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kittlesandbugs · 2 months ago

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FHR: Animal instincts Pairing: Chargestep Warnings: Canon typical violence and suicide ideation, and Sidestep is not in a great frame of mind fresh out of the Farm Word Count: 1103 Summary: Just a little bit of "Sidestep was found by Ortega shortly after escaping the Farm the second time" AU, Riley is having a great time lol

"Riley?"

Flinch and freeze and no, keep going, don't falter, don't react, keep walking. Just a twitch you can smooth over feigning ignorance. No one knows you by that name anymore, and if they think they do, you'll fix them. It doesn't take much, you know that now. A tweak, a twist, a pull, you unravel the threads and become less than a memory. Less than a ghost.

Lower your shield, open your mind, find that spark of recognition and cut the memory loose. It's just a tumor on their recollection, to be excised and—

Hand on your shoulder.

Static-walled brain.

Scream.

Yours. Turn on your heel, throw a fist, soft flesh, startled grunt, pivot and run run run run. They can't catch you again, can’t trap you again. You won't let them, all you have to do is run!

“Riley!”

Heavy footsteps run behind you, but you're no rabbit now, you're the fox. You duck into an alley, throw a garbage can, hear the crash and stumble and swear. Good, like that, you'll escape, and if they corner you, well, you still have the gun.

Use it on them or use it on yourself, either way you get away.

“Riley, wait!”

The name makes you flinch again. You, not, not you, you're nameless, name forgotten, number shucked. Riley plummeted to her death, forgotten, betrayed, alone. You're not her. Just no one. You need to be no one, no one at all, nothing, nothing of import, nothing worth perceiving. You need to not be, not until you're ready.

But your pursuer won't let you go.

They're gaining again, fuck, they're fast, the footsteps almost loud enough to drown the wet thuds of your own heartbeat in your ears. Your breath wheezes loud in your chest. Your muscles burn as you push through crowds that can't see you because you won't let them. You're a visage of your former self. Not yet fully recovered from years of isolation and wasting misery. The only thing sharp about you is your mind, and your pursuer is immune.

You dart down another alley, trying to get away from the crowds so you can move and—

FUCK.

Bouncing off a fresh and new brick wall, instinct recognizes your fatal blunder just soon enough to stop you from concussing yourself on it. You land on your ass, breathless, arms aching from taking most of the impact for your skull. What was a throughway four years ago is a deadend now.

And now, you are too. Dead. Worse. Trapped.

You shake your head to clear it, scrabbling around, backed up against the brick like if you pressed hard enough, you could phase through it. You fumble through your disheveled clothes, your hand seeking and closing on cold metal as you fight to free the gun from the holster hidden beneath layers of loose fabric. You're such an idiot.

A shadow looms over you, features darkened by the blinding halo of the sun slowly sinking into the cityscape behind it. “Jesus, Riley, what's—”

The voice mercifully stops, as does the approaching figure, as you finally, finally, train the gun on them. Your hands are shaking, unsteady as you feel, but you know where the heart is, and you won't miss it. You can't.

“Hey. Hey, c'mon. Put that thing down. It's me, Riley.”

The voice is low and soft, like someone trying to soothe and cajole a dog on the verge of biting. Something familiar wiggles in your hindbrain like a parasite, and you refuse to let it latch on. Your hands shake harder as the figure tries to subtly inch forward. Too hyper aware of everything to let it slip by, you cock the gun.

The hands are quick to come up, open and empty, placating and pleading. “Whoa, easy, easy…” He—your brain admits that now— he says softly, his voice raw like an exposed nerve. “It's just me, c'mon Riley…”

You know that voice. You know that stance. You know him. You lo— no. You hate him. You pulse thuds louder and wetter in your ears, drowning out his attempt to soothe and de-escalate. Your eyes flood with burning salt, blurring your vision, but you can't wipe or blink it away. You should shoot him. You want to. He didn't try to save you, him or Steel, the other Rangers, the other vigilantes, all the rest of this fucking city. They all left you to rot and scream and suffer in the obscurity of the lab that made you just so it could eat you alive and spit out your bones.

But he keeps inching forward, talking in that low and familiar tone that was always like novocaine to your fractious mind. Knees bending, he lowers himself down in front of you where you sprawl against the cold unforgiving brick. You train the barrel on his skull with a choked animal noise of distress, unable to put any more distance between you. And he just lets you do it, looking over your clenched and shaking hands with that heavy familiar hound-brown gaze.

“What happened to you? Dios mio, you're a wreck,” he says, his soft voice cracking as he takes in your sorry state. He doesn't flinch as you press the cold metal to his forehead, cocked and loaded and ready to blow whatever brains he has out onto the street.

You should. You should put a final nail in the coffin of your past. You see the weight of the last few years in the bags under his eyes and the harder plains of his face, smell it on the heavy alcohol in his breath. Your index finger strokes the trigger. Your hands shake so hard that you just might depress it by accident. Maybe you should just put you both out of your sad sorry miseries.

He just looks at you, that same way he always did. Like he has all the faith in the world you'll make the right call. Like you can do no wrong in his eyes. Like you hold his heart between your sweating quivering palms, and he'd let you… he'd let you…

The realization makes you recoil like you'd been struck across the face, and the gun clatters to the asphalt. By some miracle, it doesn't misfire from the impact. He swipes it away, out of both your reaches. Before you can scramble away from him like the feral animal you are, he pulls you in tight against his chest. Caught in the trap of him, exhausted and weak, all you can do is bury your face in his shoulder and howl.

#kitbug writes things #fhr #chargestep #ricardo ortega #sidestep #riley owens #i might write more for this #got a few more ideas kicking around in my head lol #ty anti for tagging me for wip things and reminding me i started this lol #it kick started my brain into finishing it

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evenmyhivemindisempty · 3 months ago

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any Boyd fic recommendations?

Absolutely!! It’s a long list, so I’ve divided it up by character:)) And fair warning, my preferences for fics and ships skew dark - I’ve included some major archive warnings, but also read & mind the tags on the associated works!!

Steve Murphy

Don’t Hold Your Tongue by ilookedback

It’s bordering on disrespectful to the label how quickly they’re downing the scotch. It’s one that should be savored, peaty and complex and fucking expensive. But this whole thing is a little bit not about the liquor at all and a lot about the principle of the thing and their private resentment over the ambassador continuing to block every request they’ve tried to make for what feels like the last six months.

And anyway, respect is clearly not of any concern to Steve, sitting as he is in the ambassador’s chair with his feet propped up on her desk. He’s at an odd angle, from Javi’s position on the floor, but he can still see Steve’s bright eyes and lazy-drunk mouth, how his cheeks suck in briefly as he takes a sip of whiskey and rolls it over his tongue to the back of his mouth. He watches his eyes flutter shut and Javi’s reflexes must be impaired because it takes him a second to realize when Steve’s eyes open again and are boring directly into him.

“Hey, Javi,” he drawls. “Truth or dare?”

This one was just so sweet and fun!! Bratty, drunk Steve and first time Stavier vibes! You can’t go wrong with that!

¿y cuáles deseos me vas a dar? by feygeleshmeygele

Peña's hiding something. Murphy's going to figure out what, even if it wrecks his entire fucking life.

(Or, finding out that your partner fucks dudes and losing your mind about it in a completely heterosexual way.)

If you want a gorgeously written Stavier long fic, this is absolutely the fic for you. It’s incredibly sexy, the slow burn is so delicious, and seeing Steve unravel and have to confront his own internalized homophobia is top tier.

The Corinthian

If the Devil Dress You by Mare_Adamantis

This was the crux of fighting the Corinthian, Dream thought. You could fight him. People did it all the time. Sometimes they even won, but the price was high enough that losing at the very least looked easier. Losing was often less painful than what it took to win. Sometimes it was even less humiliating.

All of Mare’s nightmare king Corinthian fics are utterly delectable and wonderfully dark, and this one is probably my favorite. Crossdressing and the Corinthian being the both the most adoring and most vicious monster??

(cw: non-con)

Tame Wolves in Dark Woods by Mare_Adamantis

Instead of a muse, Richard Madoc gets a nightmare.

Not that he knows the difference.

This is a fic that I absolutely cannot read unless I’m in a good mental place, and I mean that as such a compliment. This is incredibly dark, gorgeously written, and exquisitely constructed. Being in Madoc’s head and seeing the mental gymnastics he does to pretend he’s a good person?? Incredible. And I’ve got such a soft spot for imperfect victims, and the Corinthian is so wonderfully messy and sympathetic here.

(cw: non-con)

and when the morning light comes streaming in by romanticallyinept

“Not the first,” Cori manages, after a moment, and Dream hums in acknowledgment. “It’s just… people don’t, usually.”

“Keep you?”

“Want to.”

This one is just so fun and cute!! I don’t typically go for human AU’s, but I was blown away by how much I adore this one. Both Corinthian and Dream felt very much like themselves, despite the light setting and them being human.

A Handle on the Situation by Anonymous

"Isn’t this something that your friends could help you out with? You seem to run around with a sex-positive, anything for a friend crowd.”

“This isn’t something you can ask your friends!”

“Sure it is.”

“I’m not going to just go up to Lyta and say, hey, I need some help on a story! Can I get close and personal with your bits?”

“Don’t know why you can’t. You could say it to me.”

Rose stared, and the Corinthian gave her a faintly injured look.

“I mean, unless we’re not friends. I sort of thought we were, but it’s cool if not.”

Rose needs to do some research on her novel, the Corinthian volunteers to help.

This one is SO good, and it really propelled me into being as big of a Rose/Corinthian shipper as I am. Baby dom Rose Walker figuring out her sexuality and kinks with the help of her nightmare friend/guard dog?? Yes please. (Also. Corinthian with a vagina is HAWT)

Written in Ink and Burn by Anonymous

The Corinthian knows what he is.

Now everyone who looks at him will know as well.

Look, I’m always gonna go a little feral over Dream being a mean boss who feels entirely entitled to the Corinthian’s body, and this one hit on so many levels. Sexy slut-shaming that becomes degradation fast when Dream gets involved? Hell yeah.

Vic Owen

Our Temperatures Rise, I Hear the Devil Outside by Hexate (Hexate2)

Vic can take a lot of punishment. But it wasn't the lashes, the hour bleeding at the pillory, that taught him the law.

This one is vicious in the best way. Check this one out if you’re looking for some incredibly toxic sibling dynamics and Holbrook’s character being one of the prettiest things in the room despite being a greasy, slightly mutilated mess.

(cw: non-con)

weak spot (everybody has one) by doctorkaitlyn

Dan Frost’s heavy footsteps are still within earshot when John speaks again, voice low and steady, like the rumble of thunder on the horizon.

“If you cannot hold your tongue, I will cut it out of your head.”

Again, such a wonderfully twisted dynamic, and excellent writing to boot. Bratty Vic is so fun to read, especially because he’s actually skating on very thin ice with his brother.

Donald Pierce

better the devil you know... by doctorkaitlyn

...than the one that you don't.

or, follows the plot of Logan, but with one key difference; namely, that Pierce and Logan slept together prior to the film's events.

This series is exceptional! The actual sex is so wonderfully dubious and dirty in every sort of way, and we get the treat of seeing it from both Pierce and Logan’s POVs. I doubt it’ll happen at this point, but in my heart of hearts I’m still holding out hope the author might bless us with a continuation!!

Cornered by Anonymous

Logan hasn’t been a good man for a really long time in his opinion. Donald Pierce is probably a worse man in his estimation. So he doesn’t feel particularly bad about taking some of his irritation out the little fucker to really drill into his head what will happen to him if he doesn’t back off.

After I read this fic I had to sit down and just process for a very long time. It is utterly dark and harrowing, supremely fucked up in so many particulars, but if you’re looking for something unapologetically brutal and deliciously raw, this is the fic. Donald Pierce gets put through the wringer in this, and seeing all his affectations and defenses pared away over time is so good.

(cw: non-con)

part time sorry, full time problem by the_everqueen

Logan survives.

He gets a dog.

Non-con pet play?? Non-con pet play!! I think my favorite thing about this is how, from Logan’s POV, this is just the thing he’s doing. Meanwhile, Pierce is going through probably the worst events of his life, and the juxtaposition is so, so good. Pierce is the best scrappy little survivor, and as far as gorgeously imperfect victims go, he is IT.

(cw: non-con)

girl in saskatoon by thefudge

Seven years after the events of Logan (2017), Donald Pierce tracks down Laura Kinney again.

This was not a ship I’d ever considered, but oh god did this fic make me love it. Gorgeously dark and sensual and incredibly bittersweet, and Laura as a feral creature who is so much her father’s daughter is a delight. Also, Pierce being much more mechanized in this is… very hot.

(cw: major character death)

Melancholy by shittershutter

"You're making that face again," Don tells him. "Don't."

"The the doomed lover face, that one. I can't take all the melancholy."

All of shittershutter’s Pierce/Logan fics are absolutely worth a read, but this one is my all-time favorite that I keep going back to again and again. The sex is fucking hot, and the characterizations are top-tier: Pierce’s feral vulnerability is especially wonderful, and his relationship with Logan is so raw and real and achingly human.

The Enemy of My Enemy (is Mine) by SubverbalDreams

With Laura safely (he hopes) off with her friends, Logan’s got some housecleaning to do.

Meanwhile: Pierce fucked up royally, and the Reavers aren’t known for their forgiveness. Especially with such a pretty victim on their hands.

If you want mean, but grudgingly caring daddy dom Logan, SubV is the author!! This is SUCH a tasty fic, the tangle of Pierce’s trauma and desire and shame combined with just how much Logan hates his guts (and is also coming around to him. Just a little.)

(cw: non-con)

after all is said and done i feel the same by spock

Donald's got this theory that people don't ever really change. He himself being the rule, rather than an exception.

Yeah, this one is a pure delight. Pierce is so complicated here, at points pathetic and likable and deeply pitiable. The relationship is so problematic from every angle, but somehow manages to be endearing, too, which is no mean feat! And the ending sends me straight to waterworks city.

(cw: underage)

Eli Klaber

A Sinner In Church by jackelope

what is even the POINT of having evil henchmen if you're not having gay sex with them let's be real

Klaber being from texas is not canon but idk i just thought his accent sounded texan so I went with it. anyways he's a cumslut

This is just hot as shit. Guaranteed good time. Klaber is such an eager to please dog here, not even minding how he’s being degraded. Delicious stuff.

Ty Shaw

The Going Rate by darthpumpkinspice

Ty Shaw needs to get Sancholo in on his plan, but Sancholo isn’t biting.

Fortunately, Ty knows how to be persuasive.

There’s not a ton of Ty Shaw fics out there, so I couldn’t resist sneaking my own entry in!!! If you like Ty being a conniving little sweetheart trying his best to deal with grief, you might just enjoy this!

#fic recommendations #fic recs #Boyd Holbrook #Holbrook character fics #Donald Pierce #Steve Murphy #Ty Shaw #Eli Klaber #Vic Owens #the Corinthian #feel free to reblog with all y’all’s favs too if I left any out!

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