not think that it was the case either! My impression from his phase transition was more of him finally giving into his serpentine nature, and thus, finally allowing himself to feel his true feelings!

"Hatred that would be confined" here can mean both him hating himself (since fire is a hazard to the Erdtree, evidenced by Fire of Ruin and Destined Death, so why not his?) OR hating her for having forsaken him! Except... they are not mutually exclusive. He could have hated himself for existing as something that could inevitably bring ruin to everything she created and hated her for abandoning him!

Like other characters in the DLC, he is aware that we've been called by Grace of Gold, her creation, to become her new Lord! Nonetheless, he decides to still disrespect what counts as her wishes, which already gives something away, at least for me. It could be that him taking Crusade beyond just vengeance, to fascism level, WAS what split them apart, and he is still convinced he knew what was better for purity and life of her Order better than her (LOOOOVE this version because it makes him even scarier). It could be jealousy, because some nobody Tarnished would get the chance to fix things for her when he tried to do the same and yet she was not "grateful". It could be that this "purpose" he took up for her feels like the only thing still connecting them, since she is not coming back. It could be many things that I can keep listing!

Yet, at the same time, he asks her forgiveness before removing the seal! So, killing someone he (correctly) believes she is awaiting is a lesser crime than removing the seal she gave to him to keep Base Serpent away? I think it is very telling that the root of how much he hates his flame is her hatred of it.

( x ) Perhaps, by being deadset on killing everyone spurn of her grace, he sort of overcompensates for how much he hates himself for being graceless (in a way, 'shorn of light' is very blatant)... He can't fix his nature, nor can she, but he could remove her OTHER pains and grudges. He is compensating!.. like, for how much he wishes to never having been born, or something...

Damn this got weirdly sad And a simpler interpretation is that it was just a cry of pain, because he was dying and she was not there for him. Or maybe it was the horror of feeling like he was to fall into Abyss, since he removed the seal? Not that I ever died in my life yet, but I'd imagine that thoughts and emotions upon violent death would not be very rational!

I really want some help with Japanese description of this item, because this "but never again" feels like some sort of grudge. Like that she realised it was useless; not so much because what afflicted him was untreatable, but because she deemed him not worthy of any more chances! You see what I mean! Again, English choices of words should be taken with a grain of salt.

Messmer also was not "possessed" by Base Serpent, he became Base Serpent! Saying you will be taken in jaws by a serpent shorn of light, he means himself! He has a habit of addressing himself in third face already, saying that you will meet death in the embrace of "Messmer's" flame, not "his" flame! There is definitely some parallel with Malenia unleashing Scarlet Rot again just to not lose to us, but whereas Scarlet Rot is confirmed to eat away at people's personality and memories (Millicent's questline), nothing said it was the case for the Base Serpent!

(Images by Zlofsky as usual) All statues of Marika in the Lands Between are missing heads... except for one, depicting her as a mother holding a child, hidden in his chamber by a veil. I need to check it later, but in at least three cases it makes no sense to be this way: one in the Church of the Crusade where Queelign hangs out, another surrounded by his soldiers, and another in Shadow's Keep itself! UNLESS, he is the one responsible for crashing the images of her head...?

It feels like he has been very conflicted long before this dreadful moment of unleashing his serpentinge nature! He did not want to think of her because it hurt, but also still wished to be held by her again. Considering the statues, it feels like he hated her as a Goddess, but loved her as a mother. So, he hates her divine existence, her as an owner of the Erdtree, a "destined victim" of all fires, but also knows it can't be separated from her and follows her design. Perhaps, follows TOO much.

Basically it IS a reasonable assumption that upon his death, he's been feeling as though he did everything he could for her, but that was not enough for her to see beyond her fear! Worse yet: she did try to love him, but "never again"! Hatred of abandoned child is a very intense thing, but it is also not a true hatred. It is more akin to cry for being accepted, but distorted into insults, curses, pushing away and such!

^^^ If this doesn't look like Humanity running wild manifestation of someone's own repressed self-hatred, loneliness and suffering getting unleashed I don't know what does fdhfdhs I don't know, man... I just think there is more evidence for the fact that he's been suffering because of her.

[krirebr]

Well obviously now I need to know top kinks for Curtis and Bambi each 🤲🏻

And, now that they are really in eachother’s day-to-day orbit daily in an established way, is there anything they learn about the other that surprises them, maybe in a soft way? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Ok, Siri, you have excellent timing because I was just thinking about Curtis and Bambi eventually slipping into some sort of 24/7 d/s dynamic, and both going absolutely feral for it. So I think a lot of their kinks stem from Curtis's desire for control and Bambi's (unacknowledged as of yet, but there since that very first good girl) desire to give up control.

Curtis is absolutely into any kind of bondage. Ropes, ties, handcuffs, whatever. As long as it leaves Bambi incapacitated and at his mercy, yes please.

Going hand in hand with that is edging. He loves getting her tied up and then playing with her for hours until she's a crying, slobbering mess. This man is very into eating pussy, and he can do it for ages.

Ok, I'm actually really struggling with coming up with separate kinks for them, because I think, despite what Bambi might say at this point, they're just so well-suited for each other. It's too easy to just say that Bambi really enjoys being tied up and edged for hours and being controlled by Curtis, but it's true.

One kink that's specific to Bambi is she is so turned on by what Curtis does for a living. She spent the entire story trying to deny that fact, but she absolutely is. So he comes home with scraped and bloody knuckles? She's jumping him. She hears him threatening someone over the phone? Get inside her now, please. He lashes out at someone while they're at a club together? She's dragging him to the bathroom to have sex. She isn't attracted to him despite his violent, feral nature. It's absolutely because of it.

Now, soft moments?? Hmm... I think Bambi will be shocked to learn that Curtis is really close to his mom and takes care of her. I think the two of them will eventually bond.

As for Bambi, I think it will take a while for her to let herself be emotionally vulnerable with Curtis, as much as she enjoys being physically vulnerable with him. We saw it after the Vinny incident, she doesn't like letting people in in that way. Once she does, I think Curtis will be all 🥺 at just how soft she is at her core and will really savor being able to take care of her in that way too.

Ugh, I'm so obsessed with them. Thank you for asking!!!

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the scent wafts in, her name making him beg on his knees chap 1.2

pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x fem!oc / reader (MODERN AU)

summary: He mentions her name after 6 months in therapy, absentmindedly narrating vivid memories of her. She was the only good thing during his darkest times.

(In which Touya returns home after rebelling against his family for 7 years. And no, it wasn't about forgiveness. He wanted to fix himself because of a certain someone.)

themes: nsfw, domestic abuse, violence, alcoholism, cigarette smoking, toxic relationships, mental health, co-dependency and other related themes (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

notes: for this one, pls keep in mind that touya didn't have much scars on his face; mostly are on his body to accomodate the plot; charas might be ooc since this is modern au

It was after 4 days that he finally revealed about the Todoroki family, the scandalous story of Enji Todoroki, and the abuse they have endured in his hands based on what he had experienced until 19. To be honest, everything wasn't really how they started. Touya grew up seeing Enji so proud of him, prancing him around as his firstborn, the one who will continue his dream of being the number one corporation in Japan with the best workforce and highest earning. Touya was actually more excited to learn more about business at a young age, studying how money worked through stock exchange games and trying to beat his father through crossword puzzles.

Then the next year, Fuyumi was born, and they were almost the same age, separated by months. One could even say she became his twin, and they shared the same room, the same bed, the same food, the same unisex clothes, the same words—just not the appearance and gender. When it was just the two of them, they somewhat understood each other even if Fuyumi sometimes find him annoying because of his silly pranks.

As he tells this to his therapist, he realizes a shocking truth.

Their family was okay back then. There were a lot of good times, and he had a hunch Fuyumi was the one who remembered most of them when it was supposed to be him, the oldest of the bunch. That's why it was a lot easy for her to forgive him. That's why she hoped so much for him to come back.

His favorite memory was of Fuyumi asking him to create a large drawing of the four of them because she wanted to give something to them. She was holding the same blue flowers their mother liked, and after everything was done, the two siblings met their parents at the living area where they were having tea. Enji ruffled Fuyumi's hair and told her to wash her hands after, noticing the dirt around her hands and in her fingernails. Meanwhile, Rei giggled melodiously, her laughter making Touya embarrassed as she patted his head. They were all happy. Everyone was happy.

When did everything go wrong?

"I think it was when... when Father found me pushing myself so hard because I was so devastated at my achievements that he had enough of me," Touya continued. "Whenever things won't go my way, I tend to neglect my body's capabilities. I stay up all night. I don't eat until I get the equation right. There were times when at a young age, I ripped my hair so bad due to stress. They manifested so bad that I resorted to violence."

A child who throws a violent tantrum. Torn apart posters of comic characters. Ruined picture frames and shattered glasses. Fearful eyes halting in time and unable to stop him from overworking himself. Scattered test papers with scores of 99, 98, 97, and 96 flooded all over like a burning reminder.

"I should've listened to Mother and Fuyumi-chan when they told me to have fun instead."

------

After two weeks, the therapist had the guts to ask him about Natsuo and Shouto. He used to evade questions about his two brothers, usually opting for silence or quickly dismissing the man with answers like, "I don't want to talk about them," or "It's not good." The therapist thought maybe Touya would never be able to discuss things about them, but he knew he had to bring them to the table. After all, the eldest Todoroki had mentioned before that seeing them born had been the small flicker of fire that burned their family down.

"Father thinks me and Fuyumi-chan were failures; it doesn't mean Natsu-kun wasn't either," Touya started, remembering the infant Natsuo and his cries ringing around the Todoroki household. Of course, disappointment was etched again in Enji's face, realizing that Natsuo did not live up to his expectations.

Touya could hear his familiar sigh in head, the way he was stoic but Natsuo was trying his hardest to please him. It broke Touya's heart, the way he could only watch his two siblings casted aside like him, thrown away like a garbage because their potential were wasted. In Enji's eyes, they weren't his children; they were experiments with his wife.

"His masterpiece was my younger brother, Shouto," he concluded.

"Do you hate Shouto?" the therapist asked.

Touya could only shrug, not clearly having a definition of what he felt towards his youngest brother. True, he felt so many things about his brother. He was the bane of his existence, after all. He despised him the day he was born, and yet he felt guilty the moment baby Shouto wrapped his stubby hand around his long finger, cooing at the warmth as he opened his heterochromatic eyes and gazed at him cutely. That day, Touya instantly felt a responsibility as his oldest brother, but at the same time, there was bitterness. He knew the youngest would be Enji's favorite; he just knew it, with the way he watched him all this time while he thinks he's not aware.

It will never be Shouto's fault that they weren't the favorites; but blaming him was so easy Touya could get away with it.

Shouto was unyielding, though; confused as to why Touya didn't like him but still trying his bestest to get along with him. He would trail behind him, meekly asking him to play with him, to ask their father if he could play with them for a bit because he wanted to be like the other kids and play. "You should be grateful he's spending time with you," Touya snarked at him, not speaking the next words. Because he wouldn't do that with us; with me. Of course, Shouto was so pure-hearted he just replied him with, "But being with Touya-nii and the others is a lot better. You all get to play other than study."

But studying and being the best was the only thing that kept Touya driving; it would be his downfall, though. Enji found out what he did to himself, knew from his teachers about his wellbeing. Touya goes to school with deep eyebags. Touya gets sulky about his grades. He snaps at the other kids at school. He almost got into a fight with another classmate for trying to cheer him up with his grades. And the next thing, Touya will be dragged to the hallway and Enji would not hesitate to slap sense in his face, disappointment and anger in his face as he beat Touya up for bringing shame to the family, for acting all so childish over some silly grades.

This was his usual routine. His parents would fight. His siblings will help him up to his feet. Fuyumi-chan will take the first aid kit and tend to his bruises. Natsuo-kun will try to shield Shouto away from the scene even though the youngest was already crying his eyes out, not wanting to see him hurt so bad. Don't cry for me, Shouto. Don't be that way with me. I hate you. I hate you the most. Please, don't be like that.

Afterwards, he would play the good son card, would keep his bursting feelings in check, watch over everything he would say and play right in Enji's palm. He needed his approval again, even if the attention was all showered on Shouto. It was damn frustrating, suffocating him the more he watched Shouto endure the beatings as he treated the three of them like nothing. At that moment, Touya wanted nothing to do with Shouto. If he did, he might unleash all these intrusive thoughts.

Fate was a trickster, and Touya would always find Shouto pleading for help, especially to him of all people. "Touya-nii, save me! Please!" It kept repeating like a broken record, haunting him in his dreams. The wet streaks. The runny nose. His tight fisting on his shirt. The way he would hiss his name. The eyes that cried so many times. Touya will never give in; a lie he told so many times.

Touya did give in, and without much thought. Shouto brought back those feelings he wanted; how it felt so happy that someone needed so much from him. He liked it. He felt appreciated. He felt blessed. He felt so free Shouto had no idea how much Touya wanted this for so long. That's why Touya tutored Shouto in secret, teaching him a thing or two about business, about stock exchange, about the Todoroki family, about the Endeavor Corp.—heck, he even laid down the basics of algebra and science on him, ensuring Shouto would be able to comprehend everything at the age of 5 and 6. It wasn't the same as when Enji acknowledged him, but for Touya, this was enough.

Enji knew about it, of course, and he didn't mind... at first. After all, he thought Touya was just helping his brother learn, keeping his mouth shut as he let them be. This aggravated Touya, pushing him slightly to the edge.

"The least he could do was acknowledge me," Touya stated bitterly to his therapist, remembering how Enji praised Shouto's performance instead of telling him how good of an older brother he was.

"So you used Shouto's kindness, is that it?" the therapist clarified.

Touya nodded. "But sometimes, I pity him. I felt those things only an older brother would feel."

There was a palpable tension as Touya gripped his knees to even out his breathing. The memories were getting more vivid than ever he swore it happened yesterday? Or the other day? But he was a lot younger back then. He was 14 when it happened, and he felt his bruises and scars getting more painful, his skin shivering from a certain coldness. Maybe it was Enji's eyes on him. The same eye color he and Shouto shared. He didn't know. He didn't care.

"Sekoto Peak," he mumbled in a trance, flashes of memories where Shouto held his hand and gazed at the view below him.

"Touya-nii, this is where you go often? It's so cool here!"

"Sometimes, I sleep here under the stars."

"R-Really? Do you bring Fuyumi-nee and Natsu-nii here?"

"I haven't."

"Let's go here, the four of us."

"..."

"Please?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"I couldn't bring them all," Touya admitted, gripping his head to force himself to remember. The therapist recorded his responses through his notes as he muttered everything in a fast pace. "I tried to make a plan. I brought Shouto there a few times without anyone knowing. I asked Natsuo and Fuyumi for help. Before we could all go, Father found out. I couldn't speak. I couldn't fight. I was hit by the bokken. They were all crying. Mother tried to protect me but Father slapped her. I could feel his kick and punch in my gut."

"... did he—"

"No. NO. HE WASN'T DONE!" Touya gulped nervously, imagining the scars on his body burning. "They were hot on my skin. It burned my flesh. I couldn't move. I cried and cried and cried. I begged for him to stop. I want him to stop. The hot iron. Everything. I want the world to stop. I couldn't become the son he wanted. I couldn't be Shouto's big brother. I couldn't give them everything."

And when he ended the story, that was when Touya finally cried, sobbing as fuck. He couldn't care about the world or the pitiful gazes. The boy cried so much from bearing all the sins he didn't do.

------

Touya spent a few months in isolation, his thoughts circling around his childhood and all the painful memories. When he was alone, he would write them all down, narrating that one moment in his and Natsuo's shared bedroom where Shouto secretly snuck in and apologized over and over. He kept blaming himself for Touya's pain. Everything was his fault that Touya was hurt so bad, and Touya wanted to agree. It was true, though. He hurt when he was born. He hurt when he got all the glory. He hurt when he became Enji's pride.

He just went silent about it.

Why did he?

It was never Shouto's fault.

"Shouto," he whispered, his hand reaching out to ruffle his hair despite the searing pain in his arms. There was a weak smile gracing his lips, bruised and battered yet patched up clumsily by a crying Fuyumi. "As I thought, I couldn't be your good older brother. Not anymore."

(Touya never knew but after a few years following his rebellion, Shouto went to Sekoto Peak and stared at the same view Touya admired so much, slept under the stars when everything became too much, and wished the four of them could be there together.)

ps. I removed the last part and placed it on the next chap in case y'all confused bcos the post is too long to read

next chap

masterlist

[top-faye]

I kind of don't want to compare Wan to Ek cause Wan's love for Pleng is actual love vs. Ek's "love" for Wan being just pure possessive obsession. He doesn't care for Wan in the same way that Wan does for Pleng, but I do feel like both of them have similar levels of obsessive love for their targets of affection and I think in a lot of ways the novel kind of has Ek serve as a foil to Wan.

More spoilery novel thoughts below the cut.

When Ek threatened Wan and Pleng with a gun, Wan was extremely nonchalant about the whole thing ... like disturbingly chill in how she stood against him and did not seem afraid of the gun at all. And that was because that Wan argued that she knew without a doubt that because Ek loved her, that he'd never hurt her like that.

Ek's "love" for Wan is monstrously evil and possessive—he married Wan despite knowing that she didn't love him and he raped her when she wouldn't have sex with him—but Wan seems to understand him and his feelings well enough to know that he wouldn't actually kill her. And that instead, he would try to kill himself to hurt her and her relationship in another way.

That's utterly deranged thinking, but it's thinking that Wan understood immediately, which was why she reacted quickly and was able to change the trajectory of the bullet when she intervened.

I really hate to say it, but Wan and Ek are actually extremely similar in a lot of ways. As fucking deranged it is to marry a man in the hopes of seeing your true love who you haven't seen in over ten years at the wedding ... it is also fucking deranged to marry a woman you supposedly love when you know her sole reason for marrying you is so that she can see the person she really loves. I wonder if part of the reason that Wan remained by Ek's side for so long wasn't only because Pleng had picked him, but because a part of her felt a little bit understood by him.

He does constantly dismiss Wan and Pleng's feelings towards each other and their relationship with one another, of course. He is still, after all, a homophobic violent misogynist who views the lesbian relationship between the two as "non-threatening" up until the end of the novel when he realizes that Wan was genuinely incapable of ever loving him.

But he was also probably the only person in Wan's life who could even begin to understand the pain that Wan was going through. In the special chapters, Wan mentions that he offered her comfort and hope about the idea of Pleng returning. He dismisses the relationship because they're both women, but simultaneously, he understands the depth and intensity of it.

And I think Wan was partly able to tolerate his feelings towards her for so long, because she felt understood by him in a sense and because she might have felt she understood him.

She loved Pleng enough to want to remain only a friend for the rest of their lives. She only became emboldened in her feelings and flirting when she realized that Pleng felt the same way towards her. I think maybe, initially, she thought that Ek's feelings towards her were the same. That he loved her enough to be satisfied with a friendship. That he loved her enough to want to care and protect her, but of course that wasn't the case.

Because the similarities between Ek and Wan are fairly surface level when it comes down to it, because while both are obsessive, possessive, and ultimately toxic, Ek cares more about having Wan than he does about Wan's safety and well-being.

Ek tried to kill himself in order to hurt Wan. Which directly contrasts against Pleng and Wan. In the novel, Pleng mentions contemplating suicide in the past but she doesn't act on it for fear that Wan would learn of it and it would hurt her, lead to her own death. And at the end of the novel when it seems like Wan is on the verge of killing herself—as implied in a note that she left for Pleng to spitefully hurt her (Wan's love is more "pure" than Ek's, but both still have malicious streaks)—but while she considers it, she ultimately decides to not kill herself because she wouldn't want to hurt Pleng like that.

Ek's love for Wan foils Wan's love for Pleng in this sense, because it demonstrates that while Wan is selfish, obsessive, possessive, and deranged that she is still a caring and loving partner and that ultimately her love for Pleng is fueled by a genuine love for all of Pleng whereas Ek only loved Wan as a possession to be owned and only loved the parts of her that were palpable to him.

[blood-orange-juice]

Actually I wonder if *that's* why Childe thinks she's insane.

He's likely hypersensitive to people being a physical threat and being around Arle feels like listening to a fire alarm wailing.

[wewerebornsextuplets]

you gottaaa maaaaaake your own kind of musiiiiic

[thedreadvampy]

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

[luck-of-the-drawings]

IMAGINE. working at ur stupid uhhh job or whatever. pulling into your drive way and ready to work on some crazy project in your garage. opening the door to the most unfamiliar silence. did your wife and kid leave for something? could you imagine knocking on your kids door, hardly getting an answer, and opening it to find the splattered remains of your wife across his room your child is scared! hes hardly consolable, in a state of shock and terror. you are too, but youre the adult here. you need to take charge. you need to protect him. you need to do something. you need to do something.