#the pain of not relying on anyone to not be a burden

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

I love your work, could you please write a viktor x reader who takes care of him. like makes sure he eats, they make baked goods for him or make him go to bed in time. I think it would be cute

Heyo! Sure I can, even if it’s been a while since I wrote for Viktor (or anything) lmao

Caretaker!Reader

Viktor takes well enough care of himself, to his own standards

So we all know he can use a little more help and a little helping hand

I think Viktor is pretty independent so it takes a lot out of him to even be able to do this kind of intimate thing with you

If he does, it takes a lot of vulnerability as you would see him at his lowest

There have been times where he probably refused and would try and get out of any situation where you found out he needed help and to be taken care of

He doesn’t want to bother you or anything when he deems it able to be done by himself

It takes a while for him to be comfortable enough with you and your relationship to let himself be vulnerable in that way

As he has never done this kind of thing with anyone else before

But once it happens, trust me, you’re golden

I think he does like sweets and baked goods, so to have you bring him any on a whim and not because you have to, but because you care warms his heart absolutely

He often forgets to take care of himself and his basic needs, like eating and stuff like that for his experiments and research

So he relies on you for that a little bit once he knows you will always be there for him

He loves when you cook or bake for him and knowing it’s so he knows he’s taken care of makes each bite better than the last

At first when you attempted to get him on some sort of decent sleep schedule, he resisted

He went to bed whenever, or whenever his research was done or he passed out and often it was in the lab or at his desk or in the middle of his studying at the table

SOO you would often have to bring him to bed yourself

Once you wore him down enough, he acted like you won

You thought you did until you found out he was just waiting till you fell asleep and slipped out off bed, and slipped back in just before you woke up and pretended to wake up beside you

You had to scold him probably, or it was some sort of argument

He realized you just wanted him to be healthy, and for him to be well rested

Reluctantly, he began going to sleep with you and waking up beside you in the mornings

He found he actually did like this habit because sleeping beside you was surprisingly comforting

He loved hearing your breathing pattern as you fell asleep, and it helped him fall asleep to hear and feel your heart beating as you both snuggled to sleep

And he loved watching you wake up slowly in the mornings

It was all worth it

One thing he was very stubborn about you not doing was taking care of his leg I think

Probably because he feels as his sort of disability is a bother enough, he doesn’t want you to be burdened with it

He probably thinks that if you see that part of him, you’ll think he’s not worth it and leave

And that’s not the case

He only finds out on a particularly harsh day when it hurt so bad, and it was so sore all he could do was want to fall asleep and alleviate the pain by any means

You maybe kissed his leg, maybe rubbed out the pain, maybe helped him in any way

But as you did it, he loved the feeling and could only watch you do so and the warm feeling in his chest never left

So, on the hard days, he would drop subtle hints that he wanted to be taken care of

Like subtly saying “oh, it just hurts, I have no clue how to fix it…” and wait for you to offer to rub it

I feel he likes being babied a little bit, but not to much

He doesn’t like being treated as glass or like he is incompetent

But he does love being taken care of by you

Be it food, tending to him or showering or making sure he is fed and clean

He loves showering with you

He loves having you wash his hair and the feelings of your hand in it or feeling you lather the soap on him while he just gets to relax and close his eyes and know your there

And that he’s able to soak in all the love

Obviously he returns it all in his own way but

It’s just all the love you pour in

[havenhyunjin]

safe space — bangchan

the one where you would do anything to be a safe space for him. word count: 1k

warnings: discussions of grief and loss, although not extensively. merely trying to process complicated feelings. hurt/comfort. angst.

a/n: i’m not trying to speculate on any grieving process chan is going through, but as he’s been vocal about his struggle with the loss of a friend, i created this also hoping that he does actually have loved ones to rely on and he allows himself that grace <3. rest in love, moon.

————————————————————————

The soft vibration of the diffuser was getting to your nerves. So was the sizzling meat in the pan you were cooking on. Even the sound of an opening door proved to be unsettling. That’s when you realized the sounds weren’t bothering you; you were simply on edge for entirely different reasons.

You knew how to deal with your own grief and loss wasn’t a foreign concept. You could manage it, and you did.

Not knowing how to deal with Chris’ grief was unnerving. You had no idea how to help him, if he wanted or needed help at all, and it left you feeling powerless.

Chris closed the door behind him and greeted you softly, as you replied for him to know you were in the kitchen. He walked closer to you, and gave you a soft peck on the lips to greet you with an almost imperceptible smile.

“How are you?” you asked, although you were fully aware it was a stupid question.

He shrugged and laughed without a hint of happiness. All you could come up with was a hug that you hoped would express everything you didn’t know how to say or show.

I love you. I’m here. I’m sorry. I got you, if you need me. I hate seeing you in pain. But your pain is not a burden. And you don’t have to talk about it. I love you. I got you.

As Chris melted into your embrace, you knew he understood, like he knew you understood him. Even in the unspoken nature of the entire process, you both could count on each other unconditionally and while it didn’t get any easier, Chris was certain that your patience and your love were a lifeline he would never let go off.

He kissed you in as a thank you - gently, no rush, hoping it would convey a part of the convoluted emotional state he was in.

I love you. Thank you. I don’t ever want to burden you. One day I might be able to talk about it. I’m grateful for you. I love you. Please stay.

With the way you kissed him back, enveloping him around your arms, he was entirely sure you would stay, and it meant everything.

The only reason you pulled away was realizing your food was going to burn otherwise. He laughed a little bit at you rushing to turn off the flame, and grabbed plates for both of you to have dinner. You sat down together to eat on the couch in front of the TV, playing a documentary that neither of you were really paying attention, but the point was being close to each other as you finished your meal in silence.

Chris was used to retreating and isolating himself whenever he was having a hard time; there was no reason to bother anyone else with his problems and sadness. One of the many ways you turned his life around was opening him up to the opportunity of relying and leaning on someone else.

He was still uncomfortable not showing up all the time as the strong, invincible leader he was supposed to be, but he decidedly knew now that is not what you expect from him. You just loved him, in every version.

You were still having a hard time accepting that you couldn’t fix everything for him either. There are some things that are inevitably debilitating for him, and as much of a rock as you tried to be for him, you couldn’t make this one go away. Chris, of course, doesn’t expect you to fix anything.

Regardless, in the comfort of your steady hand holding his, and in the comfort of his sad but loving eyes looking into yours, you both felt that everything would be okay.

With a display of vulnerability that was rare but welcomed, Chris moved to lay down in your lap. He curled up next to you, laying his head down and closing his eyes.

Chris didn’t know how to deal with his grief either, and he wasn’t sure anyone really knew how to do it. The fluctuation, unpredictability and non-linear nature of his process was excruciating. He wanted control over himself back desperately, but it didn’t work like that.

As you decided to lay down behind him instead, embracing him against you as your head rested on his back, he was reminded that not being in control all the time was natural. He closed his eyes, trusting you to hold him through it all, and for one night handing over the tight, heavy leash he has been trying to keep on himself.

Even though you didn’t see it, you knew he was tearing up and all you could do was hold him tighter.

I got you. You can let go with me. I’ll stay with you forever.

Even though he was crying, he was relaxing into you at the same time.

You’ve got me. I love you. Thank you. I love you.

The sadness, pain, loss and grief would not go away, but he had one less thing to worry about; hiding it. You know that you can’t make it go away, even though you wished you could, but what you could do was stay right here with him in his terms and that was good enough.

“Chris?” you called out to him softly. He hummed to reply, sniffing his nose while still letting his long held back tears out.

“I’m right here,” you said, although it was a universally acknowledged truth. Vocalizing it felt like hugging his soul, desperately letting him know verbally, physically, emotionally, that here you stay.

He nodded. He knew. He felt it.

“I know, baby,” Chris said, turning around to face you while you both laid down and held each other close. His troubles felt soothed, and damn near healed as you began pressing soft kisses against his face. He was smiling, each little peck reminding him that although life can be mind-numbingly painful, it can also be all-consumingly wonderful.

You are the living proof of every good thing the world has to offer, and he’s grateful. He was so eternally grateful for his safe space in you.

[narxcisse]

★ — General yandere Viktor headcanons

Yandere!Viktor x GN!Reader

CW: Obsession and yandere behaviors, surveillance and control, manipulation, forced proximity, Vik pretends to depend on you occasionally, isolation(?), takes place in s1

English isn't my native language

Viktor’s analytical nature extends to his obsession. Once he’s fixated on someone, they become the center of his world, overshadowing even his work.

He memorizes every detail about you—your habits, preferences, quirks, and routines. This knowledge is meticulously stored and analyzed to "understand" you better.

Rationalizes his possessiveness as care. He believes he’s the only one who can protect you, especially from the chaos of Zaun and Piltover.

He subtly manipulates circumstances to keep you away from others, framing it as concern for your safety.

Any perceived threat to you triggers his protective instincts. He can be dangerously calculating when dealing with rivals or anyone who might harm you.

He uses his Hextech knowledge to develop devices that monitor or safeguard you—tracking bracelets, automated sentinels, or surveillance systems disguised as gifts.

Viktor uses his calm demeanor to guilt-trip you into compliance. He’ll lament how much he sacrifices for you, subtly steering your choices.

He’ll portray himself as overworked or burdened, implying that your support and closeness are the only things keeping him going.

Viktor impresses you with his intelligence, subtly reinforcing the idea that he’s irreplaceable.

He ensures you rely on him emotionally or practically, making it difficult for you to leave.

He might push himself to the point of exhaustion and subtly blame you for not being there to stop him, saying things like, "If I had you by my side, perhaps I wouldn't push myself this far."

If you ever try to distance yourself, he may consider using his technology to "fix" you, claiming it’s for your benefit.

Viktor’s obsession is methodical. He won’t lash out irrationally but will quietly remove obstacles or manipulate situations to keep you close.

Around you, Viktor shows a softer side that no one else sees (Maybe Jayce sees it sometimes too), making it hard to view him as a threat.

Viktor may mark his territory with small, easily overlooked gestures—insisting you wear a scarf he gave you or leaving his inventions in your home.

Don't underestimate his cane, if you try to run away, he will easily knock you out with it.

If pushed too far, Viktor can become dangerously unhinged. In rare moments of desperation, his calm facade may crack, revealing just how far he’ll go to keep you.

It starts innocently enough—or so it seems. Viktor’s health has been deteriorating more visibly over the past few days. You notice the way he winces when he moves, the increasing reliance on his cane, the exhaustion written across his face.

He brushes off your concern at first, but one night, you find him sitting in his chair, his head resting heavily in his hand, looking utterly defeated.

"I thought I could endure this alone," he says quietly, his voice hoarse with fatigue. "But... I fear I cannot."

You freeze. Viktor has always been stoic, resilient, unwilling to admit weakness. To see him like this sends a pang through your chest.

"I didn’t want to burden you," he continues, his amber eyes meeting yours, glassy with an emotion you can’t quite place. "But it’s becoming harder... to keep going without someone to rely on. Without you."

He doesn’t explicitly ask for anything, but his words hang heavy in the air. You feel his unspoken plea.

"Perhaps it’s selfish," he murmurs, leaning back in his chair as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. "But... your presence eases the pain. When you’re near, I feel... stronger."

The way he looks at you—so "vulnerable", so "dependent"—makes it impossible to say no.

"Stay tonight," he says after a pause, his voice almost a whisper. "Just for a while. I need to know you're here."

You hesitate, but his hand reaches out, brushing yours lightly. His touch is cold but steady, grounding in a way that feels both comforting and suffocating.

"Please," he adds softly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I... don’t want to be alone tonight."

Against your better judgment, you agree. He guides you to sit beside him, his arm brushing against yours. For a while, it’s quiet. Then, almost tentatively, he leans closer, his head resting against your shoulder.

---

After some time, he shifts, feigning discomfort. "Forgive me," he murmurs, his voice strained. "The pain... it’s worse tonight. Would you... hold me? Just for a moment?"

You blink in surprise, but before you can respond, he adds, "I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t unbearable. I just... need to feel that someone cares."

You reluctantly oblige, wrapping your arms around him. He lets out a soft sigh, almost as if in relief, and his own arms tentatively encircle you.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "You have no idea what this means to me."

Even as you sit there, his hold tightens subtly, possessively, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

As the night wears on, you start to feel a creeping realization that this might not have been as innocent as it seemed. Viktor, however, seems content, his gaze soft but calculating as he holds you close.

"Perhaps... you could stay again tomorrow?" he murmurs, the faintest smile playing on his lips. "For my recovery, of course."

[sayruq]

Amid Israel’s ongoing genocidal war on Gaza, maternal healthcare faces excruciating challenges. Deliberate and systematic Israeli attacks on hospitals and medical centers, and critical shortages of humanitarian aid, including medicine, have created a crisis that is endangering the lives of both mothers and newborns. The situation is critical. There are an estimated 50,000 pregnant women in Gaza and some 180 births every day. Israel’s decision in October to prevent food, water, fuel and electricity from entering Gaza created a desperate situation. Inadequate nutrition, exposure to cold and hot weather, the absence of clean water, and poor sanitation weigh heavily on the wellbeing of women and children. The circumstances force them to consume contaminated water, heightening the peril of dehydration and waterborne diseases, particularly among vulnerable groups such as expectant mothers, new mothers and young children. Fuel shortages and the constrained capacity of the few remaining medical facilities exacerbate the difficulty for women in labor to access hospitals. Um Amin, a mother with a few children, confronted with the harsh reality of displacement, recounted her family’s struggles during Israel’s aggression. As bombs relentlessly fell on their neighborhood, reducing their home to rubble, Um Amin had to seek refuge at a school run by the UN agency for Palestine refugees (UNRWA) in the northern Gaza Strip taking only very few belongings. She was pregnant. And in the school there was little by way of basic necessities such as clean water, food or even clothes for her children. She considered moving south, where food might be a little more accessible. Her husband refused, causing conflict between them.He feared not being able to return. And while she believed that the Israeli army was attempting to force them to leave, she also felt it was a matter of life and death for her children. “It was heart-wrenching to witness my kids fighting over scraps of bread. My 4-year-old started stashing away bread in his pocket for later. I was shocked. Before the war, I never slept without knowing my children were fed. Now, most of the time, I am certain they never feel satisfied.” Her entire motivation to carry on became a matter of feeding her children She denied herself food for their sake, but had also to remind herself of the child within her. “The baby inside me is also a priority, so I had to eat too.” She found the balancing act incredibly challenging, an unbearable burden of motherhood. “I am going to share something I’ve never told anyone I know: I contemplated suicide to escape the weight of this responsibility.”

After the Israeli army unexpectedly stormed al-Rimal, a Gaza City neighborhood, for a second time, Um Amin panicked and fled again, this time going from the UNRWA school to a relative’s house. But her fear caused her to enter preterm labor. A doctor, at the nearby al-Sahaba medical center, had to resort to a cesarean section. It was hell, Um Amin said. There was insufficient anesthesia and she could feel the scalpel cutting into her body. There was no electricity; the doctor had to use a handheld flashlight to see. Um Amin’s cries of pain could not drown out the crashing of shells around her. The operation left her utterly drained. She couldn’t believe she was still alive.She needed nourishment to recover what she had lost during the bleeding and to breastfeed her son. But hunger was stalking Gaza. Food was scarce, there was no white flour in the markets, and Israel was blocking aid trucks from entering the north. “All I had to eat was bread made from animal feed and water. When I had my other children, I relied on foods rich in animal proteins, but it was impossible this time. The price of meat was five times higher than normal.” Unable to adequately breastfeed her child, she had to find infant formula. But the price was multiple times higher than it used to be and more than she could afford. Eventually, she was forced to buy formula that was past its expiry date. “You might blame me, but there was literally no other option. I didn’t have enough money. It wasn’t clumped together, so the doctor told me it could still be used.” She would never find out. Due to the lack of clean water, she prepared the milk with non-potable water from a well. The baby refused to drink.

[witchthewriter]

𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 🐦‍⬛

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I've added Victor into this, but I want to have a conversation about if he can be a romantic partner - or he will always be platonic?

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

You're still in Fromville, not having escaped yet but making the best of it.

𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒅 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Domesticity to Boyd is so much different in this town compared to the 'real' world.

・For example, he would be awake before you, no matter the day just so he could surprise you with your favourite drink and a pastry each morning.

・The chores would be split 50/50, with Boyd usually picking up any slack (he doesn't mind at all)

・He loves doing the laundry, folding your clothes with so much care.

・But here... his actions to show his love are limited and it kinda pisses him off

・But you constantly remind him of all the good he's done here and how he keeps everyone together.

・You celebrate every win, even the small ones.

・Boyd is big on DIY, and loves fixing up things for you. Anything you ask - you want a different type of curtain, or you want part of the window patched up - he does NOT let you do it. That is HIS job.

・Massaging his shoulders at night, feeling how taught he is. This town is so hard on him. It constantly makes you wonder, why him?

・You do have one rule though: last one in bed has to make it!

・Boyd seems like the type of person to keep everything about himself to himself. But that isn't true. He likes telling you things, he enjoys opening up to you.

・One really important factor in your relationship is the challenges of town and its mysteries.

・Many people in town were basically betting how long you two would together.

・But what they didn't know, was that the horrors STRENGTHENED your bond. It made you both rely on each other so deeply.

・Having a partner means so much to him.

・Boyd loves you so much. He would never burden you with what he knows, but he loves when you have random conversations.

・It makes things feel just a bit more normal. It gives him hope.

𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒚 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Mornings and nights are especially special to you both

・Slow, careful, mindful, warm and cosy.

・Touching each other in some way - hugging each other from behind, pinkies entwined, cheek kisses, forehead kisses, rubbing noses together - if anyone else saw you too they would gag (ITS CALLED LOVE)

・Kenny LOVES tucking you in at night.

"You comfy now?" As he wedges the blanket under the side of your body.

"Yes Kenny! Now get in bed you loser!" You answer laughing.

"Okay, okay, I'm just looking after the most important person in my life thank you very much."

・You love listening to him; to his stories about his childhood up until he came to town.

・One of Kenny's favourite things is when you read to him. Even if you don't have a book in front of you, he just wants you to recount as much as you can from books you have read.

・Might be kind of painful, but you two like talking about how life would be like together outside of this hell.

・Owning two cats, two dogs, maybe some fish.

・Whenever you hear the creatures screeching, you automatically cling to Kenny, you can't help it. You HATE the noises.

・But you always feel safe around Kenny. Always.

"I've got you. I swear to god I'll never let anything happen to you."

𝑱𝒂𝒅𝒆 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Every morning he gives you a kiss on the head and 'tip toes' out of the room, trying not to disturb you.

・You usually yell at him to get back in bed

"My looooooove, I have important business to attend to!"

・The bed is pressed up against the wall, and Jade says if someone/something were to enter the room, he would be the first thing they see

・From then he starts his daily ritual of figuring out how to get the hell home

・Jade teaches you A LOT of stuff. And you're always surprised by how well he does at teaching. He's patient (only with you but you don't know that), and takes his time to teach in ways you'll understand (once again, only for you...)

・He is like a walking computer at times. Really good with dates and great with measurements.

・But one thing he is terrible about is the fact that he's a repeat offender blanket stealer. Absolute criminal.

・No matter how much you tug and pull, or wrap yourself in it, Jade somehow unravels you in his sleep and takes the blanket.

・When you both wake up, you've practically snuggled underneath him...

"Babe, what are you doing?"

"You stole the blanket again and I got cold," you reply muffled beneath him. He's very warm.

"Oh god, sorry! We ah, we should probably get more blankets then... god why didn't you wake me?"

"Wake you? Ever since we got our own place, you've slept like you've never done so in your life!"

・It was quiet before he replied, and then he wrapped his arms around you.

"That's because I haven't sleep properly before I met you."

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂����𝒍 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Your relationship with Randall is one that surprises you. Constantly.

・People don't see him the way you do. At times they start to though.

・But only you get to see his true soft side. The side that moves the hair from your face, kisses your forehead, nudges his nose against your own.

・You are the ONLY person to make him laugh.

・He knows so much about you - the way you like your clothes folded or hung up. He knows which books are your favourite, which song you could listen to on replay.

・Music is a big thing to Randall, and the fact that he can't just randomly play something on his phone gets him really down.

・So one night you guys make a list of every song you like, when you heard it and what it made you feel

・Making each other guess who you were before arriving in hell.

"Hmm... you were ... a ... farmhand on a ranch..."

"What the fuck Y/N."

"What? Were you?"

"Oh yeah sure, you hit the nail straight on the head sweetcheeks," and then he rolled his eyes.

・You laugh, loving when he gets 'annoyed' (you know he can never really be annoyed with you right?)

・You know each other's favourite tv shows, colours, smells, literature and so on. You whisper to each other through the night, trying to take your mind off of the screeching coming from outside.

𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒔 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

・Always the last to get up, sometimes he wakes before you but he'll still lay in bed, watching you sleep. Sometimes blowing air on your face when it's been a few hours and he gets bored

・Leaving sweet notes in unexpected places, they range from:

'hey baby, went down to do some work in the greenhouse, love you xx' to 'yo sexy honey see you tonight ;)'

・And you keep every single one of them. You have a sort of time capsule thing underneath the bed in one of your bags. Just small photos, letters written to each other, etc.

・Side note - Ellis is a cheeky man who loves to rile you up. Push your buttons. Make you red in the face.

・But he knows when enough is enough; he's extremely intune with your moods and doesn't have to ask when the days get too much.

・LOVES MAKING UP RANDOM SONGS ABOUT YOU, they are terrible but they make you laugh

・CONSTANTLY setting up spontaneous things for you guys to do. Seeing a smile on your face is the best thing he has ever seen.

・Literally puppy love.

・You guys seem to be able to talk to each other mind to mind. Glances from across the room are easily read by one another.

𝑽𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

PSA: As I said above, I'm not sure if Victor can be a romantic partner - I would love everyone's thoughts on it and maybe we can come to some kind of agreement??? Anyway, read this how you like ⟡☾⚝☽⟡

・Home...this town is the only home that Victor had ever truly known.

・How could you show him that the way he'd been living was not normal? That he should be able to feel safe, he should have gone to school - maybe even his drawing could have evolved into something astonishing

・So, in little ways you introduce this life to him

・He can't remember his birthday (so you help him choose one) and the two of you, along with Ethan, Tabitha and Julie celebrate

・...home decor projects are mostly just Victor's drawings. The really scary ones, you ask to be put away and he obliges <3

・Victor is used to living with other being, but not sleeping in the same room as another person.

・You would also need to get used to his blatant honesty. It isn't like he's trying to hurt you but he can just be brutally honest.

・Picnics in your room where you scavenge whatever food you can and talk about the funniest things you've seen people do

"I saw Jim ... trip over today," Victor says in a hushed voice, a cookie halfway to his mouth.

You burst out laughing, even snorting as you imagine the uppity Jim Matthews take a tumble.

"God, I wish I saw that."

・At first Victor didn't want another friend. He didn't want to get close to someone, he knew something would happen to you. You'd be taken away from him.

・But you swore to him that you would always be there for him.

・In town, and when everyone leaves. You've told him that you can be his home, his family.

[aventurineswife]

Hello! Can I request Jiaoqiu and Dan Heng x reader (separately) getting a tuskpir to help them sleep? And the reader starts to get a bit jealous because they cuddle the tuskpir when they fall asleep instead of them (the reader knows that it's silly and tries to hide it, but it's pretty evident)?

Please and thank you!

Whispers of the Tuskpir

Tags: Jiaoqiu x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Emotional Comfort, Jealousy, Vulnerability, Unspoken Feelings, Inner Turmoil, Soft Moments, Quiet Intimacy

Warnings: Mild jealousy, emotional conflict, vulnerability, implied romantic tension.

It had been a long day, and the battlefield’s weight seemed to linger on the mind. Jiaoqiu’s gentle hands worked meticulously, preparing the Tuskpir, its soft ears and soothing aura creating an unusual sense of comfort as you lay beside him. He’d already wrapped himself in the warmth of the creature’s presence, holding it close as he rested against the creature. The Tuskpir’s presence was both calming and healing—its special ability to absorb anxiety and soothe nerves made it a perfect companion for anyone struggling with the chaos of the world.

You had noticed how Jiaoqiu, despite his internal turmoil, found peace in the creature’s embrace. Its elongated proboscis brushed gently against his skin, its presence offering a brief respite from the pain and heartbreak he so often carried. He exhaled softly, a serene smile on his face, as if for once, his heart could find the peace it longed for.

Yet, as you sat beside him, a faint sense of jealousy crept into your chest. You couldn’t help but notice how Jiaoqiu, even with his eyes closed, seemed so at ease, his fingers caressing the Tuskpir’s ears like it was a trusted friend, a companion he could rely on. Your own heart twisted slightly, a strange mix of affection and insecurity rising in you.

"Is the Tuskpir helping?" you asked, your voice betraying a hint of unease.

Jiaoqiu smiled softly, his eyes hidden behind the weight of his memories and the long days that had passed. "Yes, its presence is calming. It brings peace… even when the mind is restless." He turned his face towards you, though his eyes remained closed. "It’s strange. I never thought something so small could provide such comfort."

You let out a small sigh, trying to hide the jealousy bubbling in your chest. "It’s good you’ve found something that brings you peace."

A brief pause settled between you two, and you could feel Jiaoqiu’s awareness of your emotions—his perceptiveness was uncanny. "Would you like to join me?" he asked, his voice gentle. "The Tuskpir can soothe more than just my heart, you know."

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but the warmth in his tone reached deep inside you. Still, the feeling of the creature cuddling close to Jiaoqiu’s chest lingered uncomfortably in your mind.

It wasn’t until you finally let go of your thoughts and settled beside him, allowing the Tuskpir’s gentle warmth to envelop you too, that the discomfort started to fade. Jiaoqiu’s fingers brushed against your hand in a reassuring touch. Maybe you weren’t the one who needed the creature’s comfort.

Maybe, just maybe, you needed him to guide you through the storm in your own heart.

The day had been long, filled with the quiet hum of the Astral Express traveling through the vast expanse of the stars. Dan Heng had found his usual refuge in solitude, but tonight something was different. He hadn’t looked tired, but the tension in his shoulders suggested he was far from peaceful. That’s when you suggested the Tuskpir, a small creature known to ease troubled minds, especially when the burdens of the heart seemed too heavy to carry.

Dan Heng, ever so reserved, gave a small nod in response, accepting your offer with quiet gratitude. The Tuskpir, soft and warm, curled up next to him as you both settled by a corner, its shell glimmering under the soft light. The soothing hum of the Tuskpir’s presence filled the air, and Dan Heng, though reluctant at first, allowed himself to relax. The creature nestled closer, its body warm and inviting.

You watched the scene with a strange feeling. The Tuskpir, its long proboscis brushing against Dan Heng’s arm as he leaned back against the wall, seemed to be a silent comfort in his otherwise solitary life. It was clear he’d never openly admit it, but the way his tense posture softened in the creature's embrace suggested a deep, unspoken gratitude.

But the longer you watched, the more something shifted inside you. A subtle sense of jealousy began to take root. You had never seen him so… open. The Tuskpir had his full attention now, and you couldn't help but feel a small pang of discomfort, watching how Dan Heng seemed so at peace with the creature. You didn’t know why, but a feeling of possessiveness crept in.

"Dan Heng…" you began, your voice a little quieter than usual.

He turned his head slightly toward you, sensing your unease even before you spoke. His eyes, though distant, had a quiet understanding. "It helps ease my mind," he said softly, his voice a little more vulnerable than you were used to hearing.

You tried to mask the feeling in your chest, though you were sure your expression betrayed it. "I can see that."

A small silence settled between you two. You noticed how Dan Heng’s fingers absently brushed against the Tuskpir's ear, his usual restraint almost forgotten. The jealousy, though faint, lingered within you.

"Do you want to join us?" Dan Heng finally asked, his voice as calm as ever, but there was a subtle warmth beneath the surface. "The Tuskpir is known to help both the body and mind."

Your heart fluttered slightly at his offer, the tension you’d been holding onto beginning to ease. Maybe it wasn’t the Tuskpir you felt jealous of, but the softness in Dan Heng that you had longed to see. Perhaps, just perhaps, you could share this peace with him.

As you moved closer to him, the Tuskpir nestled between you both, its warmth enveloping you in its gentle embrace. The quiet stillness of the moment felt different now, a bond growing between the two of you—silent, unspoken, but deeply felt. You knew that, in the end, it wasn’t the Tuskpir that had made Dan Heng smile softly to himself. It was the quiet understanding and the trust that had formed between you both in the calm of the stars.

[creatur3featur3]

Who's there?

word count: 3.1k

A/N: maybe I went into too much detail with reader being blind but whatever! not very proud of this but i promised it so, i hope yall enjoy it!

The Undercity had never been kind to anyone, and it certainly wasn’t kind to you.

You had no memory of what it felt like to be loved, not since the day your family decided you weren’t worth the burden. When they pushed you down into this hell, it was as though they had erased your existence.

You were only eight when it happened. A boiling pot of oil tipped over in the kitchen during one of your father’s drunken fits. The pain was unimaginable, searing through your skin and leaving your eyes useless. You screamed, begged for help, but all you got was silence.

By the time the burns healed—if you could call it healing—the damage was done. The scars remained as an ever-present reminder of what you’d lost. Your vision was gone, leaving you in complete darkness. That’s when your parents decided you weren’t worth keeping.

"She's blind. What use could she be to us now?"

That was all it took for them to throw you out. No goodbyes, no second thoughts—just the sound of the hatch to the Undercity slamming shut behind you.

Now, years later, you had carved out a life for yourself in the shadows of the Undercity. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. You navigated the dark alleys and crooked streets with an almost uncanny precision, relying on touch, sound, and scent to guide you. Your other senses had sharpened over time, adapting to fill the void your sight had left behind.

Still, survival was brutal. People didn’t care about your blindness—they saw weakness and an easy target. You’d learned quickly how to defend yourself, whether it was with a blade, a sharp tongue, or sheer stubbornness.

That’s how Sevika found you.

It wasn’t a grand meeting. In fact, you’d bumped into her—literally. You hadn’t heard her coming, distracted by the clamor of a nearby fight. When you stumbled back, muttering apologies, she had been surprisingly calm.

For someone who usually brushed off others like they were dust, Sevika hadn’t treated you like you were fragile. She hadn’t laughed at your blindness or tried to offer you pity. Instead, she’d just said, “You walk like you own the place. I respect that.”

That moment changed everything.

It was strange for others to witness Sevika, the notorious enforcer, laughing or even smiling in someone else’s company. You? You were an enigma to them—a blind girl who somehow got under Sevika’s tough exterior like it was nothing. People whispered about it in the bars, sharing hushed disbelief as they saw her sit with you, her usual scowl softened into something unreadable.

You didn’t have to see her face to know the way her demeanor changed when you were around. It was in the way her voice lost its sharp edge, or how her movements were less calculated, less guarded. You had this way of bringing something out of her that no one else could.

Sevika would never admit it out loud, but she liked having you around. You were blunt in the way you spoke to her, never tiptoeing around her reputation or treating her like some fearsome villain. You joked with her like you’d known her for years, teasing her when she got too grumpy or quiet. And somehow, she never snapped at you for it.

“You really do have a stick up your ass sometimes,” you teased one evening as you sat beside her in her usual corner of the Last Drop. You tilted your head, listening to the sounds of people shuffling past, drinks clinking, and cards being shuffled on nearby tables.

Sevika snorted, her metal arm resting on the back of your chair. “You’re one to talk. You nag me more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Someone has to,” you retorted, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Otherwise, you’d go full brooding anti-hero on me.”

A chuckle escaped her, low and warm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you like it,” you shot back without missing a beat.

And that was the thing—she did.

She liked how you didn’t care about her scars or her reputation, how you called her out when no one else dared to. You didn’t treat her with fear or reverence, and that was rare. It was refreshing.

People often asked her why she kept you around, why she let you talk to her the way you did. Sevika never had an answer that didn’t sound too soft for her own liking. Maybe it was your unwavering resilience. Maybe it was the way you stood your ground despite everything life had thrown at you.

Or maybe, it was just you.

The sound of a glass gently clinking onto the wood in front of you drew your attention, and you tilted your head toward Sevika, raising a brow even though you couldn’t see her expression.

“That’s your fifth one tonight,” you said, your voice laced with mock disapproval.

Sevika chuckled low, the sound rumbling in her chest. “And? You keeping count now?”

“Someone has to,” you shot back, leaning back in your seat with a smirk. “You keep this up, and I’m gonna have to drag your drunk ass home.”

“That’ll be the day,” she retorted, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I think I can handle myself.”

“You say that, but I’m the one who hears you stumble around the apartment,” you quipped, crossing your arms.

Sevika let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You’ve got some nerve for someone who couldn’t even make it up the fire escape on their own a few months ago.”

“Hey, I’ve got plenty of nerve. It’s my best quality,” you replied with a grin, unfazed by her jab. “But seriously, don’t make me cut you off. I will.”

Sevika’s smirk softened into something almost fond as she glanced over at you. “You’re lucky I don’t mind your backtalk.”

“Lucky? Nah, you love it,” you teased, earning another laugh from her as she picked up the glass again.

“So, what’s tomorrow look like?” you asked, breaking the brief silence between you and Sevika. You rubbed your fingertips against the rough surface of the wooden countertop, focusing on the texture rather than her reaction. “I heard Silco’s got a big shipment coming in. And Jinx—well, she’s definitely keeping him busy…”

Sevika grunted, swirling what was left of her drink before downing it in one go. “Yeah, that kid’s a handful. Keeps things… interesting.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “That’s one way to put it. Bet you’re glad she’s keeping him too busy to breathe down your neck.”

Sevika leaned back in her chair, her metal arm resting heavily on the bar. “It’s a nice change of pace,” she admitted. “But shipments like this? They’re always trouble. More eyes watching, more people trying to make a move. You know how it is.”

“Mm,” you hummed in agreement, your fingers still idly tracing the grooves in the wood. “Let me guess: you’re on babysitting duty again? Keeping the riffraff in line?”

Sevika smirked faintly, her sharp eyes glinting in the dim barlight. “Something like that. You volunteering to help out?”

You snorted, tilting your head toward her. “Me? You think I’d survive five minutes in the middle of one of Silco’s operations?”

She gave a short laugh. “You’ve got more guts than half the people I work with. You’d probably be fine. Besides…” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just enough to make it feel more personal. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly covered it with a teasing grin. “Careful, Sevika. Almost sounded like you care.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she shot back, though the softness in her tone betrayed her.

"Already am," you hummed back, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you leaned a little closer to her side of the bar.

Sevika raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, the corner of her mouth twitching ever so slightly.

"But seriously," you continued, letting your fingers drum lightly on the wood, "I don’t have much use out there. I’d just get in the way. I don’t know that area like I know the city. You know how it is."

Sevika nodded, her gaze drifting to her empty glass for a moment before returning to you. “Yeah, I know. It’s not exactly the place for… someone like you.”

You tilted your head, curious at the subtle weight in her voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smirked, pouring herself another drink. “It means you’d probably charm the wrong people and end up in more trouble than you bargained for.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Sounds about right. Guess I’ll leave the heavy lifting to you, then.”

“Smart choice,” Sevika muttered, taking a sip. After a pause, she added, “You’re not useless, though. Don’t talk like that.”

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at her, unsure how to respond.

“I’m just saying,” Sevika said, her tone gruff but her eyes softer than usual. “You’ve got your own kind of strengths. And… they’re not nothing.”

The sincerity in her voice sent a warm feeling through your chest. You smiled, even though you knew she couldn’t see it. “Thanks, Sev. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

"And here we go," Sevika sighed, setting her glass down with a lazy smile pulling at her lips, already bracing herself for what was coming.

You leaned forward, chin resting in your palm as you grinned in her direction. “Oh, Sevika,” you cooed dramatically, dragging out her name, “are you finally admitting you’ve got a soft spot for me? This is a monumental occasion!”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. “Don’t push it, kid.”

“Kid?” you gasped, feigning offense. “Is that how you talk to someone you just called not useless? You’re practically doting on me at this point.”

Sevika chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. “I’m not doting.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” you teased, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “You’re just giving me compliments, looking out for me, and keeping me out of trouble. But doting? Never!”

“You’re unbelievable,” Sevika muttered, but there was no hiding the warmth in her tone.

“And yet, here you are,” you shot back, grinning. “Can’t seem to get enough of me, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving you off. “You keep telling yourself that.”

You could hear the smirk in her voice, and it made your grin grow wider. “Oh, I will, Sev. I will.”

————————————————————————

You had your own way of getting around the city, sure you couldn't see like everyone else but that gave you an advantage, all your other senses.

Sure you couldn't use your eyes but you could still see, per say.

Think of it like a bat, they use echolocation, you use the same thing- just without the chirps and whatever sounds they make…

Vibrations.

Every step, every sound, every tiny shift in the air painted a map in your mind. You could feel the hum of a generator two streets over, the rattle of loose metal under someone’s boots, the faint tapping of a rat scurrying into a hole.

The city spoke to you, and you listened.

Where others might stumble in the dark, you moved with confidence. You could feel the vibrations of footsteps approaching before anyone turned a corner. The uneven rhythms of dripping water or loose panels were like markers, telling you exactly where you were.

It wasn’t perfect—sometimes you still bumped into things or missed a step—but it was enough to get by. Enough to survive.

And in the Undercity, survival was half the battle.

You’d been making your way through the back alleys, the vibrations beneath your feet familiar, the hum of machinery above grounding you. But then it happened—a shift in the air, a rhythm that didn’t belong. Heavy footsteps. Too many.

You froze for a moment, tilting your head slightly as if listening closer, though you didn’t need to. The vibrations said it all. Four, no… five people. All moving toward you, their steps unsteady but deliberate.

“Hey, little miss,” a gruff voice called, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Ain’t safe for someone like you to be out here all alone.”

You turned slightly, keeping your expression neutral. “I can handle myself, thanks.”

Laughter. It was sharp, jagged, like glass shattering in a quiet room. “Oh, I don’t doubt it,” the voice replied. “But see, we’ve got a problem. This here’s our turf. And you? You look like you’re lost.”

The vibrations grew closer, surrounding you. They were trying to box you in. Your hand instinctively brushed against the metal pipe at your side—a makeshift weapon you always carried. You tightened your grip.

“I’m not lost,” you said calmly. “But you’re about to be.”

Silence for a beat. Then the leader barked out a laugh. “Feisty one, huh? Shame. We could’ve been nice.”

The first swing came fast—a clumsy, overconfident lunge you could feel before it even connected. You ducked easily, using the vibrations to track their movements.

“Big mistake,” you muttered, spinning the pipe in your hand and swinging low. It connected with a satisfying crack, the vibration of impact reverberating up your arm.

But the others weren’t standing idle. Another thug grabbed for you, and though you twisted away, his grip managed to tear your sleeve. You swung back hard, connecting with his ribs, but more footsteps were closing in.

You gritted your teeth. This was going to be a fight.

-

You stood over the last of the thugs, breathing heavily as you wiped a bit of blood from your lip, the adrenaline still surging through you. The alley was littered with bodies—some unconscious, others barely clinging to consciousness. They wouldn’t be bothering anyone for a while.

Your hand rested on the metal pipe, your fingers flexing around the cold steel, as if still gauging whether they were all truly out of commission. You could feel their uneven breathing, the way their pulses had slowed. They were done for now.

With a satisfied smirk, you let the pipe fall to the ground, the sound echoing in the silence of the alley. You had done more than just defend yourself; you’d sent a message.

“You should’ve known better,” you muttered, stepping over one of them as you made your way back toward the exit. Your body ached from the fight, but the satisfaction of taking them down lingered.

You weren’t just some blind girl lost in the city—no, you were a force, and anyone who thought they could take advantage of that was about to learn the hard way.

As you left the alley, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride. It had been close, but you’d come out on top. And the next time anyone underestimated you, they’d be in for a surprise.

You walked into Sevika’s place, your movements a little slower now that the adrenaline had started to fade, leaving the aches and bruises to take center stage. Your clothes were torn, blood smeared across your skin, and there was a faint ringing in your ears from the aftermath of the fight. But you weren’t about to let any of that stop you.

Sevika looked up from her chair when she heard the door open, eyes narrowing as she saw the state you were in. “What the hell happened to you?” she asked, voice a mixture of concern and irritation.

You shrugged, trying to act casual, but the way your body winced when you moved betrayed you. “Had a run-in with a couple of thugs in the alley. Nothing I couldn’t handle, though.”

“Jesus,” Sevika muttered, setting down her drink and standing up. “Sit down. Let me take care of you.”

You obeyed without protest, easing yourself into a chair as she gathered the first-aid supplies. “It wasn’t even that bad,” you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “They didn’t know what hit ‘em.”

Sevika gave you a skeptical look, her hands moving expertly as she started cleaning the cuts and bruises. “Don’t start acting like this is some kind of joke. You’re lucky you don’t have worse injuries.”

“Hey, I came out on top,” you said with a grin, “I didn’t even need your help.”

Sevika shot you a look, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite herself. “I’m still patching you up, aren’t I? Not that I expected you to get into fights, but you really need to be more careful.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, but the smirk never left your face. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I can handle myself.”

Sevika didn’t respond at first, her fingers pausing in their work as if she was thinking carefully about something. “You’re right,” she finally said, voice softer. “But you don’t have to handle everything alone, you know?”

You paused, looking up at her. There was a quiet sincerity in her words, and for a moment, you almost forgot the pain. “I know,” you murmured, voice quieter than before. “But I don’t really have anyone else.”

Sevika’s hands moved again, but there was a gentleness in her touch now that wasn’t there before. “Well, you’ve got me,” she said, the words simple but carrying more weight than either of you were ready to admit.

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just let her work in silence, letting the calm of her presence wash over you as she finished tending to your wounds.

It was the first time in a long while you felt like maybe you weren’t entirely alone in this city.

As Sevika finished tending to your wounds, you couldn't help but chuckle at how seriously she took it, like she was the one who had been hurt. When she finally stepped back, satisfied with her work, you stood up and stretched.

"Thanks, Cupcake," you teased, your tone light and playful as you gave her a mischievous grin. Without giving her a chance to react, you leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

Her reaction was exactly what you'd hoped for—a slight stiffening, the faintest rise of heat radiating from her- but she didn't pull away. In fact, she seemed almost… fond, if not slightly caught off guard.

"You're something else," she muttered, her voice rough but with a hint of amusement in it. She quickly grabbed her drink and took a swig, clearly trying to cover her embarrassment.

You couldn't help but smirk at how flustered she got. "I know, Cupcake. That's what makes me so charming."

You turned to leave, but before you could get to the door, you paused and turned back to her. "See you around, Sevika."

Her gaze softened slightly, and she gave you a small nod. "Yeah, yeah. Take care of yourself."

With that, you walked out, the city lights greeting you with their familiar soft buzzing of electricity–you stepped back into the streets, your mind running not just from the fight, but from the brief moment of something that felt like… warmth.

you chuckle softly, damn woman.

[motorghost]

john watson, tenderness, and colonialism

one thing I like imagining about the brand of masculinity that Watson (can) represent is tenderness. this isn't actually a natural quality of his profession; army surgeons were more benevolent butchers back then, even if the simple desire to heal is what started watson down that road in the first place. there is not a lot of room for tenderness when you have to make split-second decisions regarding another soul's flesh, when you have to listen to their screams and their threats and their pleas and still do what your mind knows is the best course of action to save them. i imagine watson writing little stories as an escape from the horror as well as from his own (often pointless) role in it. perhaps he had his fill of being the decision-maker early on. and perhaps he yearned for tenderness at the hospital, confined for months to a bed and to his pain, perhaps seeing tenderness in his carers but also, perhaps, seeing the same resignation and emotional distancing he knew was necessary in medical practitioners in order to make good decisions, to think clearly. on top of that, the many immortal lessons of war. one of which: there is no god but what we make on this earth, for ourselves and for each other.

i imagine him arriving in london a flayed thing. snarling inside of an old costume that no longer fits: that of a gentleman (he's not, he's of the new middle class, and poor besides,) of a noble soldier (the cause was a sick joke, the honors not earned,) and of a skilled physician (what skill, when his hands barely answer his head and his heart jumps at every abrupt sound?) self-obliterating through gambling and drink. lingering in pointlessness with no way out. going on simply because it would be immoral not to, and he has endured enough shame already.

then: holmes. here is someone who has made an art form of the same detachment watson had to employ during the war. though he is dazzled by holmes's intellect and exhilarated by this scientific method of crime-solving and impressed by his iron will, he also sees the burden holmes bears. the proximity to mankinds' worst elements that lowers holmes even as he conquers heights unimagined, not to mention the pains his own otherwise magnificent mind afford him, as well as the invisible pain of loneliness (of living as Othered; of living in the city, as existential depression rises alongside industrial progress.)

as anyone who suddenly discovers their raison d'être—their reason for living—watson enthusiastically throws himself into offering the thing he most wanted to bring to his patients but could not: tenderness. in response to holmes's pain, watson offers gentleness and kindness and years of unquestionable, indefatigable loyalty.

colonialism relies on the strict differentiation between Us and Them, good and evil, black and white. it demands that actions be judged so that they can either be glorified or condemned. "there is so much that has to be denounced, and also so much that has to be praised."* watson praises holmes in print, and condemns those who harm the vulnerable, but for holmes himself, watson gives tenderness. tenderness is not a fist around a gavel, it is an open palm. holmes believes that watson is better than any british jury because he is tender. and perhaps holmes doesn't even understand the value of watson's tenderness until he's spent three years alone in eastern lands, away from the dominance of western, imperialist thought, and away from the man who helped him in ways he didn't recognize until he was gone.

perhaps watson learned that true healing can only be done at a level unreachable by physical instruments. in more ancient times, doctors more resembled priests; the treatment of the body and the treatment of the soul were not so separate. and maybe he learned that true healing is impossible in this life; that while there is much to live for, there is also forever pain. and the only way to mitigate that pain is through tenderness. and what is more tender than a little story about a great man who solves impossible problems, written in such a way as to stick out in the mind of readers for over a hundred years? even if it only distracts you from the pain for a few hours, that is surely enough.

[postmoe]

Borisin Warhead Hoolay x Reader - All You’re Good For

: cum, piss, degradation, blood (lil bit), aphrodisiac, Hoolay is a gross meanie :( , but he’s also a powerful tyrant so :)

This was all written on my phone during sleepless nights haha I can’t fix the spacing ;-;

It’s hard being a foxian in this world run by borisins. Allies are far and few between, even amongst your own kind. All it takes is one threat, one little push and you’re being sold out or used in the worst ways.

It had been days and you’re exhausted, paranoid and running on nothing but a few berries you have yet to see if are poisonous. It’s been a few days and nothing, so you’ll try some more tonight… if you make it out alive.

You were part of a group of foxians that plotted to run from the farm you were held in, what’s started as 11 now dwindled to five as most of you were either captured and killed in the escape or gotten too sick and died along the way. It had been a plan in the making that would have been perfect, had it not been for one factor:

Hoolay was coming.

Everyone knows the visit of the borisin warhead always lead to large feasts, having most of the ‘stock’ dead by morning. It was either make a break for it then or succumb to certain death.

So, you fled. Which leads to now, having you shaking beside the campfire, fingers anxiously brushing through matted knots in your tail, and the four men now looking to you like you were a burden.

“All I’m saying is that there’s no use having dead weight when borisins could jump on our tail at any second. We all play a part in this pack, but, what do you do?” One stated as though it was a matter of fact, hand held out in expression.

It was true you hadn’t really contributed much, though one could argue you found the berries, you were the only one brave enough to try them. You did plan on sharing if they were safe; that’s out the window now. Your lips thin as you refuse to make eye contact. Trauma has rendered your vocabulary useless, you don’t remember how old you were when you last spoke. Now, only pitiful sounds are able to escape your mouth, little hums and grunts of pain.

They took this as another sign of weakness, one of the other foxians scoffing, “You won’t even make conversation with us? We want someone we can rely on, not a pet.”

Everyone seemed to have different opinions of your value, all of which lead to one conclusion: you’re useless. It wasn’t until the fourth of them spoke that anyone even considered otherwise, “C’mon, guys, don’t be so harsh, you know she’s a mute. She can’t help it if she’s… underwhelming. Females are only made for one thing after all. Surely I can’t be the only one feeling lonely.”

It was that comment that made your heart pound most of all. A debate broke out of whether or not you’d be worth keeping around for something as trivial as sex when their lives were in danger. You look to starry sky above, the smoke pluming through the canopy as you think about their accusations. You were the most quiet of the bunch. You watched one of your comrades get their head stomped in right before you and didn’t even scream. One of the men here almost got everyone caught because a centipede crawled past. All in all, it could only be boiled down to blatant sexism. Their entire lives they’ve been slaves, and now there’s a taste of freedom and they want to turn the tables.

You’re being regarded again, everyone awaiting your answer, “So, wanna spread them legs and we’ll keep you safe? Cmon baby, you can trust us to protect you.”

It was a no brainer on your part, though you’ve never been one for conflict, you were prepared to fight them on this. Exhausted, paranoid, starving. You a pop a few berries from your pocket and into your mouth, thinking this might be your last meal if things go south as you shake your head in a silent, ‘no’.

The main perpetrator loses his smirk, obviously not amused by your response. He stands and cracks his neck, “No? I think you just need a bit of encouragement, baby.”

Immediately, you stand to take the defensive against him. You wonder if you could outrun them, given that you’re all in the same state of distress. One of the first foxians stands too, holding his hand out in hesitance, “W-whoa, hold up. Don’t start a fight here. Besides, you can’t just force someone to have sex with you.”

Another stood up, following the others straps as he comes to crowd you, “No no, I actually agree here. I think she needs to show us some gratitude.”

The last one merely sat in silence, avoiding his eyes from the scene, looking visibly uncomfortable but not wanting to step in.

Your eyes darted between the two approaching and you threatened by taking a deep breath, mouth opening as if you to scream. Their eyes panicked, not wanting any sound to alert unwanted attention. Regardless of their beliefs on your voice, they didn’t want to risk it.

A slight freeze from them was all you needed, you turned tail, beginning to run when a critical mistake caused your foot to get caught on the log you were sitting on. You went tumbling down, only barely managing to turn on the ground when you were tackled by your former comrade. His hand already over your mouth as he laugh, straddling you, “See? Pathetic! You can’t even run away by yourself. You need us.”

Your hands tense as your nails sharpen, ready to thrash when the other grabs your right wrist, pinning you down. Not long after, the first one grabs your other, his instinct telling him this was better than having you fight back and alert their position.

It wasn’t until his hand trailed under your shirt and caressed the bare skin of your stomach that something truly snapped inside of you. Pupils dilating, mind quieting and teeth sharpening, you managed to tilt your head enough to bite painfully into his hand, blood quickly spilling from the punctures.

His scream was loud, startling, the one on your right wrist jolting enough for you to wrench your arm away. Just as you were about to scratch at him, he gave you a swift punch to your face, nose cracking and pooling blood over your mouth. It disorientated you enough for him to grab at your throat, holding you down, “Fucking bitch. Maybe it’ll be easier to use you if you’re not breathing.”

His taste for violence was the perfect opportunity. As his face drew closer and no one retrained you, thinking you were knocked out enough to not need it, you thrust your hands to his head, nails digging into the back of his skull as you pushed him forward and impaling his eye over your thumb.

The others stepped back now, stunned and scared, leaving you to leap forward before he could recover and drive your teeth into his throat like a wild animal. Frenzied, scared, hurt and adrenaline coursing through your veins, it was enough to drive anyone to do drastic things.

You didn’t notice the rustling of bushes, the way your comrades bolted from the scene. Too busy focusing on ripping his throat out and showing him that you’re not just some foxian that’s going to roll over and heel. Tears streaming down your cheeks as the taste of blood came rushing over you, you are going to fight, too.

Once he goes limp is when you stop clawing and attacking, sitting back with a squelch as you reach up to wipe the water from your eyes. You were drenched. Blood painted from the lower half of your face, down your throat and over your teeth. Nose bruised and broken and leaking. Nails filthy and you’re sure there is flesh under them. You’re not a killer. You never wanted to be a killer.

And then the clapping began. Thuds of heavy footsteps rush past you as you look up, paling and almost vomiting from the surprise. There’s no mistaken that the borisin that stands before you now is Warhead Hoolay, and beside him is his right hand man, Mok Tok. The pack with him was chasing down the others that ran before.

Hoolay seemed very amused, crouching down and grinning as he picked up the foxian’s head by the ear before letting it hit the ground again, “Only the strong survive. This whelp was nothing more than all bark and no bite. You, however,” he gazes back to you, standing, “I’m impressed. Even foxians in the fighting ring have more compassion. You truly didn’t hold back.”

Running isn’t an option. In the fight he had gotten a few good hits and kicks in, your ankle throbbing in pain. Not to mention the stench of blood on you. Foxians had a great sense of smell - Borisins, an even better one. Your only option is to fight, and even you know the single outcome here is death.

Mok Tok stepped around, standing behind you as he examined your state of well being. He hummed gingerly before saying, “Dine in or take away, master?”

Another once over from Hoolay had him walking over to you. He didn’t have a care in the world, hand larger than your head reaching out towards your face. It was enough for you to kick into gear, using what was left of your strength and latching onto him with all the fight you had left. Your teeth barely dug through the fur on his paw, nails only strong enough to hold you to his arm without so much as pricking blood, your legs feebly kicking into his large chest. It probably felt more like a massage than any form of pain.

You tried with all your might and the only response you got from him was a boisterous laugh. He easily yanked you off and threw you to the ground, rolling until you hit Mok Tok’s foot, “Take away. This one amuses me, see to it she doesn’t succumb to her wounds.”

In no time you had some form of metal around your neck, clasping with the rattle of a chain. You’re dragged a few feet before being hauled onto your aching souls. Mok Tok handles you with little care, tugging you to a pace you couldn’t keep up with.

…

It was only you, the bystander foxian that didn’t stand to help, and the initial foxian that tried to keep everyone quiet that remained. The lackey of the culprit you fought had been tied at the end of your chain link, only to fall to his wounds and die on the road. The borisins had snapped his portion of the chain off like it was nothing, leaving his carcass to rot in the mud.

You were at the front of the line, trudging behind Hoolay and his bitch boy with your hands cuffed in front of you, connected to a chain on the thick collar around your throat. A longer, thicker chain trailed behind you to the others, walking in a single file.

It was quiet, the night turning from black to the blueish hues of morning. In the distance thunder rumbled, promising the relief of rain to come. Your feet were filthy from the mud, having lost one flat, uncomfortable shoe days ago and tossing the other at a wild animal that tried to bite you. It turns out bare feet was only marginally more uncomfortable. At least the dirt of the road and squelch of the mud was nicer than sticks and brambles in the forest.

Every closing of your eyes almost had you tripping in sleep. You tried not to blink but since the adrenaline was wearing off, all the pain and exhaustion was coming forward tenfold. It was probably stupid, but the man behind you decided to try their luck with a conversation, “Are we-“ they coughed, their voice a lot scratchier than you anticipated, starting again when they noticed their ears pricking back to listen, “Are we going back to the farm?”

Mok Tok was the first to sneer, his scarred face glaring at him as he snapped, “You weren’t given permission to speak, whelp.”

Hoolay raised his paw to silence him, “It’s fine. Let them wonder, the smell of fear is a welcome sense.” Once the smaller borisin bowed in submission, Hoolay glanced at you from over his shoulder, his intimidating size only making you feel all the more caged in this otherwise open countryside, “The farm owner doesn’t want runaways such as yourselves. You’re coming to our den. Those who can’t serve as servants will be meals before battle.”

One of the men behind you whimpered in fear, the chain slightly rattling as they quaked. You wish you could have the energy for such an emotion. You felt yourself lagging, needing to pick up the pace if you didn’t want to end up lunch for the trip back. With a pained sigh, you skipped forward and listened as they continued questioning, “Did you search for us on purpose, or was it all a coincidence?”

It seems Hoolay was in a generous and talkative mood as he humoured, “Your previous owner informed us of the escape. Such a foolish plan, don’t you know we wolves love to hunt little foxes like you? You couldn’t have picked a worse time to…”

As Hoolay spoke you were progressively losing focus. The sunlight peeked behind a cloud and pierced your eye, a strain feeling like it was hitting your brain. Your hands weren’t low enough to see if you had any surviving berries in your pocket, food maybe being a cure. By this point it was difficult to make out the words anyone was saying.

The next moment you know is your face in the mud. It’s cool to your cheeks, comforting from the recent events. Mok Tok’s voice cuts through incredulously, “Me? Master, she is just a pitiful fox. I suggest we eat her and be done-“

“Are you questioning my decision, Mok Tok? I’ll gladly fight you over it, think you can take me in a battle,” Hoolay says, already knowing the outcome.

Mok Tok surrenders immediately, breaking off your chain and throwing you over his shoulder. Your lungs are pushed of air, and though he isn’t careful in the least, you despise how warm and inviting his fur is. It isn’t long before you’re drifting off, passing out in the hopes that this is your end and you don’t have to experience another day in this hellhole.

…

It was a long ride, your trio of prisoners thrown on the back of a wagon full of leftover foxian meat when it was established you were walking too slow. Most of it was wrapped in cloth and sat on crates with misshapen ice inside to keep relatively fresh. It only became hard to stomach when one of them got hungry.

A few borisin were striding alongside the cart, keeping in pace with the quieter man of your group. They were shoving an amputated foot in his face, laughing and urging him to try it. “You’ll never know if you don’t have a taste~”

You did your best to keep your gaze away, he may be an arsehole but you still regarded the corpse’s leg with the dignity you feel it deserves. Though your kind believes the spirit moves on, it was still hard to witness in the living realm.

It seems your ignorance of the scene didn’t grant you any relief. However, instead of the group of mutts hounding him, you were graced with the mighty presence of the Warhead himself. He held out an arm to you, fingers daintily hovering before your face, calloused skin proving their hard work in life. Hoolay eyed you with interest as he said, “What about you, small one? Have you developed a taste for your own kind?”

The stains of mud and blood still remain on you, your nose only having a brief look at once you reached the wagon of ‘goods’. If your aggressive fight had taught you anything, it was that living prey wasn’t your ideal meal. You shook your head and turned away from him, hoping he would give up this pointless endeavour.

Hoolay brought the arm to his maw, ripping the flesh and chewing loudly, as if to accentuate just what exactly he was eating. Without warning, his sharp claw drags roughly from the base of your skull and down your neck, stopping between your shoulder blades when you jumped forward in shock, the chains rattling as you eyed him with malice. Whatever he saw in you made his lips part in a smirk, then he laughed loudly, the rest of his pack watching their leader toy with you in silence. “What do they call you?”

Even if you could talk, you wouldn’t want to tell him your name.

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Oh? Even still defiant over such a simple question?”

Mok Tok was clearly more offended than his leader, “How dare you ignore our Warhead Hoolay! Master, please allow me to show this whelp just how grateful she should be-“

Sensing the growing tension, your other prisoner comrade interrupted fearfully, “Sh-she doesn’t talk, lord warhead. She’s been silent for as long as we’ve known her.”

This seemed to interest Hoolay even more. “Oh?” With ease, he jumped onto the wagon and sat opposite of you, right next to the prisoner who had spoken on your behalf. Teasingly, he caressed his face with the back of the foxian’s hand, “Then you can tell me. What is her label?”

Shakily, he looked to you as if you could help, too scared to move away from the amputated hand. You merely shrugged, then sure what to tell him, so he said what he could best remember, “I think… I think she was part of B block so… it may have been B132.”

You’re not sure with how you got away with not being branded. Perhaps it was because you kept your head down and didn’t cause trouble, mixed with the fact that they forgot. The farm wasn’t the best run, order and structure not something they’d place in their résumé.

Hoolay looked back to you, “Is that correct?”

Again, you shrug. You were told it once and then never again. The only ones who really remembered were the branded ones.

Hoolay picks at his fangs with the nails of his meal, humming in thought before tossing the arm far away into a field, “I suppose it matters not. Servants will be renamed, as will food.” Another amused rumble comes bubbling from his chest as he stands, a large paw grasping your injured face and turning it from side to side, making you wince as he growls lowly, “Food always tastes better when there’s… personality.”

You took that as an omen for your future.

…

The rain and humidity was a horrible combination, though you found yourself enjoying it more as the grime was sort of washed from your face and your wrists were lubricated from the blood that was washed down. Quietly, you had been working on wriggling your hands out of the cuffs to give you some more space to work with when you try to escape again.

There was nothing you could do about the choker around your neck, however if you could at least get your hands free then you’d have the ability to use the environment around you easier. That, paired with the fact that your chain was no longer connected to the others thanks to Mok Tok, you think you had a fighting chance.

Or else you’re condemned to be food.

It stung, the way your flesh ripped and teared when you shimmied it back and forth in the metal. The others had seen you but didn’t speak up, thankfully, not wanting any of their attention.

You felt sick with anxiety when the new blood made it easier to pull through, almost slipping out, your bones bruised and aching before you pushed your hands back in to avoid them being freed completely.

The rain had lessened, which wasn’t ideal but you could tell it would stop soon and you wanted to go with as much covering as possible. You were in another dense forest, it would be the perfect time. So, you got work, stomping your foot on the wagon to get someone’s attention.

It was Mok Tok who turned, glaring at you with a harsh, “What?” Your tail was squeezed between your thighs, jumping up and down to indicate you needed to pee. He seemed he was about to refute it when he had a second thought, turning to Hoolay and saying, “Master, the last toilet break for the prisoners was 12 hours ago. Shall we stop once more or wait until we arrive to the den?”

Your stomach dropped, did that mean you were close to their home? It really was now or never. Hoolay looked back to you, and you tried hard to show how desperate you were to go. He motions for everyone to stop, coming to you, “Fine. You two take the other prisoners. I’ll handle this one myself.” Like a giant claw - and you suppose it technically was - he grasped you by the top of your head and lifted you from the wagon, placing you down in the mud, your toes sinking into the mushy soil.

He had to nudge you to walk as you panicked. Why was splitting you up now? Every other time it has been one borisin watching you three, you were counting on that to have their attention diverted. Now the Warhead himself wants to watch you pee?

You get a considerable distance before he stops, staring at you with a heavy gaze. When you make no move he scoffs, smiling with a row of sharp teeth and a flick of his tail, “What, you can piss in front of my grunt but not me? Do I really make you that uncomfortable?” His voice lowers to a dangerous octave, “You flatter me.”

Now’s not the time to play his games. You turn around, using your tail to lift up the long, tattered dress that was uniform for everyone at the farm. Due to the first toilet break, a borisin had ripped your knickers off and tossed them so they wouldn’t have to keep doing it whenever you needed to go, so all you had to do was squat and bunch the cloth in your hands once you were low enough to reach. You glanced over your shoulder, seeing him watch you with boredom, huffing and averting his eyes lazily.

That was the best you were going to get. From this angle, it could be seen as you adjusting your clothes again, yet you were slipping your damaged wrists out of the cuffs. It was a little harder since the last time but you managed to do it, eyeing him from the side to see him focused on the raindrops off a leaf. Taking a deep breath, you bolted head on, scurrying over logs and bushes.

There was no noise behind you. As far as you’re aware, borisin aren’t silent hunters, they like to toy with their prey. So why wasn’t he chasing you? Not that you’re complaining, you hope to never encounter his kind again-

The reason for your lack of chase became apparent as you came skidding to a halt. You were at the edge of a canyon, forest on this side and a large, dusty and rocket desert on the other. Along the walls of the canyon were layers of stairs, openings, borisin. Not to mention the foxian slaves, digging and picking, holding food out to guards. Along the floor of the deep canyon is a rushing river, fast enough to be swept away should one fall in.

Hoolay casually walked up behind you, “the outside of our den. On the inside is long, winding halls and plenty of rooms. Should you get lost, there’s no telling what your fate is.” You were still in despair when he grabbed your hand, holding it up as he brought his nose down to inhale your wounds. Your fearful eyes looked to him when he licked up the torn skin, the saliva and pressure on his tongue stinging the sores which you tried to pull away from. He groaned in delight, yanking you closer to gently bite on the flesh, squeezing more blood out, “You think I can’t smell the difference between old and fresh blood? We knew of your little plan from the beginning. Even so,” his large hand slides up your back, claws tracing your spine tantalisingly and forcing you to push into his hard chest as he growls lowly in your ear, “You still tried to run from me, a bold move. I’ve decided, I’m going to keep you, personally. I will train you from a savage foxian into the obedient pet you were born to play.”

To be dismembered or to be a pet? Which is worse is hard to say. Your chattering teeth grit, the fear turning into desperate anger. Quickly, you duck under his arm to escape, only for him to grab the base of your tail and hold you in place. So you change tactics, trying to hit the base of your heel hard enough to hurt his chest and loosen his grip. However, as your foot makes contact with his torso, he doesn’t flinch and instead grabs your ankle and turn you upside down.

You’re left flailing in the air as he carries you like meat on a hook, holding your dress between your legs as you struggle so that you’re not blinded by the fabric. There really is no use. His pack watches in amusement as their leader returns with you, dropping you back into the wagon, “This one is mine. No one is allowed to touch them, understand?”

Frustrated and scared tears stream down your cheeks as they reply with a clear, “Yes, master!”

…

You’re not sure where the others went. Once you made it over the bridge and into the den, you were given to a purple borisin who commanded a bunch of servant foxians. She had supervised your wounds being treated before ordering them to take you to the bathhouse and clean you.

No one made eye contact, no one spoke to you or each other. It was frighteningly quiet, so you kept your head down as they scrubbed your ears and brushed out the knots in your tail. The tub you were in was cramped, a wooden bucket essentially. Hoses came out of the walls and a long gutter was imbedded in the ground to drain the water out somewhere. Even if it was awkward and daunting, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to get scrubbed raw by water that was almost too hot. Even at the farm, room temperature water was the highest form of luxury.

You actually felt clean for once.

Once you were done and dripping dry, the borisin from earlier reentered with a fluffy towel. She looked you over, clawed hand throwing the towel over your head, “You know how to dry yourself, yeah? I don’t know what you did but our master has taken a liking to you. Come.”

You wetly follow her through the winding halls with plaps of your feet hitting the floors, the servants behind you trailing diligently. You were too focused on trying to memorise the path that you hardly dried yourself by the time you reached your destination. A room was opened to you, chests and clothes along each wall, a mirror standing on the floor.

One glance at the mirror was enough for you to turn your head, not wanting to see yourself as the captive you are just yet; surrounded by slaves and a vicious wolf. Out of the corner of your eye though, you saw the enemy rummaging through chests until she found what she was looking for.

When she came back, she began putting golden chains on you, hanging from a gold collar around your neck, falling down your biceps, down the curves of your naked breasts, low enough to fall just past your hips. You dared another glance in the mirror, wondering if something so cold and with no fabric could still be called lingerie.

“Done. Let’s go,” she shoved at your back, the chains clinking slightly from the jolt as she pushed you out. The metal felt kind of nice, slinking along your skin with every step you took. The collar got hotter with your body heat, being a little uncomfortable but who were you to complain when you had no rights. It wasn’t until you were stopped beside her, a VERY long table with various foods and alcohols, mainly meats and few vegetables - don’t look at the foxian torso and thighs, don’t look at the foxian torso and thighs - that were slightly skewed from everyone picking at it that you felt a shot of self-consciousness. She bowed her head and addressed the warhead, “Master, she is clean and adorned for you.”

Since the day you were born, you were taught that nakedness and privacy didn’t matter. Farm animals didn’t get that decency, foxians don’t get that decency. You can count on one hand you’ve felt the need to cover yourself in front of someone, yet somehow right now, you feel like you need to cover every inch of skin and curl up in a hole to stop the eyes of their leader from clawing into you. Everyone stopped to stare at the new meat that had walked in, yet it was Hoolay that openly ogled you like you were more than just food.

You pretend not to notice the twitching under his belt, cloth moving over a large mound that you were hoping wasn’t for you. He grinned and leant forward, hooking his index under your collar and pulling you towards him, “Perfect, you’re dismissed.”

She and the slaves bowed before leaving you alone in the room full of beasts.

“C’mere,” Hoolay demands, already pulling you tightly against him, sitting you sideways in his lap. He’s so large, colossal, from his shoulder to his elbow alone almost the size of your body. He brings a chunk of meat to your lips, demanding you to eat. When you don’t part your mouth, he huffs and wedges a claw between your teeth, forcing you to open, “Relax, it is just bird.”

Sure enough, you’re inclined to agree, taking the meat from his hand so he’s no longer shoving it down your throat. As you slowly nibble on the meat, you’re lost to the words everyone is speaking around you, their language a mix of your common tongue and their own. You’re pretty confident, however, that they’re discussing about his new prize - you - and how you’ll taste.

Hoolay laughs after someone says something, easily moving you to sit flush against his torso with your back, spreading your legs wide over his thighs. You almost drop the bird meat when you see what he’s doing, releasing the confinements of his half-hard cock to hang over his leg. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he strokes it, moving it to stand hard and leaning against your tense torso. His knot is throbbing between your legs and the tip of him is poking the underside of your breasts, you can’t even imagine what he would feel like inside of you that doesn’t involve pain.

A slave comes beside him with a platter and a golden jug. Hoolay grabs it roughly before pouring the contents over his cock, the substance oozing out and over his dick like a sheer, golden syrup. He tosses the jug away with a clank, disregarding it in favour of smearing the liquid over your thigh, lightly squeezing, his giant maw hotly breathing against your cheek, “Go on. Have a taste. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

He’s so large that there’s no way you could swallow him more than his tip. You go in for a taste, holding the heavy weight below the glands to dutifully suck. The pungent under taste that you’re expecting is overshadowed by whatever he had coated his dick in. The pupils of your eyes blow wide and suddenly you’re suckling on the head like you’re trying to coach his cock to dispel more of the deliciously sweet substance.

Hoolay laughs at you, a low, growling groan emitting as his paw pets back the ears on your head, “Fffuck. That’s a good girl.” You whimper around him when he pushes you down, choking on what little you could swallow. His pre is enough to guzzle down your throat and bubble out of your mouth, it doesn’t ready you for when he cums, buckets of semen forced down your throat and into your stomach. He must’ve been pent up because even after he pulls away, he’s still very much hard. He opens his mouth beside your head, his jaw wide enough to encompass your skull if he really wanted to, laughing at the visage, “Such a tiny mouth for a pitiful creature. I wonder if the hole between your legs will be more accommodating, hm?”

You’re lifted and placed on your back, glistening in syrup and cum under the dim lighting by the candles around the room. Everyone stares in amusement as you dazedly bring your fingers to your mouth, sucking on the digits to get some more of the sweet syrup and hoping to overthrow his taste. It isn’t until you feel a rather large tongue lick up the slit of your pussy that you jerk, a string of saliva connecting to your fingers as you pull them away to gaze between your thighs.

Hoolay’s claws touched as they held one of your thighs up, out of the way for him to get a taste. You were already so wet and waiting, the desire to consume was rushing all throughout your body. Air was forced out of you when he let his heavy cock thud against your stomach, a little cum seeping from the corner of your mouth. Graciously and carefully, he slides a finger inside you and worms it around, stretching your cunt and causing you to moan, “So defiant you were on the ride here. Now look at you, arching into my hand like a pet looking for love from its owner. It feels good to give in to instinct, wouldn’t you agree?”

Even if you could talk, you wouldn’t need to as your tail swishes side to side underneath you, as though accepting his declaration. Your stomach is so full that even with just his fingers you feel you’re about to pop. Your legs fall open for him when he pushes his cock head down your slit and into your hole. You’re so grateful he helped you with the aphrodisiac, even if you wish you hated it, you know being absolutely torn apart would be too brutal to handle.

As a mercy, perhaps for being such a good girl, he takes it slow but doesn’t stop - not until he’s reached as far as he can inside you. Your legs are now propped up and of your stomach wasn’t distended from the mouthfuls of cum before, it certainly was from the massive dick inside you now. Your cheeks puff when he puts pressure on the lump he forms, “I’m impressed, little fox. Even with the amount of syrup used, I didn’t think you’d be able to hold out.”

It’s not until his hips start snapping against yours that you cringe, the movement jostling your insides, motion sickness hidden behind layers of pleasure. Your mouth is open, panting, the cool air the only thing keeping you from losing your mind. However, as ‘kind’ as he’s been, he seems to want to take more from you. His long, flat tongue enters your mouth, you’re gurgling around the muscle in this ruthless kiss. Your eyes roll back and hearing wavers as the oxygen in your lungs is stolen away.

Heavy balls plap against your arse, cum and syrup creating an odd, warm, wet sensation over your skin. You hadn’t realised you were clawing at Hoolay’s face until he retracted, his paws holding your biceps flat in the take with a heavy chunk to hold you down. Bruises were the least of your concerns as you could finally breathe again and consciousness came back, adding with a strong seizure of pleasure corrupting your body. Your clit pulsed and your pussy tightened from the euphoric buildup of oxygen and cock breeding your insides.

A round of cheers and clinking steins was heard in the background during your orgasm, but it was too intense to care and Hoolay had no intentions of stopping. The way your cunt suckled his dick was more than enough to keep him going.

Of course, it wasn’t the last time you would cum in his cock. The way he nipped at your skin and kissed you and licked over your body like he was getting ready to devour you; it all shot straight to your aroused core. Whenever you could form a single thought, though, you would concern yourself with the inevitable worry of his knot.

Hoolay’s knot was swelling to a considerable size and pretty soon you doubt you would be able to hold him. He seemed to realise this, however, because his thrusts were getting deeper and stuttering more often as his knot struggled to enter and escape your cunt. It wasn’t too soon that his hips closely hit against yours, balls tightening and jerking with every spurt of cum. His knot kept him stuck deep inside you, the low growls and groans making you tremble. Your legs were hiked and your stomach was folded, you felt like you were going to throw up as your stomach got fuller… and fuller… “Just look at you,” he grunts, pushing himself against you and making you groan, “Fucked out of your mind, at the mercy on our dinner table. Foxians like you are only good for one thing.”

You couldn’t keep it in, with the amount he was breeding you with, and the position he had you folded in, it was only a matter of time before it came back up. It wasn’t vomit, it was more like his cum didn’t make it all the way down. The semen you swallowed poured out, as though the cum he fucked into you had overflowed out of your mouth. Tears streamed from the corners of your eyes in shame and confusion, your chin, chest, stomach, legs, everything was dirty and smothered in Hoolay’s dna.

He laughed heartily at your pitiful display, cool still nestled deep in, one hand coming under the arch of your back to lift you up and rest against him. He sat back on his chair, idly dragging a claw down your spine, your skin alight with goosebumps. His voice seemed a lot more content now, “Bring out the slaves. It is time for everyone to enjoy themselves.”

You barely recognised what was happening, your consciousness slowly returning to you over time. Crying, means, laughing, scared whimpers were all present thought your minor rest. Eventually, you had the strength to lift your head, seeing you’re not the only unfortunate soul to be used as a plaything. This place truly is horrible.

Finally, Hoolay’s knot had reduced enough to be plucked from your hole. He grabbed one of the chains around you and half heartedly threw you to the floor. You were confused and struggled to push yourself up, only to halt when a hot stream of liquid hit the top of your head. Piss. He was pissing on you, making sure to cover your body in his stench. The face you made could almost be described as betrayal, save for the fact that you had no faith in him to begin with. Once finished, he lets go of his half hard cock and stares into your eyes, “Everyone will smell who you belong to. You will not be able to take one step in this place without me knowing where you are.”

All you can do is grit your teeth, nails digging into the ground. The piss makes the wounds on your wrists sting like crazy, your hair and fur drenched in both cum and urine. It stinks. The bruises on your arms were forming nicely and you can only wait to see how pretty they’ll bloom by morning.

To add salt to the wound, Hoolay pours water into an empty bowl and places it in there for beside you, “You can bathe again later, we must let it soak in so the pheromones stick.” He stands, cocking his head in admiration of his work on you, smiling wickedly, “It’s about time I got myself a pet. And I know you’ll be such a good girl for me.”

Your head falls forward in this defeat, eyes making contact with your exhausted reflection in the water bowl.

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Fourteen} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Elijah Mikaelson x F!Reader} Request {Anon}:Can i request Elijah Mikaelson kinktober with kinks 17, 28,30 and 31? that would be awesome if you could, and reader is straight female, Thank you!

♡♡♡ You have a beautiful mind anon... this combo is DELISH ♡♡♡

1.2k words - Kinks: These sort of kinks just calllll for dom!Elijah... blood drinking, wax play, lingerie && mirror sex...

Elijah was always a self reliant sort of man, not one to ask for help without dire need. And even then, he preferred to shoulder the burden, rather than rely on anyone else. This, naturally, turns a person a bit stubborn when it came to accepting the help of others.

But now, he found himself in a position where he needed help. He was so pent up he was sure he was going to explode.

You didn't realize the kind of mood he was in until you surprised him in a scandalous teddy. It was lacy, white, and pushed your breasts up to look even bigger than they were. But when he looked at you, there was something dark in his gaze, almost predatory, and you couldn't help but be a bit wary of the way his eyes took you in, slowly dragging across your skin as if to devour you.

And then, in a blink, he had you in his lap, facing his large, floor length mirror, and had his mouth on your neck. He held you against him tightly, his erection straining against your backside as he began to suck on the soft skin of your neck.

You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but his grip was like iron, and you could only whimper in pain when his fangs nicked the sensitive skin. "Eli... slow down..."

He growled, and bit down on the already abused flesh, his fangs sinking into your neck.

You gasped in surprise and pain, but didn't fight it as the blood loss made you pliable in his arms.

Elijah loved the view of your blood staining the white lace, the way it made the fabric cling to your breasts and hips. You were a sight to behold, and one only for him.

Your vision was starting to get hazy, but you could feel him pulling away, the sting of his bite fading as he licked and kissed the wound. He planted your feet on his thighs, giving him the full view of the lingerie he loved so much.

"I can see a little wet patch," he said, his voice low and rough as his fingers grazed your clit through the soaked fabric.

You watched the way he slowly moved his finger in circles, and it was hard not to be entranced by the sight of his hand touching you.

Elijah watched as well, his eyes taking in every movement of his fingers, the way your hips bucked towards him, and how your face flushed as your body heated up.

"Look at the way your body responds to me," he murmured.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, your chest rising and falling rapidly as he touched you. You could feel your pulse pounding in your veins, the heat in your face and the fire that had settled in your belly.

He smirked and pulled your underwear aside, and slid two fingers inside your pussy. You whimpered, watching his hand move slowly in and out.

"My, you're dripping," he said with a dark chuckle. "Do you enjoy the way I touch you? The way you look so filthy?"

You could only moan, the sight of his fingers moving in and out of your soaked cunt enough to drive you insane.

"Look at how well your pussy sucks my fingers in," he whispered. "Look how it drips for me."

You whimpered, and watched the way he slid his fingers in and out.

"Do you think I should give it something better?"

You could only whine in response, the way he teased you making you feel like you were about to burst.

Elijah grinned, and withdrew his fingers, and stood up, setting you down on the bed. "Stay here," he ordered, before heading to the closet.

When he returned, you saw him holding a long red candle, the flame flickering as he walked towards the bed.

Your eyes went wide. "What's that for?"

He didn't answer you, just sat back down in front of the mirror and signaled for you to return to his lap. He pulled his cock free and began to stroke it.

"Come sit on me, my love,"

You obeyed, watching yourself in the mirror as his cock slowly sank into you. You could only whimper as his cock stretched you. It was almost too much. The sight of him entering you, and the feeling of him stretching your cunt, the way his cock felt inside you was overwhelming.

With one hand he guided your hips, rocking you slowly up and down on his cock, the other held the candle high above you.

"Are you ready?"

"W-what for?"

The red wax hit the soft skin of your shoulder, and you yelped in pain.

"That," he said, his voice thick with lust.

It was too much, the pleasure of his cock inside you and the hot sting of the wax, the pain of the bite, and the heat that was quickly becoming an inferno in your core.

"You see, pain and pleasure are so intertwined," he said, letting the wax drip down your chest, it looked like little drops of blood, staining the lace. "You feel the pain, and it's sharp, but it fades away, making the pleasure even more intense.

"And if you're a good girl," he continued, the wax sliding down your chest, between your breasts and over your belly, "I'll let you cum."

Another drip of wax fell onto your chest, and you gasped, watching it slide down between your breasts. It burned, but the heat faded into a dull ache, and the sight of the wax staining the white lace was so erotic.

You locked eyes with him in the reflection, his hand still moving slowly as he moved your hips, his eyes filled with desire and passion.

"Do you like the way the candle feels?" he asked.

"Y-yes."

"Good."

The red wax fell onto your chest again, the sting making you wince. Then you felt the sharp pain of his fangs sinking into the tender skin of your neck. His hands moved from your hips to cup your breasts, squeezing them and pinching your nipples.

Your eyes went wide, your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave.

"There's my girl," he murmured, blowing out the candle and tossing it to the side.

He held you to his chest, and thrust his hips up into you, chasing his own pleasure, watching the way you twitched and writhed in his lap.

You were so warm, so wet and tight around him, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

His cock swelled, and his hips stuttered, and he spilled himself inside you, the heat filling you and making your whole body tingle.

You could see his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs, and your cunt pulsing, still clenching and throbbing as your orgasm died down.

He let out a contented sigh, helping you to the bed, and lying beside you. His mood had completely changed, and he was now calm and loving, pulling you close to his chest and kissing you softly.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For indulging me."

"Of course," you said, your voice a bit hoarse. "But you ruined my pretty teddy."

He chuckled. "I'll buy you a new one."

"Can it... Can it be a red one?" You asked, shyly.

He chuckled and kissed you on the forehead. "That's a wonderful idea,"

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[megalony]

A Burden On You

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, based on an anon request. I hope you will all like it, any feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme

911 Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) has a chronic illness and begins to worry that she may be relying on Evan too much. When she has an accident at home, she's too nervous to tell him or ask for help.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Happy birthday," A soft grin lit up (Y/n)'s face and she held out the navy blue and silver striped bag in her hand towards Eddie.

She could feel Evan's arms curve around her waist and a shiver flooded down her spine when he tilted his head to the side and kissed her temple. His fingertips ran up and down her hips and his chest pressed down into her back and shoulders, keeping her pinned against his front.

They both watched Eddie spin on his heels and a glimmer of shock fluttered in his eyes while he formed a bright smile. He happily took the present and leaned to the left to place it down on the table before he reached out for them both. He was careful. He always was when he was around (Y/n), just like the rest of the team. Eddie wanted to hug her but he never knew if he might hurt her or cause her some discomfort.

(Y/n) looped her arms around his shoulders, grinning wider when she became wedged in between them both like they were sardines squashed into a tin.

"You made it. How are you?"

"Good, we're good. I've missed you all, and Chris." (Y/n) patted his shoulder before she sank back into Evan's chest and reached down to hold his wrists that were around her waist.

She hadn't seen anyone from the station in weeks and it always made (Y/n) feel bad when she didn't get to see them or have a catch up.

"He's missed you too."

(Y/n) didn't always like socialising. It wasn't easy to be around people whenever she was in the middle of a flare up. She had fibromyalgia. Chronic pains that affected her in hundreds of different ways; little pains that Evan would barely bat an eyelid at, crippled (Y/n) down in agony. Illnesses flared up her pains and made her feel faint. Cold weather sank into her bones and made her stiff muscles even worse. Headaches felt like hammers tapping away at her head until she was sure her skull was caved in.

When her condition flared, it worsened (Y/n)'s sleep and she had a lot of trouble sleeping. She couldn't usually stay asleep for too long which led her to be tired during the days and if she slept for too long, her muscles seized up and it made walking or bending or any general movement almost impossible.

She had been all ready and lined up to attend the station Christmas party until she has a fall. She had been dosed up on painkillers and on the day of the party, (Y/n) could barely walk. Her leg had shooting pains radiating from her hip to her foot and her leg had seized up for days.

"Where is he?" Evan glanced his eyes around the station while he rested his chin on top of (Y/n)'s head and began swaying them from side to side.

He wanted to see Chris but he couldn't spot him anywhere in the station so far.

They had all decided that since Hen and Bobby were on shift today, they would throw Eddie a big party here at the station. Then at least everyone could be here to celebrate and it was a relaxed atmosphere and there was much more space to party.

"Helping Bobby put the candles on the cake. Which reminds me, I've got a bone to pick with you." Eddie pointed his finger at Evan who was trying his best not to grin.

He squeezed (Y/n)'s hip lightly when she leaned her cheek against his neck. He didn't have to look down to know she was grinning because she knew exactly what Evan had done to wind Eddie up. He couldn't simply turn up to the party and give Eddie a present, Evan had to play some sort of trick on him or mess him about in some way. He had had a quiet word with Chris yesterday ready to wind Eddie up.

"Oh?"

"Thanks for telling him I've just turned forty- which I haven't and you know it. He's been running round telling everyone he can't fit enough candles on my cake."

Eddie hadn't been best pleased this morning when Chris woke him up to wish him a happy birthday and suddenly exclaimed that he was forty. It didn't take long for Eddie to work out where Chris had learned that from. But once they arrived here, Chris gave a handful of candles to Bobby and began telling people he didn't have enough candles for how old his dad was. Eddie wasn't near forty yet, he had a decade to go before he would be forty.

"You're welcome old man."

"Buck we're the same age." The smile slipped from Eddie's face as he planted his hands down on his hips and shook his head.

"I'll go grab us some drinks," Evan kept his voice quiet and hovered his lips over the shell of (Y/n)'s ear. He grinned, brushing his nose against her skin as his grin morphed into a smirk when he knew he had riled Eddie up. He let his lips wander down to (Y/n)'s cheek where he pressed another kiss before he unravelled himself from around her and moved towards the stairs.

"He's just trying to wind you up, don't listen to him." (Y/n) patted Eddie's shoulder before she left him to look through his presents that were steadily piling up on the table.

(Y/n) fluttered around the station floor for a little while and had a quick chat with Hen before she moved towards the stairs. She knew Chris would be up there somewhere and she wanted to see and talk to him. It had been two weeks since Chris had been round to stay with her and Evan and (Y/n) was starting to miss him. He was like their nephew, they were his main babysitters and he regarded them as his aunt and uncle.

It took a while to get herself up the stairs. It didn't matter that her pain was on a very good level today, she still felt stiff today and her legs were barely under her control.

Exercise was one of the main things that helped her condition.

And with Evan being hooked on his training and exercise to help with his job, it was something they did together. Evan would go on runs and do hard training in the morning, but when he wasn't at work, he would train in the afternoon with (Y/n) for a while. They went on a lot of walks as well.

(Y/n) needed to keep moving, if she sat or laid down for too long, her muscles would start to seize up and her pain scale would increase. She was usually on the go from the moment she got up until the moment she went to bed. It didn't matter how slow (Y/n) moved or how little she managed to get done in a day, she was always up and about.

Her eyes found Evan before they scouted round and found Chris. While Chris was trying to fit as many candles on the chocolate cake Bobby made as possible, Evan was stood over near the pool table close by the fire pole.

He had two drinks in hand and his hips were slouched back against the pool table that wasn't being used.

A smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips as she advanced towards him, she could draw Evan into a game of pool while Chris was busy in the kitchen. He loved a game and whenever he lost, especially to (Y/n), he would get fired up and they would keep going until he won at least one round. And (Y/n) was feeling good tonight, she was having a good day and felt able to try and beat Evan in a game or two.

She advanced towards him and tried to see who he was with. (Y/n) didn't recognise her. She was probably one of the new recruits, Evan said they'd had quite a few new recruits in and out of the station in the last week or so.

Evan tried to force himself to smile as he leaned his hips a little further back into the pool table until he was almost sitting on it.

This was the part of parties he didn't like; getting dragged into conversations with people he'd rather not talk to. And Evan was programmed to be kind and polite, it was in his nature so he didn't find it easy to walk away or find excuses to leave.

He didn't want to be talking to Lucy.

She wasn't someone Evan was very fond of, she was very full of herself and she didn't fit well with the team. She seemed to want to do things her own way and work on her own rather than work with them all as a team. And the last time they had all been out to a club after work, Lucy had tried to kiss him.

That night had been forgotten. Evan had politely declined and hurried away as fast as he could, and from then onwards, Evan did his best to avoid Lucy. They both tried to be polite and pretend it didn't happen but he didn't want to be around her when she always tried to get a bit too close to him and she didn't understand he didn't want to be around her like this.

"So, you've brought you're girlfriend this time?" Lucy took a long sip of her beer and leaned her right arm out on the balcony rail. The way she tilted her head to the side and smiled made Evan shiver uneasily.

"(Y/n) always comes with me to the station parties." Evan's lips quirked into a dazed, slightly confused smile.

Why was she so surprised? This was a party and families and partners were always invited to tag along. And this party was for Eddie. He was Evan's best friend and therefore he was close to (Y/n). Of course she would be here to see Eddie and celebrate with everyone.

"You didn't bring her to the Christmas party, did you?"

"No, she wasn't very well."

Evan bit the corner of his lip and looked down at his feet. Why was she doing this? Where was she going with this conversation?

Christmas had been difficult for everyone. They had numerous emergencies, all of them had been called in for extra shifts at one point or another. Chris hadn't been very well, he had a bad chest infection which meant Eddie was stressed. And then (Y/n)'s condition had flared up and she could barely walk so Evan had been anxious and desperate to stay home with her to look after her.

He turned up for an hour at the Christmas party, then he went home to stay with (Y/n). It felt better to be at home than trying to party and have a good time when he wasn't feeling the festive mood.

"Oh, Hen mentioned she has fibromyalgia. Isn't that a bit, annoying, for you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Something dangerous burned in Evan's eyes and his smile turned into a broken grimace as he looked down at her. Whatever she was thinking, she best not say it to Evan because he wasn't going to hold his tongue or mince his words here if she went down this road. He wasn't in the mood for someone to start disrespecting his partner.

And the way Lucy leaned back and shrugged her shoulders gave off such a casual vibe that made Evan feel worse. She was openly being rude and stood so normal as if she wasn't doing anything wrong.

"I just mean that you're always looking after her, you're not meant to be her carer Buck, you have a life. It makes her quite a burden on you."

A tremor rattled through (Y/n) and she turned around quickly before Evan realised she had been close enough to hear. Tears burned in her eyes but she pushed them away and coiled her arms around her waist. She needed to move; quickly. Before Evan turned or looked over his shoulder and noticed she was here. (Y/n) couldn't deal with the conversation that would follow if he knew she had just heard that.

Her eyes locked on Chris who had finished adding all the candles he had onto the chocolate cake. She made a beeline towards the kitchen and stood next to him and Bobby, leaning down to kiss his temple when he looked up at her with a grin that made her heart swell.

A single tear traced down her cheek but (Y/n) quickly swiped it away and tried to take a steady breath to control herself.

"Dad's cake."

"He's gonna love it… although I don't know how long it will take him to blow out all those candles." Her voice came out oddly steady considering how uneasy and wobbly she felt.

Was she truly a burden on Evan? (Y/n) did her best not to call him if he was at work and she wasn't well or had a problem. She always told him to go out with the guys from work or his friends even if she didn't feel well enough to join. (Y/n) pushed Evan to do things and live his life and not stop or hang around for her.

At least, that's what she thought she did.

Did she hold Evan back? Did she burden him and make him care for her too much? Was he becoming her carer instead of her partner?

Evan was a busy man, he had a very demanding job and (Y/n) would hate to be a demanding girlfriend who stole his attention and all of his free time. Maybe she needed to try and make sure she didn't rely on him as much. Maybe, if she had another flare up, it would be best to keep it from Evan and try to look after herself. He couldn't always be there to help her and do things for her or look after her; (Y/n) needed to look after herself and put less strain on Evan.

"Listen to me," Evan pushed himself up off the pool table and took a step closer until he was towering over Lucy with a menacing look and a fire burning deep within his eyes. "I don't know who gave you the right to judge, but you need to stop. Now. I'm her partner, so whether or not I look after her- which is something I have every right to do- that's none of your business."

How could she stand there and talk to him like that when she didn't know anything about him and (Y/n)?

If Evan wanted to look after (Y/n) and help her when she was ill, he had every reason and right to do that. (Y/n) never asked, Evan didn't even offer, he just looked after her because he loved her and he wanted to. Evan had a deep rooted sense of wanting to be needed and if he felt needed, he would do everything he could to look out for his family and do anything for them.

He loved (Y/n), he loved looking after her and making sure she was alright and Evan would never want (Y/n) to think she had to cope alone when he was right here.

"Don't talk about my girlfriend like that again."

Evan glared down at Lucy until she held her hands up in surrender and looked down at his chest to avoid his furious gaze.

He turned around and left her standing there before he ripped into her even further and caused a scene. The fire burning in his chest simmered down when he looked across at the kitchen and caught sight of (Y/n). She was stood with one arm around Chris in front of a cake with the most amount of candles on that Evan had ever seen.

Evan leaned over and placed the two cups down on the counter beside the cake before he wrapped an arm around (Y/n)'s waist. His arm curved around her middle so his hand could curl over her hip and he tucked his face into her neck.

He felt the way she shivered when he kissed her neck but when he looked down, his brows furrowed. She was tapping her fingers against the counter and he could see her biting down on her lower lip so much she was almost drawing blood. She was anxious about something.

His head tilted up and he pecked her jaw, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

"Everything okay?"

"Hmm. I'm gonna record you all, Chris wants you to help him give Eddie the cake."

He muttered a quiet 'sounds good' against her jaw and began smoothing his thumb over her hip. He wasn't entirely satisfied that she was alright, it was almost as if Evan could feel the unease radiating off of her and through to him and Evan hated not knowing if something was wrong or upsetting her.

But if she told him everything was alright, Evan wouldn't push the matter. He would take her word for it.

***

Tears streaked down (Y/n)'s face as she raked her hands up and down her thighs and down over her knees. Her eyes were starting to become puffy and sore and it only made her feel worse when she couldn't seem to stop herself from sniffing and letting herself wallow and weep.

Today wasn't a good day.

She had been tired enough to oversleep this morning and while the extra sleep had done her some good, it didn't help her legs. She had woken with knees so stiff they started to throb when she tried to walk about. Pins and needles had raked up and down her left leg from her hip to her knee and had lasted until mid-afternoon.

Everything hurt. (Y/n) didn't know why today she was having a flare up, but everything ached and burned and felt like she was being cut to pieces. Banging her shin on the corner of the couch had left her a crying mess even though it was a light bash. Small pains felt like the end of the world when her fibromyalgia was playing up.

Every hour, (Y/n) had forced herself to get up and move about, just to walk around the apartment and get some movement back. She didn't go on her usual walk outside because she didn't feel up to doing it alone.

Evan was at work until lunchtime tomorrow and when he was at work, (Y/n) usually skipped her daily walk because she hated to go out alone. She knew she wasn't burdening Evan by their daily walk because he loved his exercise so it benefited both of them.

Reaching up, (Y/n) dragged her hands down her face and wiped away the tears as she tried to take a deep breath. She had been laid in bed for just over an hour and she needed to move about. She would be going to sleep soon and sleeping made her stiffness worse so she had to do another lap around the apartment before she settled for the night. (Y/n) already knew she wouldn't be sleeping well tonight, both because she was in too much pain and because Evan wouldn't be here with her.

A silent string of curse words muttered beneath her breath when she started to walk away from the bed.

Her legs were barely moving.

Her left leg had gone back to being numb and useless and her right thigh was shaking when she tried to walk. She was going to have to keep moving for a while now to reduce the pain as much as she could before she went to sleep.

(Y/n)'s left hand grabbed the handrail and her right hand glided down the wall to help ease herself down the stairs.

Sometimes she felt like a little old woman when her legs barely moved and her fingers didn't want to curl or bend or move the right way. She felt like she needed to go up and down the stairs on her bum or her hands and knees. It was utterly humiliating if she was ever at someone else's house during a flare up. Walking and hobbling around like this was bad enough when she had to do this in front of Evan.

It had taken (Y/n) a while to let Evan see her like this, she didn't want him to pity her or look at her any differently.

And he didn't. If she wasn't feeling well, he would walk behind her and hold her hands or her hips and help her up and down the stairs. He would carry her if she asked or if she just gave him that certain look. He loved carrying her around, it was his favourite thing to do.

"No-"

A gasp burned in the back of (Y/n)'s throat when her foot slipped. She barely felt her heel scrape against the lower step but she couldn't hold onto the bannister and hold her weight up to stop her from falling. The pain of her back hitting the stairs blinded her and stopped her breathing but when she slid down to the left and smashed the left side of her chest against three steps, a scream tumbled past her lips.

Her body turned into a trembling, shaking mess on the floor when she finally stopped falling and landed with a horrid slap at the bottom of the stairs.

Her arms shakily coiled into her chest but her breaths burned into another scream and she stretched her arms back out.

Her chest was on fire. It felt like she was laid on hot coals. The pain was horrendous, like a knife stabbing into her ribs. Tingling sensations shot down the base of her spine. She could barely feel her legs except for the spiking pins and needles tearing through her muscles that went right down to her heels which were thudding and felt like pins were prodding at her heels.

Tears began to pour down her face and her wet lips wobbled and bubbled as she tried to breathe but ended up gasping and crying out loudly.

Her fingers were curled into her palms and (Y/n) didn't have enough control or will power to straighten them out. She shuffled her trembling hand around to the right side of her chest beneath her bra strap.

She had broken her ribs.

(Y/n) knew they were broken without having to touch them. She had broken a few bones in her life and she knew her pain levels. Her pain was more concentrated and a lot worse than what other people experienced. Small things were amplified and things like broken bones or torn muscles felt like she had been shredded to pieces.

Inching forwards, (Y/n) tried to slide until her back was no longer wedged against the bottom step.

Moving wasn't going to be easy. She doubted it was even going to be an option right now.

(Y/n) didn't have the energy to drag herself back up the stairs that had now become her enemy.

She wasn't going to crawl into the bathroom around the corner because she couldn't be bothered to dwell in there and cry. There was no energy to try and bandage herself up and patch herself back together.

The sofa was too far away to crawl to and her phone was upstairs on the bed so she couldn't call for help.

No!

No. (Y/n) was not going to call anyone for help. She didn't want paramedics coming round to take her to hospital. She wasn't waiting all through the night in A&E only to have an X-ray and be told she could be bandaged up and sent home with stupid painkillers that never worked to take the edge off. And (Y/n) wasn't calling Maddie and having her friend and sister see her like this. It wouldn't be fair to ruin her night like that.

She couldn't call Evan.

No way could (Y/n) call Evan when he was at work. She wasn't going to panic him and drag him home and make him care for her. He would have to help her back up the stairs and patch her up and console her and (Y/n) was not going to be the burden everyone seemed to think she was. She had to look after herself, Evan wasn't here and he couldn't always come home to look after her.

It didn't matter how much she wanted Evan to come home and hug her right now, she was on her own and that was how things had to stay.

A groan tumbled past her lips when she flopped onto her right ride and heaved herself to lay facing the stairs. Her arms stretched out in front of her so they weren't cocooned to her chest and causing her anymore unnecessary pain. She did what she could to straighten her legs out and stop them from throbbing and aching as much.

Her chin tucked down into her chest and she closed her eyes, despite the tears pouring down her face that would surely flood the apartment soon.

No, (Y/n) would stay here until she felt recovered enough to get herself back upstairs into bed.

***

It took (Y/n) well over fifteen minutes to heave herself up the stairs. It seemed pointless and futile to try getting up during the night when she was throbbing and aching and still drenched in tears. (Y/n) spent the night on the floor. She knew either way she wouldn't be sleeping and she had no effort to climb up the stairs just to lay and cry in bed.

Staying on the floor was easier and let her recover her energy. It was well into the morning by the time she managed to find the will power to start her ascent up the stairs. Her knees bashed and twanged against the steps and it made her whole body shudder each time. Her fingers dug into the steps and she leaned her weight onto the wall as she sat and shuffled up.

When she was up the stairs, She crawled over to the bed and spent another five minutes trying to heave herself up.

It was surprising how quickly sleep overtook (Y/n) once she flopped onto her stomach on the bed. Her body was exhausted. Her chest was in immense agony. Her brain was on last reserves. She had spent the night laid on the floor, unable to sleep and unable to move.

She didn't know what time she managed to get into bed, just that it was late into the morning. And she didn't know how long she slept for, just that it had to of been for a while because she managed to hear the front door opening.

If (Y/n) was more herself and less drained, she would of tried to get up and meet Evan at the door or at the very least, meet him at the top of the stairs. She wanted to get up and move about and stop him from realising something had happened for her to now be in bed at lunchtime. But she was aching and broken and felt too defeated to care.

Her arms curled around Evan's shirt that had been left on the bed and she burrowed her face into his pillow, breathing in his scent to try and stay calm and drowsy. She shuffled down a little until the cover was over her shoulder and mostly hiding her whole body and head from view.

Why couldn't she just disappear?

Why was Evan with her? Why did he love her when she truly was a burden? She was to much effort. Too much hassle. Demanding. In pain. Needy. Everything was wrong with her-

"Babe… baby, where are you?" Evan's sing-song voice rang out through the apartment as he dumped his bag down by the front door and moved towards the living room.

His lips pulled into a frown when he realised the tv wasn't on and (Y/n) wasn't downstairs. He knew her shoes and keys were still by the door along with her bag so she hadn't gone out anywhere. He knew the bathroom and kitchen were empty so he headed up the stairs.

He could feel his heart racing in his chest when he looked around the bedroom. The curtains were still closed; (Y/n) always opened them as soon as she woke up. She loved to look out at the view in the morning, especially on a sunny day like this. The tv was on but it was showing the news. (Y/n) didn't watch the news; she hated it. There was a glass on the floor and juice soaked into the carpet. Clothes and pillows were thrown onto the floor.

What had she been doing?

"Sweetheart, what are you doing? What's up?" Shockwaves rattled through Evan as he moved to kneel down in front of the bed.

He laid his arms out on the bed and carefully peeled back the cover while his chin propped up on his exposed arm. He brushed his finger across (Y/n)'s cheek and swiped his thumb across her lower lip, pulling it gently until she finally opened her eyes to blearily look over at him.

Evan knew her like the back of his hand. Her sleep pattern was always troubled because like Evan struggled to switch off or stay asleep due to his hyperactiveness and his job, (Y/n) struggled due to her fibromyalgia. They had routines to stop her from being in so much pain. She never slept in, especially not this late. She was always up and moving about to keep her muscles loose and working and from seizing up.

"Tired," (Y/n) tilted her head and kissed the palm of Evan's hand which she knew tickled him because his finger twitched against her cheek.

"Couldn't you sleep?" When she shook her head, Evan moved his hand and slowly carded his fingers through her hair. "Well, do you want to get up with me? Maybe a walk will make you feel better?"

They usually had a walk after dinner. Evan knew if (Y/n) stayed in bed for much longer she would feel worse when she eventually tried to get up and he hated to see her in pain. They could have lunch and go for a walk and try to stay busy for the afternoon so she could feel better and sleep well tonight. Evan would be here tonight anyway and she slept better when he was with her, he always knew that.

"Hm."

"Well I'll go grab a shower then we can head out, sound good?" He leaned across to kiss her before he got up and started to rummage around for some fresh clothes.

(Y/n) didn't dare look at her chest when she tried to get changed. Her fingers felt a little less tense than earlier so it was easier to change her shirt but lifting her arms high had her wincing and gasping in pain. She dragged her fingers through her hair and put it up into a loose ponytail but when she dragged her numb feet towards the stairs, shudders ran through her.

What if she fell again? What if she couldn't walk down properly?

(Y/n) didn't want to go downstairs. She didn't want to take the risk and hurt herself again. She didn't want Evan to see her be so stupid and silly and fall like she did last night.

Shivers rolled through her aching muscles and her chest twinged in agony when she looked at the stairs again. Tears welled in her eyes and she suddenly moved to sit down at the top of the stairs. Shuffling down would have to do for now.

She shuffled down one step before she cried out and leaned nearer to the wall. The thumping vibration made her chest jolt and stole the air from her lungs. Her forehead slumped onto the wall and her nails dug into her knees until she was sure she was drawing blood beneath her leggings.

"Baby, you alright up there?" Evan leaned against the bottom of the bannister but his smile faded again when he realised (Y/n) was in tears.

He joggd up the stairs until he was close enough to kneel down in front of her with her knees pressed up into his chest. He smoothed his hands up and down her thighs and kissed her thigh.

"You're really having a bad day, hm? Come on, let's get you down."

(Y/n) didn't want him to help. She didn't want to ask Evan for help, but she wasn't truly asking and he wasn't being put out. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden, but was she being a burden if Evan was only offering to help her down the stairs? He helped her all the time, did that count as being annoying to him?

And she didn't want to go down the stairs on her own. Not after last night. Her body was shaking just at the thought.

(Y/n) momentairely forgot about her damaged ribs until Evan tried to slip his arms around her waist. When he helped her he usually lifted her up and sat her on his hips so he could carry her on his front. He would squeeze her thighs and kiss her neck and tell her he wasn't putting her down until she had kissed him at least a hundred times.

The moment Evan pressed his arms into her sides and placed his hands down on her back, (Y/n) cried out. It was hard not to scream and she choked on a gurgling cry when Evan tensed and froze in front of her.

"What? What did I do?" Panic surged through Evan's voice and he tried to pull back to look down at her but she wouldn't let him.

Her face tucked into his neck and her trembling arms curled around his neck to stop him from trying to move away from her. Evan gulped when he felt (Y/n) begin to whimper into his neck and her shaking broke through into him and made him rock back and forth on the stairs.

"Baby, you're scaring me."

"J-just a bad day… my chest hurts t-that's all."

He didn't believe that, but Evan wasn't going to push the subject here on the stairs. He tried to think how to get her down without touching or hurting her chest.

"Let's try get you down, tell me to stop if you need to." He moved his hands down beneath her bum and cupped the top of her thighs. He leaned his weight backwards and very slowly straightened up to keep his balance so he didn't topple them both backwards down the stairs. Once he was stood up, Evan kept his hands on her bum and turned around to start walking down.

He could still feel the way she was shaking against him and her breaths were fast and shallow against his neck. She wasn't well today and it was worrying him to no end.

(Y/n) braced her hands on his shoulders and slowly uncurled her legs from Evan's hips until she was stood on her feet again.

Her head started to spin and her breaths started to run away without her. Each breath was starting to hurt. It was like taking a proper breath made her ribs splinter and break all over again and the thought had more tears rushing down her face. But she wiped them away and turned towards the door. She needed to put her shoes on and grab her jacket.

A walk would do her some good and hopefully take some of the pain away and make it more bearable. She would grab some painkillers when they came back and dose up so she could breathe and speak and move without worrying Evan. She wasn't going to panic him any more than this.

"We're not going if you're in this much pain. What did you do, bump into the door or something, baby?"

Evan braced his hands on his hips and cocked a hip to the side when (Y/n) looked down at his arm. He knew she tended to focus on his tattoos to distract herself when she couldn't look him in the eye.

"I'm okay. I need to keep moving, let's go on a walk." (Y/n) swiped the remaining tears from her face and tried to take proper breaths to calm herself down.

Anger tore through Evan when he watched (Y/n) turn her back on him and move towards the door. She wasn't well, he could see it. He could see the way she was still breathing fast and shallow and she was shuffling rather than walking. Her legs must be stiff and him touching her chest made her cry. Something wasn't right and she wasn't telling him.

When (Y/n) leaned down to pick up her shoe, Evan saw the way she winced and moved a hand to cradle her side but even her light touch seemed to burn her and make her whimper.

He wasn't playing this game.

Evan kept his steps light and agile and the moment he stood behind (Y/n), he didn't give her chance to argue or try and ward him away.

"Evan-"

A shriek tore past (Y/n)'s lips and she leaned forward to brace her hand on the wall when she felt Evan behind her. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it up before she could stop him. He pulled it up to her shoulders and let the hem of her shirt fold over her shoulders and neck so he could see what she was trying to hide from him.

"Evan, I- I-"

"What the fuck happened to you?!" His hands hovered over her sides but he didn't dare touch her. He let her turn around in front of him and it let him see the damage more clearly. Bruising had bloomed all along her back and around the left side of her chest. Various colours ranging from black to purple to splotches of red and brown. She was a canvas that had been splattered with paint.

What had she done? What happened while he had been at work? Why on Earth didn't she call him?

A small knock to any part of (Y/n)'s body caused her immense pain so Evan couldn't imagine the agony she was going through with these kinds of bruises.

"What. Happened?" Evan held (Y/n)'s chin between his thumb and finger and tilted her head up so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. He could feel his resolve crumbling when tears started to drench down her face but he wasn't budging until she told him what had gone on here.

"I fell."

"You fell? Fell into what, baby? This is bad… Christ baby girl this is real bad." Evan crouched down in front of her and moved his hands to hold her hips. He kissed her stomach and felt a shiver tear through her abdomen before he looked around her chest. He tried to dance his fingertips along her chest as delicately as he could. Evan knew she was sensitive at the best of times but even more so when she was hurt.

He didn't want to touch her and add any more pain, but he wanted to see the extent of her damage. The way she cringed and cried out and grabbed his shoulders made Evan feel tears welling up in his own eyes.

"I think you've definitely broken a few… come on, talk to me."

(Y/n) stayed silent, rolling her lips together as she moved one hand to point towards the stairs.

"What… oh- fuck no. You fell down the stairs?" Evan pulled back up and dragged his fingers through his hair. "Why the Hell didn't you call me? Baby you've broken your ribs, you could have broken your neck why wouldn't you call me to come home? Why didn't you tell me when I came in?"

Tears traced down (Y/n)'s face before she could stop herself and her hands moved up to cover her face. She could feel each shallow breath panting into the palm of her hands and her tears soaked into her fingers. She didn't want to be doing this. She didn't want to be crying her eyes out in front of Evan like this, but she couldn't stop herself.

She couldn't seem to do anything right. All she did seemed to go wrong or make things worse and now she had panicked and upset Evan when that was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Baby why didn't you call me-"

"Because I'm not being a burden to you!"

(Y/n) dropped her hands back down before she smoothed them up and down her thighs to try and stop them from shaking and sweating. She could feel herself hiccupping through her words and her chest felt like it was shredded to pieces with each fast breath she panted.

But it was the look in Evan's eyes that made her heart drop down to the pit of her stomach.

His blue eyes seemed to turn five shades darker until they were navy blue, bordering on black. Redness swelled beneath his eyes and a sheet of crimson burned along his neck and flushed his face.

His brows furrowed and he seemed to straighten up and become taller at the same time as he took a step back.

Evan didn't understand. What had he done to give her that impression? What did he say to her out of context or in passing or without thinking that made (Y/n) wonder if she had become a burden to him? Whatever he had done, he didn't mean it. Evan never wanted her to have that kind of impression and he thought he had done everything right so she wouldn't ever think like that.

"Why would you say that?" The utter defeat in Evan's voice made a sob burn at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she tilted her head back as if it would somehow push all the tears to the back of her head.

"Because I am."

"What did I do?" His question left her stumped. Their conversations had shifted, he was on a different track completely. "What did I say to make you think that?"

(Y/n) moved her hands and tangled her trembling fingers together, shaking her hands out to try and release some nervous energy but it only made her fingers ache. Why was Evan on that track? He had never done anything that made her feel like she was a burden to him and she had never said something like this to him before. (Y/n) would never want Evan to think that way because there was nothing he could do that would make her think bad of him. Ever.

"Evan…" Her wrist swiped beneath her eye and collected a fresh stream of tears. "Everyone sees it. T-they see how I burden you… I can't rely on you for everything and keep doing this to you."

"Who the fuck told you that?"

Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip deep enough to draw specks of blood that pooled around her tongue and made her cringe. She could barely see Evan due to the tears cascading down her face and she wasn't sure she wanted to see his reaction either.

Her head tilted back to look up at the high ceiling above them when she whispered "Eddie's party."

A gasp tumbled past her swollen lips when Evan's hands suddenly cupped her face. She didn't hear or see him move. He stood directly in front of her, close enough that (Y/n) could feel each turbulent breath that fanned past his lips and mingled with her own. She could feel his rough chest rising and falling less than a centimetre away from her own and she couldn't look anywhere but at his eyes when he tilted her head back.

His thumbs glided across her burning face just beneath her eyes and he brushed the tip of his nose against hers until her breathing hitched and her nose twitched and tickled.

"That was one person who knows nothing about us. Baby, no one else thinks like that, no one else is that warped and stupid. What she came out with doesn't matter-"

"It does! Evan you… you shouldn't have to be my carer-"

"The only thing that matters here is us. If I tell you I wanna look after you then I will and no one can say shit about it. You're not making me do anything. If I wanna carry you up and down those stairs for the rest of my life, I'll do it. If I wanna stay home and help you when you're having a rough day, that's my choice. No one is forcing me to do anything, I look after my girl because I love you."

There was nothing anyone could say that would make Evan feel differently about this or make him see things differently.

Lucy had no right to say what she did and he wished to God that (Y/n) hadn't heard, or that she had at least listened to what he said in retaliation.

It didn't matter what anyone said because they weren't in this relationship. Evan wanted to look after (Y/n) when she was ill, he wanted to stay home and make sure she was resting and had her meds and he wanted to help her go on walks and exercise to feel better. He wanted to pick her up when she couldn't climb the stairs herself. Evan wanted to stay home with her rather than go out alone and have a boring time he would regret.

Evan was never going to regret staying home with (Y/n) or helping her or looking after her because he loved her and he saw caring for her as a sign of his love. It wasn't a habit or a ritual or a job he had to do.

Nothing would make him see this situation any differently.

"You should have called me."

"And say what? Evan you're a fireman, I c- I can't make you come home when you're at work and your job is important-"

"(Y/n) you're important too!" His tone and pitch took (Y/n) by surprise and she shuddered when his thumbs pressed into her cheekbones so he could get her to look at him again. "If you have a fall and you're hurt, then I expect you to call me. I don't want you hiding things like this from me. My job is just that, it's a job and it doesn't mean more to me than my family."

If she got hurt, Evan wanted to know. He wanted her to call him whether she was crying or screaming or half passed out on the floor. Evan wanted her to ring him and tell him she was injured and she needed help. He wanted to be the one to help her and if he couldn't come home right away, he would make sure someone was there with her.

He didn't want to sit at work being none the wiser that she was hurt. It ground Evan down and made him angry beyond reason that he had been thinking everything was fine when (Y/n) had clearly been in agony, home alone.

She should have called him.

"Promise me you won't try and hide things like this from me."

"I promise," Her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper carried away on the wind, but it was enough for Evan. It was enough to calm the storm raging through his soul and make him finally take a proper, deep breath.

He leaned down and closed the distance between them. Tasting her lips, stealing her breath, swiping his tongue across the little flecks of blood welling up on her lower lip. He let his fingers slide down to curl across the side of her neck while his nose brushed hers and his lips stayed hovering over hers even after they pulled back.

"Now please, let me take you to get checked out."

[extremely-judgemental]

Long Post

Feyre doesn't love anyone. This is a speculation and I don't have the strength to go through the books again. So, take this with a grain of salt.

Her mortal relationships. All her life, Feyre feels neglected by her family. She is estranged from her sisters, though they are close to her age, and her father. She has no friends before her family fell into poverty or after. The only one she gets close to is Isaac with whom she shares an intimate relationship but no emotional bond. She treats him as a distraction and a means to numb her pain. At this point, she’s so out of touch with her feelings that she can’t identify them—like the time Nesta brings up Isaac and Feyre vaguely feels something close to jealousy but nothing more, which is more likely her fear of losing her emotional outlet.

Tamlin. In Spring, Feyre unwittingly bonds with Lucien and Tamlin. But she never comes to fully trust them as she’s used to relying on only herself. She develops an attachment with Tamlin, in a grateful sort of way, once he becomes someone she needed all her life—someone who saw her, someone who cared for her, someone she expected her family to be. She risks her life for him, but it’s not just out of love. Feyre has the tendency to take every burden upon herself. It makes her feel invaluable and useful. Proof—she takes up hunting when she could have done anything else. It fulfils the promise she made to her mother. The higher the risks, the better. Even if she fails, she tried everything to take care of her loved ones and she can’t be blamed. This applies to saving Tamlin too.

Moreover, Feyre thrives in danger. When she’s first brought to Spring, the danger is Tamlin himself. But it fades as she starts to see him for who he is, so she seeks more—like going to Calanmai when she’s clearly warned to stay put and when she knows other fae are going to be present. Later, loving Tamlin becomes the ultimate danger for a mortal like her.

After Under the Mountain, Spring is not gratifying anymore. Feyre is bored. For the majority of her life, she’s played saviour for her family and then Tamlin. That sense of identity slips away the longer she is in Spring as Tamlin becomes her protector. She keeps chasing him into danger knowing Amarantha’s cronies and other creatures are on the prowl outside their mansion because she wants to be useful again, she wants a purpose.

Also, Feyre never admits she’s in love with Tamlin until she hears him say it. After learning of the mating bonds, she waits for it to happen between the two before she decides if she can love him. Her real feelings would have been proven if she had declared her love sooner breaking the curse.

Rhysand. This also corroborates why Feyre feels alive every time she leaves Tamlin because of the bargain. She’s still locked inside a castle atop a mountain day and night which no one enters or leaves besides Rhysand and Morrigan—same condition that suffocated her in Spring. She has no one to talk to or can do none of the things she fought for with Tamlin. But it satiates her urges since she is in enemy territory.

Feyre low-key wants to be in grave situations digging her way out and so, she’s open to her life with Rhysand. The foundation of their relationship is his willingness to thrust her into one adventure after the other in the name of saving lives. Also, sex and being reckless are Feyre’s coping mechanisms which she gets in abundance with Rhysand.

This could be a stretch but Feyre is quick to forgive Rhysand about keeping the complications of her pregnancy from her. For months, she’s safe in their safest mansion in their safest city, protected by a personal magic bubble. The pregnancy itself now poses the danger she craves and it’s easy to justify with whatever reason she’s fed because that’s the norm by now. Again with Rhysand, she never recognises her emotions other than her attraction. It’s after Suriel slips the truth to her, she decides she’s in love with Rhysand.

Nyx. Feyre’s reason for wanting a child is quite twisted. She doesn’t want one for the sake of having a child or nurturing a life, but she wants an extension of Rhysand. She’s afraid of losing her mate and wants to preserve a part of him in her life. That’s who Nyx will always be to her. This will be problematic when Nyx grows into his own person and deviates from being more than a reflection of Rhysand. Feyre may start controlling every aspect of his life until he fits the mould.

Inner Circle. Feyre’s friendship with the Inner Circle is circumstantial. They are the only ones she meets and bonds with in Velaris. They accept her long before they know her because of Rhysand. Morrigan is aware she is his mate while Azriel and Cassian suspect it. Moreover, they see her as the one who freed their friend and brought him back home. None of them love her for who she is and Feyre never sees them for who they are. This severely hinders her ability to decide if they are worthy of her friendship, yet she eventually accepts them because Rhysand regards him highly. (If this doesn’t make sense, Nesta and Feyre have similar personalities and attitudes but they both are treated very differently.)

Love = Control. Feyre confuses responsibility with love a lot. None of her treatment towards her sisters, however manipulative, is not out of love but she still lives by the promise. Her idea of taking care of someone is controlling their lives. She keeps Elain close and meddles with her relationship with Lucien or Azriel. She lets Inner Circle break Nesta down, ensuring she never defies them. She extends this to Lucien too after they leave Spring. The concept of love is so warped in her mind and she vilifies anyone who doesn’t let her dominate them—Tamlin, Lucien, Nesta.

Feyre’s obsession with life-threatening situations is similar to an abuse survivor’s need for abuse to keep their life thrilling and familiar. She rejects Tamlin (ignoring the domestic violence) and Tarquin for the same reason—they don’t offer her that excitement she seeks. With Inner Circle’s hero complex, Feyre lacks none of this entertainment. Her relationship with Rhysand is a series of her coping mechanisms—sex, war, sex on a loop. Feyre never heals. If she had, she would have a better grasp of her emotions and developed the ability to love others without conditions.

[gojozballs]

Gojo x Reader x Geto "Squid Game"

Warning: [This story contains graphic violence, including gunshots, deaths, and gore. There are intense scenes of emotional distress, with themes of fear and trauma, and Yandere]

Just finished Squid Game, and I’m lowkey obsessed! Had to whip this up hope you enjoy!

Materialist

Part 1

In a deadly game where survival is the only option, Y/N, with a painful injury, relies on her two protective boyfriends, Satoru and Suguru, to navigate the perilous chaos, unaware that the true threat lies right beside her

Y/n's POV

The air was thick with the sound of screams sharp, guttural, and unrelenting. I stood frozen, my body tense and rigid, as the men in red masks moved methodically, their guns glinting in the harsh light. They were playing a twisted game of Red Light, Green Light, and anyone who dared to move at the wrong moment was met with swift, merciless punishment.

A woman nearby cried out in panic, "Fuck, I moved!" Her voice shattered, and before her words could even die, a gunshot rang out. Her body crumpled to the ground, lifeless. I hadn’t even begun to run yet, my injured leg throbbing with every passing second. The pain was unbearable each step felt like a small eternity. There was no way I could outrun death in this state.

Suddenly, a body collided with mine, sending me crashing to the ground. The impact made my injured leg flare with agony.

“Ahh!” I cried out, tears stinging my eyes. I gasped in pain, looking up to see Suguru, my boyfriend, kneeling beside me. His face was a mixture of worry and determination, but even he couldn’t mask the fear in his eyes.

“Y/N, baby, are you okay?” His voice was gentle, but his hands were firm, gripping me as if I might shatter under the weight of this nightmare. I nodded weakly, swallowing the lump in my throat. I wasn’t okay. I never would be again.

Nearby, a man who had been begging for mercy was shot without a second thought, his desperate cries echoing in the air.

“There’s a time limit,” Satoru’s voice cut through the tension, now cold and urgent. “We need to move, or we’re as good as dead.” His piercing blue eyes swept across the chaos, calculating our best chance of survival.

I whimpered, the pain in my leg gnawing at me, making me feel useless. “I’m sorry... I can’t help. I can’t even run.” My voice cracked, and I wiped away the tears staining my cheeks. “I don’t want to get you killed because I’m a burden.”

Satoru’s jaw tightened, and he crouched down beside me. “Get Y/N on my back, Suguru. We’re going to rush this shit.” His tone left no room for argument.

Suguru carefully lifted me onto Satoru’s back. “Hold on tight, okay?” he said, his voice soothing even in the chaos. I clung to Satoru, hating myself for being a burden. They didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve them.

“Red light!” The robot’s chilling voice echoed across the field, and everyone froze. Even breathing felt like a risk.

“Green light!”

Satoru and Suguru took off, their movements precise and calculated. Despite the burden of carrying me, Satoru moved with incredible speed, while Suguru stayed close, shielding us from the chaos.

A certain purple-haired man caught up to us, his sinister smile sending chills down my spine. “Nice treatment for you, little lady. Or should I say princess?” he sneered, running beside Satoru. His tone was mocking, but his intentions were anything but harmless.

Satoru’s teeth clenched, his usual cocky smirk replaced with a dangerous glare. I could feel the tension in his shoulders as I held on. “Keep running,” I whispered softly, trying to calm him down.

Suguru’s voice broke the tense silence. “Why? Does someone want to be a princess too? I can help with that.” His taunt was laced with venom, and the man’s smirk faltered.

“Red light!”

The purple-haired man’s face twisted into a grimace. “There’s a bug on your shoulder,” he hissed. Then, a scream pierced the air, followed by a gunshot. My stomach churned, but I didn’t dare look back.

“Green light!”

I turned instinctively, but Satoru’s voice stopped me. “Do not look back,” he ordered, his tone softer but no less firm. “Promise me, Y/N. We’re getting out of here unharmed.”

His words were grounding, but the fear in my chest wouldn’t subside. Tears blurred my vision, and my body trembled uncontrollably.

“Where’s Suguru?” I asked, panic bubbling to the surface as I realized he was no longer beside us. “Where is he?!”

“Do not look back, Y/N,” Satoru repeated, his voice breaking slightly. “Promise me.”

I couldn’t stop crying, convinced that Suguru had been shot. My heart pounded in my chest as we finally crossed the finish line. The last thing I remembered was the overwhelming relief before darkness consumed me.

Author’s POV:

Y/N woke up to the sensation of being cradled in someone’s arms. Her eyelids fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was Satoru’s face. His expression was a mixture of worry and exhaustion, but his blue eyes lit up when he saw her awake.

“Where’s Suguru?” Y/N’s voice was frantic as she struggled to sit up. “Where is he?!”

Satoru placed his hands gently on her cheeks. “Baby, shh. He’s right here. Safe and sound.”

Suguru’s familiar voice came from behind her. “I’m right here, baby.” He knelt down and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

Y/N clung to him, relief washing over her like a tidal wave. “No fair,” Satoru huffed, his pout exaggerated. “I carried you all that way, and I don’t even get a hug?”

Despite the dire circumstances, Y/N laughed softly. She turned and hugged Satoru tightly.

“Though I am offended, baby, that you think I’d die in such a dumb, stupid game,” Suguru teased, his tone lighthearted to mask the tension still lingering in the air.

Satoru grinned. “You looked like you might.” earning a laugh from Y/N.

In that moment, with both of her boyfriends safe and close, Y/N felt a flicker of hope. “We can get through this,” she whispered to herself, her resolve strengthening.

But none of them noticed the purple-haired man in the distance, clutching his injured leg and glaring at the trio with hatred burning in his eyes. He wouldn’t forget this, and he wouldn’t forgive.

[pinkydee10]

Lunar: We cared! We accepted you! Just like we did with Solar!

Thats not what Nexus said

I have already said this time and time again but never in any public space, but I strongly believe if New Moon/Nexus hadn’t blindly accused Ruin before gathering any evidence, Ruin wouldn’t have gone through with his plan

Ruin never asked for access to parts until AFTER he was accused. Sure he was messing around with arcade cabinets before but for all we know that could’ve been less rooting around for parts and more actually trying to fix them

Ruin had an entire diary entry about wanting to be useful and not feeling like a burden.

Eclipse was rebuilt to be a distraction for Sun and Moon, but then Ruin was kidnapped by him. Afterwards, who gave a plan and captured Eclipse? Ruin.

Looking back at that episode I can imagine Ruin thinking “I think I’ve made a mistake” which is when he first started looking for a way to spare this dimension and Solar’s dimension. Solar who freed him from his cell and fixed his body for him. When he says he didn’t want Solar to die, I honestly believe him.

During the interrogation, no matter how good of an actor Ruin is, the pain in his voice when New Moon said, to his face, that he wasn’t even considered a friend, that pain was real. The moment that New Moon put a chip in Ruin’s body and forcibly searched through his memories was the moment that Ruin decided no matter what, to go through with the plan. “Looks like I was wrong…”

Yes, Ruin has done horrible things but we’ve seen time and time again that Ruin never had a choice before, why would he feel like he had one now? When he’s so close to punishing the council for what they’ve done to his home.

Not to sound like an apologist but, in the end, maybe what Ruin did was a mercy after all. At the same time, if anyone had let Ruin know that he could rely on him, that they trusted him, he may have not felt the need to go as far as multi-dimensional genocide.

Who ruined that? Nexus. He told EVERYONE about how he suspected Ruin of being Eclipse’s creator which prompted everyone else to keep their distance. Sure he apologized but even Ruin could tell it was from a place of pity than actual guilt. But, as always, it can never be Nexus’ fault, can it?

[artoftiam]

Alcryst from Fire Emblem Engage

Drawn for @nagamas as my final Secret Santa.

Always a fan of getting to draw or work with Alcryst, so this was a fun draw. I had broken down Alcryst's outfit back in 2023 when working on my cosplay of him, so that came in handy when trying to get some of the details and armor correct.

I had also written a short fanfic of sorts to go along with the art. Can be read below.

I am Alcryst... the prince of Brodia who isn't Diamant.

The prince who couldn't save his father.

The prince who is nothing but a burden.

The prince who just wants to protect the ones I find precious... the ones I love.

It's often I think back to that day when Father was taken from us. The Corrupt form he took. The brave face I put on. For Diamant, I wanted to strike down father. With this bow and arrow, I would shoulder the burden. The pain. Because Diamant didn't deserve to have to live with it. But, like always, I fell short. I couldn't protect anyone. Because I'm also a burden sitting on the shoulders of those around me. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I just wanted to be better. Stronger. Useful. Anything. And yet again I relied on Diamant. The burden I wanted to carry for him, he instead took it himself with the sword he held and used to free Father of the painful state he was left in.

“Strong of body. Strong of heart.”

This burden... it should have been mine and mine alone. Not a scar we share.

“Strong of body. Strong of heart.”

Even if I screamed, Father can no longer hear me. All the words I left unsaid. I wanted to give him reasons to be proud. It's so loud in my head with these never ending thoughts. All these regrets. Father, what more could I have done? For you... for Diamant.

To be less of a burden.

To be a better prince.

A better son.

A better brother.

A better version of myself.

Maybe one day when my body leaves this world I can be remembered as someone who could overcome the worthlessness he feels. Become someone both Father and Diamant can be proud of. And be worthy of standing next to all of them that shine so bright.

With this bow and arrow. With this will and determination. With the warmth of the love I can still feel Father wrapping me in. I will be strong. I will grow. And I'll no longer be a burden.

“Strong of body. Strong of heart.”

Maybe not today or tomorrow, but I will stand tall. I will become the prince of Brodia that I so desperately wish I could be. For now, let me waver. Let me mourn. Until there is no doubts left in me. Only then will I be worthy of saying with confidence: I am Alcryst, prince of Brodia. Strong of body. Strong of heart.

[olderthannetfic]

I still think the people responding to the abortion thing with "well you wouldn't want them to raise that kid" are missing the point a bit, though. Even if someone has ample resources to take care of a kid, and they're fully prepared to be the best parent ever, they still have an inherent right to abort a pregnancy they don't want. Like focusing on "an ableist parent wouldn't be the best to raise that kid!" or "what if they don't have the resources for the health care they need!' opens up the "adoption" argument - and I'm sure many people would counter it with all the problems of the adoption system particularly for disabled kids. But even if adoption were a surefire way to ensure every child finds the perfect loving home, it is still wrong to force the pregnant person to use their body for 9 months to carry a pregnancy when they would rather not. The problems with relying overmuch on this argument is it has a kind of ugly implication that if a woman has no economic or emotional reason to struggle to raise a kid, it's mean and selfish for her not to be a mother. We saw some of that with the overturning of Roe in the U.S. - a lot of rhetoric of how this was bad just because of how it would affect poor or minority women. And I just wanted to be like, okay, but a wealthy white woman with ample resources who just doesn't want to have a kid, shouldn't have to have a kid. And it's still a massive violation of her human rights to force her to carry an unwanted pregnancy for 9 months. Like I thought one of the anons made this clear, but people keep saying this so maybe they're not getting it: but think of the burden that pregnancy puts on a body? Think about all the little things you have to do differently if you're pregnant. You can't drink, you can't take certain medications, including some that a lot of people's mental and physical health relies on the rest of the time. It literally moves around your organs to accommodate the growing fetus. It's just painful and nauseating a lot of time. That's not even going into how it's often enough of a medical emergency that it regularly killed pregnant people before we had access to modern medicine and hospitals, and still does in other parts of the world, or with people who refuse that treatment. Isn't that enough to convince you that it's horrifying to inflict that on someone unwillingly? I understand focusing on financial burdens and so on because it helps convince people who maybe aren't all there with respecting bodily autonomy. But also, I'm a cis woman who has no desire to be pregnant and have kids, and sure the fact that I haven't got a lot of money right now helps, but I know that if I was a billionaire and had tons of people at the ready to help raise my kids for me, I still wouldn't want to be a mother. And it's bizarre how radical that is to say even in ostensibly feminist, progressive spaces. A lot of people are just still so deeply uncomfortable with women (or anyone they see as a woman) deciding to choose life paths that don't include motherhood, in a way they simply are not with men eschewing fatherhood. And we can't really talk about gender equality until that starts to change. There's no reason that being born as a particular gender should limit the kind of life that people let you live or even imagine. There's nothing about being a woman that makes you more nurturing or parental, and so no reason that you shouldn't be able to decide that's not for you.

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