#so he wouldn’t leave her in danger and she wouldn’t die

[ripplestitchskein]

I’ve been mulling it over and I think where the Octavia storyline falls apart a bit for me when it comes to understanding and empathizing with her character is that the valid reasons for her to be upset aren’t what she’s upset about and we have no indication that the major reason she would be in the frame of mind she’s in during the final confrontation ever came into play.

Stella and Andrealphus haven’t really hidden how they feel about Stolas. Octavia knows his punishment, all of hell does. She knows that he’s been trying to reach out to her, Stella takes her phone and then loudly and for a very long time laughs about how he’s been repeatedly trying to reach her for a month. Like it would make more sense if that had been hidden from her, but it wasn’t, she has been shown that he is trying to reach her. They could have taken the thread that she was mad that he took awhile to reach out to her, Andrealphus even comments on it in the scene, and we the audience saw Stolas too caught up on his own shit and then realizing “oh shit I need to call Via. “. A perfectly logical route to take, we’ve seen it on screen several times that Stolas’s first impulse is to act and then remember he has responsibilities after. But Via doesn’t seem to be mad about that aspect.

And this isn’t a misunderstanding where we the audience see Stolas trying to contact her and she doesn’t know he is. She did see him calling, she heard that he was repeatedly trying for a month, so I don’t see how her major issue is him leaving her when he kept trying to get in contact with her and then showed up at her house putting himself in extreme danger to do so.

I could see her being mad that he got himself banished because of his choices, not knowing the reason it was brought into court was because of her Mother and Andrealphus. Stolas did break the law for Blitz, and doing so resulted in his exile, but she doesn’t mention that in her final speech either.

The episode talks about the cheating and the broken family aspect but Octavia doesn’t even mention that, we see it in her song, her house crumbling around her, but that doesn’t seem to be the issue when she confronts him. She doesn’t mention that he destroyed their home. It’s heavily implied she’s upset he destroyed the image he built up but because of the addition of the antidepressants it comes off as being more about that than the actual cheating and divorce.

We see Stolas being willing to die for Blitz and leaving her that way, he doesn’t in the end, but she would still be understandably hurt by him just being willing to make that choice. I thought for sure that was going to be the crux of her issue after Mastermind. But she doesn’t really even focus on that aspect of the situation. She never really mentions it at all outside of the same nebulous you promised you wouldn’t leave me, you chose him that has been her issue since LooLoo Land. A “You were willing to die and break your promise to not leave me” would have made more sense to me than “You faked your way through a relationship with my mother and lied about being happy all these years”.

Like Stolas’s actual issues we’ve seen are NOT what Octavia seems to be ultimately upset about. And they could have been if we leaned into the precautionary heir aspect of it but they really haven’t.

I know she’s a teenager, but I have a hard time believing the impulse to learn that someone you love was so unhappy for so many years they just faked their way through it and had to be medicated to cope, and then be mad at them for that? Like, isn’t that a very obvious act of love? Like someone being willing to make themselves unhappy for you for so many years is at its crux a sacrifice. I understand what they were trying to convey, that she feels like he had to use medication to carry out the obligation of being her dad, that she believes that the whole time he was just putting on a show of loving her like he put on a show of loving her mother, but without the tie in of her being a duty he had to perform and “get through” it falls a bit flat when she never mentions that detail, when we’re not even sure if she knows that is why she exists. It would have been a much stronger motivation if she did. If Octavia had found out that Stolas didn’t necessarily want to have a wife or a child, that he was forced to by duty and obligation, and that he had been medicating himself and faking it the whole time and as soon as he had an out he took it, would be a far stronger case for her rage than what actually happened: her finding a box of medicine bottles.

I think we had a strong setup in a variety of directions but in the end they didn’t really commit to any of them. I’ve seen a ton of “I relate to Octavia because I too come from a home where a partner cheated.” Or. “My parents also divorced and that sucked”. And the show was heavily implying that was her issue, with the client having a parallel to their situation, but in the actual confrontation it’s more about the idea that someone taking medication is using that medication to create emotion and feeling where otherwise it wouldn’t exist, but why that fails for me as a reasoning is that just the act and willingness to do that, to force yourself into a loveless marriage and to do everything you can to maintain that facade implies love and care from the outset.

Maybe I’m just too old and being a parent with a now adult child skews my perception, but there were a number of much better reasons than what they ultimately went with, imo.

[inamindfarfaraway]

TGWDLM AU where on the way to Professor Hidgens’s house, the group see Infected Pete and Ted has a complete breakdown. These monsters got his little brother and he wasn’t even there, he didn’t protect him, didn’t look for him, didn’t even think about him - he was too busy thinking of himself, like always. Now Pete’s gone forever, because clearly whatever happened to Sam isn’t something you can come back from. He swore, he swore after Jenny that he would never feel that bad again. But this is worse. At least she didn’t die! *Audience members cringe* His brother, though, is dead. At sixteen years old. It couldn’t be Ted, the useless bastard with nothing good ahead of him. No, Ted wanted to survive. And Pete - earnest, brilliant, loving Pete, perhaps the last person on the planet to give a damn about him - paid the price for it.

This forces Emma, who has been spending the whole last year dealing with the pain of losing her sibling and not getting to say goodbye because she was off being selfish and neglecting her relationships, to realize: ‘Oh. Fuck. The sleazy asshole has feelings… that I can empathize with. Ew.’ So she tells him about Jane. Although she still hates everything else about him, a) nobody deserves to suffer through that alone, which she knows from doing it alone, and b) maybe if he starts to see her as a person with feelings too, he’ll be slightly less insufferable. And it works. The solidarity lays the foundation for a slow-burn friendship. Will they always annoy each other? Oh yes. But it’s hard to understand someone on such a raw, fundamental level and not reach out to them when you yourself also need support.

Due to his external and internal walls being shattered, Ted has to become more comfortable with vulnerability; he has to be more appreciative of and sensitive to other people. He really, really values the few relationships he has left. He and Charlotte connect more deeply while she’s concurrently processing her complex feelings about Sam and his death, and he might not leave her alone with Sam, imagining how he’d feel to be alone with Pete’s body and the alien inside it. He grows to be an actual friend to Paul and… well, Bill might not have enough time for that, but nevertheless. Maybe in this timeline, a handful of Hatchetfielders get to the PEIP helicopter together. Maybe the Hive doesn’t escape the island. Maybe PEIP figures out how destroy it.

Pete was the good one. Pete was the one with hope. But if Ted’s the one who survives, then he’ll just have to live for both of them.

Or he could let the Infected get him right away and the brothers could sing an epic duet.

@dontsteponthatfish @awigglycultist @blueskiesandstarrynights

[bluejutdae]

• best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Minho x you

Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: asshole date, nothing happens but reader thinks her date might follow her home

This night has been terrible so far. Your friend convinced you to go out with one of her colleagues to get over your crush for Minho, and you knew it was pointless, but she insisted so much you have lost the will to fight. So you wore a nice dress and a minute before you left the apartment, the guy texted you saying there was a change of plans and to meet two hours later and at a different location. Is the dating scene like this for everybody? You haven’t dated anyone for a long time, a bit because of how things ended with your last boyfriend but mostly because of the raging (unreciprocated) crush for Minho.

Minho’s now one of your closest friends, but you never actually gave up on your feelings for him. It’s almost comfortable, safe in a way, to love someone knowing things won’t change but won’t end either.

But for the sake of shutting up your friend, you are now in a very shitty situation. The guy is pretty, you’re mature enough to admit that, but he’s a major asshole. Even ignoring the last minute change of plans, the fact that he arrived 25 minutes later and apparently the new location is a nightclub. His hands have been on you the moment he introduced himself and the more you try to put some distance between you two, the more he’s all over you. You could just leave, that’s true. It’s also true that this guy is very set on never leaving your side and he’s so pushy you’re certain he wouldn’t hesitate to follow you home.

You wonder when Minho is going to be here so you can at least leave the club and have him keep you company, when you feel a hand grabbing your wrist. You turn to find the hand holding you belongs to Minho himself and he’s looking at you with a surly expression, teeth clenched and a frown between his eyebrows. “We’re going home.”

His voice is cold and firm, you’ve never heard him speak to you like that. Your date notices the scene and turns to Minho. “Woah dude, she’s mine tonight.”

Minho’s cold stare rests on the guy and at the same time your friend makes a step to place himself between you and your date. “She’ll never be yours, not tonight, not never. She belongs to me. Dude.” The last word was spat through Minho’s teeth, mocking and a bit cruel.

Words die on the guy’s tongue when Minho gets into his face and says something too quiet for you to hear.

A moment later he’s gently pushing you away and through the crowd, towards the exit.

“Well, that was intense,” you joke when you’re safe on the sidewalk.

“Don’t you ever put yourself into a situation like this. Ever again.” He’s on your face, almost screaming the words at you, anger contorting his face.

You can understand he was worried, but you don’t like the way he’s talking to you.

“Ya, Minho! Do you think I wanted that?” You raise your eyebrows. “I didn’t call you so you could scold me! I called you because I trusted you to help me, I know I was in a shitty situation!”

“And yet you still got into this situation!” He rebuts, and in this moment you hate him a little.

Why is he judging you like this? Why is he blaming you? Sure, you were a bit too naive but it’s not like you consciously decided to put yourself in a potentially dangerous situation.

“This clearly wasn’t what I expected.”

“No? You’re the one who decided to go to a club with a man you didn’t know. And you came alone! Was bringing a friend too easy?”

“Fuck you, Minho!”

You stalk away, towards the direction of the bus stop. Why is he mad at you now? He’s never been mean or cruel to you, despite what lots of people say about him, he’s a caring friend.

You can hear his footsteps getting close and you almost laugh at the thought that comes to your mind: you are always so focused on him, you can now recognize his footsteps.

“I parked in the other direction.”

“Then go the other direction. I don’t need you here. Sorry I bothered you. I won’t be your problem anymore.”

“You are my problem.”

“Oh, so I really am a problem to you.” You can believe him. All this because he had to come get you? You didn’t think it’d be such a hassle.

“Yes. You’ve been my problem since I met you.”

“You’re being so fucking cruel tonight, Minho.”

“I am not- can you stop walking?” He asks, sounding exasperated. You stop and face him, one hand on your hip and your lips pursed in disapproval. “So you can tell me more about how I’m a problem?”

“I didn’t say a problem.”

“You said exac-“

“I said MY problem! Emphasis on my. Because you’re not other people’s problem. And I don’t want you to belong to other guys, don’t want them to call you theirs! I want you to be mine.”

You stare at him for half a minute, silent and still. Putting aside the fact that he’s repeating the fact that you’re a problem, you try to read between the lines.

“Is this a fucked up way to tell me you have feeling for me?”

“Yes.”

This is ridiculous. Really ridiculous. Your crush has feelings for you. And the most backwards way of confessing. Well, considering he is Minho, it’s pretty in character for him. Still ridiculous, though.

“I didn’t know you decided to go on dates.” He says it like a second thought.

“I didn’t.”

“You were on a date.”

“Doesn’t mean I decided to go on dates.”

“Means exactly that.”

“Jesus, Minho. Can you ever drop something?”

“Not when it’s about you.”

This asshole. How can you find his otherwise annoying answers amusing?

“My friend insisted so much that she wore me down, so I accepted this date with her colleague. So, as I said, I haven’t decided to go on dates.”

“Good.”

“You can never be normal, uh? Always with a weird answer.”

“You like weird.”

“I do.”

“You’re normal. I like normal.”

He likes normal, and he likes you. And he tells you so in a Minho way at least another ten times in the following minutes, during your way home.

You say goodbye and you’re about to get out of the car, when he puts his hand on your arm, an hesitant expression on his face. “No more other guys, right?”

You smile softly at him. “No more other guys. There hasn’t really been another guy since I met you.”

His smile is all you need.

[diejager]

Nooo but there is something about the monster au where there is a casual mention from her that she won't live as long as them (I assume monsters/hybrids are longer lived plus she is a lot more likely to die on mission), like she probably just jokes about it offhandedly and it sends all of them feral because... no? Absolutely not? Insulting. Ridiculous. Not happening.

Cue ultimate clinginess, all rushing to be more intimate because the thought of her not being around is abhorrent. Soap maybe losing it a bit going off on a line of thought about how he could mate her right? Would it be awful if there was a way for her to be a wolf shifter?

I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND

Change cw: mention of turning, mention of death, joking about death, tell me if I missed any.

All options are on the table at this point, death had always been something that loomed over them like a shadow, the veil and sickle of death following you wherever you went. You’ve had more than one reminder of your short life, your vulnerability as a human, weak and tender skin, short lives and a delicate body. There were so many things in the world that could pose a possible danger to you and they hated that.

You lived shorter lives than most monsters or hybrids, you grew sick and frail whereas hybrids could fight any viral infections or diseases, you didn’t have thicker skin despite all the extra layers of protective gear and you were a target of many for your choice of career. They were reminded of you mortality whenever you get hurt, blood painting your skin with a strong, metallic odour.

And it didn’t help that you’d often joke about it, throwing offhanded comments that made their hackles raise, body tense and mind brewing with what ifs scenario that has them tearing their hair from the root. While some monsters were more solitary than others, all of them were possessive of what they deemed their family —pack.

Ghost and König stuck closer during training, a tall, imposing figure behind you that acted as a guard dog to ward away anyone they deemed a danger. Soap and Horangi hung around you in the rec room, either laying on you or clinging to you, putting a show of ownership over you. Rudy and Alejandro, the ever active couple, were always finding you around the base, striking up a conversation and wrapping their arms around you. Gaz would was the cuddliest of the group, finding time outside of his busy to snuggle up against you and cover you with his wings, pulling you to sleep on his shoulder. Price, the man with the most authority in the TF made sure that you were always with someone on every Op, having someone to back you up in the most dire situation.

Every visit to the medic made them wild, it brought them closer to desperate measures. Would it be so bad to turn you in one? Would it be so bad to let Soap bite you during the full moon, his bite infecting you with his power: thicker skin, sturdier build, longer lifespan and better sense? The only draw backs were the higher wildness, near feral during full moons and a competitive mindset over the possessiveness and brattiness of a young werewolf.

Would it be so bad to make you return as a wraith? While Ghost learned to control his powers alone, the pain and emotions building up in his body without any way of letting it out, you had him, you wouldn’t be alone with the resurrection. He didn’t want you to feel the terror and agony by yourself —he didn’t want you to know how it felt to die and come back.

Would it be so bad to have a vampire turn you into one without becoming a thrall? You couldn’t walk in the sun, something you told them you enjoyed, you’d be restrained to specific activities and you wouldn’t like that, being limited by the sun. Granted, there were solutions to that, but none very comfortable.

They knew you were aware of your mortality, made fun of it and laughed as it this was your last day, but you didn’t fear death, you only feared leaving them. You were open to their thoughts, listening to their ideas and options with a neutral expression, but you didn’t reject the idea of turning you. That was a good thing, a step forward in their mind.

Now all that needed to do was to let you decide which path you wanted to walk.

tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

[hemlock-dreams]

I love MJ. Peter must have really been devastated by her being affected when he was outed as Spider-Man. I have a few questions! You mentioned in the original universe she had a relapse — was it just the same universe changes that made Peter a criminal that caused there to be an MJ that was an addict? Would the venom have caused her to die in a while like most people, or no because Peter became her supplier and had presumably good control? Wouldn’t she have known the reasons he had hesitated to kiss long eventually, since he had to tell her everything to help with the venom thing? And does his venom just… come out automatically after a bit with anything, or is it possible for him to have situations where it’s not involved at all for a time? I’m sure he misses her and usually MJ and Peter are friends before they get together in many canons, so I’m really happy that he’s able to be her friend in the new universe and didn’t lose her entirely 🥺 even if he basically had to reform the relationship from scratch. (Also if Peter and Marko were such good friends, why was he willing to put him and his loved ones in danger by telling everyone?) all of this is very cool and fun ty for sharing.

So OG-MJ was an addict before she ever knew Peter(and before everything with the knock off venom.) She had been sober for two years at that point, and continued to stay sober for a few years after she and Peter officially got together.

However, Peter was always gone, flaking on all their special dates/anniversaries etc. He'd make plans and then never show up, or cancel at the last minute. And despite being super affectionate with his words, was always really physically distant. All of this left MJ feeling really alone and angry, as she was dealing with her own abandonment issues (foster care).

Eventually, everything was just a perfect storm of frustration (struggling with her boss, Peter flaking on another date, a new job opportunity not coming through) that she ended up reconnecting with some old friends who convinced her to try 'this sick new upper'.

The issue with manufactured venom (gonna call it Aurora) is that in it's impurity, it had extremely degenerative effects at lower doses. Peter's venom, while just as bad, was 'cleaner'. He can secrete it at will, but his body starts automatically pumping it when he gets excited (not to mention his fangs do not retract!!!) (They are very sharp!!!)

As for Marko, he'd been Sandman for a while before he revealed Spiderman's identity. Not only was he mentally very unstable, but he'd been very bitter over Peter going 'straight'. They were supposed to be ride or die, but Peter kept drifting away and eventually cut ties with him when it was obvious that Marko was never going to leave the lifestyle.

Then one day, during a fight with Spiderman Marko just...recognized the body language, the words, just...something clicked, then broke. Because not only did Peter leave Marko, the guy who had his back all those years in prison, his supposed 'ride or die' was also fucking Spiderman. The guy who had been actively fucking up Marko's life for years. The enemy.

Payback was an easy decision for a guy who held tight to grudges.

And for the kicker, he didn't even sell the information, just gave it to JJ for free-- that's how much he wanted to hurt Peter. Later, he would really regret it, but it would be too late at that point.

After Marko threw Peter's life into the fire, he and MJ had a blowout fight. At the height of it, MJ told Peter to 'prove he loved her' and used her own addiction as a way to control his time and attention after being starved for so long (kind of holding herself hostage).

Yeah...it all kind of went to real shit after Lmaoo

Once again, thank you SO much for the support and all these amazing asks!! <3 <3

[swirly-strawz]

some doodles of Samadhi Fire MK

If you’re interested in my ramblings about this ⬇️

I wanted to explore the angst that this AU would have and I’ve thought about a bunch of things

1. Guilt

Oh boy, where do I even start? Everyone’s a mess in this, with MK being the biggest mess. I’ll ramble about the ones I thought about.

For MK, he feels guilty about losing control since the others are in a close radius. He screamed his problems out on Wukong, lashing out and crying. What’s worse is that his mentor even walked through the flames for him, getting some burns in the process. The hug was short but it’s what he really needed at the moment.

Wukong feels guilty, his student was screaming about how he felt abandoned because of HIM. Wukong swore to protect MK and yet there he was, crying, raging, burning, etc. He apologizes for leaving him alone, for not being there for him as he walks through the red and purple flames, towards MK. His heart broke as MK shoved him away, looking at him with eyes filled with defeat and sorrow before flying away.

Mei hates herself for not being the one to step in and help her best friend. It took her a few minutes in this disaster to do something, to be there for MK like she always have. But before she could act on it, Wukong swoops in and goes into the fire. Mei wishes that she was hugging MK at the moment when the flames disappeared, not for long though. She runs after MK, reaching out before he leaves a red trail behind as he flies into the sky.

Tang was the one who finished the ritual, who inflicted such unimaginable levels of trauma upon his son. Why did he do it? Why did he listen to the shadow monkey? How could he? He felt so sick, the Samadhi Fire is not something that can be tamed. It can burn anything and anyone, even immortal beings. Pathetic. Useless. Horrible. Responsible. He doesn’t know why no one blames him for what happened, sure they didn’t know MK is the fourth ring, but he’s still the one who caused this to happen! How can he trust himself anymore when he bears the hands that afflicted pain upon his son?

2. Pressure

MK would feel more pressure on his shoulders, now that he has this burden to carry. He learned enough so that the Samadhi Fire is more docile and less chaotic. But that isn’t enough! After the event that occurred in the ritual area, he’s still processing this life. His mind is scarred. He’s so frustrated, he could hear LBD laughing and taunting him at the back of his mind. Why is this so hard?! He’s the Monkie Kid! The world is in danger! He can’t rest right now! If he doesn’t control the fire, the world will burn because of him! Everyone will die!

3. Aftermath

I think after S3 in this AU, MK wouldn’t be as cheery and energetic as his canon self. He would act more as if he just got punched in the gut. Like how Mei acted more rash, impulsive, and impatient, MK would be more on edge, tired, short-tempered, not to the point of being an asshole though. I think he also would be more stressed because of the trauma he faced from the Samadhi Fire. Even when he fully wields it, he’s afraid of accidentally losing control again. MK is more prone into acting feral and pissed off as S4 proceeds. He would lose his shit faster when Azure reveals his true plan.

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (1/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: Reader is sent up the mountain as a sacrifice to the dragon in exchange for his help protecting her village. The dragon is not what she was expecting, neither was his offer.

Content Warnings: None

Length: 3k

Chapters: (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

Read on AO3

Never did you think the village would rejoice a dragon moving into the nearby mountain. But that was before the war had taken its toll and all the young able bodied men from your village. Now, with your town so close to the border, you realized how dangerous a position your home was in. Foreign bandits had already come through more than once to disturb the peace of your village and make off with whatever they could carry. It was a hardship you could not sustain.

So when someone said they had spotted a dragon flying around the nearby mountain it was not seen as an ill omen, but perhaps a miracle in disguise. If you could somehow make a contract with this dragon to protect the village, then you would not fear bandits any longer. The only problem then was, what do you offer a dragon? Most of the valuables in town had been pilfered by bandits already and giving up any more would mean you could no longer trade or order needed supplies.

If stories of dragons had taught you anything, one things dragons valued as much as gold was a beautiful maiden. It was all your village had to offer and it was soon agreed that the loss of one life to save the many was a worthy sacrifice.

Every maiden in the village that was of age was to put their name in a raffle. Whosoever’s name was drawn would be the sacrifice. Maybe it was destiny or a cruel joke that you heard your name called that fateful grey morning. In an instant you were no longer a part of the village, daughter to the local glassmaker, you were to be given as tribute to the dragon in hopes of protecting your village. A sacrifice.

There was nothing for you to pack to go up the mountain. Why would there be? You were just going up there to die anyway. You could only pray the dragon would make it quick and that they did indeed hold up their side of the bargain you needed to make.

You sat in your bedroom for the last time as you were done up by the other women in the village. Sacrifices had to be their most beautiful before they were devoured. Beautiful clothes. Jewelry. Your hair and make up done just so. It would have made you feel like a princess if it were not for the fact you knew what it was all for.

The only part of you that was not prettied by your entourage of misty-eyed peers were your shoes. Climbing the mountain in the dress was already going to be hard enough. You weren’t going to suffer in delicate silk slippers all the way too. The dragon wouldn’t be able to see your old boots under the dress anyway.

When it was all over everyone filed out of your room to give you some privacy, and a chance to say your final goodbyes to your father.

You had not seen him since the women had come over to help you bathe and dress. He stood in the doorway now, face gleaming with sweat and eyes shining with tears.

“Father,” you shot from your seat and hugged him tight.

“You’re going to ruin your dress hugging me. I’m filthy from work.”

“I don’t care.” you cried into his chest.

“My sweet pea,” he sighed, hugging you back fiercely. “You say the word and we’ll leave. We’ll hop on a pair of horses and run from the village. Let them sacrifice someone else to this dragon.”

You wiped your eyes, not caring if your make up was smudged or not. “If not me, it will be someone else’s daughter or sister or friend. And if it protects you, then I think it worthwhile.”

“You’re my daughter. You’re not supposed to sacrifice anything for your parents, that’s our job.” he brushed the tears from his eyes, “You do not have to do this. We can find another way.”

“If we do nothing then the village will not survive. Either one of us dies for a worthy cause or we all watch each other die when our village is raided again. You cannot put everyone ahead of me. I will not let you.” you squeezed his hands. “I don’t want to spend what will most likely be our final moments together arguing over what cannot be changed. Please.”

He sighed, his breathing shaky. “Without you, I have no one. But if there is anything I know about you it is that you are stubborn.” he fished something out of his pocket. “I thought you may not try to run so I made you this.”

In his hands he held out a small glass charm on a simple beaded chain. The charm was of a blood moonflower. He placed it in your hands. “Maybe you’ll fly away too, like the girl in the story.”

You held the memento of your favorite childhood fairy tale close to your heart. “Maybe.” you hugged your father again, “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweet pea.” he pressed a kiss to your forehead and walked you out of the house.

Everyone was waiting outside, lined in two rows to see you off as you walked past them and out of the village. It was a custom for weddings and funerals…you knew which one this was considered. You didn’t dare look back, just kept your gaze straight and your head high as you left the village and began your ascent up the mountain.

Thankfully there was a clear trail up to the top of the mountain. There had been a time when the mountain was being mined for ore but it turned out that not a lot was found inside so after a while it was abandoned. The tunnels that had been carved through it were still there and that was where you suspected the dragon had decided to nest.

You climbed for hours, thanking your foresight to wear your normal boots instead of slippers. Maybe you should have insisted on a horse for this journey. Weren’t pure white horses a part of these maiden sacrifice tales? You already looked less like a beautiful young maiden come to throw yourself at the mercy of a dragon and more like a bedraggled beggar in a pilfered dress.

Your dress covered in dust from the climb, your make up was smudged from crying and sweating, the jewelry felt like it was weighing you down by ten pounds, and you were starving. You could barely manage to eat anything that morning and it was coming back to haunt you now. What did it matter if you were hungry since you were going to be eaten yourself soon anyway?

Finally after what felt like a lifetime of climbing you came to the large open cave entrance of the mountain. Once you stepped inside there was no going back. You could still run. Flee to the next closest village, pawn off the jewelry and live a life of anonymity, cowardice, and guilt. No. You had to do this.

You stood there stuck, trying to find the courage to take that first step inside. “It’ll be over soon. It’ll be over soon. It’ll be over soon.” you whispered to yourself.

“What will be over soon?”

“Gods above!” you shrieked, jumping away from the sudden voice.

You turned around and saw a man, but he was not exactly a man. He certainly looked like a handsome human man with a shock of silver hair. But there was more of nightmare about him than any man you had seen before. His arms were encased in jagged black armor that grew into his chest to a glowing red gem in the center. Tall black horns sprouted from his head and a large scaly tail flicked behind him. It was his eyes that entranced you the most though, out of everything that you had seen in the instant you turned to look at him. His eyes were red as rubies and they glinted as if a fire flickered inside them.

You should have been scared. Whoever this man was he was not entirely human, possibly not human at all despite the initial physique. What came out instead was, “Who in the hells are you?” 

His brow furrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest. He spoke in a deep and smooth baritone that shocked you almost as much as his appearance. “You have a lot of gall to travel to someone else’s home and ask who they are so rudely. I want to know why you are here.”

“Your home?” it was your turn to look confused. Suddenly his appearance started to make more sense. “Are you a servant of the dragon that lives in this mountain?

There was a certain mirth that softened his gaze as curiosity settled in. “You seek the dragon? What for? Come to slay him? If so,” he started to circle you slowly, raking his eyes up and down as if he was appraising an expensive vase, “you do not look like much of a warrior.”

“I’m not here to do any slaying, quite the opposite in fact. I’ve come to beseech the dragon’s help.”

“Help? What for?”

“If you must know, my village down in the glen is being threatened by foreign bandits. All the people that would have been capable of defending the villager were taken to join the king’s army, leaving us defenseless. I was sent up here to ask the dragon to protect us…I mean, them.” your hands balled into fists.

“A rather large boon,” he stroked his chin with his sharpened black claws, “And who are you that they sent you and no one else to ask this favor?”

“Hardly a favor.” you scoffed. “I am both messenger and sacrifice. In return for protecting my village I am to give myself over to the dragon.”

“I see.” he stopped his pacing. He gave you one more assessing look then nodded. “Alright. I will accept this offering.”

“What?”

“I said I would accept, in exchange I will protect your little village.”

“Oh no, I need to ask the dragon--”

His tail suddenly lashed out and wrapped around your torso, pulling you close to him. Your heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. The man wore a bored expression which put you more ill at ease than if he was outright scowling.

“I know I do not look exactly look like my brethren but you do know that humans do not have tails, right?” the tail squeezed you tighter to emphasize his point.

“You are the dragon?” You knew you had never seen a dragon before but from every description that anyone has ever given about them, they certainly did not look like this. If this man was a dragon, did that mean that all dragons had a semi-humanoid form they could shift into? Was he a different breed of dragon no one had ever seen? Or was he lying?

“Obviously.” he released you and you staggered to find your footing again. “Now come along inside, let us discuss this arrangement further.”

You didn’t know if you could trust this person, this dragon. You had come to this mountain prepared to be eaten alive, snapped in the jaws of a huge and terrifying dragon. But if this was the dragon, you had to wonder how he could possibly help your village. You also began to debate if there was something else you should fear from him than mere death.

Without any other options you followed him into the cave, for better or worse. You followed him down a tunnel and came into a room with a firepit in the center and random crates, pans, sacks, and other odds and ends scattered throughout. Off to the side of this mayhem was a table and chairs that he sat down at. You took the other seat still unsure as to what your fate was exactly to be now.

“So you want me to protect your village.” he said. “That is easily done. And in return, you are mine. What is it you provide that makes you so valuable to a dragon?”

“I do not know.” you kept your hands clasped tightly in your lap. “I came up here expecting to die, but if you have more use of me alive than I would have to say I prefer that. Specifics pending, of course.”

“What do you know how to do?”

“I can cook, clean, read, write, have a fair knowledge of sewing, a decent singing voice I suppose, I worked with my father making glass for years, no brilliant or exceedingly special talents I can think of right now.”

“That is already more than enough.” he gestured to the room. “As you can see, this mountain is not exactly in the best shape. I’ve been too busy to clean. So that and cooking can be a part of your duties from now on.”

“Understood.”

“Good.” he nodded. “Now, while you are here you are not to leave. But you will not be treated as a prisoner either. You may go where you wish in mountain, except for few select rooms. But I will be sure to let you know which those are.”

“I understand.” this was going far better than you could have hope. You got to live and your village would be safe and all you had to do was clean? Maybe cook some meals? It was a far step up from death at least!

“For now, I will show you where you will be staying.” he stood up again.

“Staying?” you hurried after him.

“Would you prefer I add you to my hoard?” he asked, his tone light with humor. “You are free to but I doubt you will find the treasure comfortable to sleep on.”

You were led down a series of tunnels, they were illuminated with bioluminescent fungi that grew along the walls. It truly felt as if you had walked into another world. You eventually came to another large room, this one was illuminated with candles though. The glowing mushrooms also grew in here but they stuck more to the ceiling, like little blueish green stars looking down on you.

The room was bare except for a large ornate chest pushed against one wall and a massive bed in the center. How and when did a bed this big end up in this cave?

“I did not know what to expect from a dragon’s fortress but it was not this.” you spun in a circle, taking in the room.

“Did you think I slept on a giant pile of gold coins?” the dragon asked, leaning against the wall.

You shrugged. “Then again, you aren’t what I was expecting to find up here either.”

“Hmph,” he gave you a smug smile. “Goose feather mattresses and silk sheets are much easier on the back. You’ve had a long journey, I will give you time to settle in.”

With that he turned around and left. You stood in the center of the room at a loss for what to do next. You pulled the charm your father had given you out of your pocket and held it close. There was a chance that you could leave the mountain yet. As long as you were nice and didn’t cause trouble the dragon would protect your village, and maybe someday in the future you could convince him to let you return home.

Some time later the dragon called you to come eat. You followed him back to the room you supposed was supposed to be some kind of kitchen and sat down. A plate piled high with meat skewers sat in front of you and nothing else.

“Is this it?” you peered over the pile at him.

The dragon was already biting off a chunk of meat from one of them, juices dribbling down his chin. “I am a dragon, my diet rarely consists of anything else.”

“Right.” you took one of the skewers and bit into it. The meat was tough but it was cooked through at least. “Since I’m going to be living here now, what should I call you?”

“Well,” he leaned back in his chair, “if you are my servant now, that should mean you should call me master.”

Your face burned with the indignity of it but you couldn’t exactly say no in your position. “I see.”

He smiled again, his teeth were just a touch too sharp to be considered human. “Try it.” he said.

You swallowed the dry lump of meat and looked him dead in his eyes. “Thank you for the meal…master.”

His smile grew and you knew he was enjoying this a little too much. He dropped his gaze with a small chuckle. “Yes, well, I am sure you will provide better meals in the future.”

The rest of the meal passed mostly in silence and then you returned to the room you were given. You stripped out of the many adornments and layers of finery until you were in the chemise and nothing else. At least this would be comfortable to sleep in. If you had thought that you weren’t going to die coming up the mountain you would have brought a change of clothes.

You slid into the bed, the fine mattress and sheets did little to ease your tossing and turning as you wondered what your future was to be now.

[callsign-dexter]

Love's Wake-Up Call

Request: GREAT NEWS !! Sooo then I'll be the first sending in an idea hehe 🤭🫣 as we all love some angsty shit, I'll think about where she's also a trainer and Tim and her are crushing but he ignores it as he wants to stay professional. But during one dangerous call, she gets there for support and saves his life by taking some bullets and Tim forgets everything professional immediately pleading her to not die until they have a at least one date. Later at the hospital he's there when you wake up and after he lectured you, he finally asks you out?

Pairings: Tim Bradford x Police Officer!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff

Masterlist

For as long as you could remember you had been in love with Tim Bradford. You two went through the academy together and became great friends. With your friendship came along a major crush on your male friend. Tim would never admit it but he was in love with you too but he pushed his feelings down whereas you tried to hide yours but it was too much so they stayed surfaced. Everyone knew that you both had a crush on each other but Tim was just too stubborn to say anything and you didn't want to get rejected. 

Your alarm is what woke you up early in the morning. You sighed and rolled over and turned it off. You laid there for a few minutes until you got the energy to get up. When you did you went into the bathroom and got in the shower and then brushed your teeth getting ready to start the long shift with Tim. Like him you were a training officer and you loved it and wouldn’t change it for the world. You loved the trainee that you had. He was smart, resourceful, loves the law and follows it, and is easy to get along with. His name was Luke Winters and he has a boyfriend but he is planning on proposing to him they also had a kid together.

When you had finished getting ready and packed a bag with extra clothing you set out to the kitchen and made yourself a cup of coffee, after it was done you put it in a thermos and you were off. You walked out of the house and turned back to lock the door. When you made sure it was locked and secure you walked over to your royal blue Jeep and got in and started it. Your Bluetooth automatically connected to the car and started playing music. You smiled and started your journey to work.

It didn’t take long for you to get to work and when you pulled in you saw Tim’s truck and parked next to it smiling. He must’ve just gotten there because he was getting out while you parked. You quickly killed the engine and got out as well. You grabbed your bag “Good morning.” Tim said as you rounded the front of your Jeep.

“Good morning, Tim.” You said and he smiled and you two walked towards the station. 

“Have a good night?” He asked and you nodded.

“I did nothing special. How about you?” You asked

“It was ok. Have any plans for when you’re off?” He asked and you thought about saying something that involved him but refrained from doing so.

“Nope.” You said and he nodded and then he was opening the door for you and you smiled and walked in. 

“Good morning, Officer Bradford and Officer Y/L/N.” The person at the front desk said and you smiled at her and then walked through the doors towards the locker rooms. 

“You know I was thinking after shift maybe we could go and grab something to eat.” You said nervously and he didn’t reply but, on the inside, he was excited but he was at work so he had to keep it professional.

“We’ll see.” He said and then went into the locker room to change leaving you standing there and you frowned but did the same thing. You were quick to change and head into the briefing room. You saw him sitting there talking with Angela and Talia smiling and laughing and that made you smile but it quickly faded when he looked over at you. You turned your gaze away from him and quickly went and sat down next to Angela instead of next to him and he frowned but you didn’t see it. Sergeant Grey walked in and the day began. The Rookies quickly got with their TOs and then everyone was going to get their bags and guns. 

“Are you ok?” Luke asked and you looked at him.

“Yea, I’m ok. Just didn’t have the best night last night.” You said and he nodded.

“It wasn’t the best for us either. Cody got sick in the middle of the night and it was just a huge mess.” Luke said

“Is he ok? Is Dakota staying with him?” You asked as he loaded the bags and guns into the trunk and then shutting it and then getting into the shop.

“Yes, he has a doctor’s appointment today. So, I hope it is alright that I’m on my phone.” He said looking a little nervous.

“Don’t worry about it. I understand. Family comes first.” You said and he smiled.

“Thank you.” He said and you smiled and nodded at him. 

The morning was nothing interesting or eventful but you got all the calls that you needed Luke to get to get him to pass his training. Before you knew it, it was lunch time. You pulled into the usual hang out place for you guys. You had been coming here for as long as you could remember. You pulled up and killed the engine and then the both of you were getting out. “Hey, Officer Y/L/N!” Nolan said and you smiled.

“Good afternoon, Officer Nolan.” You said “You guys having a good morning?” You asked, he nodded.

“Yea, nothing too interesting. How about you both?” He asked and you nodded.

“Pretty much the same thing.” You said and then you all ordered and waited for your food and it was out in no time. You all grabbed yours and headed to the two tables that everyone sat at. 

“Hey guys.” You said and they smiled. A collective of ‘hey’s were said.

“Hello Officer Y/L/N.” Tim said being professional and you smiled but a pang of sadness went through you but you didn’t let it show. Lunch was uneventful and nothing interesting was talked about. You really just wanted to get back out on the road. You weren’t really paying attention to the topic or what was being said just enough to put your input in. Your mind was mostly on Tim and how you would love to be with him but he doesn’t seem to act like he cares or likes you. A call came in and you answered it.

“Officer Winters! Let’s go!” You yelled out and Luke was up and out of this seat and heading towards you and the shop. You threw away your trash and so did he. What you didn’t see was Tim looking at you with eyes that only screamed love but you didn’t even give him a glance as you pulled out of the parking lot. 

“You love her, don’t you?” Angela asked with a smirk and he looked over at her.

“No.” He said with a higher pitched voice.

“Oh, you do! You can’t deny it.” Talia said and he rolled his eyes and then a call came in and he was quick to jump to it and calling Lucy over and they were off.

“He is so in love.” Angela said and the girls nodded.

“Yes, he is and so is she.” Talia said and they nodded.

“We knew she was in love because she doesn’t hold it back and because we have a discussion about it. He just needs to come to his senses.” Angela said and Talia nodded.

“I have a feeling he will get that chance soon.” Talia said boy did they know she was right.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

While your call was quick and simple you were now driving around looking for anything suspicious. Luke was multitasking looking out and on his phone. “Everything ok?” You asked him and he looked up sheepishly nodded.

“Cody has the flu and a double ear infection.” Luke said

“Oh no. Do you need to go home?” You asked and he shook his head.

“No, I asked Dakota and he said no and to finish up the shift.” He said and you smiled and nodded. It was silent for a few more minutes until the radio went off and it was Tim’s voice.

“7-Adam-19 requesting back up.” Tim said and you nodded at Luke who was looking at you.

“7- Adam-20 responding.” Luke said and you were off to their location. Your lights and sirens were flashing and that helped clear the road and you were there in no time. When Tim heard that you were responding his heart sank but he didn’t let it show he was keeping it professional. 

You got there and quickly parked, shutting the sirens off and both you and Luke were jumping out and heading over to Lucy and Tim. “What’s going on?” You asked, trying not to show how happy you were with standing so close to him.

“We got here about 20 minutes ago due to a call of disturbance and at first everything was going smoothly and then he started to get agitated. He has not barricaded himself in his house and won’t come out.” Lucy said and you nodded.

“What is the plan?” You asked

“Initially we were going to just storm in there but he pulled out a gun and started to become a danger to himself and others around him.” Tim said and you nodded. 

“Have you tried to talk to him again?” You asked and he shook his head.

“No, we figured he wouldn’t want to talk to us.” Lucy said and you nodded.

“Ok, we’ll go try. Maybe a new set of people will help.” You said and they nodded. You and Luke started your way up to the house. You and Luke got up to the door and knocked on the door “Mr. Duncan, I’m Officer Y/L/N and I have Officer Winters with me. Would you please come to the door and we can talk about this?” You asked.

“Are the other officers gone?” He asked and you looked at Luke and he nodded.

“Yes, they are.” You said, you hated lying but it was the only way to hopefully get him out. There was a sound of shouting and things being knocked over and then the door started to unlock and it slowly opened and you took a quick look back at Tim and saw him smile but it was small. “Good afternoon, Mr. Duncan. We were called here for a disturbance.” You said he walked outside “Can you come out further onto the grass?” You asked and he hesitated but nodded and did so. 

“I don't know why you guys are here. I wasn’t even playing my music too loud and the screaming was from a movie.” He said and you nodded trying to keep him on his good side. Nothing seemed dangerous but you knew that could quickly change in a heartbeat. You looked him over and then noticed his bloody knuckles.

“Sir, are you ok? Is someone in the house with you?” You asked and he shook his head getting defensive.

“No, it’s just me. I got mad earlier and punched the wall.” He said but you noticed the scratches on his neck. Just then a woman came running out.

“Help me! He has kidnapped me!” She yelled and before she could get to you, he had grabbed her and brought out a gun putting it at her head. You drew your gun and so did the others. He slowly backed up and that gave you and Luke time to back up until you were with Tim and Lucy. 

“What is your plan?” You asked

“Call for back-up.” Tim said and you nodded and then started for your radio in your car but the sound of a gun went off and you froze. You looked up and saw that Duncan had turned to point the gun at the 4 of you. 

“Don’t you move!” He shouted and you brought your hands up in surrender. You needed to get to the radio. You slowly started to back up again and he sent a warning shot your way but it had grazed you and you hissed and that got Tim’s attention. “Don’t move!” He yelled out.

Tim looked over at you and noticed the blood “Are you ok?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yea, I’m good.” You said and then something clicked in Duncan’s mind and he started to shoot off bullets and that caused you to fire back. Gunfire was becoming more frequent and that was concerning. Shop doors were opened and everyone was ducking behind them. “Are you good?” You asked Tim and he didn’t respond but he stood up and shot off a shot and then ducked down again.

“Yea, I’m good. I’m gonna move to get better access.” He said and you nodded.

“I’m going with you.” You said and he looked at you.

“No.” He said and you looked at him.

“This is not up for discussion.” You said and he groaned but started the move. You kept an eye on Duncan and as you started to move, he saw you and aimed his gun at you and Tim, he was right in the crossfire and you couldn’t have him getting shot. “Tim!” You shouted when you saw Duncan pull the trigger and pushed him out of the way. The bullet connected with your neck and then another shot popped off and it had entered your chest right below your ribcage and you froze. Gun fire ceased and Duncan was taken down and the woman was saved but now you were standing there shell shocked. Tim had gotten up and his eyes widened. 

“Y/N.” He said, stunned and you looked over at him and then your knees buckled. “No no no no.” He said and then moved to grab you as you slowly fell.

“Tim-” You started but he cut you off. 

“Don’t try to talk. Save your energy.” He said and you coughed and some blood came up with it. He reached for his radio with his bloody hand “Shots fired; shots fired. Officer down, I repeat officer down.” He said into his radio. You felt your eyes start to close and he noticed this and put his hand back on the bleeding shoulder wound. “Hey hey keep those eyes open. You can’t die. I still need to take you on our first date.” He said and that would’ve surprised you if you weren’t losing blood and fighting for your life. Lucy and Luke had arrested the man and saved the woman.

 By now more units were arriving and that meant Angela, Jackson, Taila, and Nolan were showing up. They rushed over to you and Tim “What can we do?” Nolan asked.

“Make room for the ambulance and get them over her fast.” Tim said looking at him, he nodded and was off and looked back down at you and noticed your eyes were closed. “Hey, Y/N. Open those eyes for me.” He said and got no response. He could feel your pulse on your neck but it was slow and that worried him. “You can’t do this to me.” He said. 

The ambulance was quick to get there and made their way over to you and got you up on the stretcher and moved to the ambulance. He moved with them and got in and nobody argued with him. Once everyone was in, they were off heading to the hospital. He was beating himself up for hiding his feelings for you and not making them known earlier because now he was here with you as you were fighting for your life. They arrived at the hospital in no time and they were rushing you back and away from him. He went and sat in the waiting room to wait. He doesn’t know how long he was sitting there but Angela, Jackson, Talia, Nolan, Luke, and Lucy all showed up. “Any news?” Lucy asked and he shook his head.

“No.” He said looking down at his bloodied hands, bloodied with your blood.

“How long since they took her back?” Luke worried for his TO and his friend.

“30 minutes.” He said and they nodded and everyone sat down waiting for good news. 14 minutes and Grace was coming out with bloodied scrubs and Tim was the first one up. “How is she?” He asked not to hold back his emotions.

“She’s pulled through.” She said and everyone sighed in relief “However we did lose her 2 times on the operating table but got her back each time. I want to keep her under for a few days to let her rest.” She said and everyone nodded.

“Are we able to see her?” Angela asked and she nodded.

“Right this way.” She said and they followed her. When they got to your room, they could see all the wires connected to you and that you were sleeping. “Anything happens, let me know.” She said and they nodded. Tim was the first one to move and sit down next to you. Wade had also shown up at some point and walked into the room and his heart sank, you were like a daughter to him and you actually cared for him, he hated seeing you like this. Nothing was said between them and that was ok. Although the others wanted to stay, they knew they couldn’t and they went back to work but Tim protested and wasn’t going to leave your side. Wade wasn’t going to fight him on it so he allowed him to stay. When their shift was over Luke had come back with your bag and Tim’s bag. Tim thanked him and they sat there talking for a little bit about you and then Luke had to leave. 

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Tim hated waiting. You shouldn’t be lying there connected to all the wires fighting for your life. If he hadn’t moved then you wouldn’t be in this situation and he hated that. It was leading into day 6 and you had yet to wake up and it was driving him mad. He barely moved, he only moved when he needed to eat, sometimes he didn’t do that unless it was someone bringing it to him, and he only took a shower at the hospital and brushed his teeth there. Grace and Gio were in and out checking on you and your wounds, they had taken you off sedation and now it was up to you. 

10 days and you were still asleep and it was driving Tim mad. He kept thinking about that it was all his fault for moving and not making you stay. He was thinking about how stupid it was that he didn’t tell you how he really felt about you. Really, he was just beating himself up. He needed you to wake up so he could tell you that he was in love with you and that he wanted to be with you and only you.

It was during the night and he was sleeping when you started to wake up. You first opened your eyes and the room was darkened so it was easy on your eyes and then you felt a warm hand in yours and you looked down and saw it was connected to the man you loved, then the pain hit and you tensed up. Tim must’ve felt you tense up because he was jolting awake and scooting his chair back. “Y/N.” He said your name and you were breathing through the pain. After it passed you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“Tim?” You said in a hoarse voice “What?” You said but couldn’t get anything else out.

“You were shot covering me. What were you thinking? I told you not and yet you still did. Do you know how stupid that was? You were shot twice and almost didn’t make it. You know how heartbroken I would’ve been if you hadn’t had made it? I was kneeling there watching the love of my life slowly slipping away from me. You’ve been here for 2 weeks and those 2 weeks have been so painful and nerve wracking for me. If it weren’t for the others bringing food or had brought our bags I wouldn’t have moved from that spot. I was so scared that you weren’t going to make it.” He said coming to the end of his speech. You just stared at him and a smile crept up to your face. “What are you smiling about?” He asked, trying to stay mad.

“You love me?” You asked and he rolled his eyes.

“All of that lecturing and that is what you take away from this?” He asked but an actual smile appeared on his face. “Yes, I love you. As soon as you're out of here and feeling up to it, would you like to go on a date with me?” He asked.

“Yes, I would love that.” You said and smiled and leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Good.” He said when he pulled away “I’m going to go and get Grace and Gio.” He added and started to get up.

“Oh, and Tim?” You said and that had him stopping and looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “I love you too.” You said and that made him smile and walk back over and kissed you on the lips and you returned it. When he pulled away, he brought his hand gently up to your face and caressed it.

“I love you too. I’ll be right back.” He said and you nodded and he left. You brought your hand up to where his hand was and smiled. You both loved each other and this was going to be a wonderful start to a wonderful relationship and you couldn’t wait and neither could Tim. All it took was for you to get shot, of course that sucked but you got the man you loved and you couldn’t be any happier. 

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[feyascorner]

1 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Sometimes, you wonder if letting him ascend would mean he would still be here, by your side, rather than lurking the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. very excited about this!!!! I have a lot of ideas on what to do w this plot!!! ALSO there is some material (pressuring??) in this specific chapter that may be a bit uncomfortable for some readers it's very brief, but it is there so please take care of yourself!

As dark spots blur your vision, you realize you can no longer breathe.

His hands–the slender pale fingers you’ve grown to love more than your own–wrap desperately around your throat, digging crescent-shaped indents into your skin. You’d always thought that if he were ever to realize you weren’t as precious to him as he believed you to be, your neck would be the one part of yourself he’d continued to cherish. The softness in which he brushed his fangs against the most vulnerable areas of your throat had led you to believe so.

But as you stare up at him with wide eyes meeting a murderous glare, you understand that you are wrong.

His crimson eyes gleam with an emotion you’ve seen plenty on his pretty face, but never toward a friend. Never to you. You’re going to die, you think. And it wouldn’t have seemed so bad to die at his hands if it were not for the hatred reaching his eyes.

You’re not sure who–maybe Karlach or Wyll–but someone tears him away from you. Your chest dares to tighten from the loss of contact, yet you desperately grasp at the air, hands flying to the tender flesh of your neck while Shadowheart rushes to your side in an instant with her eyes narrowed dangerously at the very man who’d made the dark blemishes.

They’re yelling. Everyone is. At you, out of panic, or at Astarion, you’re not sure, but you just stare at the vampire spawn who’s now unwillingly locked into a life cast into the shadows of the city. He doesn’t look at anyone else, either.

He says something and a few more muffled voices spit back before he throws the dagger you’d given him to the ground, turning to leave. Your hearing clears just in time to hear his parting words.

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

A pair of hands shake you awake, and you quickly remember the poor consequences to your back of falling asleep on the empty, narrow street beside the Elfsong tavern. You look up wearily, eyes in a daze as Shadowheart sighs irritably, brows furrowed in a way that tells you to ready yourself for a scolding. “Honestly, at this point, I’m just surprised you haven’t gotten robbed during the night yet.”

You force yourself onto your feet, leaning against the walls as you rub at the crust forming under your eyes. “I have nothing of value anyway. They’re better off stealing from some other poor bard who actually bothers to write songs.”

She raises a brow at this, scanning over your appearance. “Where is your lyre?”

“Sold it,” you shrug, dusting off the muck garnered at the sides of your pants. “Wasn’t much use to me anymore. Better off adding to the funds to rebuild the city, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart frowns, and it makes you look away shamefully. Thankfully, she quickly shakes her head and then paces past you. “Speaking of which, are you in any condition to help today? Gale’s promptly exhausted trying to cast mage hand at least a dozen times yesterday to rebuild the Blushing Mermaid. That foolish wizard nearly passed out by noon.”

“‘Course,” you offer a pathetic smile. “We’re nearly finished with the Baldur’s Mouth. I’ll catch up with you once I check on everyone there.”

“Very well,” she says. She purses her lips after a slight pause. “You should stop falling asleep on the street. Especially since there’s been quite a few murders recently around the city,” she checks to see if you haven’t dazed off, “I expect you to come home tonight–We’re making stew.”

“I will. Don’t think my back can stand much more of this anyway.”

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit, and she finally manages to catch your darting eyes. “Is it the nightmares again? They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”

Your throat goes dry, and you can feel your knees grasping at its remaining strength as you search your mind for a way to respond. You’re tempted to lie through your gritted teeth, knowing she’s fully aware regardless of what pathetic answer you offer her, but you opt to seal your mouth shut, shrugging.

The flash of disappointment in her eyes is enough to make you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. With a curt note, she turns to walk away, glancing back for one last time. “Don’t give him the privilege of occupying a part of your mind for so long. He doesn’t deserve even the dirty filth you have all over yourself.”

For the first time after he nearly killed you and you defeated the Elder Brain four months ago, you think she might be right about him.

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Though after the pitiful look your companions gave you when you arrived back at camp and the aching truth in Shadowheart’s words, you find yourself feeling bolder than the last time you dared to call Lae’zel’s cooking inedible (which it was, quite frankly). 

He’s handsome. A reasonably tall elf with pale blue eyes glinting with attraction as he stares at you across the tavern. Sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and long hair brushed back and away from his face. You only notice everything else after the silvery shade of his hair–not entirely white, but fairly close, or as close as you could get to it while still being blond. You were sure he was approaching you for your title–the famed hero of Baldur’s Gate–rather than for pure physical attraction, but you weren’t in any position to nitpick at the moment.

You just wanted to feel skin other than the unsettling feeling of your own.

“Seems to have taken a liking to you,” Shadowheart sips at her drink.

Lae’zel glances at you. “He’s tolerable to the eye. Not quite attractive by githyanki standards, but tolerable.”

You stifle a smile at their attempts to urge you forward and put down your drink. “You sure you two won’t be lonely without me?...Or kill each other.”

“You can leave them to me,” Gale smiles, pacing toward your table with his drink. “I’m sure a Hold cast or two would settle them down.”

Lae’zel snatches the cup from his hand. “You act as if you aren’t fresh out of cast slots, wizard.”

Shadowheart shakes her head, nudging you forward. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be long. Certainly won’t be overnight,” you assure her. “I can’t miss the stew, anyway.”

She smiles, and Lae’zel scoffs in the other direction. “Hurry, he looks almost demented waiting for your graces.”

You snort and offer a clumsy glance to the elf across the tavern before striding out the door. 

Behind the tavern, he’s quick to press a desperate kiss to your lips, lacking the usual tenderness you experienced with Astarion. Or had it been tender at all? Even now, you’re unsure what parts of him had been to manipulate you and what parts of him had been his raw feelings. At the time, you’d embraced either with open arms–you’d embraced him. 

The elf bites at your lip, which snaps you back into the waking world. And while you curse yourself for comparing the moment to him, you find that it’s impossible as you observe that this elf is slightly shorter than he’d been. And instead of his hands wandering to your hip or waist, they graze your behind, pushing you into him in a way that feels nearly suffocating. 

And most glaringly, his lips are warm. Not the cold, yet soft lips of an undead being.

You’re grateful that he keeps his eyes closed because you can simply stare at his pale hair, longing for something you vowed to forget.

It doesn’t feel right. Not at all, and you hate yourself for it.

You shove him away, face falling as you realize you want to wipe his touch away from your mouth like it’s filth, and you do. Understandably, he appears puzzled, brows furrowing as you push yourself away from the wall, shaking your head. “Sorry, I don’t think I can do this.”

But as you try to walk away, his fingers close around your wrist like a death grip, sending shivers up your spine as you find that you hate the feeling of his skin. You hate the feel of your own skin, too. Why, you’re not sure, but he leans close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheeks and yank you out of your daze. “What’s gotten into you? I didn’t do jack shit.”

“I just can’t do this,” you hiss, tugging at your hand. You could just knock him out, but the hero of Baldur’s Gate punching people as they pleased wouldn’t look too good on your end. “Let go.”

“Well, you have to give me at least an explanation,” he snaps, grip tightening. It hurts. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been sending me looks all night.”

His words seem to snap the remaining patience inside you because you elbow his stomach, shoving him backward onto his ass before pressing your dagger that seemed to appear from thin air into his neck. You haven’t had to use the knife in a while, considering how your biggest recent foe was the stinginess of patrons when it came time to pay their tabs at the tavern. Though it belongs to you, it feels foreign in your hands because, for a time, it had a different owner.

One who used this very blade against you. The same one who taught you how to elbow someone hard enough to make them reel.

“P-Please, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You’d forgotten he was there. “Just let me go, please; I won’t bother you again.”

You drop your head, sighing loudly as you sheathe your dagger once more. You think you must really be losing your mind—threatening to slice open a civilian’s throat despite the significant power imbalance between the two of you. You’re sure the greatest threat he’s faced in his life is from petty theft or something along those lines while you—well, you’re you. It’d be equivalent to a full grown owlbear attacking a goblin with a half broken club.

So, as much as you want to make him bleed just a bit, you opt to step away. “Do that again to anyone—not just me, and I won’t be so forgiving next time. Understand?”

The tremble in his irises tells you enough. You sigh again, turning to leave.

You curse your luck. Of course you would have to attract the foulest person in the tavern on a night where nothing seemed to be going correctly. Or rather, the past four months that haven’t been going as you anticipated.

Getting rid of the tadpole meant you should’ve been free from the chains of someone else—and it had, but at the cost of losing something else. And that ‘something else’ was one you weren’t sure you were ever ready to sacrifice. It should have made you happy to see the Elder Brain fall, and to rid of the squirming feeling in your skull, but all you could remember was the churning in your stomach as you realized the last string tying you to him had been snapped.

You’d gone to every tavern, every bar, playing a tune at each one until the skin at your fingers split open, because he knew you’d be there. He’d known what your lyre meant to you. Yet among the sea of faces, not once had you seen the one you wanted.

As you walk around the corner, you wrap your arms around yourself. Though Summer’s quickly approaching, there’s still a chill in the air this late at night. You pull out your dagger once more, lifting it to the sky to examine its hilt against the moonlight, which glistens with what was once your pride and love. Now, it just looks dull, and faint.

You back feels too light, now lacking the lyre. You suppose you’ll have less of a hassle moving around now, since you don’t have to worry about the strings snapping, but it doesn’t soothe you. Still, you’d sold it for good reason.

An instrument is nothing without a player who can use it, after all.

So you turn your attention back to your dagger, the last crumb he’s left for you to hold dearly to your heart, and then to the trash can perched beside a nearby wall.

You’ve tried a million times before, and you’re not sure what makes you think you’ll be successive this time, but you swallow hard in determination to rid of the thing entirely. But just as you’re about to take your first step toward it, you hear a loud, halting screech muffled instantly.

It’s from the direction you came from.

You’re breaking into a silent sprint, the weapon in your hand ready to be used. You stop before you turn the corner, readying yourself for the worst. A murder? There’ve been more than a few occurring around the city, but you’d thought the Flaming Fist were investigating that already…You can hear your blood rushing in your head, but a crunch of bone and the silence that follows afterward is all you can focus on as your grip on the hilt tightens desperately. 

Cautiously, you peer at the moonlit alleyway, poised to attack.

You nearly drop the blade.

Draped in the moonlight with his face hidden by a hood, he nearly glows, though you’re not sure if it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. His fangs are buried viciously into the man’s neck, whose legs and arms lie limply at his side while the life in his eyes slips away as if it were never there. And while you don’t dare to breathe, you stare with wide eyes, drinking in his appearance as if it would be the last. A part of you thinks it may be.

But as quickly as your heart begins to race, it calms. A drop of your stomach tells you it’s not him. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or how you know, but you can just tell.

The man finally drops the now lifeless body onto the ground with a thud, wiping at his mouth with the back of his dark sleeve. He turns, and you finally see one of Astarion’s brothers–the one who’d been at the flophouse, confirming your suspicions. Regardless, your guard stays up. “I thought you guys left for the Underdark.”

He snaps his head toward your voice, eyes wide. He looks a lot better than you’d last truly seen his face after Astarion nearly burned him against the sunlight in the flophouse. What had been his name, you try to recall? Pallet? Peter? It doesn’t matter, much. “You were at the flophouse.”

He cringes at the memory but nods. “Petras. You’re the one who stopped Astarion from killing us all, aren’t you?”

Your throat goes dry at that. You’d never thought about it in such a–vulgar way, and it makes your stomach churn, but he doesn’t give you time to respond. 

“Dalyria, Leon, and I have decided to stay for the sake of the spawn hiding in the city sewers,” he explains curtly. “My other siblings are in the Underdark with most of the spawn, as you expect them to be.”

You stare at the corpse on the ground, expression twitching as you meet his eyes. “Why’d you kill him?”

He licks his lips, stained with the man’s blood.  “I didn’t. Someone did the work for me. I just didn’t let his precious blood go to waste.” He pauses. “I’d put a few rats on betting that it’s Astarion.”

Your eyes go wide, your armed hands dropping to your side. “Astarion? He was here?”

You’d been here mere moments ago. Had he seen you? Was he watching you?

“Maybe. Judging from how quickly he ran away from the scene when he saw me, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Shoving your dagger into its rightful place on your back, you immediately turn to search for your former companion. He couldn’t have gone far. You’d been talking to the dead man mere minutes ago, and if the death occurred between now and then, he couldn’t have possibly gone more than a few buildings away–

“I never got to thank you.”

Petras looks at you anxiously, and as much as you’d like to cut the conversation short, the way he shifts nervously can’t help but keep you in place.

“There’s no need,” you reply, stopping to shake your head. You hadn’t done it for him or any of his siblings, for that matter, anyway. Not even for Astarion. Your choice to stop had been for yourself, to keep him by your side. Your brows furrow at the selfishness draping your thoughts—that you were willing to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls for the sake of protecting the one you loved. It was a lapse of judgement. Naivety. “It’s just how things turned out.”

He tilts his head but doesn’t push it any further. “Have you seen him recently? Astarion?”

“...No. He left after we—I killed Cazador.”

His eyes flicker with disappointment, and you wonder if he’s forgiven Astarion for what he tried to do in Cazador’s dungeon. “He’s always been good at hiding. Seems some things never change.”

You nod numbly. “I’ll let you know if I do see him.”

Though you doubt you ever will. Not after how things ended. But if there’s a slight chance, even the smallest of hopes, that you can bring closure to the sleepless nights you spend on the streets, staring up at a sky that no longer brightens the way it used to, you’re willing to wait until you’re shriveled up and old, while he remains beautiful.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

The painful clench in your heart doesn’t go ignored. “Have you spoken with him?”

“Once,” he says. “But it seems he doesn’t want to speak with us anymore either. You see, our conversation didn’t quite end in a happy family reunion. We did manage to ask him a few things—like asking if he was to be staying with you.”

“And?” You’re afraid to hear the answer, but your voice is far too hopeful.

Petras gives you a look of pity, and you understand.

You understand that no matter how long you wait or how long you search for him, Astarion will not be seen when he does not want to be.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

For the rest of the night, you weep. You weep in the comforts of nobody but your own arms and nobody to hear you but the moon above.

Baldur’s Gate is by no means a city that sleeps. The past four months have been a restless cycle of rebuilding the city, and while you’ve done your part, no matter how much you do, it never seems enough.

“Oh, welcome, dear. Your friends have been a wonderful help for my house as of late,” the lady of the Highberry’s Home, Cora Highberry, ushers you into her house, still missing a roof and half the windows but appearing in better shape than most other structures in the city. She offers you a wine glass. “Do you have a preference?”

“Anything’s fine,” you smile, but just as you reach for the glass, it’s snatched away by a familiar wizard’s hand.

Gale extends Cora a gentle nod and that charming grin of his as he hands her back the wine. “While we greatly appreciate your hospitality, I’m afraid my friend here is in no condition to drink as of now.”

The playful roll of your eyes makes Cora laugh. “Ah, of course. But do know I’m so grateful for all your help. I didn’t imagine we would be building the home back for the orphans so quickly!”

“It’s the least we could do,” Gale beams. “Now then, my dear friend and I will continue working on the second floor, so just give us a holler if you need us.”

He whisks you away toward the stairs before you can wave goodbye to the woman. While you’d expect him to initiate conversation, he doesn’t say anything until you arrive upstairs, where you’re mostly alone beside the few other volunteers in the other room. You tilt your head when he finally paces past you toward one of the broken windows. “Gale Dekarios keeping his mouth shut for more than a few moments? The city truly must be falling apart.”

He cracks a smile at this, dusting off a few glass shards from the windowsill. “I’m glad to see you still have your sense of charm.”

“When have I ever lacked my charm?”

He doesn’t lift his head, pulling out his spellbook and flipping through a few pages while you survey the state of the room. “You didn’t return last night.”

You tense.

“It would be wise to be grateful Karlach’s still in Avernus with Wyll, because I’m certain she would’ve given you quite the scolding for daring to miss my world-famous Wizard’s Stew,” he says lightly, his tone morphing into something more serious when he shifts his gaze in your direction. “We’re worried about you, you know. Especially Shadowheart, even if that woman doesn’t know what gentle means in every possible level of hell.”

He’s silently asking you for an explanation, and your heart breaks at how gently he prods at your walls, giving you an opportunity to slip away again. But with how his eyes plead at you, you can’t imagine that would be possible anyway. Slowly, you perch yourself on the windowsill, looking down at the bustling crowd working together to rebuild the Highberry’s porch. They’re laughing—some face red with wine, while others scold them for it. You see a bard playing a tune you haven’t heard before, but it’s effective in lifting the mood regardless, and you finally glance at Gale.

“I met one of Astarion’s brothers yesterday.”

His face is grim. “I didn’t realize they were still in the city.”

“Me neither,” you sigh. “Some of them stayed. From what I could tell, they're mostly in the sewers, but they’re definitely here.”

“Did he seem…hostile?”

“No. He just asked me about Astarion.” You leave out the part about the dead body.

Gale’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything, only silently urging you to continue. And you do.

“He doesn’t want to see me. Not ever, I think.”

There it is. The same gaze everyone seems to give you lately: pity.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you hop off the windowsill, pacing across to the other side of the room. “If he doesn’t want to see me, I won’t. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I won’t. I’m tired of waiting for him, Gale. I’m tired of waiting for someone who won’t ever come.”

And despite the puffiness of your eyes last night, and despite the way your eyes gloss over even now, you offer him a crooked smile. “I want to focus on the city now, for better or worse.”

Gale appears the happiest he’s been since returning a few months ago with the news that Mystra has healed him of his orb. “You thought well, dear friend. You should know how glad we are to have you back. We could certainly use more hands in the kitchen, as well, considering—well, you know how the rest of our companions are with cooking.”

Just as you open your mouth, there’s an ear-shattering scream from downstairs. The two of you meet wide eyes briefly before hurrying downstairs.

Only a few feet from the patio of the Highberry home, there’s a crowd gathering with hushed whispers and the weeping of a woman. And when you manage to push through the mountain of people, you finally see the corpse.

Cora Highberry sobs over what remains of her bloody husband, who, without a doubt, has the markings of two fangs punctured through his throat.

[sunnie-angel]

Nothing Fucks With My Baby (Part 2)

link to part 1

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason has always feared he’d be the monster of his life. what he doesn’t realize is that between the two of you, you will always be the bigger monster, and you will love him anyway.

tags: violence, murder, implied child abuse, manipulation, implied sexual content

rating: mature | wc: 5.8k

a/n: this plot bunny took over my brain and wouldn’t let me go until i’d finished it. reader’s pov can get pretty twisted, so please mind the tags on this one and let me know if i’ve missed any.

Lucy Nesbit dies remarkably young. Only eight years old and she had drowned in a stormwater overflow. Poor thing, the adults had all said. Should have minded her step better, shouldn’t have been playing in dangerous places. The school had held a week of mourning. A tragedy. It hadn’t taken much effort to kill her. A sharp shove, then kneeling on her back until the bubbles stopped, and suddenly there went Lucy. Stones thrown at recess, scissors searching for your hair, harsh names and turned backs all stopped with just a few moments of effort.

The killing of Lucy Nesbit is likely the most important lesson you learned from that school. No one at the foster home had noticed you come home soaking wet, blood on the tip of your shoe. No one had asked you any questions when you didn’t gasp with the rest of your class as the principal announced the death of poor little Lucy, gone too soon. Nobody had noticed that you had been the one to make the world a less scary place. It is a lesson you keep close to you.

Only Jason Todd had noticed anything different at all. Found you in the corner of the yard staring down at the pavement during recess. Tucked his hands and looked up at the sky, squinted.

“Don’t need me to look out for you anymore,” he sighs. Nudges your shoulder with his and says “Lucy won’t be pickin’ on you again.” He’s right, of course. She won’t be doing anything important really.

“Sometimes I wished she’d die so they’d leave me alone,” you whisper. “‘Cause it was bad when you were there but when she’d wait for you to leave it was always worse. Does that mean I’m a bad person?” It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind before. Is there something so wrong, so terrible about you that the well-fed well-heeled could just look at you and know there was something awful about you? The same thing that led to getting left behind, bullied, belittled. Had Lucy Nesbit taken one look at you and known you were something to be destroyed?

“Nah. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be best friends with anyone bad.” He grins at you, front left tooth still missing from where you’d helped him pull it out three weeks ago. The bell rings, shrill and discordant, signaling the end of recess.

It’s only years later that you understand the tremble of her lips and the wobble of her chin before she would call you names, dig her nails into the meat of your arm, lead the other girls in pretending you didn’t exist. Lovely Lucy Nesbit, sweet cheeked with glossy curls, had been afraid. She should have been. The new girl who’d only moved to the Alley recently after her father’s embezzlement conviction, oh she should have been afraid of the children chewing her up and spitting her out like a rotten peach. Instead, she chose someone else to make afraid. The little girl with only one friend and no one waiting for her at home. All of that glitz and Diamond District shine wasn’t enough to bury the ugly truth of Lucy.

Jason Todd dies at 11 years old. He dies at the hand of the Batman, Gotham’s own protector.

Three weeks after Catherine had died and two weeks after he stopped showing up to school, Jason shows up at your foster home. More particularly, at the window of the bathroom you’re currently hiding in. The knocking startles you, hands coming away from where they’d been pressed to your ears to block out the fighting. He grins and waves at you through the window, suspicious smears across his nose and temple. You have to stand on the very tips of your toes to push open the latch but you manage it. He presses his face to the bars, hands wrapping around the solid metal.

“Jason?” you ask, tone tinged with wonder. “What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ wanted to tell you I’m okay.” Something smashes within the house and the voices raise. “Couldn’t stick around for long after the funer— after. Didn’t wanna stick around to see if they’d stick me in a place like this.”

“But what are you going to do? Where do you live?”

“Found an empty building that’s pretty warm. Sometimes I find stuff and Mr. Baker at the garage buys ‘em from me so I can buy loads of snacks. You know—” there’s a loud pounding on the bathroom door, staccato sharp, that causes you both to jump. One of the older foster kids yells at you to hurry the fuck up, then slams on the door again for good measure. In a hurried whisper, Jason continues “You know the old building across the park with the purple window sills? Come find me there.”

The night Jason Todd dies, you’d managed to sneak out again. Knew from previous trips the best way to get to the old house was to go out the back and use the garbage bins to boost over the fence. Jason’s not there when you let yourself in, hands careful to put the loose board back exactly the same. He does this sometimes. ‘Finds’ things to sell to Mr. Baker so he can come back with candy from the bodega to share with you. You settle yourself in to wait in the blanket you’d snuck out for him when there’s a noise from the lane behind the house. Clutching the scratchy blanket closer to you, you feel your way through the dark, breath held in your chest like a treasure. The slats nailed over the painted window sills have just enough of a gap that you can see between them without being seen yourself. What you see out in the night causes you to grip the old wood until splinters dig into your palms.

The Bat holds Jason in his grip even as he struggles, even as he swears. Jason’s angry, snarling face is nothing like his smiles for you. The Bat shakes him as Jason tries to twirl out of his grip, head lolling like a doll’s. Jason goes limp as he is bundled into the looming machine parked down the lane. The last thing you see of him is his eyes, wide and fearful.

Jason Wayne puppets the body of your friend for years after. He is not the boy that stood between you and Lucy Nesbit and matched her stone for stone. This Jason Wayne smiles for pictures without baring his teeth as a warning. He doesn’t remember cruel words or the way the world works. He doesn’t remember the lessons and the secrets the two of you had passed between you. No, this Jason Wayne doesn’t remember you at all. The only explanation is that your friend is dead. The fine sweet thing with his round cheeks and charming school uniform you only glimpse in the paparazzi photos printed in gossip rags half-melted into garbage heaps is not your friend. Just another leech of the city with pretty powder and paint, fattened on too much while there exists too little.

You get the news that Jason Wayne has died while at your third foster home since the one Jason had found you in. You find out the same way everyone else in Gotham does, the public broadcast of Bruce Wayne’s press conference. It steals the breath from you, the anger that slams into you. Heat surges through you and it is all you can do to uncurl your fingers from their fists. It hadn’t escaped you that four months after Jason Todd died there was a new Robin in town. That this Robin had a gaped tooth grin that would make even the dull mourning for a girl you hated seem bearable. The red rimmed eyes of Bruce Wayne on the staticky screen of the common room television confirms what you already know: Bruce Wayne is the Bat and he has killed your friend twice over.

Screaming into your pillow that night, your understanding of how the city works crystallizes. The Bat does not protect you, does not make your city better. He takes and he takes until there is nothing left for you. He throws out in a week food that would sustain you for a month, drops money on batted eyelashes and shiny new toys for him to destroy more of the city with. He is not the saviour some people say he is. He will not save you.

You are the Alley girl with the strange knobbly knees and the eyes that see too much. You will save yourself. You will keep your lessons about the ways the world works and what it takes to change them close to your heart.

The City of Gotham is never short of two things: crime and government money to prosecute it. Certifying as a court stenographer isn’t cheap, not with juggling your ejection from the foster system at 18 and having no funds to speak of. Second and third jobs keep you afloat until the scholarships and grants kick in. But by 20 your future is secured, government pension squirreling away into your accounts. You even manage to buy the house with the purple windows. It goes for a song on account of the murder that took place there all those years ago, but brand new flooring takes care of the more suspicious stains. It should be enough, to have saved yourself. It isn’t.

Every day you go to work and dutifully take down every damning word said. You record the lies and the horrors and the not guilty verdicts and every word you transcribe breaks your faith a little more. You have not saved yourself. The world has not changed, you aren’t any safer than you were at 13 and scared that the drunk man calling out crude words might actually carry them out on your walk home. No safety exists save for the pretty little lie you had painted for yourself. The only thing that has changed is that you are not scrabbling in the dirt.

Somewhere along the way, in the mess of bureaucratic paperwork that had become your life, you had forgotten the lessons you were meant to remember. Forgetting had not served you well. It takes a drunken night out gone badly to force you to remember.

A coworker pressures you to come out with the rest of the stenographers, a newly opened bar just close enough to the edge of the Alley to give the old money blood suckers the illusion of danger. The dance floor is crowded but you choose to stay hunched over your drink, wary of this glittering crowd. A man sidles up to you, rests his forearm against yours and offers you a smile that reeks of Texas oil wells and Manhattan construction firms. You look him in the eye as he fumbles through some pickup lines, nearly sick with the realization that he doesn’t recognize you. DUI, ran through a school crosswalk at the end of the school day, one child dead and two permanently disfigured. Got off with community service and a hefty donation. He wants to fuck you.

The police find him behind the bar the next morning, throat slashed and wallet missing, and chalk it up to a mugging gone wrong. He should have known better than to go flashing so much cash so close to where criminals live, the news anchors tut. Unable to withstand the scandal, the bar closes. You savour the top shelf whiskey bottle you’d bought at their closing, the same one he’d tried to buy you and drug you with, and attribute the glow in your belly to having done a good thing. His driver’s license finds a home under your living room floorboards.

The Red Hood arrives and the Alley almost seems to reverberate with the shockwaves. Still, pretty young things with a hankering for a bit of rough to tell all their friends about with champagne glasses in their hands and haughty titters wind up dead. You don’t recognize all of them from work, some of them you simply want power over. To reveal to these silver spoon fed creatures exactly how fragile their influence is. Disposing of them does not save you, but it makes you feel safe to know that the world does not turn solely around those shiny, fragile things. You are careful and you are not caught.

At the courthouse, you watch the aftermath of the Hood’s vendettas play out. Chat about cases with your coworkers between trials just to get a feel for what his game is. He’s an unknown to most of them, but not to you. You look at how the number of drug convictions of minors plummet this quarter, watch at how fewer pimps get brought in for killing their girls, note the way gang violence reduces down to just the Hood’s own orders and you understand. Whoever the Hood is, whatever he is, he knows the same lessons engraved on your heart. That the world is not safe unless you make it, and that the world doesn’t care what methods it takes to get it done.

Your first run in with Gotham’s newest crime lord isn’t planned. Quite specifically, you had never intended to make your way onto his radar at all. He had different plans, however. Taking out the garbage, you all but trip over his feet one late night. He’s slumped against your fence with one hand pressed against his neck. Blood dribbles between his fingers, dark under the fluorescent burn of the street lights.

The gun pointing at your head does not dissuade you from attempting to push him into a standing position.

“If you wanted to die in my yard, the least you could have done is climbed in through the back,” you say, voice measured and cold. “I’m not letting you bleed out in my front yard and make me a target for whoever carved you that second smile.” That jolts a reaction out of him, gun wavering from it’s unerring focus on your face. “So what we’re going to do is get you out of the open and then I’m going to call whoever you want to come stitch you up.”

A man of his size dwarfs the chair set in your kitchen but he will not be moved from his vantage point. Defensive, back to the wall and all entrances in sight. The wound still bleeds sluggishly. Determined not to have this man die in your kitchen, not when he’s actually out there doing some good in the world, you lay out your first aid kit and go for his throat. The gun jamming into the side of your ribs immediately lets you know just how badly you’ve not thought this idea out.

“You’re still bleeding, pretty badly too. I just want to take a look to see if I can patch you up long enough until whoever gets here can do something.”

The moment draws out, neither of you saying anything. With every breath you can feel the muzzle of the gun dig into you further. Something must read as sincere on your face, not that you’d ever be able to name what it was, and he reaches up for his helmet. Pushes a button at the nape of his neck to release it, before deliberately placing it on the kitchen table one handed. He smiles at you with bloodied teeth and, oh, that’s your boy.

“Well,” he rasps, “get to it.”

At that exact moment you press down with gauze, forcing a grunt out of him. Good. Jason’s scared you enough for a single lifetime. Trying to secure the gauze with medical tape and spite, you’re forced to lean into him until the feverish glow of his skin warms your own.

“Not afraid ‘m gonna bite?”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me because you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person.” Leaning back, you inspect your work. Shoddy, but it’ll do until someone actually medically trained can stitch him up. Finally, you let yourself actually look at him. Behind the domino mask you’d swear there’s slack jawed wonder. A brusque knock at the back door interrupts the moment and then great big hulking men are carrying Jason away. You know he’ll be back.

The next time you run into the man who might be Jason, you are tripping out of a bar on the arm of your next pretty bright thing, too whiskey-headed to tell that you’re nowhere near as disoriented as you should be after what you’d knocked back. He knocks over a homeless man’s collection bowl and snickers when the coins get knocked down a grate. Grabbing your wrist, he tugs, pulls you into the side alley and tries to pin you behind the dumpster. The broken bottle shard is already in your hand when the man drops down dead. A neat hole in his head sending droplets all over your blouse. There’s no way dry cleaning will save it. The Red Hood steps into sight, gun muzzle lowered. And just like that, Jason Todd — not Jason Wayne — is back from the dead.

Jason kisses you sweetly for the first time after he drives you home from the traveling fair that had set up on the outskirts of the city. The feeling of his lips — soft, chapped, heartbreakingly gentle — slots something broken back into the hollow between your ribs. He kisses you and the axis of your world shifts. He kisses you, and you know that he will look at you like you are everything good and kind that you pretend to be if only you will love him back. The tender thing in your chest growing claws, fanning hunger into conflagration. Loving him will save you both.

He pulls back and you let him. Look up at him from below mascara-lengthened lashes and allow yourself a smile. Fiddle with the hem of your dress and tell him haltingly just how much you’d enjoyed the evening and how excited you were to do this again. Jason’s declared himself as yours for the taking and you will not let him slip through your greedy fingers.

You let Jason court you. Accept the flowers he brings to your door with quiet murmurs of appreciation. Wear soft dresses that invite him to touch but are just enough out of season for the weather so he’ll wrap his own jacket around you. Send him off to patrol with packets of his favourite candies tucked into his jacket pockets and laugh with him over the meals he cooks for you in the same kitchen he had nearly bled out in. You would have done most of these things for him anyway, but now they are your weapons. Each action meant to pierce another hook into his heart until he is as unable to leave you behind as you could him. You will never believe the world is safe without him in it.

The number of Gotham’s most elite reprobates coming to unfortunate ends zeroes out. You’ve got the prettiest up and comer on your arm these days, with his many scars and fearsome attitude. Jason in his many forms makes the world a better place, makes you safer with every bullet lodged in a skull. He is not the same boy that yelled at Lucy Nesbit for you or split a chocolate bar with you in an abandoned house. The cracks show through. Violence drips out of his every pore despite his hand wringing to you late at night. You are his confessor and absolve him of any sin. A fangless creature is useless to you, though you would grudgingly love it nonetheless.

The first time Jason sleeps with you, you engineer it, encourage it. Why? Because it ties him to you. Binds him through sweat and flesh in a way that nothing else but the kiss of death can. Lean in and wrap your arms low around his stomach as he drives you home on his motorcycle. Linger in his good night kiss before inviting him in to see how the flowers he gave you are doing. Sweep your hair away from your neck as you bend down to place his mug of tea on the rickety coffee table. You close your eyes and smile where he can’t see at the feeling of warm lips pressed to your spine.

It’s slow. It’s sweet. You’ve never felt like a more precious thing than in his arms. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky and set the sun to burning. You kiss his scars and tell him to give you his stories when he’s ready. One day there will be nothing you don’t know about him. If Jason wasn’t in love with you before tonight, he is now.

You are told the tale of Jason’s deaths and rebirths only once, but it is enough to open up the yawning chasm of fear under you again. The world is not safe, not for Jason, not for you, not when so many of your enemies still walk this side of the grave. Gotham is safer after the Red Hood. Jason is still in as much danger as he ever was. The horror, the possibility that he could be cut down — by Falcone, by Sionis, by the Joker, by the Bat — it shakes you to your core. You want to scream, to rage. What you do instead is kiss Jason on the forehead and let him go to pieces in your arms.

Jason always says you bring out the best in him. If that is true, then he brings out the darkest parts of you. The parts that twist and grow cold until you see the world as sets of acceptable losses for acceptable benefits. In your eyes, any loss is acceptable for Jason’s sake. He becomes lighter after the revelation, no more secrets between you he says. Accepts your heartbreak on his behalf with teary eyes and a wry smile. The day he tells you that Bruce — his father, the Bat — had been the one to carve him open the time he’d turned up in your garden is the day he becomes wholly yours.

“Jason, Jason he shouldn’t have done that to you,” you say gently, cupping his wet cheeks in your palms. He won’t look you in the eyes.

“He was— he was lookin’ at me like I was the monster, like my murderer wasn’t standing there too,” he confesses. “I just wanted him to love me like when I was a kid.” He shatters. “I just wanted to feel safe again.”

“Oh honey,” you coo, shears tucked into your hand. “I love you, and you’re no monster to me. You know me, do you think I could love something truly evil? You do so much good, you help so many people and you ask for so little in return,” your gaze is tender, loving. “I’d keep you safe, Jay, if I could. And I’d do it because I love you. Someone that won’t do that, well, it’s no kind of love at all.” You see the blow land, have already calculated its trajectory and velocity.

“I don’t— but he loved me. He loves me,” Jason insists, plaintive and raw voiced. “Doesn’t he?”

“I think he might’ve once. When you were younger, sweeter. But Jason, everything he’s done since then hasn’t been love. If he still loves you, it wouldn’t matter that you came back different, came back changed.” You can feel the last threads of his relationship with the Bat fraying under the blades of your words. It’s time to make the final cut. “Can you really say he loves who you are now?”

Jason asks, once, if you ever thought about kids.

“I thought maybe I’d foster some day. Save some poor kids the same trouble I went through, so that others don’t run off scared like you did.” It’s a lie, of course, but you know it makes him feel better to think of you as anything but selfish. “Not now though, not with the way the world is.” You rest your head on his shoulder, curl your fingers into his shirt. “Besides, the life you lead is dangerous enough. It would be cruel to bring children into our lives right now. Maybe one day, if the world ever becomes a little safer.”

He hums, thoughtfully, and leaves the matter there. But the seed has been planted in the dark corners of his mind and one day they will bear fruit.

The house with the purple window sills is officially only a home to you, but Jason comes round for dinner, to spend the night in your bed so often, that it may as well be his home too. He listens to you talk about your long days at work, the court cases that worm their way under your skin and won’t leave until you purge yourself of them. Really, he’s more horrified than you were at the beginning of this at how badly broken the system is. You give no names, simply the crimes and the sentences, and even those details are too much to bear.

One night you come home from work silent. Red rimmed eyes dry and sightless, you collapse into him. It takes an hour, more if you count the time spent panicking over a hypothetical injury, to coax the story out of you. A snake in the grass of a financial adviser, stolen pensions, and three suicides. All charges dropped. The testimony of crying grandchildren still not enough to make a difference. It is the first time he demands a name from you. It is not the last.

The day your old foster father comes across your judge’s docket is the day the world finally feels less terrifying. He is acquitted, of course. The testimony of trauma victims are notoriously inconsistent after all, if the witness is truly traumatized and not just lying for attention. It hurts to hear his public defender say those things, but it does make what you have planned easier.

The moment Jason comes through the door you are on him. Clinging to him all weak limbs and fought back tears. He holds you gently and strokes your hair.

“I need… I need you to do something for me Jay,” you whisper into his chest.

“Just gotta ask baby.”

“I need you to kill somebody and I need you to let me watch.” He stiffens under you, but you will not lose him here. “D’you remember when you came to find me at the foster home, the one with the yelling?” He nods, presses a kiss to the top of your head. “That foster father walked free today, acquitted and all charges dropped. I need to know he’s not gonna stay that way Jay, that someone cared enough to stop him, or otherwise I’ll go crazy.” He exhales sharply through his nose.

“I’ll take care of him, jus’ like I take care of all those names you give me. But do you hafta be there? Isn’t it enough to just know he’s dead? I don’t wanna drag you down into the dirt with me.”

“You’re not tainting me, honey. You’re freeing me.”

You watch the man die, a slow drawn out thing as he begs for kindness. His pain means nothing to you. Only the final blow, dealt by Jason’s bloodied hands, shifts the burden of memory from you. You stop being afraid of this particular threat. The body is found scattered across the railroad tracks. Police mark it down as a suicide.

This victory is twofold. Your world is a little safer and Jason has killed for you, on your express order and with you as witness. There is no greater high than this, the power that sings through your blood. Jason will reshape the world to keep you safe. Now you will reshape the world for him.

It takes three more months of witnessing his work and not flinching before Jason brings him to you. In the end, it’s really quite simple. You ask for the chance to show Jason how much he is loved, to let you take care of this one thing to keep him safe. He puts up a token fight, insistent on keeping your hands clean of his business, but the two of you know that your hands are far from pristine. The Joker is bound at your feet by the end of the day. A quick drag of your wrist and he is just another thing to be taken out with Saturday’s trash to eventually be illegally dumped in the harbour. Jason sobs in your arms that night.

He is not the boy you’d wished to have returned to you as a child. Jason is not quite the Bat’s son, or the weapon of the League either. He is some half-raised creature of the city’s own design and you love him because of that. You know he does not see you half as clearly as you see him, but you will accept his wonderful naïveté for all the ways it will let you protect him. Protect you by extension. Jason’s trust, his devotion to you, it is everything you’ve ever wanted. It is more than you have ever expected to have. That forgotten little Alley girl, now the centre of someone’s world.

And so you plan. A list of names a mile long of people who make this city worse just by breathing. Kingpins and crime lords and all their networks, culled from your networks and court cases. Heroes and vigilantes who already work tirelessly to hamstring the work the Red Hood does, uncaring of all the lives he’s saved. A list that, when all of the occupants are dead, will mean you are finally safe in a world that belongs to Jason. Convincing Jason, with all of his infinite love for you, to wipe the slate clean of them all is still no easy matter. Instead, you let the Bat make your argument for you.

Another bar, another drunk cell-less jailbird, only this time you know that Jason is waiting in the shadows, that the Bat is in the rafters. The man stumbles, his too shiny shoes catching on the cracks in the pavement. Jason moves to raise his gun and a flicker of metal sends his aim wide. The man on your arm shies at the sound of gunfire but your grip is iron. A body slides between Jason and his prey and you refuse to let this one escape. The pen knife lodges beneath the jaw bone, catches on something and sticks. His death rattle is unsightly but he goes down easy, life slipping away down the sewer grate. A booted step, heavier than Jason’s, causes your head to snap up.

A wraith looms over you and it’s pure terror that sends your stomach into free fall. The Bat turns on you, advances until your back is pressed up against the brick. A gloved hand reaches for you but pulls back like stung when a bullet narrowly misses a finger.

“Last warning. Back. Off.” growls the modulated voice of the Red Hood. He prowls forward, legs eating up the distance. The Bat simply grunts. Back to the wall, you try to inch away, but the feeling of cold metal stops you. The cuff around your wrist cinches shut so tightly you can feel the bones of your wrist grind together. You whimper, high in your throat. Jason’s fist goes crashing into the cowl.

“I said back off!” the Bat catches his next punch, before returning a hit of his own.

“She just killed someone in cold blood, Hood. You’re protecting a murderer.”

“At least she did something, Bruce! D’you even know what that man did? What you let him do to this city?” he screams the last word then headbutts the Bat.

The alley descends into a flurry of blows, bodies colliding with metal and concrete. Neither of them notice you pick yourself up from knees and flee. Home’s not safe, not until Jason tells you. But he’ll come back for you. You’ve gotten so good at waiting for Jason, what’s a few hours more?

He finds you in the safe house he’d made you memorize the address of way back in the infancy of your relationship. Nerves have you sitting in the dark, too afraid that even a light will give you away. It is a cold kind of silence that blankets the small kitchen with its empty cupboards. Dried blood has started to flake off of your skin and you begin to pick at it. For a moment, the repetitive motions distract you until you can’t bear the prickly feeling on your skin anymore. With a clatter you rush to the tap, the trailing handcuff clanging against the metal sink. A stone rolls in your gut and you retch until there is nothing left in it. Everything rests on this. The future rests on this. You lean back and rest your forehead on the cool edge of the sink.

The sound of the window jimmying open causes you to jump, whirling around to face the threat. It’s Jason, only Jason, flailing around in the dark. The streetlights reflect off of his helmet, revealing the cracks in the patina. You launch yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his coat. He smells of blood and grime, but beneath it all, warmth. Jason crushes you to him, hand cradling the back of your head with a tenderness that overwhelms you.

“M’sorry I’m late baby,” he murmurs. “Why’s it so dark in here?” Unable to form words, you simply shake your head and press yourself closer. Fear has always dogged you, but never have you gotten so close to the source of it. Jason raises a hand and wraps it reassuringly around your wrist. “Let’s get some light and we’ll get this thing off of you,” he says while stroking a thumb over where the cuff digs into your skin.

You have to stifle a giggle at the absurd parallel to the night he tore back into your life. The two of you sat at a table tending to wounds inflicted by Gotham’s self-titled vengeance, the uncertainty of the future hanging over you. Hands gentler than they’ve ever been, Jason traces over the blooming bruises on your wrist, handcuffs discarded on the table.

“He’s never going to stop chasing me, is he?” you whisper, slow fear poisoning your voice. “He’s never gonna stop trying to take me away from you. Not while I’m alive.” Jason trails his grip to your palm and turns it over, brings it to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on your fourth knuckle.

“No, baby. Not while he’s alive.”

[francesderwent]

Katniss says Thresh never showed any interest in Rue. but, it’s the Hunger Games. without Cinna and Haymitch to push them into it, who would ever show interest in the other tribute from their district? why buddy up to anyone at all, unless they give you an advantage? Thresh probably entered the arena and walked into the tall grass as fast and as far as he could, knowing that Rue would take to the trees, so that the chips could fall where they may, so that he wouldn’t be tempted to feel responsible for her. when he saw her image in the sky, he was probably grateful that it had happened out of sight by some other hand than his.

and then the voice of Claudius Templesmith announced that there could be two winners. if they were from the same district.

he could have protected her, if he hadn’t been so afraid of what that vulnerability would do to him. Thresh might have wept, then, for this new diabolical torture of the Games: to make him a monster, force him to leave a child to die, and then abruptly turn him human again, when it’s too late.

so he does the only thing left: he avenges Rue. and then he finds out that the most dangerous person in the arena did ally themselves with Rue. the person with the highest score in the Games gets choked up telling him that she sang Rue to sleep and covered her in flowers. that she loved Rue so well that his own home sent her bread.

is it any wonder he lets Katniss live?

[qwardivior]

DEMON BUSTERS!—MIST HASHIRA

Next Part>>

<<Previous Part

Sorry for the long wait, but here’s the next installment of the Demon Busters saga! This one is about our favorite Mist Hashira, Muichirou! For anyone who is new here or hasn’t seen the first part, in this modern kny au people have been dying to demon attacks at alarming rates and the Demon Busters (the updated and rebranded Demon Slayer Corps) need a way to get people to call them. In short, they run ad campaigns. Several characters will be getting these ad campaigns. The previous one was Tanjirou and this next one is Muichirou!

You can find the first Demon Busters AU post here! Now onto this one!

—Lore dump Incoming!!—

In this au, Muichirou and Yuichirou’s parents are victims of a demon attack, leaving the twins alone to fend for themselves. Somehow, they make do alone. But they aren’t completely alone, since Amane Ubayashiki comes around from time to time to see how they’re doing. Muichirou is comforted by her presence, but Yuichirou is just confused on how she got their address. Everytime she comes over, she tried to get them under the care of the Demon Busters. Muichirou thinks this is a great idea, since they’d be able to prevent others from losing their parents just like they did. But to Yuichirou, they seem like sketchy criminals. No matter how much he tried to convince him, Yuichirou’s stance wouldn’t budge. It was too dangerous, he’d say, and Muichirou was too weak to do anything so he’d just go out there to die anyway. The Mu in Muichirou meant that he was nothing after all. This disagreement caused a lot of tension between them, and as a result they drifted apart. Their days were filled with tense quiet, until one summer night. On that summer night they were attacked by a demon. The demon cut Yuichirous arm off as he tried to protect Muichirou. Naturally, Muichirou had to do something about this. So with whatever weapons he could find he was(somehow) able to fend off the demon. But the truth is he really doesn’t remember how. He honestly doesn’t remember much of what transpired during that night. He just barely remembers being carried off by Amane and the sound of sirens and red and blue lights. When he woke up he was at the Demon Busters HQ where he was being taken care of. From then on he swore he would train to get stronger, so that’s what he did. But there was still a large gap in his memory.

Muichirou is an interesting case as far as this au goes. He became a hashira in 2 months, the quickest anyone has become one. He’s a full time slayer, but he doesn’t drop out of school. He balances schoolwork, and Demon Busting, not very well since he’s constantly absent, but he does it. Like in canon, he adopts Yuichirou’s personality until he realizes himself, but his progress is accelerated when the flame hashira Rengoku introduces him to his little brother Senjuro. Him and Senjuro are the same age, and Mui needed someone that he could relate to and connect with. They go to the same school and though Senjuro has issues of his own (more on that in a later installment) they somehow connect with each other. Muichirou’s memory is horrible as he has trouble remembering general information about anything really, including himself. However hanging with Senjuro has allowed bits and pieces of his memory to come back, but not nearly enough for progress. It isn’t until Mui meets Tanjirou for the first time (slightly earlier in this au) that everything he supposed he knew about himself gets turned on its head. Muichirou also makes friends with Genya who is the major reason why he hasn’t dropped out of school yet to focus on demon slaying. Genya thinks an education is important, but compared to slaying demons he obviously has different priorities.

Muichirou thinks he’s completely alone and doesn’t have a family anymore, but as time goes on that doesn’t seem to be the case. He finds out about an “investigative force” that’s interested in the Demon Busters (the usual, their inner workings, how they run, etc), but more specifically in him. This is problematic for multiple reasons with the biggest one being that they’re just civilians. And if they’re Demon chasing trying to catch a Buster, a Hashira no less, then they could be in serious danger. But the names of one of these “investigators” sounds extremely familiar. Rumor has it they have the same last name, maybe even look alike. Initially this coincidence seemed unlikely, but the more he finds out about them, the more their reasons for tailing him become clearer, and it’s almost like he can just picture one of the investigators…he seems to remember them…and their name is at the tip of his tongue…

Oh and did I mention that Muichirou has a warrant out for his arrest?

———

Thanks for sitting through this second lore dump! I know this is long, but I really enjoy sharing the lore with you guys! And thank you so, so much on the support on the first Demon Busters post!! I did not expect you guys to like this au as much as I do!! A quick reminder for this au, even though the backstory seems heavy in this one, this is a mostly lighthearted au that doesn’t take itself seriously, so neither should you! This is all fun and games as we try to ignore the sadness and depression that is canon! Feel free to add to the lore with me! My ask box is open, so if you guys have good ideas or questions share them with me! Thanks again for your support and I’ll see you guys in the next one!!!

[inkspiredwriting]

Inescapable Fate

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: There is nothing more important to a writer than the opinions of the people who read his work. I would therefore be very happy if you would leave a comment :)

Warnings: Death, Angst

The rain fell in relentless sheets, pounding against the windows of the Umbrella Academy. Inside, Number Five paced the floor, his mind racing. He had faced impossible odds before, bent time and space to his will, but nothing had prepared him for this. Y/N, his wife, lay in the hospital, her condition worsening by the hour. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t save her. Yet, he refused to accept that fate.

Five’s siblings watched him with a mix of concern and helplessness. They knew better than to try and talk him out of his desperate mission. He had made up his mind, and when Five set his mind to something, there was no stopping him.

“I have to go back,” Five muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “I have to find the moment when everything went wrong and fix it.”

“Five,” Viktor said gently, stepping forward. “You’ve already tried so many times. Maybe... maybe some things can’t be changed.”

Five whirled on him, his eyes blazing. “I refuse to believe that! I won’t just stand by and watch her die.”

Diego stepped in, his expression grim. “We get it, Five. But this is tearing you apart. How many more times are you going to put yourself through this?”

“As many times as it takes,” Five snapped, turning back to his calculations. He scribbled furiously, mapping out yet another plan to travel back in time.

With a final check of his equations, Five opened a time portal and stepped through, determined to change the course of events that had led to Y/N’s illness.

He arrived in the past, days before Y/N’s diagnosis. The world around him felt eerily familiar, yet suffocatingly different. He knew every moment counted, and he wasted no time in trying to alter the sequence of events.

Five’s first attempt was simple: he tried to persuade Y/N to avoid the places he believed had exposed her to the illness. But fate was cruel. Y/N, always the caring and dedicated person, had commitments she couldn’t break. She smiled at his uncharacteristic insistence, teasing him about his sudden overprotectiveness.

Next, Five tried a more drastic approach. He manipulated circumstances to keep her isolated, away from any potential danger. He convinced her to take a spontaneous vacation, whisking her away to a remote cabin. For a brief moment, it seemed like he had succeeded. They laughed and talked, the bond between them growing stronger.

But the illness found her even there, in the most unlikely of ways. Y/N’s symptoms began to show, and despite Five’s frantic efforts, she fell ill again.

Desperation gnawed at Five’s resolve. He returned to the present, only to find Y/N in the hospital, just as before. Each failure weighed heavily on him, but he couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t.

Five repeated the cycle over and over, each attempt more frantic than the last. He sought out experts, delved into obscure medical research, even resorted to manipulating time more recklessly than ever before. But every time, the result was the same. Y/N’s fate seemed written in stone, no matter how hard he fought against it.

One night, after yet another failed attempt, Five found himself back at the Academy, exhausted and broken. He slumped into a chair, staring blankly at the wall. The room was silent except for the ticking of a clock, a cruel reminder of the time slipping away.

Allison approached him cautiously. “Five, you need to rest. You’re going to kill yourself at this rate.”

Five’s voice was a hollow whisper. “I can’t lose her, Allison. I can’t.”

Allison knelt beside him, taking his hand. “You haven’t lost her yet. She’s still here, right now. You should be with her.”

The words pierced through Five’s haze of desperation. He realized, with a painful clarity, that he had been so focused on changing the past that he was missing the present. Y/N needed him now, more than ever.

With a heavy heart, Five stood and made his way to the hospital. He found Y/N lying in her bed, her breathing shallow but steady. She smiled weakly when she saw him, her eyes filled with love and understanding.

“Hey, you,” she said softly. “You’ve been gone a lot. Saving the world again?”

Five’s throat tightened. He sat beside her, taking her hand in his. “Something like that.”

Y/N squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to save me, Five. Just be here with me. That’s all I need.”

Tears welled up in Five’s eyes. He had been so blind, so consumed by his need to change the past, that he had forgotten what mattered most. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m here, Y/N. I’m here.”

In the days that followed, Five stayed by Y/N’s side. They talked, reminisced, and cherished every moment together. Five knew he couldn’t change the past, couldn’t alter her fate, but he could make sure she knew how deeply he loved her.

As Y/N’s condition worsened, Five held her close, his heart breaking with every labored breath she took. And when the time came, and she slipped away peacefully in his arms, he was there, whispering words of love and comfort.

In the end, Five couldn’t save Y/N. But he had given her the one thing that mattered most: his unwavering presence and love. And though the pain of her loss would never fully fade, he found solace in knowing that he had been with her, every step of the way, until the very end.

Fate might be inescapable, but love, Five realized, was the one constant that transcended time and space. And that love would stay with him, always.

[roses-r-rosie3]

Hey soo angst right?

So Miguel x male reader where they have a fight because of miles and miguel just gets really angry and says and or does something that hurts the reader. The reader isn't a spider person but is still important to tge universe. Because of the fight the reader decides to leave because he does want to deal with miguel anymore, and he dicise to just help miles and all

You can end it with fluff or angst, whatever you want :)

Put It Straight

Miguel O’Hara x M!Reader

[Part 2]

Warnings: angst and swearing

Quote: “This is none of your business! So just go home!”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Y/n was one the few non-spider people working at the spider society. He worked as Miguel’s right hand man because Miguel couldn’t stand leaving y/n alone by himself and because they were dating.

It was a “normal” day in the beginning, but Miguel went off to a meeting, while y/n was on his break. But all of a sudden an alarm went off and everyone got an alert to go after Miles. Y/n knew about the kid, Gwen talked about him all the time. Y/n would occasionally tease her about it.

There were hundreds of different variants of Spider-Man chasing Miles, but one stood out from the rest, Miguel. Miguel seemed ruthless, like he wanted to kill the kid, and y/n was concerned. But what made y/n snap was when Miguel sent Gwen back to her universe.

When Miguel turned around, he saw a fuming y/n.

“Miguel what the fuck was that!” Yelled y/n.

Y/n was one of the only people who could yell at Miguel like that. If anyone else dared to talk to Miguel that way, they were bound to either be dead or in the Er.

“Baby, Not now” Miguel Said.

He was clearly frustrated but didn’t want to yell at y/n.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Not now? You just sent the kid home, where her own father is trying to arrest her! And you see nothing wrong with that!” Y/n yelled.

“Y/n you don’t get it” Miguel said.

“I don’t get it!? First you chased Miles throughout the whole city! And now you sent Gwen home where she could possibly be in danger!” Y/n said.

“He wasn’t supposed to even be here! Because of him, the universe could be destroyed! He found out that his dad was going to die! So he tried to prevent that! He could have destroyed the universe! And for Gwen, she is the whole reason why he is even here to begin with! There! You happy?!” Miguel snapped in anger.

“So you’re saying that he is trying to prevent his dad from dying and you’re trying to stop him?!” Y/n yelled with just as much anger.

“It has happened to all of us! And it’s the consequences of his actions! If he hadn’t followed Gwen then all of this wouldn’t have happened!” Miguel yelled.

“So you’re just going to let the kid’s dad die?! Hasn’t he been through enough, he had to watch his uncle die and now you want him to watch his dad die too?!” Y/n said.

“This is none of your business! So just go home!” Miguel said.

“Weren’t you the one begging for me to come here to work with you? And now it’s none of my business!” Y/n said.

“Y/n- watch who you’re talking to like that, don’t think for one second that I won’t-”

“You won’t what Miguel O’Hara?! I tried, I really tried to understand why you acted like this! I’m sorry, but I’m leaving to go help the kid” Y/n said as he walked away.

“And how exactly do you plan on traveling other universes? You don’t even have a watch!” Miguel said.

“With this” y/n held out a watch while still walking.

Miguel immediately looked at his wrist and noticed that his watch was gone, and started to look y/n and realized y/n took his watch as y/n opened a portal.

“Y/n don’t! You could get killed!” Miguel yelled.

Y/n turned to look back at Miguel one last time with tears in his eyes.

“I love you Miguel” y/n said as he walked inside of the portal.

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[Edit]: I'm considering making a part 2 if there is a lot of demand for it

[gojoidyll]

Yandere!Fushiguro Megumi

“Thank you, so much.”

Fushiguro Megumi let her grab a hold of his hands and thank him. He let her cry into his chest and wail about how she thought she was going to die. He let her believe that he saved her.

He let her believe that she was actually in danger in the first place.

“Don’t you understand now? You aren’t cut out for Jujutsu. You should quit instead of becoming a first-year next year.”

Despite his harsh words and cold personality, she knew that he was only looking out for her. He was always like that. Kind yet always keeping his distance from her despite the two knowing each other for almost their whole lives now.

She shook her head at him in response, “no, I’ll- I’ll get stronger. So that you won’t have to protect me and so I won’t have to rely on you,” she pressed her face into his chest, her lips still trembling, her legs still shaking, her heart still hammering loud in her chest. Cursed spirits were terrifying. She honestly didn’t want to face another ever again, and yet… She didn’t want to leave Megumi all on his own. You couldn’t. not to him.

She heard him sigh loudly, but he ended up running his hand through her hair nonetheless, his fingers carding through her soft tresses as he tried to hide his smile.

Getting her to be so dependent on him was difficult, but he was glad everything was working out. Truth be told, he didn’t want her to leave him. He wanted her to follow him everywhere. Him recommending her to not follow him to Jujutsu Tech was merely a joke. A fake suggestion that he didn’t want her to follow through with.

Granted, he knew everything wouldn’t be so easy, but for now, he wasn’t going to worry about it.

Not yet, at least.

[velvet4510]

Some see Beren as idiotic for relying so much on Lúthien’s dad’s blessing to marry her instead of just running off with her as she was willing to do … but you guys need to understand just how noble and un-toxic that is of him.

He doesn’t want to take her away from her family forever or force her to cut all ties with them. He knows there’s a chance her dad will disown her if he takes her away and he doesn’t want to put her through that. (Thingol never directly says this, but I think it’s possible he would’ve, considering that he’d literally rather send this guy to die than let him marry her, so if she were to disappear with this guy, he probably wouldn’t be happy with her. Either way, Beren is an understandably paranoid person.)

Plus it’s important to remember that at this point, Beren believes that Lúthien will outlive him by centuries - he has no idea of what is to come. So if he were to just take her away, he’d condemn her to eternity as an outcast from her family and people, long after his death. On top of that, he’s already a wanted man. Morgoth’s forces are hunting for him. So without her family’s support or the safety net of Doriath, Lúthien would be left all alone with the long-lasting consequences of being Beren’s widow during a time of war against the Dark Lord who already massacred Beren’s dad and friends.

Naturally that’s the last thing he wants her to have to deal with. How could he whisk her off for a few decades of bliss just to die and leave her with the burden of paying the price for HIS enmity with Morgoth himself while being an outcast from her people?

Thus, instead of running away, he takes the most dangerous path because that is the path that will allow them to be happy together without costing Lúthien her loving relationship with her parents or her safety net.

A lesser man would’ve just swept her away. But Beren doesn’t want Lúthien to lose or give up anyone she loves in order to be with him, or be left as an eternal target of Morgoth with no backup or support system.

Come on, ladies, that’s husband goals right there.