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septembercfawkes · 3 years

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Getting Passive Protagonists to Act

Many beginning writers struggle with protagonists who are too passive. The plot seems to constantly be happening to him or her, but the protagonist doesn’t take an action to make the plot happen.

Ideally, when an event happens to a protagonist, the protagonist responds by taking an action that influences the next event, which then influences the protagonist, which then influences an event—and on and on. But that can be easier said than done. Especially if you have a protagonist who prefers to live life passively.

This could all get confusing, though, because in story structure, almost all protagonists will more or less become more proactive. But for the sake of this post, I'm talking about protagonists who are characteristically passive. A protagonist who may want to kick up his feet in a hammock with a glass of lemonade and watch the world deal with its own problems. How do we write a story about that guy?

Many people will tell you that you can't--you must change the character.

But that is not wholly true.

It's true in a good story, we need the protagonist to act--especially at key moments--but that doesn't mean he innately yearns to act.

Often the best solution in dealing with a passive character is to strengthen the stakes. Let me explain.

Anyone will Act with the Right Stakes

The stakes are potential consequences; they are what are at risk in the story. We often think of them as negative things (someone's life may be at risk), but they can also be positive things (the opportunity to be taught by a professional in your ideal vocation).

Stakes are important because if there is nothing at risk, then what happens, doesn't really matter, which means what the protagonist does, doesn't really matter, because it doesn't change any outcomes. The story only matters insomuch as we understand potential outcomes. The protagonist's choices only matter if they affect the outcomes.

For example, we only care about Frodo destroying the Ring because we know doing so could rid Middle-earth of Sauron’s evil. If we didn't know that, what happened with the Ring wouldn't really matter. And what Frodo did wouldn't carry any weight. (You can learn more about stakes in my article "How to Write Stakes in Storytelling.")

When struggling with getting a passive protagonist to act, (almost) always look at the stakes.

No Stakes

Make sure that you’ve at least laid out stakes. Sometimes writers feel like the stakes are obvious, so they don't mention them. Just as bad, if not worse, the stakes may be too vague. And definitely worse: nonexistent.

If the protagonist doesn't have anything clearly to gain or lose, why would she act? If what happened to the Ring didn't change something, why would Frodo go to Mount Doom? Why would any of us do anything if it didn't make some kind of difference?

In a case like this, clear stakes need to be on the page.

Let's look at some examples of what one might consider passive people within the context of their stories.

Shrek wants nothing more than to live alone on his swamp. If there is nothing at risk, is he really going to go on an adventure to rescue a princess? Probably not.

In The Edge of Tomorrow, I think it could be argued that the protagonist, Bill Cage (played by Tom Cruise) is somewhat passive in relation to the main conflict. The story is about him fighting in a war against aliens, but he has absolutely no desire whatsoever to enter combat--in fact, he's a coward. You think he would sign up to be the first in combat out of the goodness of his heart? No way.

In Trigun by Yasuhiro Nightow, protagonist Vash would rather spend all day, every day eating donuts, playing with kids, and helping out the person down the street. He'd rather live life under an alias than face the fact he's the only one capable of standing up to the antagonist and saving the human race.

If none of these characters ever had anything at risk, then they would have never taken the actions they needed to, to move the story forward. They would have been forever passive.

In short, they only acted once there were stakes.

Wrong Stakes

If there are stakes on the page, and the character still isn't acting, then chances are they are either the wrong stakes (things she doesn’t care about) or the stakes are too small (the potential consequences don’t pose a real threat or a meaningful gain).

If they are the wrong stakes, you need to think about what the protagonist cares about and put it in jeopardy. We all care about something--whether that’s a reputation or a pet.

For a passive person, you might need to dig deeper and brainstorm longer to figure out what it is. And if you are having trouble, keep in mind that it's also possible the passive protagonist wants something for someone else or his environment. Maybe she's satisfied drinking lemonade and getting picked on, but she's not okay with her kid getting bullied--that's not something she can let happen.

Shrek mostly cares about living alone on his swamp. If his distant neighbor is at risk of dying in loneliness, Shrek's likely not going to do much about it. The best way to get him to act, is to put his home and lifestyle at risk. He will be willing to take action to save that.

Bill is afraid of dying (it's part of what makes him a coward). If he's put in a situation where he could die, he'll be forced to act.

Vash is obsessed with saving people. Children, friends, innocents, criminals. It doesn't matter who. He doesn't want anyone to die. If no one is at risk of dying, then it's unlikely he will be drawn to fight his antagonists. Almost always he is led to act because someone's life is at risk.

Small Stakes

If the stakes are too small, you need to make them bigger by making them broader or more personal.

Even the most passive person is unlikely to feel passive with a gun pointed at them. Unless they have a death wish, in which case, you could have the gun pointing at a loved one, or you could threaten torture. Even people who have a death wish don't want to be tortured. Almost all of us will act if the stakes get big enough.

Alternatively, you can promise an opportunity that is too good to pass up. If all I want is to live out my life on a hammock by the beach sipping lemonade, then maybe the best motivation is the promise of getting that. Maybe I'd be willing to act, if it ensured that.

It's bad enough for Shrek to have a few creatures come on his swamp, but the fact that countless numbers of them will be exiled to his swamp, is even worse. This is a big enough issue to get him to act--he decides he must visit Farquaad, which moves the story to the middle.

It's bad enough to die once, but it turns out for Bill, that he has to die over and over and over again. He also has to go on the battlefield over and over and over again, too. He keeps repeating the same events. This is enough to get him to try new tactics (and really, what other choice does he have?).

It's bad enough that Vash can't save everyone. But when it turns out the antagonists plan to destroy the whole human race, well, he can't live out life in donut-filled peace, playing cops and robbers with tykes. He has to act.

Inaction Stakes

If your passive character still really does not want to act, it's worth keeping in mind that inaction is an action--it just needs significant stakes. There needs to be negative ramifications for the protagonist not acting. Ideally, eventually these negative consequences get so big or so personal, that the protagonist has to do something about it.

For example, at one point, Vash decides to live under an alias and do nothing. He decides to be inactive. Unfortunately, this results in an entire town getting wiped out by the antagonist. Doing nothing has steep consequences. He needs to at least try to do something.

This can become a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation--where "damned if you do" at least carries a small chance of success over "damned if you don't."

At one point in Edge of Tomorrow, Bill decides to do nothing. He even goes to a bar to drink in the middle of the day. Guess what? He still has to repeatedly die. Whatever he does, he ends up dying, and having to repeat that time frame. He can either be endlessly in a tortuous loop where he dies, dies, and dies, or he can keep trying to fix the situation. On the surface, it seems like he has a lot of options, since he gets to make different choices each time he repeats the day, but 99% of them lead to the same outcome. So in reality, he has very few choices. Act and maybe die. Or don't act and keep dying.

Limit Options

Related to the last one, one way to push a passive character to act, is to limit her choices and the outcomes. In fact, if we want to take this to the real world, studies show that the more options people have, the less likely they are to make a choice--or even make a good choice.

Like Bill, when there aren't really any options, the protagonist will be pretty much forced to act. Either keep reliving the same torture or try to do something about it.

Add to it some kind of countdown or convergence, so that the protagonist has a very limited window to act, and she'll have to do something.

Stakes Reveal Character

How the protagonist acts when there are things at risk, will reveal what kind of person she is.

In this sense, one might argue, that by strengthening the stakes to get her to act, you are changing her character after all.

Or perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that you are now revealing who she truly is.

Whatever the case, it can become an argument of semantics.

Similar things can happen with the term "passive."

Just understand the concepts and the tools.

The Reluctant Hero

In most, if not all cases, a characteristically passive protagonist will create a reluctant hero. Shrek doesn't want to save Fiona. Bill doesn't want to win the war. Vash doesn't want to confront the antagonist. They just want something to not happen, more than they want to do The Thing™️.

In this sense, while the passive protagonist will ultimately still be acting within the plot (which is necessary to write a good story), he or she may still yearn for passivity.

Of course, the character's arc may possibly shift that yearning by the end.

And it should go without saying, that pretty much all these same tricks will work for passive side characters, as well--when you need to get them to act. For example, in The Office, Stanley is characteristically passive. He pretty much sits in silence and does crossword puzzles. But when pushed far enough, he will back talk his boss. And when he wants something bad enough (like a free pretzel on pretzel day), he'll actually act.

#Writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writeblr #writer problems #writing reference #protagonist #fanfic

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 19, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Chilling in Yiling

We start off with Wei Wuxian hanging out in a busy area of Yiling, which is a really dumb place to pick for a fugitive rendezvous.

He's wearing a fashionably distressed brown robe, and a woven disguise hat, that makes him invisible to his enemies until the moment he takes it off, kinda like the mask he wears in his second life. Unfortunately he is a polite boi so he takes off the disguise hat when he goes indoors to get a bite to eat, and promptly gets smacked down by Wen Zhuliu.

Xiao Zhan's stunt double is really good at this wire-pull+table-smash move; this is the second time Wei Wuxian goes crashing through a table (the first one being when Yu Ziyuan was beating him). This time he clutches his now core-less abdomen, in a move we're going to be seeing a lot of, going forward. Abdominal surgery is a bitch. OP can personally attest to this.

Wen Zhuliu provides some comic relief by looking at his hand in puzzlement; he clearly can tell Wei Wuxian has no golden core, but he isn't going to bother telling Wen Chao that.

Wen Chao gloats and steps on Wei Wuxian's hand while Wei Wuxian stares at his shoe and OP wonders, not for the first time, how they make rubberized zig-zag treads in Ancient Fantasy China.

(more after the cut)

This is all happening in the Yiling Wine house where Wei Wuxian will later share the most important meal of his life, the one in which A-Yuan lays claim to Lan Wangji, ultimately giving LWJ a reason to live long enough for Wei Wuxian to be resurrected. If that doesn’t deserve a good Yelp review, nothing does.

Dream a Little Dream of Me

While Wei Wuxian gets ready for his big whump scene, Jiang Cheng is dreaming, and looking absolutely breathtaking in this deceptively simple robe, that's made of a really complex fabric, that catches the light all over its surface. The lighting here is warm and romantic, giving everything a nostalgic glow.

He looks around the courtyard in his dream, and sees Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian come running in the gate carrying kites.

A child fetching a kite was the first casualty of the Wen attack on Lotus Pier, so this image may already be a little fraught for Jiang Cheng. In this initial image of his family, Jiang Cheng isn't present as a child, but then his junior self comes running up, to be warmly greeted by his mother.

Jiang Cheng's reaction to the scene playing out in front of him is not a simple one. We've seen him externally expressing his trauma at the fate of Lotus Pier and his family - his anger and his despair - and this dream shows us his private, interior trauma.

His body has been repaired by Wei Wuxian and the Wens, but his psyche has not.

This family interaction can't possibly be one that ever happened. It's too lively, too affectionate, too comfortable. The family he was part of as a young adult was cold, angry, cracked. Families don't change that much in 10 years, unless there's a major trauma that alters things in a fundamental way.

Even the glimpses we got of his childhood contradict this image. This warm group is not the family of "I sent your dogs away" or "wait in the cold until Jiang Cheng lets you in" or "I won't tell Clan Leader Jiang what happened" or "I'm only 11 but I'm in charge of soup and bedtime already"

Jiang Cheng smiles at the affection he sees enacted in front of him, but quickly moves to grief. When a toxic person dies, you don't just lose the relationship you had with them; you lose the hope for a better relationship. Perhaps Jiang Cheng has always imagined this version of his family; now nothing like it can ever come to be.

The pleasant scene vanishes into nightmare, as his mother starts bleeding from her eyes, ew. This is like Nie Mingjue when he qi deviates, but dream Yu Ziyuan is perfectly chill about it.

Jiang Cheng is not perfectly chill about it.

He turns around to see Lotus Pier burning. When he turns back, his family has been replaced with Wen Zhuliu, who is particularly gleeful as he reaches into Jiang Cheng's chest and melts his core.

Jiang Cheng wakes up on the mountain, alone (as far as he knows), and quickly stands and boots up his new golden core.

It's purple, because of course it is. King. The nightmare is gone and he smiles, maybe for the first time since the attack on the pier.

In a moment that is probably going to feel really embarrassing in hindsight, he kneels and bows toward the mountaintops to thank Baoshan Sanren, who is totally not there.

Wen Ning, on the other hand, is there, although we only see a little bit of his belt and robe as Jiang Cheng walks off to Yiling to meet his brother. This entire plotline walks a very weird line in which the audience is told just enough about what’s really happening to be confused, but not surprised.

Do the Whumpty Whump

After some initial roughing up, Wen Chao has his dudes stand Wei Wuxian up so he can question him without actually getting any information out of him at all. They take turns calling each other dogs, with Wei Wuxian saying that when Wen Chao talks he just hears a dog barking. (Of course if he really heard a dog barking he'd be terrified)

Then he says "isn't that right" to Wang Lingjiao, and Wen Chao gets super pissed; don't disrespect me to my woman.

He has his minions do a Nancy Kerrigan to Wei Wuxian's knee and then kick him for a while.

Then they kick the shit out of the camera operator.

Wen Chao is really not about fighting his own fights. He also keeps threatening to have Wen Zhuliu melt Wei Wuxian's core, and Wen Zhuliu keeps popping up his hand and then putting it back when Wen Chao changes his mind, which gets more hilarious every time I watch it. Feng Mingjing’s physical embodiment of Wen Zhuliu is endlessly entertaining, even in scenes where he has literally no lines.

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost

Wei Wuxian continues to goad Wen Chao, telling him that more torture is good because then he'll die with loads of resentment. He says that after he dies, he will come back as a ferocious ghost, which is...almost exactly what happens, except he stays alive for the ferocious part.

They go back and forth about the feasibility of this whole haunting plan. Wang Lingjiao is the voice of reason, for once, arguing the "ghosts aren't real and anyway fuck this guy" position.

Wen Chao thinks that he can’t haunt them because of cultivator security hardening procedures soul-calming rituals, but Wei Wuxian wasn't born into a gentry family so didn't have the anti-fierce-ghost treatment that other cultivators get.

This is the only time in the whole of the show when Wei Wuxian says, himself, that he's the son of a servant. He's using his reputation as a commoner to bolster his threats.

Wei Wuxian is working hard to put on a scary-guy persona, which works pretty well on Wang Lingjiao but not as much on the rest of the group. Three months from this time, however, he will have become the scary, vengeful creature he's currently spitballing about. He will also become way, way better at torture than the people who are currently mistreating him.

Wang Lingjiao and Wen Chao go through a whole sequence of ideas about what to do with him. For whatever reason Wang Lingjiao doesn't insist on chopping his arm off even though she's been craving it for ages.

She does gleefully burn his burn some more, causing it to bleed directly into the giant obvious bag he has hanging from his belt leaking resentful energy. Which the Wens do not take away or search.

Wen Chao, incidentally, starts calling him Wei Ying during this encounter, which is rude of him. Tch. Finally Wen Chao decides on a plan, which involves sword-flying effects so terrible that no soul can survive them.

Jiang Cheng is looking for Wei Wuxian in town, wearing a woven hat like Wei Wuxian’s. This...is not a disguise. If you want to be inconspicuous, maybe take that giant piece of silver off of your head.

He hears random people talking about the Wens being in town, and then he apparently looks up at the sky and sees the Wen dudes flying on their swords with Wei Wuxian, but it looks so ridiculous that Jiang Cheng's mind cannot process what he is seeing.

While they "fly," Wen Chao delivers a massive brick of exposition about the burial mounds, while Wei Wuxian looks genuinely frightened. The VFX of random, undifferentiated mountaintops and clouds do nothing to sell this menace, but the exposition is actually pretty good, creating a real sense of disturbance and threat.

Then they toss him in, and we go from the terrible VFX of sword flying to a visual effect that they mercifully did really well throughout the show - the black resentment smoke. This time it catches Wei Wuxian and holds him for a few moments, before dropping him the rest of the way to the ground. It also apparently pulls the turtle sword out of his belt bag, but we don't see that part.

They Say That Every Man Must Fall

Having seen Wei Wuxian at his lowest point (so far) and dream Jiang Cheng also in deep distress, we go to the Dafan Wen sibs, who have also reached a breaking point. Because they helped Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, they are traitors to their clan - unquestionably so - and are being punished for it, with Wen Ning having been tortured in addition to being locked up.

I see my light come shining From the west down to the east Any day now, any day now I shall be released

You know how Lan Xichen successfully argued for Wen-Clan-Member Meng Yao's life and status, because Meng Yao betrayed Wen Ruohan to help them? Even though Meng Yao killed a bunch of Nie guys? Wen Ning and Wen Qing also betrayed Wen Ruohan and helped the Sunshot Campaign, without killing a bunch of guys. They should have been treated as allies by the four other clans, but they got diddly.

I’ve Been Dead Once

We return to Wei Wuxian in the burial grounds, where he's lying on the ground surrounded by resentful energy and by strained, desperate voices calling his name. This whole sequence is remarkable, since it effectively communicates the horror he's experiencing, through little more than Xiao Zhan's face and good sound design.

I hang around dying to be tortured You'll never be alone in the bone orchard

The voices call four versions of his name. A variety of voices call him Wei Wuxian, Wei Gongzi, and Shixiong, which (I think) is what the young Jiang disciples would have called him. And in the midst of those voices, Lan Wangji's voice, low and calm, saying "Wei Ying." Upon hearing that Wei Wuxian starts to drag himself up.

For a show with definitely no zombies in it, they sure do use the visual language of zombie films for Wei Wuxian's first motions after hitting the ground. Starting with twitching fingers, then gradually pulling himself halfway up and crawling, lurching across the ground. Wei Wuxian comes slowly back to life, the very first member of his army of the dead.

He makes his way across the ground toward the floating turtle sword. Along the way he accidentally grabs the world's most bowlegged thigh bone; the lack of sunshine in the burial mounds puts the skeletons at risk for rickets. All of the skeletons in the show are exactly what you would expect from the practical effects team that made the demon hand and the animatronic dog.

The turtle sword is roiling with resentful energy, and is talking to Wei Wuxian as he crawls toward it, asking if he wants revenge. And what a coincidence, he DOES want revenge.

He grabs the sword and plunges it into the ground in an explosion of resentful energy. (Ground: why you gotta take it out on me?)

The sequence ends with the most compelling, ominous shot of Wei Wuxian's face...a new man.

Soundtrack: 1. I Shall Be Released by Bob Dylan 2. Beyond Belief by Elvis Costello

Writing Prompt: The Day Wei Wuxian arrived, from the POV of a Burial Mounds ghost.

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #cql #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #wei wuxian #burial mounds #jiang cheng

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

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You wrote your opinions on the Order of the Phoenix, what about the Death Eaters? That's another way of saying Lucius, Bellatrix, and anybody else. I honestly feel that we're running out of HP characters for you to write your opinion and reasoning about, so yeah~

We honestly are. When people start asking me questions about Harry’s nameless and faceless classmates I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of my barrel of Harry Potter opinions.

Though, that said, this is still a very large ask if you want me to analyze very Death Eater ever or even the Death Eaters as a whole (which is worthy of its own post).

So, we’ll compromise, and I’ll just look at the two you name dropped.

Lucius Malfoy

To me, Lucius is by far one of the more intelligent Death Eaters. He’s the guy who makes them almost look classy. I say almost, because Lucius is still a racist domestic terrorist and as the series goes on Tom gleefully drags him into being less classy by the minute (his house becomes a POW camp and housing for the dregs of society, Lucius just sobs, trying to be thankful he’s somehow still alive).

Lucius is rich, sophisticated, and is probably the most politically powerful man in the country. He has a beautiful wife he has... a son (sorry Draco, but you do not live up to your father) the guy has it all.

Which makes it very surprising that he got dragged into this mess. But you see, Lucius is paying for that tragedy we call youth.

Also, as a caveat, I’m about to headcanon hard and will not bother to get into the details of why I think x, y, or z in this post.

Ten years prior to the start of canon, Lucius is a very young man, probably very charismatic, certainly believes he’s intelligent and probably gets decent grades, but nonetheless the kind of stupid you see in men ages 15-25.

He’s likely chafing under his aging father’s strict guidance, knows he’s not going to be Lord Malfoy for years yet, wants to get out there, prove himself, and make a difference for his country. More importantly for Lucius, there’s this hip, exciting, new thing that all his cousins and friends are getting into called “The Death Eaters” (yes, I don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis/Death Eaters 1.0 ever happened, I think it’s ridiculous that fandom and JKR does, I could go into why but not in this post).

The Death Eaters are led by the single handedly most beautiful, charismatic, man in Britain. (Yes, I headcanon Tom’s still blindingly attractive at this stage, because it makes much more sense to me but we’re not getting into that here.) A mysterious man by the name of Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin’s long lost heir, who has come to resurrect the wizarding world’s true heritage and purge the land of the muggle stain. (Yes, I do believe that no one, not even Lucius who is later given the diary, knew who Tom really was. I believe Regulus’ had only the vaguest idea, informed mostly by Tom’s use of Kreacher to place the locket.) This is the most exciting thing to have ever happened, the rallies probably consist of rich kids drunk out of their minds and maybe even high on a little wizard cocaine, and Lucius is down for it precisely because his father says “Lucius, this is stupid, please don’t embarrass the family.” WELL LUCIUS IS GOING TO EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, DAD! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

And for a while, it looks like Lucius made the right choice. Things are happening, they’re actually going out and killing the mudbloods! Unlike Regulus, Lucius never has that “wait a minute” moment as he realizes that Voldemort’s actually far more efficiently eliminating pureblood families and sowing dissention in what was once a unanimous force among the Wizengamot (the other pureblood lords aren’t necessarily pro muggleborn, per se, but they get a bit queasy at the thought of blowing them up or Merlin forbid actually blowing up their own public venues wizards use).

And then October 31st, 1981 happens, and it all comes crashing down. Lucius has to desperately lie his ass off, having only the flimsiest lie to rely on, has to hand out a shit ton of bribes, and manages to squeeze his way out of being imprisoned in Azkaban.

I’m sure Abraxas looked at his son, with his tattoo on his arm that makes him another man’s slave, at the utter destruction of the Black family, and just shook his head going, “Clean up your mess, Dumbass Son”

And Lucius does to the best of his ability. While some will always suspect him of being a Death Eater, while some know it, he’s able to climb very high in influence in their ridiculously tiny community. Granted, I do think he messed up, and could never for example run for minister given everything (if Crouch can’t rerun then Lucius certainly can’t). He also shows us that in some ways he is not above the law, he’s very afraid his house will be searched without warrant in The Chamber of Secrets, and this is in part why he dumps Tom Riddle’s diary off onto Ginny.

However, he wields total control of the Prophet, has a seat on the Wizengamot, has the ear of the current Minister, is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, and has his hands in pretty much every pie he can.

I imagine during this period Lucius grows up. He brushes the indiscretions of his youth under the carpet, gleefully leaving it all behind him, and the only real friend he maintains contact with from that period is Severus, the least zealot like of all of them. (Crabbe and Goyle Sr aren’t friends, they’re minions).

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a racist slime bag, and I don’t think he really regrets the domestic terrorism. He just regrets nearly getting caught and putting his entire family’s security on the line. He witnessed first hand what happened to the Blacks.

And then the worst thing happens: Tom Riddle rises from the dead. He rises, impossibly, from the dead when Lucius has his own hand caught in the cookie jar.

Lucius has been living a life of luxury and influence while his great master, the man he had pledged everything to, was dead. Worse, Lucius took what was described as a treasured item to be protected at all costs, and not only threw it away but sent it to Hogwarts where it caused massive havoc and was ultimately destroyed.

And Lucius, I imagine, no longer wants to serve a master.

But he has no choice. And so begins Lucius’ descent into misery and hell as he’s given an increasing set of impossible, horrific, tasks in punishment that involve him watching as his wife and son are put through hell.

I believe Tom holds a special place in his cold, black, passive aggressive heart for Lucius Malfoy.

First, Tom makes Lucius’ house his headquarters. Oh, Lucius, you have a very nice, very large, estate? Why don’t you host your beloved, mad, cousin, her equally mad husband and brother-in-law? Oh, Bellatrix threatened to cut off your ear? Well, she’s just so passionate!

Second, Lucius is told to go get the prophecy. Well, this is easier said than done. He nearly succeeds but then it all turns into the world’s largest clusterfuck that ends in two notable things. First, the prophecy is lost forever, shattered. Second, the government admits that Voldemort is truly resurrected. Both of these things are very bad in Tom’s book. And the blame can easily be put on Lucius’ head.

In response to this, Draco is now given an impossible task that Draco is too stupid to realize is designed to cause him (and his family) as much misery as possible. Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore.

Likely, Tom was already informed by Snape that Dumbledore was dying. The blackened hand was too obvious a tell coming from too obvious a source for the pair to have hid it. I think trying to hide such information would have immediately blown Snape’s cover. So, Tom knows the man is dying, and doesn’t see fit to tell Draco this.

Instead, he tells Draco, “Kill Dumbledore as soon as possible or I deliver you to Fenrir Grayback.” Draco, however, is young and stupid, so he honestly thinks he is doing this to restore the family honor, earn glory for himself and for the cause, and is expected to do this entirely by himself. As a result, when Narcissa begs Snape to aid Draco, Draco blows them both off and only accepts help from Bellatrix because HE CAN DO THIS ON HIS OWN! DRACO IS A MAN.

This, of course, doesn’t work out either. Draco doesn’t deliver the killing blow, Snape does, but Tom decides to give him a pass.

Instead he moves on to his next plan which is making the Malfoy manor his torture chamber and POW camp. Even Draco, at this point, realizes this all kind of sucks.

And then Voldemort finally dies a second time, and I’m sure Lucius just stares numbly at his malformed corpse, wondering if it will really take this time.

So that’s Lucius for you, paying always for his mistakes, and pretending he’s just as much of a nutcase as Bellatrix to fit in.

Bellatrix LeStrange

God, compared to the novel that is Lucius’ ridiculous life, I really don’t have much to say about her because I feel like there’s not much too her.

Bellatrix reminds me a lot of the Manson family, she gives off those same vibes. Point being, I think even before Azkaban (while Azkaban certainly didn’t help), she was insane and a little too worshipful of Voldemort.

I guess I can start there, I don’t think Bellamort is a thing, at all.

Tom may have, probably did, have sex with her before he died but afterwards? In that body? Forget about it.

That said, I’m sure Bellatrix both wanted to have sex and is convinced she did have sex to produce whatever the hell Delphi even is. It just wasn’t with Tom, and probably was Rodolphous with a Halloween mask on his face as they got a little too into role play.

And there we go, I suppose, I can’t take Bellatrix seriously. You often see her portrayed as sexy femme fatale Death Eater, the most competent of all of them, if a bit of a sadist.

Oh she might be a very good duelist but she’s... Bellatrix.

She prances around in corsets, shrieking madly, and just what part of that is supposed to be femme fatale? I literally cannot take her seriously on any level. When I even try to write her seriously, in very serious stories, I end up with lines like the following:

"My lord, if there's anything you need… Anything from me, specifically, as a woman…"

- Bright Eyes

That was my best attempt. That was the best I could come up with. It’s still something that belongs in a comedy.

So, I don’t think Tom really corrupted her. I think without Voldemort she still probably would have been blowing up Diagon Alley, just in a much less organized manner.

Even in canon she does ridiculous things. For example, Bellatrix, frankly, could have easily avoided prison.

For weeks after the dark lord fell neither she, her husband, Barty, nor her brother-in-law were arrested. Bellatrix in grief and utter disbelief that the dark lord could ever do something so mortal as die, said “remember that other house our lord mentioned, THEY MIGHT HAVE INFORMATION, LET’S GO MURDER THE LONGBOTTOMS!” They torture and kidnap Frank, demanding he tell them where their master is, THEY KNOW HE KNOWS. He doesn’t know. They go too far and torture the man into being a vegetable. “Shit, GET THE WIFE!” They go get the wife, do the same thing, with the same results.

They now have no information on the dark lord, two well regarded aurors tortured into brain damage, and are quickly caught and brought before the court with absolutely no “I was imperiused” excuse they can give out.

How am I supposed to take her in any way seriously?

I mean, to end your life killed in a duel with Molly Weasley. That just says it all.

#ask #anon

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Note

For the kiss prompt thing, could you do 34 and/or 66 with Jontim, please?

kiss prompt list!

34 - Returned from the dead kiss | 66 - Staring At The Other’s Lips, Trying Not To Kiss Them, Before Giving In

i did both! set in an au where tim survives the unknowing. additionally, in this au jon and tim were together in research and season one but then broke it off in season two for canon-typical reasons

cw for mentions of injury and grief, mentions of death, suicidal ideation (mild), mentions of hospitalization, mentions of paranoia and stalking, and swearing

Ao3 link in source!

Jon’s been awake for two weeks and three days when Tim finally works up the nerve to see him.

(He’s not nervous, he tells himself. It’s not nerves twisting his stomach and leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and making his hands shake ever so slightly where they grasp the doorknob on Jon’s office door. It might be guilt, but he dislikes the thought and discards it immediately. Hatred? That doesn’t feel right either. He’d shed that anger a few months prior, body still aching from being crushed underneath a building’s worth of brick and mortar and holding Martin while he cried at Jon’s bedside, hiccupping into the fabric of Tim’s shirt, He’s not waking up, Tim. He's never waking up.)

He opens the door and sees Jon sitting at his desk, hair pinned up in a haphazard topknot and a jumper that’s much too large swallowing his body whole. Jon looks up at him, his eyes widening a bit, and oh.

It’s relief.

Tim lets the door swing shut behind him and leans against the wall next to the doorframe, hands coming up to grip his elbows as he hugs his arms close to his chest. One arm is still mottled with angry red scars, spiraling patterns of shrapnel laced along his skin. He rubs a thumb over one of the larger scars near the crook of his elbow absently as he says, “Hey. I… I heard you’d woken up.”

Jon just stares at him for a moment, like he’s not quite sure what he’s looking at. Just as it’s bordering on the edge of annoying, Jon finally says, “Yes, I… I have. A- a few weeks ago.”

“Right.”

There’s another long moment of silence between them, this one tenser than the first. Jon’s avoiding Tim’s eyes, his face pinched and unhappy. His hands are fiddling with the cuffs of his jumper nervously, and something within Tim knocks loose at the sight. “I’m not here to yell at you, okay?”

Jon startles, his eyes finding Tim’s for a moment before darting away again. He’s never liked direct eye contact, Tim remembers, but this is something else. Tim gets the distinct feeling that it’s at least partially his fault. Maybe a bit more than partially. Then, quietly, Jon says, “Why not?”

Great. With a weary sigh, Tim steps away from the wall and drops himself into the ratty armchair that faces Jon’s desk. “Because it’s been six months, Jon. A lot has changed.” He makes a humorless noise. “I mean, it’s all the same shit—spooky monsters and fucked-up situations and a job I can’t get rid of. But, you know.” He rubs his thumb over the scar, shrugs his shoulders. “The Circus is gone. Thought I’d be gone with it, but I’m not. And you were gone, which made things easier for a while. Less complicated, because I didn’t have to look at you and feel—”

Tim makes a sharp, irritated noise. He doesn’t know how he felt. “But you were just… there. Dead or- or asleep or whatever, it didn’t really matter. You were there, and I was here, and we both know it was meant to be the other way around.”

“Tim—” Jon starts, the pity in his voice palpable.

“No,” Tim says, giving Jon a firm look. “I don’t want an apology or- or pity or whatever. That’s not the point of this.” He sits back in the chair, takes a deep breath, and says, “I don’t remember when I stopped feeling angry. I didn’t visit you at first, in the hospital, but when I did, I… I don’t know.” Tim shrugs and looks at the floor. “I guess I just decided that you wouldn’t have chosen that. To- to be half-dead and dreaming while the rest of us lived.”

Jon’s quiet for a long moment. Then, he makes a sound that might be a laugh if it weren’t so bitter. “No,” he says, voice rough around the edges. “I didn’t. But I did choose to wake up. I made a choice, and I- I think it was the wrong one.”

“What,” Tim says, “because you chose to live rather than to die?”

Jon shakes his head, just once. “Because I chose to be this.” He gestures at the desk, at the room around him. “The… the Archivist.”

Tim takes a moment to consider. Then, he says bluntly, “Fine. Let’s say you did. You chose to go full monster, give up the mantle of humanity entirely, and then—what?”

Jon blinks at him. “What?”

“What are you going to do now?”

Jon opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally saying, “I- I suppose I’ll just… work?”

Tim can’t help letting out a short, clipped laugh. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Jon makes an indignant noise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I just—” Tim pauses, looks at his hands. There’s a worm scar between his middle and ring finger on his left hand that never healed quite right, that’s now a twisted knot of scar tissue. He focuses on it as he says, “You’re still you, you know? Even before, with all the shit you pulled—the stalking and the murder accusations and the questions—it was… it was still just you. And whether or not you’re still human, you’re still Jon.”

“Oh,” Jon says, the word empty and hollow. “Is… is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Tim doesn’t know yet, not really. The relationship between them is still flayed open and raw, ripped apart by months of poor choices and hurtful words. But he meets Jon’s eyes, sees that familiar brown that he used to wake up to in the mornings, takes note of the small cluster of circular scars just beneath Jon’s temple, and decides that if it’s not good, it’s certainly on the way there. The thought leaves him feeling a bit weightless, and he realizes with an aching in his chest that he’s missed Jon. Not in the physical sense, because Jon’s always been here, conscious or not, and his presence has been burned into the back of Tim’s mind like a brand, an itch he can’t quite scratch. But still, there had been an empty space within him that he hadn’t been able to cover or fill, shaped like warm sunlit mornings and shared bottles of wine and kisses on foreheads and noses and lips. And it had ached, as much as Tim wished it hadn’t. That that Jon was gone and this Jon had taken his place. The resentment Tim felt at the fact was bitter and heavy and painful.

It’s still not the same Jon, sitting in front of him now and worrying his ring between his fingers in a familiar nervous tic. But he’s not the same Tim either. Affection doesn’t come easy for him anymore and everything hurts and there are so, so many things he can’t forgive Jon for. That he doesn’t know how to. But at some point, the blanket of revenge-fueled anger had melted away and he’d just been tired.

“I don’t know,” Tim says, because it’s true. But it’s also true when he continues, “But I want it to be good. It might take some time, and I- I can’t just forget about what’s happened between us, but…” Tim’s chest tightens, and his next words come out choked and a bit forced. “I missed you. And I’m glad you’re not dead, okay? I don’t know if you’ve convinced yourself that I wouldn’t be, but I am.” Quieter: “God knows I’ve already lost enough.”

“Oh,” Jon says again, barely more than a whisper. Then, hesitantly: “I… thank you, Tim. I’m also glad that you… that you’re still here. For what it’s worth.”

“You don’t have to…” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, lets out a long breath. “Never mind.”

“I know,” Jon says, something terribly vulnerable in his voice. When Tim opens his eyes, Jon’s looking at him, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips. Tim can’t stop looking at it. “But I want to. I… I still care about you, Tim. I always have, even if I- I didn’t always show it.”

The Tim of six months ago would probably have laughed at that. Would have said that it didn’t matter if he cared or not, or that if he really cared he wouldn’t have spent half a year tracking his every move and thinking that Tim was even remotely capable of killing him. (That bit had hit particularly hard. Tim had gone home afterward and scrubbed every reminder of Jon from his house, every picture and favorite mug and lingering jumper and that one souvenir from his trip to Spain that Jon had once rambled about for two hours. It had hurt, and when he was done, he’d felt hollowed out and empty. Enough room for the anger to begin to creep in, he supposes.)

Instead, Tim sighs and says, “You know, that was the worst part. The fact that after everything, even when I hated you, I still couldn’t stop myself from caring.” He digs his fingernails into the soft skin of the inside of his wrist. “It hurt to care, so I pretended like I didn’t. But all the shit that happened to you—Christ, Jon, I’m not so much of an asshole to think that you deserved to be tortured and kidnapped every other week. I don’t know if anyone ever told you that you didn’t deserve it, so there it is.”

Jon’s looking at him with wide eyes and lips slightly parted, and Tim feels something in his chest ache at the sight. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like- like what?”

“Like I’ve—” Like I’ve hung the fucking moon. “Look, that’s just basic human decency, okay?”

“Okay,” Jon echoes quietly. He’s still looking at Tim and his lips are still slightly parted and the ache in Tim’s chest amplifies until he can barely stand it. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he’s reminded of the first time he asked Jon, standing halfway inside the doorframe of his house after their third date, if he could kiss him. How Jon had looked startled, all wide eyes and parted lips, and after a moment had nodded wordlessly. How Jon’s hair had been soft beneath his fingers as he’d cupped Jon’s cheek and how Jon’s lips had been warm against his and how Jon had inhaled slightly at the contact, like even though Tim had asked, he was still surprised that he’d followed through.

Tim looks at Jon, at the still-familiar shape of his lips save for a small circular scar near the left corner, and tries to convince himself, just for a moment, that he doesn’t want to kiss him.

He’s never been very good at self-control.

So he stands, braces one hand on Jon’s desk, and reaches forward with the other, stopping just shy of Jon’s face. When Jon doesn’t move away, he rests his palm lightly against Jon’s cheek, his thumb coming to rest just underneath Jon’s eye. “This doesn’t fix things,” Tim says quietly. “But I’d still like to kiss you. If you’re okay with that.”

Jon hesitates. Then, barely more than a whisper, he says, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Tim pauses a moment more before tilting Jon’s head slightly up, leaning forward, and kissing him.

It’s still as easy as breathing.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #my writing #my fic

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taeyongdoyoung · 3 years

Photo

summary: you are a mermaid and you save a handsome man from drowning but little do you know it’s not his first rodeo when dealing with mermaids. seonghwa, a former prince, is currently hongjoong’s first mate and boyfriend. hongjoong is the captain, the pirate king of the most savage crew across the seas. and you want nothing to do with them. not because they’re pirates, but because they’re humans…

ship: mermaid!reader x prince/pirate!seonghwa x pirate!hongjoong

genre: little mermaid!au, pirate!au, angst, fantasy, romance

author’s note: demon!jongho x wizard!yunho let’s get ittttt

warnings: some swearing, mentions of demonic activity & torture, hell references (idk, just in case someone’s uncomfy with that), mentions of drowning, kissing

word count: 3.3k

chapter one ☠️ chapter two ☠️ chapter three ☠️ chapter four ☠️ chapter five ☠️chapter six ☠️ chapter seven ☠️ chapter eight ☠️ chapter nine ☠️ chapter ten ☠️ chapter eleven ☠️ chapter thirteen ☠️ spotify playlist

Jongho’s POV

"It appears your time is up," I smirked triumphantly the minute I snatched Hongjoong away from his ship. Humans were so foolish it would almost be amusing if a tiny part of me didn't feel bad for them. Key word: tiny.

Collecting human souls and becoming more powerful was a far more pleasant activity than whatever sense of guilt had briefly visited me. As I was saying, humans: 0. Me: 8524. Or was it 8525 already? I began losing count of how many souls I'd acquired throughout my immortal life.

And it's not like I wasn't a benevolent demon. I had warned Hongjoong what would happen if he achieved true happiness. It wasn’t my fault he found joy so quickly. It wasn't my fault he couldn't find a way to be miserable in order to prolong his life on earth. Or should I have said life at sea? Damn pirates and their weird habits.

"Please, I need more time," Hongjoong begged wretchedly.

"If I had a soul for every time I heard that line. Actually, nevermind. I do have a soul for every time I heard that," I shrugged smugly.

"So what's one more week to you? You can't die, right?" he bargained relentlessly.

"Fair point, but a deal is a deal. Any last words?"

"I just want to say goodbye to my friends. My soul will be yours for eternity, so what's the rush?" Hongjoong kept talking.

Ah, humans and their never-dying hope. If it wasn't so pathetic, it would have been admirable.

"Hm, let me think...No," I rejected his plea without even bothering to consider it.

And just as I was about to put an end to his mortal existence and absorb his soul, I felt a surge of faintly familiar power calling me. No, summoning me. Oh, what the hell?

🔮🔮🔮

Yunho's POV

"Hello, demon," I greeted Jongho reluctantly.

"What do you want, wizard?" he scoffed. "And why have you trapped me in this ridiculous circle?"

"I have my reasons," I responded vaguely. "Care to explain what you've been intending to do with that pirate's soul?"

"It's none of your business," Jongho rolled his eyes.

"I suggest you tell me unless you want to stay here forever."

Jongho laughed maniacally. Ever the narcissistic prick.

"You think this can hold me down?" he moved towards me swiftly, as if intending to break away from my spell.

Once he realized there was an invisible wall preventing him from escaping, he eyed me with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

"Now, I'm intrigued. How did you become so capable?"

"Answer my question first and then I'll decide whether to tell you," I suggested, fully aware of the fact I had the high ground in this situation.

Maybe not forever like I'd threatened, but it would certainly be long enough to make Jongho speak.

"Very well. I was intending to devour his soul. I don't seem to have enough pirates in my collection. Too many corrupt politicians, which is kinda gross, don't you think?"

"When will you put this obsession of yours to an end? Aren't you already powerful enough down there?"

"Obviously not powerful enough since you've managed to entrap me."

I shook my head in disbelief.

"I can't let you take Hongjoong's soul."

"Why?"

"Like you said before, it's none of your business," I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Humour me, wizard. What's so special about this pirate?"

"Alright. To put it simply, I've invested too much of my energy and magic to his loved ones' well-being. If he is taken away from them, all my efforts will have been in vain. It would be a waste."

😈😈😈

Jongho's POV

"Who are they? His loved ones?" I asked despite myself.

Even though I was furious at Yunho for summoning and tricking me into this circle, my inquisitiveness was growing by the minute. Wizards usually didn't meddle in demons' affairs. But for some reason, I kept running into Yunho every now and then. And though he was a bit annoying, he certainly wasn't boring. So, I kept playing along.

"A mermaid and a former prince. Satisfy your curiosity?" Yunho replied without giving too many details. Okay, I'll bite.

"Juicy," I murmured. "And what exactly did you invest in them?"

"Let's just say I have helped them transform in ways previously thought impossible."

"Aw, come on, you've got to give me more than that," I insisted.

"Maybe I will. But first, you're gonna have to promise me you won't take the pirate's soul."

"And what's in it for me?" I pouted. "You know I don't do things for free."

"Bloody demons," Yunho muttered under his breath. "I'll give you something that will make you as powerful as you want."

"As powerful as the devil himself?" I blinked incredulously.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

"A wizard's soul," No. He couldn't... "Mine, to be specific."

Idiot. Beautiful, impossible idiot.

"You dare compare yourself to the devil?" I cackled.

I didn't understand it myself but a part of me was actively trying to talk him out of it.

"Not right now. But in a few years, I'll be even stronger. With my powers in your collection, you'll be invincible."

"You're willing to give up your soul and yet you don't even know that pirate?"

"I don't need to," Yunho waved me off.

"And if you trick me? If you don't become powerful as you suggest you will?"

I kept trying to change his mind. It was insane. He was presenting me with an unbelievably good possibility and I was attempting to dissuade him. What was wrong with me?

"Well, then, you'll have eternity to torture my soul."

"Hm. Tempting, I admit."

🔮🔮🔮

Yunho's POV

"Then, just agree to it, Jongho," I pleaded.

"You must be really desperate to call me by my name," the demon observed correctly. Damn, how I hated that he was right.

"Don't pretend you haven't made up your mind already. No other wizard would ever offer you something like that," I couldn't take no for an answer.

"So what makes you so different from other wizards?"

"I don't know. But the fact remains. You can't reject me. You're far too greedy to let go of your ambitions now."

"This is your last warning, Yunho. If I give up the pirate's soul and take yours instead, you will regret it. Human souls wither in time and their miseries become less painful. A soul like yours? It could last till eternity and beyond. And every second in hell will be agony. It will destroy you little by little. And even when you might think there is nothing left, it will still persevere against all odds. I wouldn't wish such a fate on anyone."

"Aw, are you worried for me, demon?" I teased him. "You don't think I can handle it?"

"Shut up and get me out of this obnoxious circle."

"I take it we have a deal, then?" I said confidently.

"Regrettably so."

"You'll let Hongjoong go?" I needed a confirmation.

"Haven't I made it obvious? What could I possibly do with him when I'll have you in a couple of years?"

"You didn't strike me as the patient type," I laughed, while undoing the spell trapping him.

"I can be patient for the right reason, wizard."

"The right reason being my immortal soul?" I joked, even though every cell of my being was telling me to run, even though I was already beginning to regret my impulsive decision. My love for humans would be my downfall...

"Can there be any other reason?" Jongho, now free, traced his finger across my jaw. "Hell, I can't wait to devour you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

☠️☠️☠️

Hongjoong's POV

That damn demon just disappeared?! I had no idea what was happening but before I could waste any more time wondering, I decided to take advantage of the situation and try to escape from wherever his lair was. However, it was too dark to see anything and no matter how much I ran, I couldn't find a way out. I was beginning to panic, thinking about the demon's potential return when I felt a pair of strong arms pulling me. Not given the chance to protest, I could only determine that I was suddenly being taken away. Soon enough, I was greeted by a familiar sight that reminded me of the happiest memories of my life. I was back on the ship! I couldn't believe my luck and whoever my mysterious saviour was, I knew that I owed them everything. Letting go of me, I attempted to discern their features but in vain. The pitch-black night surrounded us from all sides.

"Who are you?"

"A friend. That's all you need to know for now."

"How can I repay you for what you did for me?"

"You can't," the stranger replied sadly, obviously leaving something out. I was too terrified to ask what they meant by that. So, I asked something else, instead.

"Will I see you again?"

"At sunrise. I need to talk to all three of you at once."

"All three of us?"

But before I could inquire what exactly my saviour was suggesting, they disappeared. Were they referring to Seonghwa, Y/N and myself? I groaned quietly and figured I'd just have to be patient and wait until the morning. Until then, I couldn't do much but see Seonghwa again (since I assumed Y/N was back in the sea during the night). I wasn't sure whether (and if so, when) the demon would return for my soul, so I hurried to our room. Imagine my distress when I didn't find Seonghwa there. Running a hand through my hair, I hurried to check my other crewmates' rooms. There was no trace of any of them. If something had happened to them while I was at the demon's lair...I would never be able to forgive myself. Even if I didn't have much time left, I was determined to spend every second of it looking for my friends. Eventually, I decided that checking Mingi's cell was the only solution. If he was still there, he might know something about my crew's disappearance. If he wasn't...then, I would have no idea where to go next.

"Mingi?" I yelled but in vain. His cell was empty. Fuck. Was this some wicked game? Had the demon taken all of them just to mess with me? Where was everyone? I couldn't think of anything but...No, this was too dangerous. But it's not like I had something to lose, right? I had already sold my soul. So, I abandoned my ship and jumped into the sea.

"Y/N! Y/N!" I started screaming while swimming further away from the ship. She probably wouldn't be able to hear me. But I was desperate, okay? And besides, what other choice did I have? To my utter disbelief, she appeared on the surface soon after I began looking for her. An involuntary sigh of relief left my mouth. But then, it hit me. It was a full moon. Which made Y/N more like a siren. Oh, fuck it. If I was about to go to hell, I might as well be drowned by her instead of have my soul absorbed by that demon.

"Hongjoong!" she exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied and swam towards her, completely disregarding the potential danger. "Where did everyone go?"

"They went looking for you, of course!" Y/N explained. "And I had to return here, because of...well, you know why."

I smiled nervously.

"And Mingi?"

"Yeosang let him go," she said.

"Yeosang?" I was shocked.

"I don't know, he said they would need more hands or something," Y/N chuckled at the cruel irony of it. "Yeo's been visiting him. He said Mingi's...different. Kinder."

"Why do I have difficulties believing that?"

"Everyone can change, I guess," she shrugged. Wait, when had she gotten so close? Almost too close...

"Y/N..." I whispered her name in warning, but she didn't seem to hear me. Wrapping her arms around my neck, I felt unable to move. Completely transfixed by her, a small fraction of my brain was terrified of the fact I didn't feel terrified, at all.

"I missed you," she responded with a song-like voice. "Come with me."

"Okay," my mouth agreed even though my mind was still struggling to accept this. Then, she pulled me under. This was it, then? Surrounded by the endless water, her lips touched mine, giving me a breath of air. A couple of moments later, I realized something unexpecting. She wasn't trying to drown me. She was trying to save me. Her siren nature had made her take me beneath the surface. But her human nature was the one providing me with oxygen. After what felt like centuries of kissing, I felt Y/N letting go of me and pushing me upwards. What had just happened?

🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️

Reader's POV

Finally! Oh, how much you'd missed the sweet sunrise! You swam towards the ship. Memories of what had taken place mere hours ago flooded you. You wondered if Hongjoong would be angry with you. You had to explain everything to him and it couldn't wait any longer. You hoped he'd understand...And that he had made his way back home safely.

"Hongjoong!" you cried out, overwhelmed by guilt. He appeared soon enough, looking absolutely wrecked, like he hadn't slept at all. Knowing him, that was probably the case. You climbed up the ladder and the first thing you did was hug him. You were surprised he didn't flinch away. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," he replied calmly.

"I thought I could control her. I didn't think she'd try to drown you. I tried my best to stop her but..." you were rambling before you could realize what he was saying.

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

"Wait...what?" you looked up at him in confusion.

"If you hadn't kissed me, I would have drowned. I could feel you struggling against your siren nature."

"So, you forgive me?" you mumbled nervously.

"There's nothing to forgive," Hongjoong unconsciously repeated your words.

You smiled at him gratefully and then, it hit you.

"Hold on, if you're not mad at me, why do you look so miserable?"

"Seonghwa and the crew still haven't returned. After our nocturnal encounter, I thought it sensible to come back to the ship and wait until dawn. I have no idea where to start looking for them."

"Oh, shit, I was so focused on fighting against my siren self that I forgot to tell you," you mentally slapped yourself. "They took the boats and said if they don't find you, they'll come back to the ship in the morning."

"So, why aren't they here yet?" Hongjoong asked anxiously.

"Aren't they?" you grinned and pointed towards the horizon, where a couple of boats were approaching the ship.

☠️☠️☠️

Seonghwa's POV

"Oh my God," I whispered as soon as I saw Hongjoong on the ship. Safe and sound. I ran towards him and enveloped him in a suffocating hug. "Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

"Relax, Hwa, I'll tell you everything I know," he promised.

"You better! We resorted to letting Mingi go in order to search for you!" I hissed.

"You know I can hear you, right?" Mingi complained.

"Yeosang kept saying some nonsense about how he was a changed man or whatever," I kept going.

"Still right here," Mingi announced awkwardly.

"As you might have guessed," Hongjoong interrupted us, completely unbothered by Mingi's freedom. I assumed Y/N had told him already. "I was taken by a demon."

"We figured," Yeosang confirmed.

"I told them about your stupid deal," I groaned.

"Hey, it's not stupid, Yeosang's still alive, isn't he?" Hongjoong argued.

"It is stupid. It's not like I would have killed my favourite pirate in the universe," Mingi intervened.

Yeosang had the audacity to wink at Mingi!

"Shut up, Mingi," Hongjoong said and continued telling us of his adventures. "Now, where was I? So, the demon told me he'd take my soul and like, I tried to talk my way out of it but before I could achieve anything, he disappeared. Naturally, I tried to escape from wherever I was but it was so dark I couldn't see a thing. Eventually, I was saved by some stranger who teleported me back to the ship. My saviour said we'll meet again at sunrise. That's when they vanished, as well, and I noticed you all weren't on the ship. I checked Mingi's cell and of course, it was empty. So, I decided to wait until the morning."

Hongjoong and Y/N exchanged a strange look that led me to believe that wasn't the whole story. I made a mental note to ask them in private what that was all about. But until then, we had more pressing matters to discuss.

"So, the demon just let you go? This doesn't make any sense," I pointed out suspiciously.

"I don't know why or how but I'm grateful I get to spend more time with you. All of you," Hongjoong clarified. "Even Mingi, for fuck's sake."

Mingi chuckled cutely at being acknowledged like that.

"You think the demon will come back for you?" I inquired.

"No idea, but let's hope not," Hongjoong said.

🔮🔮🔮

Yunho's POV

As I was a man of my word, I teleported myself back to Hongjoong's ship at sunrise. And apparently, my timing was particularly appropriate, because the crew had gathered around Hongjoong and he was obviously telling them of his recent experiences. Making myself invisible on purpose, I appeared in the most dramatic fashion, taking them by surprise.

"Holy shit!" Seonghwa yelped in shock but soon enough, remembering how I'd helped him, visibly relaxed. "Yunho!"

"It's the wizard of the lighthouse!" Y/N exclaimed gleefully.

"Hello again," I greeted them.

"Wait, I know that voice!" Hongjoong announced. "You're the guy who saved me last night!"

"In the flesh," I confirmed, a little too smugly.

"You said you need to talk to the three of us," Hongjoong repeated my words. "Did you mean Seonghwa, Y/N and me?"

"Aren't you a clever pirate?" I patted his shoulder proudly. "No offense but I'd like to keep our conversation private. For now."

"None taken," another one of the pirates shrugged.

Hongjoong led me, Seonghwa and Y/N to a room where I assumed we'd be able to have some privacy. As I informed them of the deal I'd made with Jongho, their faces lit up with a mixture of relief and terror. Relief, I imagined, because they were happy Hongjoong would stay with them. Terror, I figured, because humans and mermaids alike, were quite compassionate by nature, and they probably felt bad for me.

"I don't understand..." Hongjoong spoke quietly. "You don't even know me and you would give up your soul for me?"

"Funny, that's exactly what the demon said," I shook my head. "The truth is, I'm too invested in the three of you already to watch him break you apart. First, with transforming Seonghwa's face so that he can have a new life away from his parents. Then, with fulfilling Y/N's wish to have legs during the day so that she can be with you two. Now, this...I can't explain it myself, but seeing the three of you happy, I feel like it's worth the risk. If Hongjoong was taken away from Seonghwa and Y/N, all of the good magic I've done would go to waste."

They looked at me with so much gratitude and worry I couldn't bear it and told them something I probably shouldn't have.

"Don't worry about my soul. I have a plan that demon will never see coming."

"Do you need our help?" Y/N asked.

"I'm not sure yet, but if I do, I'll come to you."

"Please, do. We owe you big time," Seonghwa responded.

"Don't mention it," I waved him off. "But until then, enjoy your lives."

To be continued…

#ateez #yunho #jongho #hongjoong #seonghwa #2ho #seongjoong #hongjoong x reader #ateez angst #ateez fic #pirate au #mermaid au #writing

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awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands · 3 years

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Laid out cold, now we're both alone (part 2)

A/N: Hello, this fic is very important to me because I tried my best to give justice to such a cool idea and I hope I did a good job. Plus I don't do multichapter ofter, so this was a challenge.

I wanna thank the lovely @livdonna for proofreading my work, you're literally the best <3.

P.S. If you want to get tagged in the next chapters, let me know.

Summary: Nikki visits Mick to give him a very important task.

Warnings: Major Character Death,Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug Use, Angst, Overdose.

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee

Chapter 1

Taglist: @slashscowboyboots @witchytombstonesmile @arnold-layne @emometalhead @i-dont-like-rice @nikki-sexx @smokeandmirrorz

Mick was supposed to not give a shit about Nikki. He and the stupid drummer had tormented him and his wife for months on ends, making the whole tour a living hell and he didn’t need to have even more things to worry about. So what if his bassist decided to get addicted to heroin? He was a fucking dumbass but it wasn’t his problem. He would end up killing himself and it wasn’t like Mick could have done something, not when his whole body was torturing him.

The only problem was that he cared, deep down. He cared about the fucker and hearing the news that he was gone forever hit him. He lost one of his friends and the band all together in a day, what would have happened? He hated to admit he was scared about the future, it was hard to imagine Motley Crue without Nikki.

He sighed, turning off yet another discussion about his death. They didn’t call him yet but something was telling him that they had to release a statement soon. Doc was probably freaking out somewhere crying for all his millions of dollars lost.

“Fucking Nikki, you had to die at the worst moment, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… sorry about that, man” A voice incredibly similar to Nikki said, making Mick jump up.

Nikki didn’t feel anything, one moment they were in the ambulance and the other they were on the beach. He was confused for a moment before he remembered that Mick had a beach house, and stared at it for a bit. He didn’t know much about the guitarist, maybe almost nothing but he respected him so much. He was one of the strongest dudes he had ever met.

The weirdest thing about all of this was probably how he was only able to feel certain things, no cravings or sand under his feet as he was walking, yet he would still feel guilt, fear, love, worry… it didn’t make sense but he wasn’t in the mood to question the universe’s rules.

People can’t see you until you decide to show yourself. You have to remember or otherwise they can’t hear or see you.

The voice still freaked him out, but at the same time he was grateful for it to be there… it made him feel less alone, which was great considering how he felt lonely for his entire life.

“You’re not alone Nikki, I’ll always be there with you, through highs and lows”

“God it sounds like a marriage vow, T-Bone”

“Well if I could I’d marry now…”

He shook his head, trying to get the memory out. It wasn’t the time to be sentimental and risk fucking everything up, so he walked ( more like flew) through the front door and found Mick sitting on the couch.

“Fucking Nikki, you had to die at the worst moment, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… sorry about that, man”. The bassist hoped that he was heard, otherwise it would have been pretty embarrassing.

Mick visibly jumped at hearing Nikki’s voice and quickly turned around to look at him. From his widened eyes and confused expression, he knew he probably looked fucking transparent.

“Okay first of all why the hell are you here talking to me if you’re dead? Then why the fuck can I see myself through you ?”

The black haired man just realized that he had no idea how to explain everything and be believed, he just went along with whatever the voice in his head was saying, but now it was different. He fumbled with his hand and realized he couldn’t feel them, while he tried to come up with the best way to explain to his friend how he was a ghost and why he was there.

“I died… I have no idea how I came back but I have unfinished business and I need to talk to you!”

The guitarist looked at him up and down, clearly skeptical. However, there wasn’t much arguing… Nikki’s ghost was literally standing in front of him.

“Okay I have no idea if this is a dream, I’m dead or in a coma, or simply I drank too much but now I’ll grab some vodka and you’ll spill your little secrets as you like”.

Nikki smiled a bit… He honestly felt normal for the first time since he was brought back. Having Mick joking was so familiar, usually Tommy was the aim of his jokes and they all laughed because they were all so unexpected…

Tommy. Thinking about him still hurt, again he wondered if he was okay and how much he missed him… but it wasn’t his time now. He had other things to talk about as Mick came back into the living room with his glass.

“Mick… you gotta promise me that you won’t let Motley Crue die, that you will fight to keep the band’s legacy.”

The older man looked at him surprised, rolling his eyes.

“Well that’s a bit hard when our bassist and songwriter died!”

Rage and resentment were heavy in his voice but there was more : fear and sadness. Nikki felt guilty and he fucking hated it, it was so unlike him but he couldn’t help it… Mick cared about the band as much as he did. He always said the band was his life, before heroin came into the picture, but it was also Mick’s and he probably destroyed everything.

“You will find another one, another bassist who is also a songwriter…” The words felt so foreign coming from his mouth. They even hurt a bit but they were necessary.

“I know you care about this band as much as I do, Mick. I know how much you’ve worked your ass off in shitty bands, trying to find the one that was going to break… I might be dead but Crue can’t have the same fate”.

Mick scoffed, taking a long sip of his vodka.

“It’s not easy, it’s not like we can find the perfect match like we did. Plus, everyone will probably hate him for replacing you!”

The frustration was almost tangible, but there was something else… Mick was scared, he knew everything was about to fade away because of Nikki’s actions, he was already looking at the boat sinking. Nikki started to panic because his band had to live, even in his death! It was pointless and selfish but that was the only thing people could remind him of.

“If you give up, then Vince and Tommy will do the same! I know that you think no one will take you, but the truth is they will. Crue is what it is because of our vision, you are part of it and I’m asking you to keep it going. Think of this as my dying man’s wish… even if I’m already dead”

The older man’s grip on his glass got tighter, his eyes lost in thought as he was pondering Nikki’s words. It was hard to take in, hell that was an understatement, it was fucking insane and probably wouldn’t work but the bassist needed to have this false hope.

“It’s so fucking weird, you know? To realize you’re fucking dead yet here talking to me.”

He was deflecting, Nikki knew it, but didn’t want to push it too far. He learned to know Mick, he kept his promises and he was a hard worker and with a good dose of luck and jokes, you got him to your side.

“Yeah, do you remember how I said you weren’t going to make it in that interview? Well, karma hits like a bitch!”

“Mick might not make it , he drinks a little too much and it looks rough” Mick quoted, trying to imitate Nikki’s voice.

“Yeah and then you said something like I heard what you said and you’re dead, fuck I guess you were right” He laughed but Mick didn’t.

Oh c’mon so what if he was joking about his death? It’s not like anyone really cared about him. They just saw him as a burden, which he was. Not his mom, nor his band or his Tommy would have really missed him… they would eventually move on.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” He said annoyed but his lips formed a small smile.

“I know, I know. Mick… please promise me that. If Crue is going to end, then my whole life didn’t mean anything! Ple…” He stopped himself, he was so fucking close to begging but he couldn’t. Nikki Sixx didn’t fucking beg, not in life or death.

“I’m thinking about it!”

He really meant the first part. He spent all his teenage and adult years creating the band of his dreams and making sure they conquered the world. This band was his escape; his attempt at redemption after his shitty childhood. Nobody loved Frank Feranna but he didn’t care, he would become Nikki Sixx and be super fucking famous!

He didn’t need anyone’s love, except that he did.

“ I love you, Nikki.”

“ No you don’t, nobody does, T-Bone”

“Well I fucking do. You gotta pass on my dead body before you’ll hear me not saying it over and over”

His heart might have stopped, but he still felt the big wave of nostalgia hitting him. He couldn’t do it, he would have never been ready to see him again.

“Okay, I will. But listen to me, it won’t be easy and I’m an old man with a fucked up back, so don’t send demons against me if I fail!” The little spark of determination in his eyes relaxed Nikki, he was on board.

“I fucking knew you were the best, Mars! If I wasn’t dead I’d probably tattoo your face on me as a thank you!”

“Oh gross, never say that again!” He pretended to be disgusted but his eyes betrayed him, the small softness in them told Nikki he felt touched.

“Who knows, maybe in hell they have tattoos for the ghosts. God we used to hate each other and now we are two peas in a pod.”

“I still hate you.”

“Ugh, you crushed my heart Mick”

The guitarist flipped him off, rolling his eyes. Nikki desperately wanted to keep talking, if he did then he could have pretended nothing changed, right? He didn’t have to face Vince and Tommy and go through the light… everything would have stayed the same or he could fool himself that it would.

I think it’s time to go to the next person.

The voice was demanding yet still calm. Nikki knew that he couldn’t stay forever, they had to prevent spirits from just lingering into the real world like that, it made him a bit angry but he understood it. It wasn’t like he could have done much anyway…He was just a shell of what he used to be.

“I gotta go Mick…” He wanted to punch himself because he sounded so fucking pathetic, but the other man gave him a compassionate smile.

What he fuck are you, a little small puppy? Oh look Frankie is scared to leave his illusion of a family.

Mick walked him to the other without saying anything, but before turning the handle, which was pointless because Nikki could have just passed through the door, he broke the silence.

“Try to give us some signs, okay? Show us that you’re there… but don’t you fucking dare spill my vodka or I’ll make you two times dead!”

“Oh that’s exactly what I’ll do, thanks for the suggestion!”

He stepped outside and looked at Mick one last time.

“You promised, alien. You gotta do it!”

“Yeah yeah, you better repay me when I come to join you there…” And with one last look, Mick closed the door.

Nikki felt all of the weight crushing down on his body, even if it was made of air. He simply stood still, his mind racing like a freight train, trying to take everything in but also getting ready for his next move… being overwhelmed was an understatement, he felt peeled down like an orange and this was only the beginning. He felt like a fucking coward but he just wanted to get over it, was it that bad to accept his fate and disappear without facing anyone?

You are going to abandon him again? You know why you need to talk to Vince, and you know this will be your last chance to see him, asshole!

He went to kick the sand, but he couldn’t touch it. God, how frustrating was that!

So where are we going next?

Nikki would have wanted to scream at him, give him the middle finger and just run away but it wouldn’t have been helpful, would it? So he forced himself to be as neutral as possible.

“Vince Neil. Take me to his house.”

#nikki sixx #Tommy Lee #mick mard #vince neil #motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #80sRock #80s rock band #fanfiction #my writing #tommy lee x nikki sixx

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shepherds-of-haven · 3 years

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I'm obsessed with this dark!Shepherds AU?? Could you tell us more about it? Or in a head-to-head fight, which Shepherds would win against their evil counterparts or vice versa?

Hi there, good question! I haven’t really given that much thought to the dark!Shepherds AU, but I imagine (if we’re making it very similar to the Justice League scenario) something happens to make the majority of the Shepherds snap, and they turn against the Autarchy and instate a form of governance based solely on power and domination. They think they’re doing what’s right by preventing conflict and protecting the world from demons, just like the Justice Lords felt when they took over the world. That being said...

Dark!Blade: Dark!Blade isn’t all that different from teenage/young adult Blade, who was perfectly comfortable with the idea of assassinating and killing people for his cause, and because he firmly believed it would lead to the greater good. Dark!Blade would be like that, but even colder and more ruthless than his past self. He would rid himself of all personal attachments, such as friends, family, and romance, believing that such feelings made him weak and hesitant, and made himself vulnerable to his enemies in the way that the Autarch was made vulnerable through her sons.

In a toe-to-toe combat situation, it’s hard to say who would win. Both have razor-sharp killing instincts and battle tactics, but I’m probably going to give it to Dark!Blade, because he would be willing to fight dirty (taking loved ones hostage, threatening kids or bystanders) and Blade would sacrifice himself willingly for others while Dark!Blade wouldn’t. So I’ll give it to him 90% of the time!

Dark!Trouble: I really can’t imagine a dark version of Trouble, not in the whole “bad Justice League” sense. I suppose he already walks a fine line between light and dark as it is; his relentless good, altruism, courage, and compassion make him a hero, but there’s that edge of temper, rage, and darkness (especially in his past--he was a criminal and killer-for-hire too, after all) that colors it as well. Like, now it’s fine for him to beat the everloving shit out of an asshole like Lazu Reen, but that could tip over to someone who’s not so black-and-white bad, too--he could turn that hatred towards an enemy who is more nuanced, like a politician who ultimately serves the people and does good, but who happened to make Trouble an enemy by personally slighting or hurting a friend, something like that. Trouble’s sense of loyalty tends to override his desire for justice in some ways, and I could see him supporting someone like Blade or MC to the end if they framed their endeavors in a way that could still be read as “good”. Like, yeah I had to kill this group of people, but it was for the greater good! And he’d be like “alright, I trust you!” He’s got your back even when the whole world turns against you, until there comes a point when he just can’t stand it anymore--but by then, he probably already did a lot of bad out of love of his friends.

If it were a death match between Dark!Trouble and our Trouble, I’m betting our Trouble would win, purely because Dark!Trouble’s desire to live would be just slightly lessened by the weight of all the deeds he committed. I don’t think he’s truly cut out to be bad, so our Trouble would probably win...

Truthfully, though, if we’re following the Justice League formula, I could see Trouble being the one dying to trigger the domino effect that leads to the Shepherds turning bad. Like the Flash (I’m pretty sure it was Wally West in JL), in a way, he’s one of the hearts of the Order that bridges them to the civilian population and vice-versa. If he were killed, I could see them falling into the path of darkness (with a lot of other factors involved, too).

Dark!Shery: we already know that Dark!Shery and Shery are one in the same, lol. I don’t think Dark!Shery would be so much like the bad Justice League; I think what would be dark about her would be her indifference, her total passive indifference to their quest for domination “for the greater good” and their thirst for revenge. Dark!Shery is more just personally angry, aggressive, loud, forceful, and selfish, but I don’t see any world where she sets out for power or world domination. If anything, I see Dark!Shery (in that AU) being petty and mean, ripping lollipops out of kids’ hands because she feels like it and not batting an eye at seeing a beggar collapse in the street.

That’s not to say drunk Dark!Shery is like that, I’m just taking her badness to an extreme in an AU where all of the Shepherds are bad!

In a fight, Dark!Shery would absolutely win, lol. She doesn’t have any better combat abilities than our Shery, but her sheer rage would be terrifying and would lend her crazy strength, lol.

Dark!Tallys: Tallys, too, already walks the edge of the path to darkness a little bit, I think. Obviously she’s chosen the good side, but in a different world where a demon promised her revenge for her fallen family and an opportunity to burn the Autarchy down, I think the younger her would have taken it. In a dark!AU where Trouble was killed or something, I think she would be like, “okay, fuck it” and give in to that doubtful, vengeful side of herself and just go apeshit on the world. She would be one of the people spearheading the plan to take over the world. She’d give lip service and say she was doing it for the greater good, but another part of her would revel in the blood and chaos. It wouldn’t heal the wound in her heart, though, and would only make her even more twisted and angry.

In a head-to-head first, I’m going to give it to our Tallys 60% of the time. Part of the thing that makes Tallys so effective in battle is her ability to sever herself from her emotions and maintain a cool head; she can detach herself from personal feelings and analyze combat with cold clarity. I feel like dark!Tallys would be easy to taunt into a rage, or she would let her hatred and thirst for blood cloud her mind, so I feel like our Tallys would have the advantage most of the time!

Dark!Riel: I say this in complete seriousness: in a world where Riel decided to turn evil or fall to the dark side, everybody is already fucked. He would absolutely be the most effective and terrifying villain out of the entire cast. He will rip, slash, and burn entire countries with the easy ruthlessness of an accountant making budget cuts. He knows a dozen ways to starve, lay siege to, and lead public campaigns against the enemy. He would be the scariest Autarch the world has ever seen. If you think he’s mean to his enemies like Ebert now, wait until he has no moral code holding him back...

It’s difficult to imagine a battle between Dark!Riel and our Riel, but I’m going to guess the utter dispassionate cruelty and lack of compassion in Dark!Riel would win 90% of the time. Our Riel has a little less edge than Dark!Riel, so for that reason, I think he would lose. And so would the world...

Dark!Chase: I feel like Dark!Chase is very similar to our Chase, just colder, more ruthless, and bloodthirstier. He’d take genuine pleasure in torturing and killing his enemies, and I think he would cut out the flirtatious aspect of his personality in favor of a crueler and more sadistic sense of humor. He would also probably be batshit insane, like, somewhere on the Joker’s level but not obnoxious; in fact, quieter and calmer and deadlier, like you could never really know what he was thinking. People would be afraid to look into his eyes. I think it would take a lot more to push him to that point than the others, though; but once he tipped over that cliff into darkness, there’d be no going back or remorse for him. He’d love to kill his enemies with a kiss and a smile.

In a fight between our Chase and Dark!Chase, I feel like it would be 50/50. Dark!Chase would be more reckless, unpredictable, and have even less of a fear of death than our Chase does; our Chase would have the edge in terms of strategy. So yeah, I think it would be 50/50!

Dark!Red: I can’t even imagine what Dark!Red would be like, lol. I just can’t imagine him being truly evil or ruthless without feeling guilty about it. I guess I could only imagine it if, like, he messed around with some spell and it robbed him of the ability to feel love or empathy?? But even then, I feel like he doesn’t have any inclination to go around conquering the world or hurting people. He mostly just wants to chill and read his books. I feel like he’d be the only one out of the group (besides probably Trouble if he’s not already dead) to be like uhhh guys what’s going on here, this isn’t like us?? He’d probably defect and lead a small underground rebel force with Pan and Neon. OMG and he’d be the one to figure out worldwalking and travel to our Blest to get our Shepherds to fight his because they’d be the only ones to stand a chance at taking down the evil versions of themselves!!! OMG!!! IT ALL FITS WTF.

Dark!Ayla: I could see Ayla Hulking out and becoming full of rage, but it’s difficult for me to imagine her doing something like supporting the death of innocents or using dirty-handed maneuvers to conquer the land. She’s also among the most independent of the Shepherds, so I feel like she’d be the most vocal of their opposition... it’s realllly hard for me to imagine her casually killing anybody except for scumbags who hurt other people, like murderers and kidnappers. In a war between different political factions or a bid to conquer the world, I just don’t think she has it in her--no matter how angry and aggrieved she was at whatever turned the rest of the others bad.

I think she would either be on the good side, such as supporting Red’s rebels, or vocal enough among the bad guys to have been killed as a dissenter; she might not be around by the time our Shepherds made it to the dark dimension. But if she was, I’m pretty sure our Ayla would win against her 80% of the time. Our Ayla still has the courage of her convictions and the scrappy desire to survive no matter what; dark!Ayla probably wouldn’t.

Dark!Halek: Also hard for me to imagine Halek turning truly evil; I feel like, if something bad were to happen to turn the rest of the Order bad, Halek would give himself more to grief instead of rage and revenge. He most likely would remove himself from the situation rather than try to take over the world; they would probably have to go hunting for him in the wilderness, kind of like when Luke was a hermit on that blue milk island in Star Wars (spoilers I guess?). I guess dark!Halek would be sort of tired and indifferent Halek, not able to go up against his old allies; our Shepherds might regard him as a coward, but he wouldn’t be evil like the others.

Our Halek would definitely beat that Halek in a fight, but they’d probably have no reason to fight in the first place!

Dark!Briony: did any of you ever watch the Flashpoint Paradox (another DC movie about the Justice League--well, the Flash--finding out about a really evil parallel universe)? There’s a scene in it where Dark!Wonder Woman--Queen of the Amazonians and waging a war against Aquaman and the Atlanteans--like, beheads Aquaman’s wife Queen Mera and holds her head up to Aquaman like “fuck you”. I won’t link the gif because all of the violence in that movie is pretty gruesome, but that’s how I feel Dark!Briony would initially be. Super strong, running through the enemy army like a knife through paper, annihilating whole forces and landscapes with just her fists, and not giving a shit just how many people she’s killing. I feel like there’s already a tenuous grasp on her emotions in our Briony; beneath the happy-go-lucky, sweet exterior, she feels so much and loves so much that there’s also the ability for her to snap. It wouldn’t take that much (a few more Nathes) to unhinge her and decide to hurt the world as much as it has hurt her. I think she would sort of black out into an all-consuming, heartbroken suicide run where she just decided to do everything in her power to create as much destruction as possible, to somehow soothe the destruction in her heart.

When that wouldn’t work, I think she would come back to her senses a little and start to slowly realize how fucked up and evil the things she’s doing (and the people around her) have become. It would be slower than someone like Ayla or Red, but gradually I think she would start to nurse a secret doubt in her heart, and if someone like Red was still around, he’d be able to convince her to start working for the good guys in secret, as their mole within the dark!Shepherds. However, I feel like cleverer minds like Blade, Lavinet, Chase and Riel would find her out, and she’d probably be executed for her treason.

In a fight against Dark!Briony and our Briony, I feel like it would depend on what stage of her development she’s at. If it’s still full rage mode, Dark!Briony probably wins like 80-90% of the time!

Dark!Lavinet: I could see Lavinet turning evil, but it’s sort of hard to imagine because she takes her duty to serve the people so seriously--it’s difficult to imagine what would need to happen to make her forget that, or to make her think she knows what’s best for them, even if that means doing bad things. It would already be so easy for her to do that in our world that she’s very conscious of it, so it would take a lot for her to fall into darkness. However, it’s still possible, and I could totally see her agreeing to be installed as a figurehead Autarch in order to maintain order and peace, slowly becoming more callous and ruthless over time. She would totally execute the old guard loyal to the previous Autarch and make their heads roll publicly to instill fear and respect for her reign. She does have that streak of ruthlessness in her; in our world, it’s reserved only for her enemies, but in that world, she’d slowly start to view everyone as her enemy--even past friends!

In a fight between Dark!Lavinet and our Lavinet, I would guess that our Lavinet would win 90% of the time. In that AU, I feel like Dark!Lavinet would let others do the fighting for her, and she would get used to ruling and being behind the front lines; in a way, she’d lose her fighting edge, something our Lavinet still has in spades. So in a direct combat situation, I think our Lavinet would win! In a game of wits and politics, I’m not sure--I would give that one 60-40 in favor of Dark!Lavinet!

#Shepherds of Haven #evil #evil AU #dark AU #AU #villain #villains #tw: suicide #cw: violence #cw: war #cw: murder #deadliest warrior #dark!shepherds #long #long post #all characters #anon #dark!AU

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

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Hi! First of all I want to thank everyone for the support you have given me so far🥰. I really, really appreciate it! Here is my next post. Hopefully you like it.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, paranoia, manipulation, bipolar behavior, violence, guilt-tripping, manipulation, sabotage, blackmailing, threatening, bribing, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of killing

Yandere Trancy Manor Hc’s

Alois Trancy

👅This one’s really a handful to take in. He’s pretty bipolar and that effects his Yandere behavior as well. Depending on his mood he can have less worse traits or worse ones. Let’s start with the “better” traits which are delusional, clingy, lovestruck, obsessive and desperate. In his mind the both of you were made for each other so it’s only natural that he wants to know everything about you. Extremely clingy, wherever his s/o is he’ll be there as well and he wants, no, he NEEDS your attention and love even more than Claude’s! This boy cherishes you so much. Extremely touchstarved.

👅The worse traits from him are possessive, manipulative, cruel and some tendencies to the sadistic type. He lost his little brother and won’t lose his darling too, no matter what he has to do! Manipulative as fuck, he fooled everyone with his acts when his “father” died and will use his horrific past on the s/o as well. The thing is, I think he would be more than hesitant to hurt his darling. He doesn’t care about hurting other people, but with the s/o he’s more careful. But when he’s angered enough he might loose it and hurt the s/o and insult them without really realizing what he does until he snaps out of it and as soon as he realized what he’s done he’s heartbroken. Also a very cruel type, but mostly only with the people who are in his relationships’s way with the s/o.

👅Possessive and clingy is a frightening mix. Do everyone the favor and don’t look at anybody else except him. He already punishes his servants when they take your attention away from him, but if it’s another person they’re dead. If someone even takes his darling’s attention away from him for one second he’ll throw a tantrum right then and there. After this he’ll act like the brat he is, even towards you, but one simple hug or a gentle kiss on the cheek from you and he’ll melt and goes back to treating you like a queen/king.

👅Alois is ready to kill everyone who comes in his way. Most of the time he orders Claude to do it, but if someone made you cry, harmed you or confessed to you is when the boy shows his true cruelty. First of all he’ll order Claude to take that person to a secure place where only he has access to. Then he’ll tell them in detail what is going to happen to them with a crazed look in his eyes, which is already enough to make someone never go near the s/o again. After that the torture starts and I can guarantee that everyone begs him to just kill them after merely 30 minutes, but days or even weeks might pass before that guy kills the person. Even hell will seem harmless compared to this.

👅Alois will kidnap his darling really quickly given his paranoia. But he makes sure that everything is towards their liking, there’s nothing he doesn’t know about them. If they try to escape him he’ll chain them up to the bed, but will still spoil them.

👅Uff...This is hard to say. If we go by his worse traits and by how he treats the s/o sometimes and the people around his darling he’s one of the really dangerous ones. But if we go with the better traits and how he treats you most of the time he’s in a dark dark green zone. He spoils you to the rotten and if he accidentally hurts you this boy starts crying, going on his knees and begging you for forgiveness. For the next few days he’ll smoother you in even more affection, hugs and kisses than he already does. I think it’s up to you to judge if he’s a better or worse one.

Claude Faustus

🕷He’s a demon so naturally possessive over the s/o, never letting them leave his side for more than a few seconds. Also the aware type, just like Sebastian he might not know human feelings that well, but he is sure that they aren’t supposed to be so passionate. He’s a manipulative one, using lies to slowly trap his darling in his web without them noticing.

🕷Also a clingy one, I already mentioned it in Sebastian’s Hc, it’s rare for demons to find true love and he never knew what joy he could feel from simply being near his darling. Also an obsessive one he loves everything about you what makes him a touchy one as well.

🕷Possessive and clingy ones are always easily jealous, same goes for Claude. He just found his mate, do you seriously expect to just watch when they’re having fun with someone else?! Na-ah, not happening. His reaction would be similar to Sebastian he would most likely let some part of his demon form appear for a few seconds to scare the other person away.

🕷If someone even dares to touch his s/o’s skin he makes sure to make their death as agonizing as possible. He won’t let anyone take his darling away from him and is willing to crush everyone who tries it. But just like Sebastian he is careful with his killing because the last thing he wants to happen is that this little brat called Alois finds out about you.

🕷Claude will kidnap his darling very quickly given his possessiveness. He doesn’t even think about asking them to work as a maid because Alois is already really cruel to the demon servants so thinking about what harm he might cause a human servant...Yeah, no chance that he’ll let his s/o anywhere near that brat. He’ll search for a nice and cozy cottage somewhere isolated and makes sure that his darling can’t escape from there.

🕷Compared to his master he’s a better Yandere. He just wishes to spoil the s/o and he’ll bring you everyday a new gift. Books, sweets, dresses/suits, whatever you wish for. This guy helps you with everything and will insist on dressing you. He wants you to rely on him and if you act up he’ll be more strict with you, but overall such a gentleman.

Hannah Annafellows

🟣She’s a demon so she’s a possessive one. She’s also obsessed with her darling, loving their hair, scent, skin, laughter, everything about them is addicting to her. She’s a manipulative one and will ensure that everyone the s/o is close to will somehow end up leaving them. And who’s during such times your shoulder to cry on? Hannah! She makes sure that her s/o relies on her and only trusts her.

🟣Hannah is also the lovestruck and overprotective Yandere. She always makes sure that her darling is being watched by her or the triplets so nothing bad happens to them. No words can describe how much she adores and loves her darling. And just for you she’s a really soft one. But don’t get too comfy with her because if you anger her enough she’ll punish you.

🟣Hannah has different from the other demons here just a bit more patience with people, mostly because she knows that they’ll leave the s/o very soon for some “unknown” reasons and that her darling will then run crying to her, needing her hugs and comforts. With these thoughts in her mind, you in her arms and clinging onto her for dear life, she can hold out for some time.

🟣She won’t kill unless given a good reason to. If someone for example takes a liking towards her darling and ignores Hannah’s warning that person is dead. Same goes for people who made you cry and hurt you, even if it’s just a small scratch, that person will be dead within the same day.

🟣She won’t kidnap her s/o unless something bad happens. Most likely scenarios are if she confesses to them and they reject her, they find out about her behavior towards others around them, you distance yourself from her or you’re getting seriously harmed. But as soon as she does her s/o has no chance to escape her with not only her, but the triplets watching over her as well.

🟣I believe that Hannah can be a better Yandere, but only if you behave well. She has some kind of reward system which means the better you behave the more she’s willing to let you out and grand you your wishes. If you don’t behave or try to escape she’ll punish you, but I believe that her punishments are more mentally than physically. That doesn’t really make it better since she’s a demon. She’ll probably let you imagine your worst nightmares and then you’ll run like a frightened bunny to her and beg and cry for her help which she’ll gladly give you, making you see her as your hero and savior which is exactly what she wants. But overall a soft and caring woman.

Timber, Thompson & Canterbury

🤫Since they’re really discreet they prove a little challenge, but I really like them and want to give it a try. All demons are possessive, no exception with these guys. Since they’re so quiet I think they are stalkers as well. At least one of them is ALWAYS observing you from the distance.

🤫Obsessed with their darling in every sense possible. They’re the types to steal things from the s/o and since they are 3 of them they steal a looot of things from their darling. Books, toothbrushes, clothes, underwear... Also the lovestruck types, always imagining how wonderful it would be to have their darling near them. When they are near the s/o then they are incredibly touchy with them.

🤫They know who you meet during the day since they’re always watching! The one who watched you that day will report everything to his brothers and they’ll decide together if that person should be killed or not. Nearly 97% of the time they go with the first option since they can’t stand the thought of someone else being near their darling.

🤫As mentioned above, they hate the thought of someone else near the s/o. It’s already bad enough to have one demon wanting to kill you, but 3?! That’s the worst situation someone could ever ask for. They’re the quiet but deadly types, but I can imagine that the triplets will toy with the victim at first, making fun of them before cornering that person and killing them.

🤫The brothers make sure to kidnap you very soon because at one point just watching didn’t satisfy them anymore. They’ll most likely have a fight about who gets to kidnap you before deciding that they’ll all go together. Isn’t just the thought of having 3 lovesick demons hunting you down wonderful? You’re never going to see anything except the small house in which they keep you again. Escaping isn’t an option too because one of them is always with the darling. Now they only need to find out how to share the s/o.

🤫They’re in the middle, meaning they’re not the worst and not the best. They always argue about who gets to take you on a short walk outside, who gets to help you dress up, who gets to help you with a bath, honestly it’s more frustrating. Punishments are only given when you try to escape or resist their affection towards you and consist of locking you in a dark room with only one meal per day. Probably doesn’t sound that bad, but when you’re about to sleep they silently hide somewhere in the dark and use their demonic powers to give you terrible nightmares and at some point you’re going to be too scared to sleep. That’s when they let you out again and the next few weeks or even months, depending on how far they went, you won’t be able to sleep without at least one of them with you in the bed, cuddling you satisfied and happily in his arms. But most of the time they’re your loyal servants, you won’t have to lift a finger just let them do anything. ( The triplets turned out longer than wanted, but as mentioned above I really like them and just the fact that they’re 3 makes the whole situation even more interesting. From the whole Trancy household they’re definitely my favorites.)

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere alois #yandere alois trancy #yandere claude #yandere claude faustus #yandere hannah #yandere hannah annafellows #yandere triplets #yandere timber #yandere thompson #yandere canterbury

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Return to sender

CW: I’m bad at writing pregnancy stuff,

first part: here

previous part: here

Before you knew it, you'd been on your own for almost four months. God, it's been so long. You thought with a bit of fear as you drove home from the store in the swiftly waning light of evening, glancing at the passengers seat where bags of all of the supplies you had looked up for having a home birth. Which wasn't going to be fun, but going to a hospital meant paperwork and being kept in one place for an unknown amount of time, easily trackable, not to mention the hospital birth records would be perfectly accessible to the Zoldycks, meaning they could track down your baby. So, you were just going to bite the bullet and do it yourself. On the bright side, I have about 2 months to prepare and learn, so things will go great. You told yourself, sending a quick prayer to any god listening that you didn't face any complications, because you'd only gone to one doctor's appointment for the baby, and while it didn't show any bad omens for the birth, that had been ages ago, so you weren't really sure of how healthy your baby currently was. Though, some of that anxiety was more-so from the small changes you'd begun to notice in these last few weeks. It wasn't anything major, mostly cramping, more backpain, and exhaustion, but good ol' google had told you these may be signs of pregnancy. Hence the evening trip to the store for all of the things you lacked at home for a home birth. You hoped you were just being overly cautious, but you couldn't be too sure. Despite that though, you did your best to stay positive and just went about collecting your shopping as carefully as you could and waddling up to your nasty little apartment. You were pretty happy at the bottom of the stairs, on edge, as always when the place you lived had so many sketchy people that their aura seemed as engrained in the carpet as the mystery stains on your bedroom floor, but your mood instantly fell when you got to the top of the stairs. You stood there, heart racing, (e/c) eyes wide and frantically searching for any reason as to why you were suddenly so nervous. After all, you'd worked through this level of anxiety in your first month there, you should have a better handle on it than this, but then it clicked. It's too quiet. You realized, putting a hand on the banister to steady yourself as the dread hit you. Your apartment building was still bustling with noise, from neighbors having sex loudly, to someone's kids getting into a shrieking match, those noises were pretty mundane to you now, but something still felt too calm. Like that moment in movies right before the murderer attacks. Calm down, everything's fine. You told yourself, taking a deep breath or two to try and wait for the wave of paranoia to ebb. One of the neighbors probably just has some sort of guest over. Or maybe some strong nen user passed by, I'm sure it has a reasonable explanation. You continued to reassure yourself, but the feeling didn't pass. Some voice inside of you just kept screaming about something being way too off, maybe it was your survival instincts, maybe it was simply your paranoia acting up, either way you decided to trust your gut. So, you compromised with yourself. You gathered your bags and unlocked your apartment to place them in, ensuring they'd be safe when you returned tomorrow, than you made your way back down to the foyer as swiftly as you could manage while heavily pregnant.

"Are you alright, miss?" A man suddenly asked, making you yelp, but when you looked over, it was just some dark haired man with a cross-shaped tattoo of sorts on his forehead sitting at the guard's seat. You'd never seen him before, but you tried your best to not be impolite. At worst, he was some sort of spy for Illumi, but if he wasn't and he was just one of the many sketchy guards that worked for the apartment building, you still didn't want to offend him. So, you laughed a bit, clasping your hands over your stomach to hide how badly you were shaking, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just realized I'd forgotten something in my car, don't want it stolen." you said in a shakey but kind voice, which made the man snort a bit, "Would you like me to go out there for it? I promise not to steal anything," he offered, his grey eyes sparkling with mischief while he was oddly amused by his own words, but you shook your head, brushing any stray strands of (h/l), (h/c) hair from your face as you spoke, "No thank you, but I a-appreciate your offer." with that, you made a beeline for the door, swiftly stepping outside and taking a deep breath of the fresh spring air. All at once, your anxiety began to wane, which you were immensely thankful for. Slowly, you let out a breath and waddled over to your car, ignoring the pinching cramping sensation that had plagued you for about a week now and just deciding to sit outside in your car for a while and maybe sleep there for the night since the upstairs of your building felt so weird. However, when you got to the vehicle, you pulled at the handle and nothing happened. When you tried a second time, the same thing happened, the door didn't budge. To make thing worse, you couldn't seem to find your keys when you checked your pockets. "Of course, it'd be just my luck that I'd lose my damned keys and lock myself out of my car." you muttered, leaning against the car and resting your head against the window, trying your best to think up a second alternative to going back inside when you heard it. The single voice you wanted to never hear again, "I must admit, you're a lot more resilient than I first thought." Illumi hummed, and before you could even think to react, he trapped you against the car, slamming his hands into the window so hard you heard it begin to crack. You shrieked and pressed your back against the car, less scared of getting cut on the glass than you were of Illumi, but instead of getting killed with his aura, or manhandled into some unmarked van, or hell, even being yelled at like you'd expected, you simply felt him brush a stray tear you didn't realize you'd shed from your (s/c) cheek, and when he did speak, he was as calm and unreadable as ever, "You had me highly worried these past few months," he said, pushing himself off of your car and looking you over, keeping one of his hands on you in some fashion the whole time, just in case you tried to bolt or fight him off, but you never did, you'd frozen in a mix of terror, defeat, and a dizzying sense of warped relief that nearly made you nauseous. "Now, you're coming home and we are going to have a nice, calm, talk about your mistake and how you can fix it." he said, grabbing you by the wrist to lead you away. However, when his words finally sunk in, you were filled with another sense of frantic determination, refusing to move as best you could while your (e/c) eyes welled with tears again, though that was more from the pain of Illumi tightening his grip on your poor captive wrist when you resisted. "No!" It came out a lot more forceful than you expected, "No! I don't want to go back a-and subject any child to whatever torture created you!" Finally, it was your words that earned a pause, and when you looked up to his face you saw a mixture of hurt, annoyance, and a shred of understanding flit across his doll-like facial feature ever so slightly. "(y/n), you need to calm down. You're growing hysterical and you're going to hurt yourself trying to fight me. Just relax and come home." He ordered, but you shook your head and continued to resist as best you could, which thankfully worked since the assassin didn't want to purposely hurt you "No! Just let me go, please! K-kill me if you must, but I don't want to go back!" you cried, and in a frantic attempt to get away, you pulled at your wrist as hard as you could, and by sheer luck, actually slipped through Illumi's grip. Sadly, your luck was spent with that last trick, so your attempts to get into the apartment building and maybe get help from the guard were quickly thwarted. Some part of you thought that maybe you could get away from Illumi Zoldyck again, but failed to realize he was a lot faster than you, even if you weren't about-to-burst pregnant. In a hope-crushing flash, he'd grabbed you again, wrapping his arms around your torso to yank you back against him and holding you there with one arm while his free hand captured your wrists to stop you from frantically flailing. "(y/n), if you do not calm down right now, I will get the doctor to use sedatives on you." he warned, his voice low and dripping with foreboding, which, if you had any fight left in you, washed it away like he had the first day of your escape. However, you'd gone still for another reason. "I-Illumi, let me go," you squeaked, your heart pounding so hard you didn't think you'd be able to hear his reply, "Absolutely not." He then tried to lift you up a bit so he could move you, but you wriggled "No! P-please listen, Illumi!" You plead, "I-I think my water just broke!"

#illumi x reader #sequel #x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh #illumi zoldyck #outrunning obessessions #fanfiction #quotev #sequelette

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Do What You’re Told

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: Here’s Part 4 of our dirty adventures with Dom!Jax... featuring more smutty kinks from requests that came in, and some fluffy aftercare at the end! (Recommend reading Parts 1-3 before this final installment – links above! *Note that if Part 3 was too dark/degrading for you, Part 4 is a bit less intense, more like Parts 1 and 2. And the fluff at the end is SUPER FLUFFY, so there’s that too!*)

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, edging, squirting, punishment, praise kink, spanking, rough sex, dom!Jax, dom to the fucking max, PLUS AFTERCARE AND LOVE AND FLUFF AND STUFF!!

Word Count: ~2.7k

... Continued from Part 3 [Read Here]

... And I’m gonna make sure it hurts.

You’re already in pain, at the force of his words. But this isn’t a game; there is more, so much more, still in store. And you’re both getting off on this absolute fucking torture.

Where you lie with your senses deprived—rendered blind, muffled mouth and hands tied—all your focus descends to the ache between your shaking thighs. You’re so desperate and wet that it feels like you’re actually going to die. And you honestly might. That’s how badly you need Jax’s dick to destroy you, to fill up your cunt and fulfill all the needs even deeper inside...

As he always does, Jax reads your mind. Leans in closer, lips ghosting across the soft skin of your neck with each word that he says, which feels fucking divine. “Bet you’re dying to cum. Aren’t you, bitch. Do you think you deserve such a privilege?”

Shaking your head, you continue to tremble like mad; you can feel Jax’s body weight shift on the bed. He’s on all fours on top of you now, primal and powerful as an animal ready to pounce, as that damn mouth begins drifting down. His slick tongue traces over your collarbone, making you moan, dipping into the hollow of your gasping throat, and then—holy shit—down to your tits.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he gushes, and the praise has you giddy with bliss. It was so unexpected, given that his dirty talk up till this moment has been downright wicked. As much as you love it, and need it, apparently praise is a whole other kink for you, too. If he’s looking to get you all heated, this shit is the ticket. “The way you surrender so sweetly.... completely... the way you submit. All tied up for me... desperate and needy... mmm, so fucking slutty. So pretty.”

Through his words, Jax keeps licking and nipping all over the sensitive flesh of your tits. Feels so good it hurts, blowing your senses to bits. Then those damn hands of his start to wander all over your body, his every move skillful and steady. The heat of the moment has both of you heaving and sweaty. He knows just how badly you need him to fuck you already.

“I bet I could get you to cum in a second,” he reckons. “One flick of my tongue on that dripping wet cunt. Would you like that, slut? That what you want?”

You groan into your gag, on the edge of your climax already and not sure if you can hold back...

Yet you’ll have to. Your right to cum doesn’t belong to you. Never has. That power and that privilege, like every other part of you, belongs to Jax.

The moment his fingers reach down to brush over your pussy and finally make contact... it feels as if every damn cell in your body is under attack. God, just a feather of a touch and you’re already turned to mush. Your pulse pounds in your skull like waves crashing, limbs thrashing, impulsively arching your back...

But that’s too fucking bad. Jax is not having that. “You don’t get to cum till I say you can. Understand?”

Fuck, it hurts just to summon the strength to obey his command...

His thumb circles over your clit, as he pushes two thick fingers suddenly into your slit. “Ughh—you’re so fucking soaked, holy shit...” he explosively grunts. Reaching up with his free hand, he roughly gropes one of your tits. “Yeah, that’s it. Be a good little cunt. Don’t you dare fucking cum. Or there’s gonna be some fucking serious punishment.”

That sounds like fucking hell. But also heaven, if you’re honest with yourself. Jesus Christ, Jax Teller has fucked you over so well.

Though you know that your role is to do what you’re told, you just can’t help but wonder how good it would feel to have Jax fucking punish your holes. You feel guilty and filthy for even imagining breaking commandments on purpose. Your job is to worship, obey, be of service. But if the consequence for disobedience is punishment... and if punishment is what you really want... isn’t it worth it?

Next thing you know, Jax’s sinful mouth slides further down your bare torso and starts to go dangerously low. And you’re no longer able to think; you have lost all control over every damn thing. When his tongue glosses over your throbbing wet cunt, you explode, on the instant, although you know you don’t deserve it. His mouth on your clit is pure magic—he’s too fucking perfect...

“Fucking shit,” Jax growls under his breath as your juices splash onto his beautiful face. You just wish you could watch, as he buries his face in your crotch. He’s unable to stop, lapping up every drop; always did love the way that you taste. “Look at that. Dirty slut. Fucking squirting all over the place. Didn’t I tell you to do as I say?”

Yes, sir, but there was just no fucking way... you’re still riding so high, from how hard you just came, unable to reply, or to even remember your name.

“You think this is a game?” he snarls as he suddenly shifts higher up over your helpless body. Aggressively snatching the panties that he had stuffed into your mouth, yanking them out, to gag you with his tongue in its place, in a kiss that devours your face, letting you taste your own soaking shame. The flavor of just how disobedient you had been, how fucking naughty. “Like the way you taste? Yeah, you like sucking your pussy juice off of my face? Filthy bitch. Bet you want to get punished. Well, if that’s the game, this is how we’re gonna play.”

He then swiftly unfastens the ropes at your wrists, and manhandles you into another position of total submission: facedown on the bed with your ass in the air as he grabs a handful of your hair in his dominant fist. God, you can’t fucking wait to get punished like this. From where he kneels behind you, his massive cock grinds up against your ass crack, as he pulls your hair violently back.

“Now I want you to keep fucking count. Nice and loud. You got that?” he rasps, as the nails of his other hand scrape in a line down your sharply arched spine, then dig into the flesh of your ass. Ugh, you want this so bad... Jax still has more to say, before he dishes out the first smack. “And with each count, you’re gonna tell me and show me just how sorry you are for the stupid mistake you just made. For the rule you decided to break. Bitch, whatever I give, you will take.”

“Yes—yes, sir...!” you answer, grateful now that the gag is removed from your lips, so that you can express just how badly you want this.

“You’re gonna convince me that you’ve learned your place. Learned to do as I say. Better scream loud and clear,” Jax growls into your ear, “because if I don’t like what I hear... then you don’t get to cum for a whole fucking year.”

Before you can even react to the notion of that, his hand finally comes down on your ass with the first brutal smack.

“Fuck...!” you groan, your mind totally blown upon impact.

“That’s not a number, you pathetic little cunt.”

“One!” you shout, rushing then to spout desperate apologies out of your mouth, just as he had demanded. “I’m so fucking sorry for being so naughty, it won’t ever happen again, I’m so sorry...”

His hand comes down harder now. “Stupid slut. Sorry what.”

“S-sorry, sir!” you stammer, heart thudding like a damn jackhammer. “Sir, I’m so sorry...”

“Lost count already?”

“Two!” you scream, though by now he is onto the third, and he’s making them hurt. “Three! Three, sir, thank you for spanking me!”

“Mmm, that’s a good little whore. You want more?”

“Yes sir, please...” you can barely support your own weight on your knees. But you don’t dare collapse, desperate to stay in perfect position for each set of slaps. “F-fuck... four...!”

“What’s your purpose in life, whore?”

“To serve you, sir! You fucking own me; I’m yours... I’m a fucktoy that only exists for your pleasure... sir, I promise I won’t disobey orders, ever again... never...”

Time becomes a complete fucking blur. You can barely remember the numbers, but Jax keeps on dishing out smacks, each one savage and stronger, and somehow you keep track, for this is exactly what feeds both your hungers. Then at some point he finally aligns his huge cock with your crack, once he cannot hold back any longer.

“You think you’re ready for this dick?” he teases, rubbing the leaking pink tip against your swollen pussy lips, loving the way your cunt squeezes and drips. “You fucking better be, you dirty little bitch. You’ve fucking earned it.”

At this point you’re lucky to manage to form any words. “Oh fuck—shit... thank you, sir...”

He spreads apart your legs, then leans down lower now, soft lips grazing the back of your neck. You can feel the sweat drip from his brow, and the devilish smirk on his mouth with the words that he says. “Don’t thank me yet. This cock is gonna knock you dead.”

And that is exactly what happens next. Jax Teller’s monster cock rips through your dripping wet pussy and tears it to shreds. This is more than just sex—this is wreckage, in every damn sense, and you’re pretty sure your body just shattered into a million pieces and scattered all over the bed. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, to the beat of your heart. And yet somehow this feeling of being so broken apart... feels like everything coming together.

You come undone just as soon as it starts. And don’t want it to end, ever. You’ve never felt such intense, painfully perfect pleasure. Stars flutter across your vision as you give yourself over in utter submission to Jax Fucking Teller. The way that he owns you is so raw and rough and yet so full of love. This sensation of absolute bliss... God, you honestly want him to just keep on fucking you, loving you like this, forever.

But no matter how endless your love is, the body has limits, of course—even yours—even his, despite what a damn sex god he is. So the sex is over in a matter of minutes. Maybe seconds. Whatever. Same difference.

But the aftereffects... this fucking afterglow... like, whoa. You stare into the black emptiness of your blindfold and are pretty sure you can see through to the heavens and count all the stars in a row. Jax is the only star that matters, though. The sun itself, your literal angel, his love the only heaven you will ever need to know...

Your mind is so blown that you’re barely sure what’s happening on earth, but you can sense his presence as he gently turns you over on your side, lifting the blindfold from your eyes, settling into place then to embrace you from behind, kissing your shoulders and your neck and cheek and every inch of you that he can find, for everything you’re worth, a hundred shades of soft and slow.

His warm hands soothe the skin of your wrists, massaging the faint marks from the ropes that he’d tied, as his loving lips soothe to the core of your soul with each kiss. Loving you back to life, after you had so blissfully basically died. Fucked to death in a way that fulfilled you so deeply inside.

“You are so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect,” he whispers it over and over again, as he kisses your face and your neck, words imprinting against every inch of your skin. Every cell of your body melts into his touch. “I love you, Y/N. Love you so fucking much.”

You would say the words back, but your heart is so full that you fear it might crack. So you let yourself stay in the haven of his sturdy forearms, so safe and so warm, and just bask in the love that you’re feeling from Jax. For he always knew just how much you love him, too. Never needed to ask.

Once some time has passed, Jax finally lets up his kisses-and-cuddles attack and lies back to relax, one hand lazily stroking your back. “You need anything, babe? Say the word and it’s yours,” he murmurs. “If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna have to surprise you. You know, read your mind like I always do.”

You turn around now to lie down on your other side, leaning in toward him so you can gaze up at his gorgeous face. “Really? Like on our first date when you ordered the one ice cream flavor I happen to hate?”

He rolls his blue eyes with a laugh and a sigh. “Hey, you know you liked it once you tried it—don’t tell me that wasn’t the best thing you ever ate...”

Smiling and cuddling into his chest, you press your lips against it in a soft kiss as you fondly reminisce. “You had me slobbering all over something better by the time the date was over, so I guess it didn’t matter anyway.”

“Damn straight,” he agrees, pulling you toward him more closely. “But seriously—I don’t know, doughnuts and coffee? Pizza and a movie? Full-body massage and braid your hair? You know I’m all about the service, darlin’, so my middle name is aftercare. Or we could sit and talk about our feelings? Maybe take a nice long hot shower together...?”

All of those things sound fucking amazing... but right now there’s one thing that feels even better. “Just shut up and hold me, Teller.”

He’s more than glad to go along with that. “Okay, babe. Whatever you say.”

In light of what had gone down earlier today, you can’t help but reply in a playful way, taking on a theatrical tone of command and control. “That’s right, Jackson. Do what you’re told.”

He laughs again, the laugh that lights up your entire world. “Guess that line’s never gonna get old... you know, outside the bedroom I promise that’s gonna be my role.”

You know Jax will never forgive himself for what had happened, no matter how quick you had been to forgive him. “To listen? Be submissive and obedient?”

“Mm-hmm. Always. No matter what stupid shit I might say in the moment. My alpha male ego rears up now and then, but I promise I won’t disrespect you like that again, ever again,” he vows, holding you even closer now. “Deep down you know I’m your bitch, Y/N. You are my queen. Always have been.”

God, you could die from just how much you love him. The way Jax just admitted he’s totally pussy-whipped by you is really adorable, but on some level you want to devote yourself to him in real life as well—while still being a strong independent woman, self-sufficient and respectable. There’s no use in trying to hide it or fight it. “Well, let’s not let it get too one-sided... we can talk more about respect in our relationship and all that shit some other day. But for now let’s agree that when it comes to sex, you will always be king, okay?”

Your man is totally on board with that plan. “Sure thing. Gives my alpha male ego a great way to play, and you seem to be... into it...”

“Maybe, a little bit.”

“Baby, you love that shit. Almost as much as I love you.”

“Yeah, guess I do. Love you, too.”

For the next several hours the two of you cuddle up under the covers, melt into each other, and make out like innocent lovers. The slut in you can’t help but wonder how long it will take till he’s ready to play king again... but you’ll wait till he makes the first move. And will happily just keep on cuddling till then. Because with you and Jax Teller, the only thing that’s better than the sex has always been the love.

***************

And that’s the end of this fic!!!! I really hope you enjoyed this, and would LOVE to hear if you did! ❤️

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vasiktomis · 3 years

Text

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.�� He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

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The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

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The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

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Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

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angelicmichael · 3 years

Text

Imminient Annihilation sounds so dope, chapter nine.

Michael Langdon x reader

Summary: Reader and Michael finally learn how to communicate and decide to start being mostly civil and learn how to tolerate eachother.

Words: 5.6k+

Warnings: Mentions of bruises and falling, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, reader and Michael are both pretty mean in the first half of this part LOL, some Millory flirting <3, extreme enemies to lovers, extreme slow burn, reader is going through inner torment like always LOL, lots of cussing, witch! reader

A/N: First of all - i just wanna say I'm so sorry for not updating this in like 5 months LMAO. That's why I decided to make this chapter a bit long 😌. Still no romance but, reader and Michael are finally starting to warm up to eachother so hopefully yall like this chapter :)

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Dull, aching pain was what welcomed you when you woke up. It started off subtle; faint enough to ignore until you started to stir in your bed.. wrong fucking move.

Your entire body was throbbing. Saying that you felt like complete shit was definitely an understatement at this point.. You almost wanted to think perhaps this could be a result of partying last night but then again.. this pain was different. You knew for sure this was not a result of being hungover.

You winced as you pushed back the covers and stood up, wandering over to the closest mirror as you pushed up your shirt - wanting to examine your ribs - where the pain seemed to ache the most. Your skin on the left side of your ribs had turned into a ugly, mixed palette of blues and purples. Turning around only proved that the bruises had traveled to your back as well. You couldn’t help but wince at the sight and let out a painful moan when you traced your fingers across your skin - feeling the bruises. What the fuck happened last night??

You let your shirt fall back down as you stood - puzzled and thinking about the previous nights events.. and.. oh fuck..

You swallowed as you conjured up the memories from last night in your mind; you remembered Mallory.. going to the party.. drinking.. Michael.. going back to his apartment.. talking.. falling.. and then nothing.

What the fuck happened?!

You roughly swallowed, your eyebrows furrowed together as you turned around looked at your surroundings - something you should’ve done sooner. You felt a wave of Deja vu wash over you; as well as a wave of fear. Being in a room with no recollection of how you got there was hauntingly familiar. Too familiar for your liking. However, you knew you were you.. looking again in the mirror reassured you of that but.. that didn’t solve the issue of how you got from Michaels penthouse to.. wherever you were now.

You stared at the room; puzzled. You were trying to put your finger on why the room looked so familiar; and then it clicked. The hotel room you were currently in wasn’t a penthouse but it still looked similar and resembled Michaels hotel room that you were in last night. Which could only mean you were staying in the same hotel.

Your heart stopped when you came to the realization that Michael must've got you this hotel room. That's the only way any of this made sense. You wanted to think for a split second it could’ve been Mallory who came to your rescue but, that didn’t make sense because you knew she wouldn’t have left you alone in the morning. It had to be Michael.

The gesture almost would’ve been cute under normal circumstances.

The room looked practically untouched besides the bed you had just climbed out of. Your phone resided on the night stand, and as you quickly went through your phone - nothing seemed tampered with. Thank god.

Although, there was a message from someone in particular that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at. Of course he messaged you. You quickly opened up the message fully, reading through it rather quickly.

‘How are you feeling?'

You bit your lip as you crafted up a soulless response. At least he had enough of a heart to check in on you. I mean it was the very least he owed you at this point.

‘Oh I’m doing just peachy keen. How the fuck do you think I’m doing with bruises everywhere?? Did I get a concussion last night?’

You sent the message without thinking twice. You felt your face getting hot and your heart beating faster. You grinded your teeth; the fact you could feel yourself getting angry and agitated so early in the morning was beyond aggravating.

You paced around the hotel room, phone still in hand. You compulsively checked your phone nearly every second as you paced until you finally saw the notification you were waiting for.

'if we're going to keep talking about last night then it needs to be done in person. How about meeting me at the café across the street, asap. And bring Mallory. I'm not interested in talking to you alone.'

“Motherfucker," you muttered with a quick roll of your eyes.

Of course Michael wanted to meet immediately; it was foolish to expect anything less of him at this point, honestly. Luckily getting ready would be a rather quick ordeal since the only belongings you had were on you. You quickly paced to the mirror and attempted to make yourself look presentable before grabbing your phone and hastily running out the door before dialing Mallory's number.

Thankfully getting Mallory to agree to witness whatever torture Michael had planned for you wasnt hard; Although the pair of you were still confused on why Mallory's presence was required in the first place. But atleast you knew Michael was feeling better if he was still acting in character, being unpredictable as ever.

The café wasn’t hard to find; and neither was Michael. He sat at a small wooden table that was meant for four. A dim light hung from the ceiling above the table.

You grew increasingly more nervous as you approached the table. What could Michael even want to say to you that was so important that it had to be said in person? With Mallory?

A pit resided in your stomach - a feeling that something bad was about to happen stayed present within you even as you and Mallory sat down next to eachother. You offered to sit directly across from Michael, so that you could spare Mallory from having to deal with his crippling stare - but of fucking course, Michael chimed in and demanded that Mallory sat directly across from him.. and Mallory being the way she is obliged naturally. It made the pit in your stomach only grow.

You only wanted to cut all of the bullshit that you knew Michael was about to pull; you just wanted to talk to Michael and have a normal fucking conversation for once. Separation at this point seemed to give you a ridiculous amount of unwanted torment; emotionally, physically, and this point possibly even spiritually. You knew you were meant to be around him - there was no point in fighting the connection you two had. So.. that was why you felt justified in your choice of atleast attempting to have this conversation with Michael, and to make the effort that he barely had the balls to do.

"Hey, It's nice to see that the both of you bothered to show up," Michael sneered.

"Of course we did, Michael. I actually try to stay true to my word - it's not like you can say the same," you stated without missing a beat while maintaining direct eye contact.

You were aware that you probably sounded harsh to any eavesdroppers listening, but you remained unapologetic. You didn’t offer a smile with your words; and you tried your best to remain stoic. A quick glance to your right told you that Mallory was trying her best to avoid Michael's gaze still, most likely uncomfortable at you and Michael's vicious banter.

"Someone seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed,” Michael said with a dark chuckle.

“Ha. Funny," You spit out. Glaring daggers at him as you spoke, “As if you slept well either."

"I didn’t actually; but maybe you would've known that if you've been so kind to ask," Michael bit back.

You gave Michael a long, scorching glare - silently cueing him to shut the fuck up and to consider someone else's feelings for once.. but, you dont really know if he was capable of doing that after all.. but it worked.

You felt bad for Mallory; who was awkwardly staring at her hands and fiddling with her thumbs. You could practically feel how uncomfortable this conversation was making her, and not to mention it was painfully obvious.

You weren't surprised in the slightest that Michael seemed to pick up on her sudden dispirited aura, as well. His light blue eyes quickly traveled from you to Mallory; and it was absolutely revolting to see how fast he could go from having a expression of pure exasperation to.. fondness and concern when he looked at Mallory. It almost reminded you of his reaction to finding Madison after you completely kicked her ass but.. the way he looked at Mallory was different. It was more delicate. It would've been cute if.. you weren't in the current, complicated situation you found yourself in.

"Mallory.." he spoke her name with such softness your surprised she didn't melt right then and there.

They finally met each others gaze; and Mallory met him with a smile which Michael only mirrored.

"Are you okay?" he affirmed.

Mallory nodded, the smile quickly vanishing from her lips as she looked over to you, and then back at Michael.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just happy you two survived last night."

This comment made all three of you smile, but yours was definitely fake. You were grateful that the weird, heavy tension that was between you and Michael had been temporarily lifted though. Maybe having Mallory around to mediate all of yours and Michael's conversations wasnt a bad idea.

"I-"

"Me too. I dont know if (Y/n) told you but, the reason why im bothering to meet with you two today is to figure out what happened last night. Due to (Y/n)'s track record, I'd rather hear things from your perspective.. if you dont mind, Mallory," Michael said.

Essentially cutting you off and once again from speaking directly to Mallory.

Michaels eyes, which normally looked soulless and held a degree of ruthlessness in them (in your opinion) had lost a bit of their edge and fury when he looked at Mallory.. but she didn't seem to take notice how interested he suddenly was in her. Right now, she just seemed flustered and put under the spotlight. Her cheeks were spotted a uneven red color from the unwarranted direct attention Michael was giving her, and it was obvious that she was nervous. Her black, painted nails were tugging mindlessly and restlessly at the thin, decorative gloves she was wearing. A typical nervous habit you noticed she displayed.

Your gaze stayed focused on Mallory but you could feel Michael's hot, glaring stare on you. It was only for a split second after he was done talking - but after that second, he was right back to Mallory. Mallory. His seemingly new, favorite infatuation.

It wasnt jealousy that made you question why Michael was suddenly being so nice to her. It was the fact that you knew Michael truly was a scheming asshole at heart. At this point you were guessing he was only being so nice to her because he needed a favor done.. the mere thought made you bit your lip to suppress a eye roll.

"I-I can try but I wasnt there for the entire night-" Mallory stammered.

She looked at you for support but all you could offer was another meaningless smile in return.

"That's fine. Whatever you remember will do," Michael pressed.

Mallory gave her gloves (which she was still fussing with) a quick glance and then continued; looking at Michael while she spoke.

"Well, it was nothing really remarkable. I'm sure (Y/n) could tell you more than I can but, I saw you get drunk. Incredibly drunk and then.. well that's it. I went back to Robichaux's after that."

Her words left you astonished. How was that all she had to say?? Where was the part where she came back for you? Wasn't she the one who put you into the bed in the hotel room you woke up in, this morning? You knew it was most likely Michael who put you in the hotel last night but, a small part of you was still hoping it could've been Mallory.

"Wait.. what? But that's not everything, it cant be.. I-" The farther your words progressively came out of your mouth the longer your sentence ran.. or as long as Michael allowed too before once again interrupting.

"Mallory.. I think me and (y/n) will be good talking about things one on one from here. As much as I've enjoyed your company; I can only tolerate so many witches and.. according to nature; sadly it has to be this one," Michael flickered his eyes toward you, obviously referencing you in the latter part of his sentence.

Profanities that started with every letter of the alphabet ran through your head at his attempt of trying to be sweet. He extended his hand out to squeeze Mallory's - and after she said her goodbyes, she was quickly gone. Out of the venue.

Looked like it was just you and your favorite villain again.

As much as you loved Mallory and cherished the friendship you two had - you were kind of glad she was gone. The fact you could admit that to yourself with confidence shocked you but.. you felt as if you had to act like a nicer, polished version of yourself that just wasnt truly you around her. As much as your hatred for Michael still ran deep, you were free to act authentic around him - and atleast now you were completely free to call him out on whatever bullshit he just tried to pull off.. and that realization that you now had no bounds was.. completely freeing.

"So, what the fuck was that?"

"What?" Michael asked.

His voice was raised in a defensive, annoyed manner.

"How you were treating Mallory.. what do you want from her?"

You studied the man sitting across from you at the table, and you smugly noticed how even he seemed to be more relaxed now that Mallory was gone.. He was slightly bent over the table now with his elbows resting on the surface, but after your question - he brought one of his ring adorned hands up to his mouth, a poor attempt to stifle a laugh.

"So you noticed," He commented.

You watched as he dropped his hand from his mouth back down to the table in one swift movement.

"It was hard not too," You said.

The predator like focus was lively in his eyes again as he studied you. He was moving a bit in the chair he was sitting in - fully shifting and angling his body towards you. You knew you had his full, undivided attention now.. but this time you planned on taking full advantage of it.

"But.. just please leave her out of it, Michael. I'm serious. Mallory has enough on her plate already, she doesn't need... to be involved," you added.

You struggled to find the proper word to use for last part of your sentence. Labeling whatever this situation was still felt incredibly odd and- just really added to your point that Mallory didn't need to be involved or kept in the loop about things anymore.. It was obvious that Michael was starting to finally warm up to you and.. it seemed he was almost starting to trust you too. Almost.

Michael solely smirked at your words and gave a brief hum as a placeholder for a laugh, like your words weren't worthy of being praised or encouraged by something as gracious as a full on laugh.

"Oh, Dont worry (y/n). I wasnt planning on involving her. It was satisfying enough just to see someone with so much power and potential reduced to a blushing mess.. but - I'm done talking about your dear friend Mallory."

You dont realize that you've slowly stopped breathing until you feel the slow but urgent feeling of gradual suffocation constrict your lungs.. Was it possible he was alluding to you, and maybe not Mallory at all in his last sentence?

Was it really stupid at this point to consider that maybe him flirting and being so stupidly nice with Mallory was just another manipulation tactic.. to see how you'd react? Maybe.

"I only.. wanted to thank you for what you did," Michael stated - finally getting to the point.

Your stomach flipped. The emotions you were feeling before were already laced with confusion and uncertainty but - pining how you felt now never seemed more impossible.

"What I.. did?"

You looked at Michael's body language for answers while he verbally stalled. Both of his elbows were now resting on the table, both hands clasped together as his cheek rested on them. He looked soft.. vulnerable too, but it still didn't compare to how he looked when he gazed at Mallory earlier.. or even Madison. The way he looked at you was completely and utterly different. It was the way that his eyes darkened whenever you two happened to make prolonged eye contact. You thought maybe his pupils could just be dilated but then again, Michael was nothing like normal.. Or that's what you tried to tell yourself anyway. It was creepy to say the least, and deeply unsettling. Even when his eyes nearly changed to black; the rest of his face still upheld a sad, genuine, softness. You still weren't scared of him.

"Yes. What you did.. last night. You didn't have to do what you did but, I just wanted to tha-"

"Wait, you remember?" your words come out; rushed and sonorous. Striking like thunder.

Just the mere thought that Michael could've possibly remembered last nights events had your heart beating wildly in your chest. You felt the nausea in your stomach for a split second until you felt it start to spark up into your throat - you were only seconds away from getting sick. How fucking embarrassing was it that he remembered everything.. was he even truly drunk, at all?

The sudden, rash embarrassment that you felt must've been apparent to Michael because.. he looked concerned for you. His eyebrows were slightly creased and the light blue in his irises were darkened and swarmed with emotion.

You started to move to get up; at this point you weren't concerned with finding a bathroom necessarily - you just needed a fucking break. Michael's company was intoxicating; exactly like a drug.. no matter how much you truly hated him and wanted nothing more than to see him put in his place; he still managed to pull you in effortlessly. The type of territory you were headed into with Michael with purely dangerous. You remember Cordelia warning you not to get attached; and you certainly weren't so far.. so far.

The affect Michael had on women (and men, and really all types of people) was blatantly obvious. He drew people in so fucking easily, he was basically a magnet. He was beautiful, charismatic, had money, and was goal driven (even though his goals were horrific, like ending the world) - he met all the qualifications and standards most people had for a boyfriend. Including your own.

You couldn't decide whether it was painfully ironic or tragic that someone that seemed.. almost built for romance was really made for destruction. Destined for it even. But you knew that if Michael wanted too, it wouldn't be too hard to just.. make you fall for him. You suppose when it came down to it, that's why his prescense was so overwhelmingly suffocating.

It wasnt Michael that you were truly infuriated at; it was what this whole situation stood for. Sure, your life pre-switching wasnt the best but.. you missed the normalcy and the routine. The lack of chaos was something you dreamed about. Now, you were beyond fucked - going from having basically no powers to being stronger than Mallory herself, as well as being destined to help set up your soulmates death was far too much to handle. But.. at the same time it wasnt, because everyone in the coven made sacrifices and you know that if any of them were put in your situation they would do it without a doubt or complaint - so why were you hesitating?

There was no denying that when you were away from him you craved and hungered for his attention, his precense.. and it was the realization that you didn't really care how you got his attention that made you try to finally stand up and leave. For the second time.

Michael put his hand on your forearm, an inch right below your wrist. His touch was soft but firm - you reflexively tried to pull your arm back but he continued to keep you under his grasp.

"Dont go. I'm not going to beg but.. I just; need you to understand-" Michael's voice started to break.

"Need me to understand, what, Michael? What is it this time? I need to know that your being honest, you cant keep.. treating me the way you have," the words you were forced to chose made you squirm and bite your tongue.

You wanted to call him out on his pathetic lying but you chose a safer route instead. One that wouldn't burn his ego so bad. Being forced to tell a sort of.. half truth was annoying. It felt like he was in control again, over you, over your emotions.. and he was. He had total control over you, and it seemed as if he barely put in any effort trying to do so. Although, it was obvious he was trying to shy away and deny this whole.. weird arranged marriage as much as you had; but he was finally succumbing to the urge.. and so were you.

"I never lied. Every time I've seen you, I've never said anything that wasnt true.. but, I haven't exactly let you in - either," Michael's hands separated and dropped low to the table, his hands nervously fiddling with his rings. "I'm sure that your already well acquainted with my past or that you have pre-conceived notions about me but.. nothing in my life has been easy.. and that includes switching with you. I dont easily trust anything, or anyone so seeing how you acted last night.. made me realize that I want.. to try to make this work."

Flames of embarrassment licking up your body, first from your chest until the feeling infested up to your cheeks is how you first reacted to his words. Then it was shock that quickly numbed the feeling, like a acute natural anesthetic.. if only the feeling were stronger and could actually make you unconscious for whatever the fuck was occurring now. You licked your lips, completely uncertain of what you wanted to say but you started talking anyway.. letting the words find you as you went.

"I dont want to argue either, Michael. I never did to begin with.. and as much as I dont want too, I forgive you.. and hopefully you can forgive me too - along with Madison.. I'm sorry. I really, truly am and I hope you remember that from last night," as much you tried to sound confident in your words as you spoke, your voice unwillingly stumbled and wavered as your sentence drew on.

Your words came out quickly and unwillingly before you could even truly think them through logically.. Were you really apologizing to Michael, out of all people? The one person who had done so much fucking damage to you, and yet here you were - pathetically begging for his forgiveness. It was past heart-rending at this point; the feeling and realization of how much you yearned for Michael was hurting you, in every way imaginable. You had to remind yourself to not unconsciously hold your breath as you stared at him, but you only found kind - blue eyes staring back.

His lips slightly upturned at the corners, in a odd close mouthed smile. He made direct eye contact with you; Which at first you sheepishly tried to avoid but.. as much as you tried to avoid his eye contact, you surrendered and ultimately gave into it. After all; his eyes were fucking marvelous to look at - and what were you really trying to avoid anymore, after all?

"I remember every word you said (y/n), and I dont take what you said lightly.. I know you were telling the truth and that it wasnt easy to say.." His words drifted off almost unwillingly as he ultimately drew silent.

You watched as he hastily licked his lips nervously; and your stomach did another flip.

"But; if you were open to this.. I honestly want to get to know you and to try.. to atleast be civil. But you have to understand that.. I need your full transparency. I have to know that this is something your truly wanting to commit to because, i-"

Michael shifted and twitched in his chair, and wore a expression as if he was.. insecure.

Even though all you had heard about Michael in the past was complete rumors and you really had no solid grasp on what had happened in his past.. you felt an odd, wave of memories pass over you - but you were well aware that they didn't belong to you. These memories were accompanied by odd, foreign feelings. Ones that were stuck with you for only a split second but left you nearly in fucking tears. What the fuck was that? You met his gaze again, and it's like he fucking knew that you knew how he was planning to finish his incomplete sentence.

You bit your cheek to suppress the overflow of emotions you had just felt, and it was working for the time being but.. you figured that was just another distraction. Something else you to had to suppress and fight.

You first sat idle, your mouth incredibly dry and your throat painfully aching. Screaming for you to stop halting and just to fucking speak. You then realized that Michael didn't stop because he thought you were going to speak.. he purposefully cut himself off. There was something he was avoiding here but.. still expected you to know. Since Michael apparently was so focused on your apparent 'relationship' you figured it wouldn't hurt to start putting effort in and take initiative.. right?

"You dont have to say anything more, Michael. I get with.. what you've had to endure in your past on why you would be so guarded, even counting what I've done to you," you take a deep breath in "and, I dont know exactly how committed you want me to be but I know that at the very least that.. I'd like to get to know you too."

This was as far as flirty that you'd decide to be for the night. Even though Michael's guard was apparently as far gone as your current sanity; you decided that there was no way that you were going to be so carefree when it came to handing over your peace to him.

The time whilst you waited for Michael to react seemed to stretch impossibly long. The minutes feeled like long agonizing hours; your heart beating impossibly fast in tandem with every agonizing second that slipped away.. until he spoke, naturally.

"Are you sure you know what you're agreeing too?"

You didn't shy away from his gaze this time.

"The same could go for you," you challenged.

A sinister giggle escaped your lips, but Michael didn't back down. His blue eyes looked into yours in a way that spoke more words than he ever was capable of producing out loud. It proved that even now when he was attempting to be soft and civil with you, he was still trying to assert dominance. Fuck that.

"I think I'm more than capable of taking you on, (y/n)."

You scoffed.

"Okay, so.. what does this all mean? Like, what does this mean for us, Michael?" the words you spoke burned hot on your tongue with regret as soon as you said them.

"It doesn't mean anything except that I just.. would appreciate if I could see you.. regularly from now on."

His eyes held contact with yours.. It relaxed you a bit to notice how he looked as if he was holding his breath too. So, you weren't the only one that was nervous, right?

You breath haltered; he was still ignoring your question. What were you two? You knew that Michael's intentions with you were crystal clear - for the time being he seemed strict on his 'friends only' rule which.. of course couldn't really happen if Cordelia was expecting you to still carry out the plan that she had intended.. which she did. Certainly she did.

"Yeah well.. Cordelia-" your words fell flat and naturally died off on their own.

You had no idea why you even bothered to mention her name. You knew what you had to inevitably tell him eventually about Cordelia; but you knew now wasnt the time. It was too soon, you needed to wait until Michael got more comfterable with you before you exposed the coven.. and that's if you chose to do that.

"Look, I'm not stupid. It's obvious how strong your powers are.. and your still scared of Cordelia?" Michael looked at you now as if you were saying a joke.

A insult burned at the back of your throat. You tried your best to contain the fire you could feel, coercing you to open your mouth and to act on your immediate feelings rather than on logic.. but, to respect Michael and how vulnerable he had previously been with you - you held your tongue.

"Its not that I'm scared of Cordelia. I respect her and theres a difference. You have to understand where I stand between you and Cordelia, as well as the coven."

"You have no business being stuck in the middle though - which is why.. I have a solution," the left corner of Michael's lips upturned slightly.

Unconsciously you leaned forward in your chair.. a solution? You flinched as you saw Michael turn and pull something out of his jacket pocket; and suddenly threw it at you. A flash of silver caught the light as it passed through the air. It didn't take long for you to realize that he threw you a pair of keys. What?

"W-what is this?" Your voice shook as it raised to an higher octave.

"It's keys to an apartment. This will make things easier; in terms of us having access to eachother and it'll wean you off of having the covens support."

Your lips slowly turned into a frown, and your fingers nervously played with the keys as you put off having to look Michael in the eye.. it was clear to you now that even though Michael had been pretty open with you.. Michael was clearly misconstrued about your.. exact situation and with where you sat with the coven. He had no idea how involved you were, you could only guess.

However; your loyalty with the coven really had nothing to do with the fact you couldn't accept Michael giving you an entire fucking apartment.. There was no way you were going to let him hold this over your head, no fucking way.

You held the keys up and looked at them in a unsure manner before flinging them on the table in Michael's general direction. Ignoring the many dirty looks you got when the keys clashed loudly against the table.

"Even though I appreciate the gesture, theres no way I can accept that, Michael and you should know that."

"Your being stupid, I basically have all the money in the world at my disposable - at the tip of my fingers.. Take the apartment," the last three words sounded as if they were meant to be a threat.

His pronunciation on each last word was stern and final.

"I can't just move wherever you want me too; you realize I'm still a member of the coven, right? And if I just leave- it's going to look suspicious."

"Do you want to leave?"

Your breath came out as shaky when you exhaled. Now that was a good fucking question.

"I.. I mean maybe. Its been hard to live there to say the least recently and it would be nice to get away but I just.. I dont know if this is a good idea," your voice shook as you spoke.

This was the most candid you probably had ever been with Michael. Even when you were intoxicated, you made certain that every word that came out of your mouth around him was carefully planned and strategic.. but, just speaking and telling him what you were thinking right off the bat was a bit nerve wracking to say the least.

Your nails nervously dug into the skin of your palm as you waited for his reaction.

"What's holding you back?" You heard his voice ring out.

Your gaze fell down from his eyes back onto the silver keys that lied on the table. You couldn't help but to think - would it really be that bad just to take the apartment? If worse comes to worse you could always just move back to Robichaux's.. right? After all, it's not like Cordelia wouldn't approve - it was her idea for you to fucking seduce the dude in the first place. And Mallory would surely be understanding, if anything she would probably be excited. Fuck it.

"Yeah no, your right.. I'll do it."

You snatched the keys back from the table in an act of defiance - even though it really wasnt because once again, you were giving Michael what he wanted. Motherfucker.

Taglist: @mindlesschicca @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @instincts-baby @melodylangdon @littledemondani @langdons-pinkyring

let me know if you would like to be added :)

#michael x reader #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfic #ahs fanfic #cody fern fanfic #my fic #my writing #as always ill crosspost to ao3 in a bit hehe #kinda nervous about posting bc this has a lot of dialouge and dialouge is not my strong suit imo lol #ive been hyperfixating on millory hard lately so.. thats why i added the millory moment dhdjdh

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

White Lies (Pt. 14 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.1 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

The Truth Always Finds A Way

“It's absolutely beautiful. I love it.” Laura says as you walk with her back to the living room. You just showed her Liam's bedroom, which is finally ready.

It's your fault it took so long though because there were a lot of things you couldn't decide on. But now it's ready, right on time thankfully, because it's the beginning of week 39, and you and Keanu are on full alert because it can happen anytime.

“Thanks. We have everything in place.” Gesturing at the door, Laura easily spots the bag lying on the floor. “That's the bag with everything I'll need in case we have to run.”

“So Keanu convinced you on a natural labor then.”

“Google convinced me.” Slowly, you drop to the couch, sighing. “Sweetie, you're making mommy so heavy.” You whisper to the baby, putting your feet up on the coffee table.

“You're almost here, little one.” Laura lowers her head near your belly. “Aunt Laura will spoil you so bad your mom will hate me.” She fell into his aunt role, but you don't mind. Since you don't have any siblings, you're happy Liam will have an aunt on Laura. “We'll pair up to prank your parents, right?”

“God help me.” You dramatically moan, eyes rolling.

“Planning on having more kids?” She asks, a hand caressing your belly.

“Yes. We have spoken about it and we'll have at least one more.” Smiling, you play with the tips of your hair. “Maybe Sophie will come, but if it's another boy it'll be Ethan.”

“I like it.” She says. “Oh, I have to ask. What was it yesterday? Lucia came over?”

“Yes, she did.” Not even on the last days of your pregnancy that woman leaves you alone. “It was fine until Keanu kissed me. Then it became a fight again. She just can't accept Keanu and I are fine. I don't remember him, but I fell for him again. I don't get what's the big deal.” When you look up at Laura, she has a weird expression on her face. “What is it?”

“N-nothing. Nothing.” She stutters, clearing her throat. “That's odd.”

“It is...” Furrowing your eyebrows, you're just about to say something when her phone starts ringing. “That's my alarm. I'll have to go.” She gets up, offering you a hand to pull you up. “But I can call later if you want to talk.”

“Sure, thank you.” Hugging her the best you can, you walk her to the front door, locking it after she leaves.

There isn't much going on today, so you head upstairs to your bedroom, smiling to hear the shower on. Tiptoeing into the bathroom, you see Keanu inside the box, so you silently take your clothes off before sliding the glass open.

That's when he notices you, turning around and smiling. “Is Laura gone?”

“Yeah.” Holding onto his arm, you step inside, feeling the warm water on your skin. “Heard the shower and thought I could join you.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kiss him, slow and passionately. In moments like this, the whole world disappears. New York is gone, the busy streets and its people... There's nobody else, no worries, just you and him.

“You know we can't...” He whispers, pulling away from a little.

“I know. I just wanna shower, I promise.” You didn't have any ideas, but now you do. But still, you have to stick with showering only. “Help me, Ke.”

“You're such a teaser.” But despite the dramatic eye roll, Keanu grabs the body wash and starts rubbing it through your body.

Much to your dismay, Keanu has become a master of self-control, and once you're done, you have no choice but to leave, dry, and dress yourself as you wait for him. Back in the bedroom, his phone starts beeping, as many messages come through.

“Ke, your phone is beeping like crazy.” You tell him, raising your voice a little as you finish brushing your hair.

“Can you check if it's Robert?”

“Sure.” Walking around the bed, you sit down as you take his phone, your eyes taking in the notifications.

But it isn't Robert, it's Lucia. Pinching your eyebrows together, you start getting angry. Whatever reasons she's texting Keanu, it's probably not good. Unlocking his phone, you quickly find the messages app, opening it, and reading the texts.

‘You can't possibly think this will go on after the birth.’

‘I will tell her myself.’

‘You're disgusting. Lying to her like that, while she's vulnerable.’

Your heart starts beating so fast it drums in your ears. Her words are a mystery, and you're struggling to bring sense into it.

‘(Y/N) has the right to know about Daniel.’

‘My son. My dead son, her true husband.’

The messages keep coming and you start crying, a hand on your mouth to cover the sobs.

This can't be right. What is she saying? There's a sudden, pounding pain on your head, as your eyes go through the new texts.

‘You can tell yourself whatever you want, but this is all on you.’

‘You're lucky I'm not the type of person to expose celebrities, or else I'm sure your career would be over.’

‘You can't just keep lying to (Y/N) like this, it's not fair to her.’

‘This child isn't yours, it will never be.’

‘You can say this is for her own good, but I don't believe this bullshit.’

Standing up to your feet, you throw the phone away, further into the bed, too far for you to reach. You can't read it anymore. Is she lying?

No. Lucia mentioned Daniel as if he meant something to you. Michael did the same. He didn't seem to understand how you were with Keanu, since you were with Daniel...

Too many things come flooding back. Keanu's first distance, some weird expressions you couldn't read when you made certain questions... But still, you can't bring yourself to believe it. Maybe Lucia just wants to ruin your marriage.

When you hear the bathroom door closing, you turn around, not even trying to hide your tears. Keanu gets worried the moment he looks at you.

“(Y/N)? What happened?”

“Why is Lucia saying Daniel was my true husband?” You burst out, both hands clenched into fists. “That this kid isn't yours, that you're lying to me.” Pointing at the phone, you wipe off some tears. “It was her, not Robert.”

Keanu's face drops, and his whole posture changes. That's how you know it. That's when you realize Lucia is telling the truth.

“No...” You mutter, heart breaking as you bring both hands to cover your face. This can't be real, but his silence, his inability to answer proves your otherwise. “Please, Keanu, say something!” You yell, bending over a little when a sharp pain spreads through your hips. With a hand on the bed, you sustain your weight, standing up straight again.

“I'm so sorry, (Y/N), I–”

“My God.” Cutting him off, you pace around, a lump in your throat. You can only feel, and watch, as your whole world comes crashing down. It feels like you're in a nightmare, under torture, with a knife being put through your heart. “How could you...” It comes out a whisper, so you repeat, yelling this time. “How could you do that?!”

“(Y/N), please listen–” He comes forward, making his way around the bed, but you step back, hands raised.

“I don't wanna listen!” You snap, eager to put some distance between you and him. “I don't wanna listen! We... We slept together!” The memory comes back like a wrecking ball, and you feel violated, betrayed. “I–... I gave myself to you because I thought you were my husband. I–” The wave of pain cuts you short again, and you gasp, using the wall to sustain your weight.

“(Y/N), what are you–”

“Stay away from me!” Shouting, you find the closet door, rushing inside and locking yourself inside.

You're moving even before you notice, grabbing the first baggage you find and searching for your clothes, messily shoving it inside the box. Keanu is saying something, knocking, pleading, but you don't want to hear.

He was everything, and now, you just want him to be nothing.

Your head feels like it could explode as you remember all the moments you shared since you first saw him, in the hospital room. Like an idiot, you felt secure back then to know there was someone to look after you, to guide you in a life you didn't know anything about. When he told you about the pregnancy, you thanked the heavens for having a husband by your side. You were scared, terrified, empty... Just as you are now.

Keanu is nothing to you. The happy, wonderful marriage is just a lie. Your life, the man you love... “Go away!” You shout at him, making a damn mess on his closet, but you don't care. You don't want to love him, not anymore.

With whatever is left of your strength and dignity, you close the baggage and leave, pushing Keanu out of your way, sight blurry with tears. “Siri, call me a cab.” You tell as you walk past Keanu's phone, the change of lighting on the screen showing you it got your command.

“(Y/N), please don't leave.”

“Do you really expect me to stay?” Struggling on the stairs with the baggage and your huge belly, you hold tightly on the railing until you're safe on the floor. “A-after you... Damn it! I don't even know why you did this!” You're yelling again, moving to the front door, hoping the cab will get here soon. “What kind of man are you? What kind of person does this?”

“Let me explain, please. I found you after you crashed the car and–”

“And you decided to take me?! Is that it? You thought I was pretty, and I was in the perfect position for you to take me and play couple?!” A horn makes you sigh, and part of you is relieved that you'll go away from the man, the part that's burning with anger.

But there's another side, probably your heart, that hurts, aches for him. This is what's making you cry, and it yells for you to stay. To listen.

But despite his begging, you leave, pulling the door open and running to the cab.

Keanu isn't the one to cry often. He does feel sad, but tears are something rare.

But today, they come rolling down, like a flood.

How could it be any different? After everything he has done, how could he expect this to have a different end? This is what he deserves.

Pacing around the house, lost, he finds himself in the kitchen. Looking at the table, he sees her there, in her pale blue sweater, beautiful, smiling, putting a strand of hair behind her ear. He can't even count how many meals they had here, instead of using the dining room, because (Y/N) felt it was more intimate. Averting his eyes, he stares at the fridge, and there she is again, in her pink lace gown pajamas, stretching out on her swollen belly, marking down the weeks.

(Y/N) will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Slamming his hands on the island, he takes the small flower pot and throws it across the room, giving vent to his anger. Anger at himself for doing this. He could've said no. He could've told her he truth, that he found her, and that he would stand by her side for as long as she needed him.

But he decided on the lie.

Making his way upstairs, his phone's screen is on. Taking it from the bed, he finds the app tracking where the cab is going. Where she is going... But he closes it, going to the gallery instead, where he starts skipping through the photos they took.

Keanu is heartbroken for the first time in his life. On every photo, it hurts more and more, until he can't take it anymore. The tears are blinding him, so he lies down on his back, eyes on the ceiling. The house feels empty already, cold... But that's good. Because it suits him perfectly, that's exactly how he feels.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #imagine keanu reeves #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction

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starlightae · 3 years

Text

I have a crush on you - JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Assassin Au, eventual smut.

Word count:1.519k

Warnings: Fluff...

Summary: is whatever you want it to be :)

Author’s note: I don’t know what this is, but I hope you enjoy this one-shot. Let me know if it’s good enough for a part 2 or something. I will highly appreciate feedback 💜 Have a marvelous day-week-month-year💜love ya💜

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Biting into your pen cap, you gaze at him like a raven would their prey. His face glistens with sweat, glowing underneath the soft kisses of the sun's rays that are coming through the window. His moves are like water, graceful and free. Almost as if he were dancing, and the sword was his partner. Jimin strikes at Jungkook with such force you hear the swoosh of his sword ripping through the air. Jungkook moves fast and in a lunge position, he blocks it, pushing Jimin back. Up... down... middle, their swords move in swift motions, trying hard to hit one another.

“Y/N!” Hoseok shouts from behind you, and you jump, the dented pen cap falling from your lips as your brother appears in front of you. His uniform clinging to his body like glue, his face flushed a deep red. He crosses his arms across his chest and glares at you. The atmosphere suddenly feels heavy, the clanking of the swords, the voices of those speaking around you now sounded distant. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at the open notebook in front of you, the word I’m staring back at you mockingly.

Was that all you’ve written for the past 30 minutes you've been here?

“Are you finished?” he asks coldly, and you lower your head down in shame. From the corner of your eye, you see Luna and Minji laughing at you. You huff, fidgeting with the silver band on your middle finger, trying your hardest to avoid his fiery gaze.

Why was he even angry with you? When it was his idea to make you write your apology letter in the sword room, of all places. Just because he wanted to make sure you were doing it. As if he was going to be paying attention to you while a ruthless Namjoon charged toward him with a sword.

The paper would have been finished already,if only you were in your room or at the library anywhere that was far away from Jungkook. Which was honestly the sole reason why you only had one word written.

“No,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut as you prepare yourself to be scolded. None of this made sense! He should be proud that during your 17 years of being an assassin, you've only had to write one of these letters. It wasn’t your fault that you suddenly felt a rush of kindness during your mission and decided to eliminate your target with a bullet to the head instead of drowning them.

-All you wanted was to give them a less painful death, even though you knew it went against Act IX of the assassin's rule book. Which in simple terms said that everyone had to follow the orders exactly how the council gives them to you or else you die.

No one has died yet, but making you write apology letters was torture in and of its self.

“Babe, how do you expect her to do it in here, there are too many distractions?’' You hear Luna say and you open your eyes, your savior has come.

Taking a peek up at Hobi, you see his cold facial features soften as Luna wraps her arms around his shoulders and gives him a peck on the lips. That then turned into a full-out make-out session in front of your poor and innocent eyes. You scrunch up your nose in disgust and look away, your eyes landing on the glowing exit sign in the far corner of the room. The glass door underneath it wide open and calling your name. Hoseok clears his throat and you break eye contact with the door and look at him. A gummy smile has now overtaken his lips and you try your best not to laugh. Small wisps of air start to hit your face and you furrow your brows when you see Luna’s hand flickering back and forth in front of you. Was she shooing you away?You ask yourself as you look up at her not understanding what she was doing,

“Go finish it somewhere quiet,” She says sweetly and her hand falls back to her side. Ah... so she was shooing you away.

Luna didn’t even need to tell you twice when you were already standing up from your chair and pushing your notebook, pen, and chewed-up pen cap back into your bag. A small smile creeps its way onto your face as images of your ice cream inside the cold smokey freezer flash before your eyes.

You quickly zip up your bag as you just couldn’t wait to go home, finally.

“By the time I get home, I hope to see the letter on my desk or I won’t tell you where I hid your ice cream?”

You freeze, your nails sinking into the leather material of your backpack, did you hear him right?

“M-My chocolate fudge brownie ice cream?” you stutter and he nods.

“Are you serious, Hobi? Do you know I have 5 days to turn this in… but don’t worry,” a low growl escapes your lips as you continue, “I’ll have it done by today but I warn you that if my ice cream is melted, disfigured, or empty as a sick joke... I will put Ember on top of your face while you sleep,” You exclaim, watching how his face contorts with fear at the mention of your pet tarantula’s name. He shakes his head slightly, his hands balling into fists and you knew he was recounting the incident that went down last week. The one where Ember crawled onto his lap while we were watching Haikyu and he almost passed out. How mom had to splash water onto his face and I had to put Ember back in the safety of her cage to get him to calm down.

It was strange that Hobi was afraid of spiders, as he was always so cold and fearless. But you guess everyone was afraid of something.

“You see babe, you made her mad,” Luna mumbles, and without giving him a second glance you push your bag over your shoulder and focus on getting to the door.

How could he hide your ice cream? You grumble at no one as you maneuver your way through a growing crowd that was gathering around one of the training rings. You don’t bother turning around as your only priority right now was to get home and find your ice cream. But suddenly the crowd erupts into shouts as the clanking of swords become rather intense. You stop in your footsteps, the exit just a few feet away. But you just couldn’t miss out on a good training session that possibly turned into a fight. Adrenaline courses through your veins at the thought of it being a fight and as you turn around ready to join the crowd.

Something hits you like a train coming at full speed and you groan as your body comes in contact with the cold floor. You feel your backpack ride up your back, saving your head before it touches the ground.

Everything becomes silent as you try to assimilate what was happening, but the room had become dark and you couldn't see a thing. “Who turned off the lights?... what happened?” you hear multiple voices say in the darkness. Your breathing is shallow and you wince when you feel a heavy body on top of yours, crushing at your lungs, their elbows digging into your abdomen.

You try to move your arms that were stuck at your side but you couldn’t as the more you tried to move the heavier the body got. The bitter scent of blood fills your nose and you freeze,

“Was their a dead person on top of you?”

You feel a warm breath hit the nape of your neck, tickling your baby hairs and a shiver runs down your spine, the person was alive.

“I never thought this was the way, I would introduce myself to you Y/N,” a voice you’ve heard before whispers, and your eyes widen...Jungkook? This couldn't be true, this must be a dream, Jungkook wasn’t crushing your body at this moment. And amid the darkness, that is when you see it...his glowing eyes. Eyes that are always full of wonder and mystery.

You hear frantic voices echoing off the walls of the room, some shouting at others to turn the lights back on as others rush to get their cellphones. His soft lips graze the crook of your neck and you stiffen. Your body feels hot and the butterflies in your stomach weren’t helping.

Your holding your breath, your heart pounding loudly in your chest, as you’ve never been this close to him.

He plants a wet kiss right above your collarbone, “I’ve always had a crush on you,” He says and with that, he lifts himself off of your aching body just as bright lights burn into your corneas. You close your eyes and stay there frozen on the ground. His words gnawing at your insides as you couldn't comprehend what he had just said, this must be a dream.

#jungkook #jung hoseok #hobi #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts au #assassin au #jungkook one shot #part 2?#bts oneshots #jeongguk

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stark-tony · 3 years

Text

underrated irondad and spiderson fic recs part 2

part 1

Queer Eye for the Cacti by silentsaebyeok

summary: He bought one-hundred cacti on Amazon! Pepper was going to kill him!

What had possessed him to do such a thing? He never went on shopping sprees when drunk. That just wasn’t a Tony Stark type of thing to do. And in all honesty, he was astonished he even remembered the Amazon password.

Tony makes an interesting purchase while drunk. What he doesn’t expect is for said purchase to bite him in the ass in the worst possible way.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Tumblr Posts by Jen27ny

summary: Literally what the title says. All the prompts and one-shots I post on tumblr.

pairings: pepperony, spideychelle

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst

warnings:

It Lasts for Always by YellowDistress

summary: Peter has never asked anyone to kill for him, especially not Tony.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Cursed Christmas by sahiya

summary: A series of unfortunate events befalls Tony, Pepper, Peter, and Morgan (and Happy and May) in the week leading up to Christmas.

It'd be kind of funny if it didn't totally suck. Fortunately, they've got good back-up.

pairings: pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Keeping your head up by frostysunflowers

summary: It’s been a while, a long while, since Tony felt this defenceless. He’s without a suit, the manacle around his ankle is solid steel, and he can’t see a single way out.

He’s been here before, but back then there had been tools, resources, options.

Here, there’s just the walls, his missing kid and the water.

The water.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: kidnapping

Young, Dumb and Suffering by wordscorrupt

summary: In a moment of desperation, Peter decides to take Steve's pain medication to relieve a migraine.

Peter accidentally overdoses on pain medication.

pairings: none

tags:

warnings:

Midnight Oil by JolinarJackson

summary: After everything that has happened to Peter over the last year - or five, really - he shouldn’t be worried about something as mundane as the ACT. When he fails it, though it sends him into a spiral of self-doubt, which only gets worse when Peter realizes that he doesn’t seem to be able to fix whatever is broken.

pairings: spideychelle, pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: none

Love Will Remind Us Who We Are by blondsak

summary: There had been many times in Tony’s life when he’d known the piercing clarity that separated a Good Day from a Bad Day. Had known the ways in which, upon first waking, one’s soul would strike a balance between agony and relief either in your favor, or not.

But none of his earlier Good and Bad times had prepared him for his reality now.

Nine months after the Avengers defeated Thanos, Tony is still reckoning with the toll the final snap took on his body. Between grueling physical therapy, near-constant pain, and the inability to so much as tie his own shoes, well-- things aren’t exactly like Tony had imagined.

Luckily for him, there’s a certain kid from Queens who won’t let Tony give up so easily.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Summertime Sickness by Spideysickfics

summary: "Well, this is your lucky day, then!" Peter replied enthusiastically, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest as he broke into a wide grin, "You're looking at a former Boy Scout!"

Tony let out a huff of air.

"No shit, a Boy Scout, huh? When did you quit?"

"First grade." Peter's grin didn’t waver. Tony rolled his eyes with a laugh.

"I'm sure you're very knowledgeable."

An Irondad camping trip and sickfic to soothe your soul

pairings: none

tags:

warnings: none

to break in these bones by searchingforstars

summary: “We’re gonna go play baseball? I’m not exactly a great shot, and you might have to let me out of these first,” Peter rattles his wrists around in the metal chains and they clink together, echoing around the sparse room, “but sounds like fun.

“We’re not playing baseball.”

“Shame, because I passed a park on my way here and I’m pretty sure that there’s only been like, six murders there this year so that could have been a fun spot.”

“I’m going to enjoy this, you fucked up little kid.”

“Hey, I’m not a little-” Peter starts, but he’s cut off by all the air being knocked out of his lungs as he sees the bat raised in front of him.

or, Peter doesn't listen to Tony, pisses off someone dangerous and ends up on the wrong end of a baseball bat.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

5 Times Peter Gave Tony Something by impravidus

summary: and the 1 time Tony gave him something back

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

You'll Be Here (in My Heart) by seekrest

summary: The morning that Tony’s life changed forever began as his days usually began now — shuffling into the kitchen half asleep, going through the motions as he searched for Pepper’s favorite coffee mug.

Tony stifled a yawn, grabbing the Black Panther novelty mug she adored while he grabbed one that Morgan had made them years ago - one that made her now cringe with embarrassment anytime she saw him use it, the childish scribbles that made him laugh.

He sets Morgan’s creation down on the countertop as he reaches for the Black Panther mug, it being just barely out of reach for when Pepper has put it last.

“Damn thing.” Tony mutters to himself, fingers barely brushing against it before he grabs it - going to set it down on the counter only to be surprised when Pepper walks in from the bedroom, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Morning. You know, you and I need to have a talk about about your choice of mugs. I know T’Challa somehow perfected the cup warmer thing here but you could at least show a little—“

“Michelle’s in labor.”

pairings: spideychelle

tags: angst

warnings: none

the little things we don't say out loud by JBS_Forever

summary: “It's not funny,” Peter says, voice catching as he whines, “This is life or death, Ned. I'm actually dying.”

On the other end of the line, Ned sighs, amused and not at all concerned. “So you're Mr. Stark's secret Santa. It's not that bad.”

- - -

In which Peter is Tony's secret Santa, and it is, in fact, that bad.

pairings: none

tags: humor, fluff

warnings: none

Hiking Essentials: A backpack, plenty of water, and a Spider-kid by kiwifeather

summary: Morgan, Peter, and Tony enjoy each other's company on a hike through the woods while Peter is staying with them for the weekend. Father-and-son bonding ensues

(Takes place after the snap but Tony survives because this is the good timeline and we know that Tony deserved a happy ending)

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

In Case of Emergency by Bowtiez

summary: Babysitting his little sister at the Stark's lakeside cabin seems like quite the gig for 17-year-old Peter. Of course he's got that covered- he's a mature individual and he can watch over a five-year-old for forty-eight hours.

On a totally unrelated note, did anyone know that super-healing doesn't really work on bacterial infections? It's a good thing Morgan knows what to do. Well... it's probably a good thing?

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Three Times Tony Stark Used Italian Nicknames and One Time He Received One by MCUsic_to_my_ears

summary: Tony can't help but slip into his Italian when with his children.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

More Ancient Than Magic by ironfamjam

summary: Life isn't exactly normal when your Head of House is also kinda your father-figure and his daughter is kinda sorta your little sister.

It's also not normal when the bad guys your real-life-war-hero-not-actually-dad defeated in The Great War threaten to return and you're still just trying to finish your Charms essay.

But Professor Stark asked him to protect Morgan. And that's what he's going to do.

Even if it breaks him.

The mini Hogwarts AU

pairings: spideychelle, pepperony

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: torture

Peaches by peterparkr

summary: There’s no response, not even a faint twinge of muscle. Peter tries to listen for a heartbeat, but he can’t seem to focus enough to pinpoint it. Another bubble of thought starts to rise. This could be the reason his spidey-sense is going haywire. Tony could be—

He pushes the bubble down.

Peter and Tony find themselves stranded in the woods after an Avengers mission

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Snowflakes by Jen27ny

summary: Tony just wants to see his kids happy - which means letting Morgan stick as many snowflakes to the window as she likes, and making Peter talk about his nightmares.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

I Sure Do Like Those Christmas Cookies by baloobird

summary: Tony is spending a fun afternoon baking cookies with his kids, but his older one isn't acting like himself.

Whatever the problem is, it's up to the now-retired hero to figure it out.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: bullying, acephobia

An MIT Halloween by bethy_277

summary: Coming to MIT had been difficult, having almost lost his mentor when he had snapped to save the entire universe, and Peter had really struggled. If it hadn’t been for Ned and Harley- who he had met shortly after he came back and become good friends with- he didn’t think he would have made it past the first few weeks at school. He had called both May and Tony that first week, hysterical and begging to come back to New York. May had been patient, Tony had been ready to get in his car to drive to him to help him through it, and Harley and Ned had been there and talked him down both times.

** Peter is a college student at MIT and Tony brings Morgan up for some trick-or-treating.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Someone Take Me Home by GallagherHunter

summary: More than a month since May's death Peter is having a less than stellar day at school in the hopes of making it through the day so he can get to the apartment where he's been living with Tony since his world came crashing around him. Meanwhile, Tony has been advised to adopt Peter to assure him he won't leave him.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: bullying

It’s Gonna Be Lit by Pawprinter

summary: What Christmas gift does one get for the man who seemingly has everything?

Peter is struggling to find out.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

I'll Be Home For Christmas by snarkymuch

summary: May gets called away for work, and Tony steps in to make sure Peter isn't alone for Christmas. Harley, Morgan, and Peter being adorable kids, and Tony being a great dad.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

The power of makeup by SparrowFlight246

summary: Peter shows up to a prestigious awards ceremony with a black eye and a whole lot of regret.

Tony raids Pepper's purse and decides to improvise.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

if you'll be my star, i'll be your sky by ftmpeter

summary: There are two things Tony learns about Peter after Morgan is born.

The first thing is that when it comes to kids, he's a natural.

The second thing is that he's a self-sacrificing little shit.

(Tony already knew that. He has the gray hairs to prove it. But. Still.)

It isn't the kind of self-sacrificing that will get him killed or seriously injured - thank God - but it's just as annoying. Maybe even more, because while he can ground Peter from Spider-Man, he can't exactly ground him from staying up all night to make sure Morgan sleeps through it.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

give the cookies a miss by searchingforstars

summary: “Surprise!” Morgan exclaims as soon as they’re both in the room. She gestures excitedly towards a few slightly sad looking lumps of something drenched in icing and severed onto sticks. There are sprinkles as well, which look like they might have been a nice touch to cheer the entire thing up, had the majority of them not ended up scattered around the surrounding bench space.

“Daddy and I made cookie pops! Well, I made them, he just helped me use the big scary whisk-y thingy. They’re for Katie’s birthday party tomorrow because we all have to bring something yummy to eat, and Daddy wanted to do regular cookies but I told him that was boring. So we made these instead!”

or, Peter is poisoned by the ones he trusts most.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

i want to be with you 'til the whole world ends by searchingforstars

summary: The last thing he does as his eyes slip shut is wrap his arms tighter around Peter, as tight as he can manage when it feels like the life is draining from him.

Please, for the love of God, I'm sorry I couldn't do it, but please, please, someone look after this kid for me.

Tony would give anything to make sure that Peter Parker is safe.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much left to give. He’s about to have nothing left to give.

The world goes dark.

He drifts away.

Or, Peter and Tony nearly lose each other.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Of bright autumn days and things that go bump in the night by frostysunflowers

summary: Halloween/fall themed fics featuring plenty of fluff, feels and seasonal shenanigans!

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor, angst

warnings: none

Twelve Days of Terror: A Whumptober Collection by seekrest

summary:

pairings: spideychelle

tags:

warnings:

#irondad and spiderson #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my fic recs #kidnapping tw #torture tw #acephobia tw #bullying tw

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