#+ i can’t afford new needles lol

[golden-pothos]

absolutely tore through sleeve 2, i still have to sew them up into tubes but they’re doneeeee!!!! i started this wayyyy back in like august and set it down for a couple months once school started and im glad i picked it back up i forgot how much i love cables

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... Pt. 2 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

author's note: I decided to make a pt. 2 purely for my own enjoyment, though I hope there are others out there as sadistic as myself. I finally watched the Batman trilogy and did research on DC fan pages to write this. It follows the plot of Nolan's DC adaptation so all characters mentioned (like Ra's Al Ghul) are from the comics and movies.

Summary| She gave into Crane because she needed to survive, at least that's what she's tried to tell herself, but there was something about this man that just felt so painfully... right. Now Crane has a proposition and he doesn't intend to take no for an answer because he's starting to like her -- uh oh-- too much. Where will their new agreement lead them when Gotham devolves into chaos?

Warnings| Based on an DC action movie- drugging, slut shaming, fear and terror, dubious kidnapping, restraints, drugs, physical violence, spitting, toxic relationship, mentions of a gun, chaos, and needles. I know- it's a lot.

word count: 8596k (lol oopsies?)

Wires- The Neighborhood 🎶

Where did you sleep last night- Iridium, Salazar, Liam Marks 🎵

Caesar on a TV Screen- The Last Dinner Party 🎶

i 

The detective nodded her head, surprised that she’d so easily forgotten her plan. Dr. Crane sniffed and spun his set of keys around his finger casually. 

“Now the best thing about being the creator of my fear serum,” he started, moving to the shelf of vials he had previously sorted, “is that I have an endless supply and every opportunity to use it whenever I want.” She could hear him smile but she could no longer see him. Crane admittedly liked the girl and he’d fucked her as a minor pivot in his original plan for the night. Now, it was time for business. He pulled a dish of powder from a locked drawer and hid it away from sight as he crossed back into the girl’s view. “You may think you understand what my serum can do, but you’ll never truly know until you try it.” She furrowed her brow and shook her head, wishing that she could back away from him but she couldn’t move. He changed the subject swiftly, not giving her a moment. 

“I applaud you for your performance tonight. I was more than willing to humor you and of course, your present state did you many favors. I like my women tied down…” he joked and chuckled darkly. “But now, we need to get practical.” He removed his glasses and folded them slowly. He slipped them into his breast pocket. “You know too much, Miss —, and we both know that your current allegiance to your job would prioritize a crude sense of justice over your affection for me. We can’t have that, can we? So, I’d like to propose a solution or a treatment of sorts.” He clenched his jaw, angling his head down so that he was looking up at her through his eyelashes. “You’ve already proven to yourself tonight that the mind has complete control over the body. Desire rules judgment… and I want to rule you.” He smiled darkly. Before she could speak, powder was thrown into her face, blocking every orifice with a sickening gas. 

The anxiety was immediate. She saw strange creatures approach her from all sides, poking and prodding her with dirty nails. She saw the walls leak a disgusting fluid, like blood and fecal matter and it spilled over the floor. People sorted through the liquid for scraps, children screamed and cried around her. She’d been one of those children, raised in an orphanage because her parents couldn’t afford to keep her. Strange men swarmed the children, offering toxic treats and money for favors which the children shied away from. She screamed, pulling at her restraints as she tried to fight off the assailants. She shook her head violently side to side, and she screamed involuntarily with raw terror at what she saw. In the midst of a nightmare of Gotham’s poverty and dark underbelly, Dr. Jonathan Crane stood calmly before her. He watched her, his arms crossed against his chest. He cocked his head to the side. 

“What do you see,” he asked calmly. She turned her attention to him like he was a beacon of light in a horrible storm. 

“Jonathan, help me!” She cried. 

“Tell me what you see,” he said again and clucked his tongue to calm her. She looked around again at the people she saw, rummaging through mountains of trash. 

“Horrible… horrible poverty. The things… the things I saw as a child. People starving, children crying…” she whimpered. Rats scrambled across her body and she screamed again, shaking against the table. “Jonathan, please!” She called for him and he waded towards her, oblivious to the horror around him. He stood above her and stroked her face. He removed the restraints from her waist and her wrists and helped her sit up. The things she saw darted out of her peripheral vision, distorted now and hard to understand. She couldn’t run because she couldn’t tell where she was anymore, where her body was in relation to her perspective. Did she even still have a body?

Dr. Crane grunted as he helped her off the table and held her up beside him. She fainted in his arms and he carried her out of the secondary lab into the corridor. He punched the elevator’s call button with his free hand and dragged her inside. As the large steel doors closed, he fished for his cellphone in his pocket and called his driver, telling him to meet him outside the hospital immediately. Crane hushed her, gently patting her head though she was still unconscious. The elevator dropped them at the floor she’d entered on originally and Crane carried her to the side door, ignoring the looks the night attendants gave the strange couple. A sleek black car waited outside in the alley, the engine running and dispelling smoky exhaust into the air around them. Crane opened the car door and helped her inside, smirking at the security guard at the door. 

“Our meeting was successful, thank you officer.” He waved goodnight to the security guard who shifted awkwardly in his seat at the side door. Climbing in after her, Crane leaned over the console to speak with his driver. 

“My apartment, please.” He gave the order sternly, even with the addition of the ‘please,’ and the driver nodded, speeding off into Gotham’s dark streets. His hand rested comfortably on her thigh as he watched her. She started to come to in the backseat, though the effects of the drug had still not worn off. Her breath was fast and she leaned deliriously into Crane’s shoulder, seeking protection from what she saw outside the tinted windows. She was so afraid that she felt safer in the arms of the man that had drugged her, and it would take hours to realize that, but by the time she did, the psychological effects would have already taken root. 

ii 

The car stopped outside of a dark apartment building in one of the only nice parts of town in Gotham city. It was raining as he helped her back out of the car and into the large lobby of his apartment building. She clung to his arm as he led her into an elevator, playing a soft melody that sounded like shrill screams to her intoxicated mind. As the elevator doors opened, effects of the drug began to wane though her heartbeat was still racing. She looked up at Crane’s sharp jaw and how he clenched it as he opened the door to his apartment and pushed her gently inside. 

“I pay my people extra to turn a blind eye to everything that I do. I understand these circumstances appear even more nefarious, being that I have admittedly drugged you and brought you to my apartment. What can I say, I’m a bad feminist.” He smiled darkly and locked the door. 

“When do I stop seeing… these things?” She collapsed into a chair behind her and cradled her head in her hands. 

“The effects will be gone in an hour,” he responded coolly and switched on some of the lights in his modern apartment. The apartment was two stories with a spiral staircase and an elevator that led to the upstairs. She looked around, trying her best to ignore the hallucinations and study the actual apartment itself. 

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t have a lab here, it’s against the building’s codes. I spend very little time here actually, I’m always at Arkham or dealing with detectives… like you. I’m a busy man. Like I already told you, I have plans to ‘treat’ Falcone tomorrow so I’ll need that room free. This is the next best option and I think you’ll find it more comfortable in comparison.” He smirked and flicked a switch, immediately two restraints looped tightly around her wrists, emerging from a panel in the arms of the chair that she hadn’t noticed. Second restraints looped around her ankles, reminding her as her ankles were spread apart that he had removed her underwear. She turned her knees inward, hiding her crotch and scoffing with frustration. 

“Again?” She groaned and pulled at the strong leather material holding her to the chair. 

“You sound disappointed,” Crane observed with a small smirk. “It’s only temporary. I didn’t get a chance to question you back at the lab, so we’ll do that here.” He gestured to his empty apartment and started to walk toward her slowly. His lips curled cruelly as he looked her up and down, strapped to the chair. “So tell me, what do you know?” He whispered and she stopped struggling for a moment. She still felt jumpy and nervous but having him so close relieved some of those feelings. The effects of the drug wore off more but the underlying sense of anxiety and loss of control prompted her to answer honestly.

I know that you are trying to make a powerful drug that mimics fear and so far, you’ve put it in a powder form. It works when ingested in some ways and immediately elicits a response that incapacitates the victim. You want to use it widely, to control Gotham…”

“Right, what else.” He leaned on the arms of the chair, his hands grasped around her wrists. 

“You don’t work for Falcone but you work with someone else. You’ve just been using Falcone’s drug operation to move your own prototypes of the fear serum. You want to be in charge and you know that fear can do whatever you want it to. The mind controls the body,” she recalled a sentence that he had used before he had thrown the powder in her face. “You’re also somehow connected to the missing micro-wave emmitter. I don’t know why but it may help you in some way, how?” She was breathing heavily like she was going to fall asleep. 

“Good work, detective.” 

“What are you using the micro-wave emitter for?” She asked. He chuckled and removed his hands from her wrists, backing up. He approached a small liquor cart and poured himself a drink, straight gin. She continued as he drank. 

“Who are you working with and how do you expect to control Gotham when everyone loses their minds?” She could barely contain her voice, anger and confusion rose into her throat like bile. 

“So many questions…” he swallowed and set down his glass, turning back to her slowly. “Aren’t you supposed to figure that out for yourself?” He raised his eyebrow. 

“The mirco-wave emitter would dry out any water supply that it comes into contact with. Wouldn’t it be easier to poison the water supply, you would reach more people… unless it doesn’t have the same effect when administered in water.” She looked up at him but his face was hard. “That’s why you’ve been using it in a powder, it only works in a powder form. If you dry up the water supply and release the powder into the air, there isn’t a way to combat the effects, is there?” 

Crane smiled and nodded slowly, “right again.” 

“How can you control people who have lost their minds on the serum? You can’t control chaos.” She furrowed her brow and leaned forward, questioning him. Crane cocked his head and studied her for a moment, noticing the last traces of the fear serum leaving her body. 

“Control has many forms, Y/N. The chaos that will come from my serum is planned, its existence is strategically executed.”

“But why are you doing this?” 

“I love it when you get flustered,” he chuckled darkly at her and licked his lips, his eyes rolling before returning to her face. “It’s not just me, I work for a large organization that has been responsible for all historical catastrophes throughout history. We deal in balance, balanced chaos. They hired me because I can control fear, I know how to use it and weaponize it. Gotham needs to be balanced and it cannot be balanced without it first destroying itself. Create a closed environment with the population’s problems and confront them with chaos, the balance will soon be restored.” 

“Who do you work for?” She whispered, her eyes wide. 

“Don’t you mean, who do we work for?” He crouched at her feet and placed his hands on her thighs. He smiled crazily up at her and she leaned away from him. 

“What?” She whispered. 

“I work for the League of Shadows, and now, so do you.” He dug his finger into the soft bottom of her chin and pushed her head up so that she could see the second floor more clearly. 

Standing at the rail were men clad in dark armor. One man stood out from the rest. He wore a black suit and carried a gold-tipped cane. He had long whiskers of gray hair like a mustache and steady cool eyes, deadlier than Crane’s.  

“Good work, Dr. Crane.” The man kept his focus on her and her blood went cold. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Miss —. We’ve heard so much about you and of course, you’re the one that has caused us so much trouble!” He laughed sarcastically and descended the spiral staircase. 

“Who are you?” She growled. 

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” he smiled and the wrinkles on his face creased, pulling against his eyes. “I see you’ve already become acquainted with Dr. Crane, our very own criminal mastermind.”

“You’re too kind,” Crane smarted back, watching the girl’s face as she tried to take in all of the new information. 

“Now, I have a job proposition to offer you, Miss —. You seem to have figured most of our plan out but I don’t think you understand the complexity of our organization. You see, the League of Shadows is an ancient organization that has balanced the harmony of every major city in the world since the beginning of time. Gotham has gone bad, to the point of no return. Your ‘Batman’ as you call him can’t reverse what has been brewing for years. He never saw what you did, how the people of Gotham live in filth and poverty while the elite few enjoy the spoils. This city needs to be reborn, it needs chaos to restore the balance.”

“But wouldn’t you be killing thousands of innocent people?” She interjected and Al Ghul shrugged slightly. 

“Nobody’s innocent,” he answered quickly and then inhaled, clarifying, “Anyway, that’s not what we want to do here. If we take control of the city and hold it for ransom, we can work out a deal to replace the crooked government with some of our people. I’m offering you a role alongside my people. You’re smart, all that evidence you collected against Crane- none of the senior officers could have held a match to it. We destroyed it of course, as soon as Crane told us about your little visit.” She looked past Al Ghul to Crane who leaned against the wall calmly. Had they destroyed the copies? How could she be sure that they were telling the truth? “The box of evidence you had put aside for Sgt. Gordon was the hardest to find but we found it. What made you suspect Dr. Crane? Was it a gut instinct?” He drew on before she interrupted him. 

“You want me to help you kill people?” She furrowed her brow and nearly laughed in disbelief. 

“We want your help to save Gotham from itself and establish a new and better government.” He corrected, fixing his posture. Crane watched her closely and spoke up from the back of the room. 

“She’ll do it,” he answered and she opened her mouth to interject but his smirk silenced her. “She’ll do it because whether or not she wants to admit it, Miss —, is like us.” Crane reached into his breast pocket and removed his glasses. He cleaned the panels with a dish towel and pushed them onto his nose. She looked between Crane and Al Ghul, her heart beating quickly in her chest. 

“Will you join us, will you help us save Gotham?” Ra’s Al Ghul placed both of his hands on top of his walking stick and shifted his weight evenly between his feet. Crane folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side, a knowing smile played on his wide pink lips. Her decision surprised her but the serum had already changed her chemistry, Crane had revealed her true self to herself and there was only one choice left. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

Crane nodded, “good girl.” 

iii 

She was released from her restraints and she rubbed her wrists where the leather marked them. Ra’s Al Ghul snapped his fingers and a map was rolled out on Crane’s dining room table. The map was of the entire city of Gotham, showing the sewer and water lines. They explained the plan, showing her where the micro-wave emitter would be placed in the city and how it would be moved through each neighborhood. 

“What about the police?” She asked and gestured to the map of the city. Crane laughed and shook his head. 

“You were the only cop that suspected this, the rest will have no idea until it's already started. The person we really need to worry about is Batman,” he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at Al Ghul, “luckily for him, an old friend is coming by to visit.” Al Ghul nodded and smiled kindly at her. 

“Batman and I go way back. I’ll take care of him.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” She asked, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Crane caught himself staring and cleared his throat. 

“You’ll help me with the production of the powder, ensuring that your cop friends don’t figure out too much and keeping Sgt. Gordon away from Arkham or leading him astray… anything,” Crane answered, setting his face as he spoke. She nodded. 

Though they had asked her to join their efforts, they also obviously didn’t trust her completely. They wouldn’t tell her everything, she knew. Her night had gone in a completely different direction than how she had imagined it. Everything had changed after the fear serum, it had shown her that what she feared most had already happened. The police were corrupt, run by small-time gangsters and criminals and crime continued to run rampant as the state lost more and more money, forcing social service organizations to close and more families out on the streets. This whole time she thought that the police could solve the problem but they only caused it. Crane was right, she was like him and she would do anything she could to change the city. After the meeting, Crane poured her a drink and dissolved a packet of powder into the liquor. He stirred it in front of her and Al Ghul before sliding it across the table’s surface. 

“This will put you to sleep for a few hours, twelve at most. It’s only a precaution to make sure that you have truly promised your allegiance to us. Everything that you say will be monitored from this point on.”

“Everything?” She looked at Crane who clenched his jaw, a faint tease of blush spread on his cheeks.

“Everything. Do as we say and follow our rules and you stay alive,” Crane finished and tapped the rim of the glass. “Now drink.” 

“How do I know that you aren’t just poisoning me?” She asked the men around her.

“We’re learning to trust each other, but you have to go first.” He smiled and when Al Ghul said nothing, she took the glass and drank it slowly. The last thing she saw were Crane’s eyes, set perfectly on her. 

She was conscious enough to set her glass down before falling back onto the couch. Crane approached her quickly and checked her pulse, monitoring her reaction to the drug. 

“Did it work?” Ra’s Al Ghul asked behind him and he nodded. 

“Yes, she’s out. Because of all the drugs in her system already, this one may take longer to wear off.” 

“All the other drugs?” Al Ghul raised his eyebrow and Crane chuckled. 

“I couldn’t help myself and besides,” he turned to Al Ghul, “you wanted her alive.” 

“I’m not convinced that we can trust her,” Al Ghul shook his head and pointed at the map for his men to clean up. 

“Oh, I’ll make sure we can.” 

“With your mind tricks?” Al Ghul teased and Crane sighed, rolling his beautiful eyes. 

“Don’t insult me, Ra’s. I know what I’m doing.” He warned the man calmly and nodded to the men. Two men helped carry her body as Crane led them back down the elevator into the lobby which was deserted at that time in the early morning. They climbed into Crane’s waiting car and pulled away from the curb. The girl’s body was limp against the seat and Crane resisted the urge to stare at her, fascinated by her sleeping body. The men carried her up to her apartment on the third floor of a small walkup. Crane rummaged through her coat pockets for the key into her apartment and unlocked the door. 

Her apartment was small and cozy, furnished with minimal couches and chairs. Books and art decorated the walls. Crane pushed through the door and directed the men to lie her down in her bedroom, the small room off of the main living area. They men looked back at him expectantly as he stood by the doorway, watching her sleep. He rolled his eyes and shooed them away. What did they think he was going to do? He’d already fucked her. Alone in her apartment, he stood by her bed and stroked her cheek. She slept on, engulfed by unconscious darkness. He leaned over her slowly and grasped her throat gently, exhaling across her face. He said nothing but looked her up and down and smirked, pleased at the sight of her. He’d won another spoil: her. 

 She woke up in her bed, twisted in the sheets as if she had been restless all night. She was sweaty and hot, the air stuffy around her. Crane and Al Ghul were nowhere to be seen. She checked her watch and hurried out of bed, stripping off her clothes from the night before and into black trousers and a dark blue sweater. She stumbled into the living room and wound her hair up into a claw clip, moving towards the door when a voice startled her. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dr. Crane spoke from the couch. He was in a fresh suit and looked well-rested. He was taking notes in a file on Falcone, his briefcase sat on the coffee table in front of him. She jumped, gasping from shock. 

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?” 

“I was waiting for you to wake up. We have work to do today. That bitch at the DA’s office wants to speak with me. I'm supposed to meet with her this afternoon. She’s questioning Falcone’s transfer.”

“I ordered the transfer after you did Falcone’s interview, maybe I could meet with her instead.” 

“No, I need you to take this file to the judge on Falcone’s case. I can handle her questions.” He stood and held out Falcone’s file. “I already gave my statement at the hearing but this file will confirm my medical opinion, hopefully that will get her off my back.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Do you think Falcone will talk if she speaks with him?” 

“Possibly,” he bent his head side to side and shrugged, “but we aren’t going to find out. Let’s go,” he snapped his briefcase closed and made for the front door. She glanced from the couch to her bedroom.

“Were you watching me all night?” She flushed angrily and followed him. He closed the door suddenly and spun her around, forcing her back against the front door. 

“I can only say this once because they aren’t listening now but as soon as we get in the car, they’ll be monitoring you. I am keeping you alive, Miss —. I will do everything in my power to keep you alive but the second you step away from me, you’re on your own. I know we have an understanding so believe me when I say that I would prefer very much if you didn’t die. Follow my directions because they’re following you.” He said in a harsh whisper, a strand of hair falling into his face. They stared at each other in silence, exchanging breath when he kissed her harshly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned softly against his lips. He bucked into her hips and she gasped softly against his jaw. And just as quickly, he pulled away, breathing heavily and led her out the door and down the stairs into the waiting car. 

“I’ll need my gun back,” she pointed out as they settled on the backseat. Crane sighed, unbuttoning his suit jacket. He opened a small compartment in the car door and retrieved her gun. As he held it out, he took her jaw in his other hand, his thumb pressing into her fleshy cheek. 

“This is where that trust would come in handy, detective.” He whispered darkly. She looked at his lips and then up to his eyes, speechless around him. He watched her struggle for words and chuckled, handing her the gun. “Be careful, Y/N, and remember Ra’s plan.” He looked at her lips and sniffed, slapping the roof of the car. “This is her stop.” 

iv 

She met with the judge who oversaw Falcone’s case and gave him the thick folder. He looked at it briefly before recognizing the information. 

“I appreciate you coming out to speak to me about Falcone’s transfer to Arkham but I cleared everything with Ms. Dawes yesterday. She’s already scheduled a second psychiatrist to meet with Falcone first thing tomorrow morning. She mentioned that she’s also requested Dr. Crane’s case file. Has she seen this?” He waved the folder and she clicked her tongue, shocked that she had scheduled a second opinion and that Crane didn’t know about it.

“I’m not sure, sir. I was the detective working with the prosecution and I was the one who oversaw Dr. Crane’s examination and request for transfer. I can attest to Falcone's mood at the time as well. He screamed nonstop as Crane was trying to conduct a test of sanity. Anyway, I wanted to make sure that you saw Dr. Crane’s diagnosis in the aftermath of his transfer. This has updated notes that Dr. Crane shared with me. It might be useful in your deliberation.” She smiled and the judge looked down his nose at the folder. 

“Good point. Thank you, detective. This is helpful.” He opened the folder on his desk and put on his rounded spectacles. 

“Well now that we’ve spoken, I’ll try to catch Dawes and save her the trouble.” She pushed back her chair and brushed off her trousers. 

“Miss —?” The judge called from his desk. 

“Yes, sir?” She looked back.

“Dr. Crane has committed many of Falcone’s men to Arkham in the past few months, is that correct?” 

“Yes,” she nodded and her heart raced. 

“That must be a pretty crazy group.” The judge laughed and went back to the folder, completely missing the pattern. She sighed in relief and left quickly. She started to walk to Arkham, moving so quickly she felt like she may have been running. Dawes had already scheduled a second opinion, meaning that she was probably at Arkham pressuring Crane for his detailed diagnosis. It would take Dawes one second to figure it out so she hoped she could get there quickly enough to do something. She had no plan which she knew was stupid but whatever was bound to happen in the next few hours would be bad and she needed to help Crane. Her phone began to ring and she put it to her ear. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N.”

“Ra’s?”

“Are you on your way to Arkham?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Turn around and go back to your precinct. I want you to stick close to Sgt. Gordon, go where he goes. You’re his top detective so run with it. If anything happens at Arkham, he’ll be there and I want you there with him. Crane will be fine.”

She slowed to a stop, skeptical but wanting to believe what her new boss was telling her, “ok, sir.”

After a second of silence, Ra’s added, “It’s Batman’s birthday and what better way to celebrate a playboy than with chaos?” The call ended before she could respond. 

She spun around and headed straight for the precinct. She spotted Gordon at his desk, working on paperwork. She hurried over and knocked on the door, letting herself in when he waved. 

“Good, I’m glad to see you. I need to run some ideas by you for the Falcone case.” 

“I just dropped off Crane's diagnosis for the judge but he said that Dawes may be seeking a second opinion.” 

“About that -” The intercom went off with a loud screech. 

“Attention all units! Attention all units! Batman was spotted at Arkham Asylum. He is believed to be armed and dangerous. Backup is requested at this time.” The voice repeated with a robotic drone. Sgt. Gordon looked from the speaker to her and grabbed his coat from his chair. 

“We need to get to the asylum right now.” Gordon yelled and she followed him closely, checking that her gun was still secured to her hip. She clipped her badge to her front pocket and pretended to sound confused. 

“Why are we going, Sgt? Do you think this is about Falcone?”

“It might, I’d feel better if I was there to find out; and if Batman is there, someone’s in trouble.” They hurried down the stairs and climbed into a car. Gordon sped away from the precinct and ran red lights. The tires bled across the roads as they came to a screeching halt behind a row of police cars parked outside the Asylum. 

“Why is everyone waiting outside?” She yelled over the noise. An officer standing with his gun aimed at the building yelled back. 

“We’re waiting for backup!”

“They’ll be here soon, sir. We should wait!” She yelled over the noise at the Sgt. 

Gordon looked up at the building and pulled his gun from his holster. He started moving towards the building, looking back to wave her on. 

“I’m going in. You coming?” He called. 

She groaned anxiously beneath her breath before responding, “yes, sir!” They raced up the stairs into the lobby which was left completely vacant. Gordon held up his gun and she followed suit, staying close behind him. She felt the urge to kill him now and find Crane but her gut warned her that someone else was in the room, watching. They walked slowly through the main corridor, past the abandoned security checkpoint, creeping closer to the wide atrium. When they stepped beneath the enormous domed ceiling a loud noise broke through the top of the building. She looked up and covered her face with her forearm to protect her eyes from large shards of falling glass. She saw a large dark blur surround Sgt. Gordon and pull him up to the roof. 

“Sgt. Gordon!” She yelled after him. She knew immediately that the blur was that bastard Batman. A small laugh escaped her mouth as she shook her head and lowered her gun. A group of SWAT ran in seconds later. She pointed at the ceiling with her gun and called them over. 

“He came down and took Sgt. Gordon!”

“Who?” Someone yelled at her and she shook her head, pretending to be unsure. 

“I don’t know! I think it was Batman.” She yelled, adding to their panic. 

“Batman!” Someone shouted and in the moment of distraction, she slipped away into a side corridor. She bolted towards a staircase and stopped at every floor, looking for signs of activity. Her body burned with soreness as she sprinted down each corridor. She wanted to scream his name but her lungs wouldn’t allow her the extra air to do so. She rounded a corner and ran into a group of police. They all started shouting at her until she showed them her badge. 

“I’m a detective- What the hell is going on here?” She yelled. 

“We’re looking for Dr. Crane!”

“Have you seen Sgt. Gordon?” She asked, panting and trying not to panic when they mentioned Crane’s name. “He disappeared and I've been looking for him.”

“No, we haven’t. We got a call that they found drugs in the building and then Batman showed up. Crane was running the operation.” One police officer responded and jerked their head to the side where they were going to run next. “It's down this corridor!”  

“I’ll come with you,” she shouted and led the unit, her gun pointed at the ground. Two large doors were falling off their hinges further down the hallway. The room itself was smokey and gaseous. She looked down from the doorway where there were stairs leading into a cement lined room like an empty indoor pool. Tables were littered with Crane’s fear serum and men that she assumed were dead. Huge vats of liquid marked with a toxic symbol sat on their sides by an open waterline. 

“This is it,” she said to the officer beside her and started to descend the staircase. The smoke made it hard to see so she moved slowly, looking around the floor for Crane’s familiar face. The men she saw were all part of Falcone’s posse who had been hired to help the drug operation run. Something snapped beneath her food and she looked down, seeing Crane’s scarecrow mask which she recognized from his drawing. She picked it up and looked around anxiously, her fingers around the gun shook. Then she saw him. Crane was propped up against a wall and bleeding slightly from the head, a thin trail of blood oozed on the wall behind his head. He was panting and flailing around, his pupils were mere penpoints. He’d been attacked with his own fear powder. She looked around before dropping into a crouch beside him. He recognized her but continued to shake, his eyes darting around her head. 

“Jonathan,” she whispered, “it's me.” 

“Did you find him?” Someone shouted and she yelled back that she had. He raised a judgemental eyebrow, his mouth forming a cuss word. His glasses were gone. 

“Trust me, Crane.” She whispered against his ear and held his wrists together. She took her handcuffs from her belt and handcuffed him. 

v 

She leaned against the wall and tapped her foot anxiously as they strapped him into a white straightjacket. She crossed the room and helped the officer secure the last belt, thankful for any excuse to touch him and remind him that she was still there. Looking up at her, he spat and she flinched slightly. His light eyes were ringed with red swollen skin and she wondered if he really felt betrayed by her. She wiped his spit from her cheek and returned to her place by the wall. 

“So this is the scarecrow,” Sgt. Gordon entered the room and let the door slam shut. Crane jumped from the noise and closed his eyes, taking a deep shaky breath. 

“Scarecrow… scarecrow.” Crane whispered with his eyes closed and shifted within the straightjacket. Sgt. Gordon pulled up a chair, the metal scraping against the floor, bristling Crane into opening his eyes. 

“What was the plan, Crane? How were you going to get the toxin into the air?” Gordon asked calmly and fingered the scarecrow mask. Her stomach turned watching Crane struggle to regain control over his mind. He shook and his eyes darted around the room, landing once or twice on her. She kept a straight face, giving no sign that she was terrified that something would happen to him or she would accidentally reveal something about him that they didn’t already know. When Crane didn’t respond, Gordon continued, his voice rising. 

“Who were you working for?” Gordon pressed and Crane’s eyes snapped to his, a crazy smile pulling at his lips. 

“Oh, it’s too late. You can’t stop it now.” He spoke through shivers, cutting up his words. He smiled at the end and Gordon shook his head. He stood and shoved the mask into her hands. 

“Here. Stay with Crane.” He growled and left the room, his footsteps echoing through the heavy steel door. She looked down at the mask in her hands and hid her smile. There was only one officer left in the room with them and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to come up with a quick plan. 

“Are there any officers outside?” She asked the cop by the door who peeked his head outside the door. 

“No, ma’am.” 

“Good,” she smiled and raised her gun when the door snapped behind him. “Then this should be easy.” She cocked the gun and cornered the officer. “Face the wall,” she ordered and when he turned, she hit him over the head with the butt of her pistol, knocking him unconscious. She quickly handcuffed him and checked outside one last time before running over to Crane. He was still recovering from the toxin, his face set in a deep frown. She began to free him from his restraints, glancing at the door every few seconds. His eyes stayed on her face and he kept muttering things below his breath. When she undid the last restraint he jumped up and it fell from around his shoulders to the floor. She started to smile when he lunged at her and pushed her up against the tiled wall. Her hair clip cracked against the tile and clattered to the floor in pieces. She gasped beneath his hands, one holding her throat and the other grabbing the slack in her sweater, exposing her navel. 

“You betrayed me,” he growled, “you told Gordon... I saw you.” His eyes were wild and glazed, he looked right through her.

“What?” she gasped out though his hand was crushing her windpipe. 

“I saw you two! You fucked him. You fucked him!” He yelled, his body shook with anger like he was coming down from an adrenaline high. 

“No, I didn’t!” She struggled beneath his hands, “this is the toxin talking, Jonathan! I didn’t betray you-”

“But you fucked him,” his voice twisted into a heatbreaking whine, an image flicked before his eyes and he closed them quickly, shaking it from his head.

“No!” She coughed and she could feel herself getting light-headed. 

“You love him,” his voice was breaking beneath him and his eyes darted between hers as the toxin showed him more and more; everything of which included her.

“Jonathan!” she screamed and hit his chest hard with closed fists, “I can’t fucking breathe!” 

His eyes snapped open wider and he released his grip around her throat. Her feet landed on the ground and she coughed, sinking into a crouch against the wall. Crane stepped back and watched her silently. He was still shaking as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. 

“Why would I save you if I loved him?” She cried in frustration, rubbing her bruised throat. “It’s the toxin, Jonathan… I didn’t do the things you think I did,” her voice softened. She looked up at him and stood slowly, grabbing onto the wall for support. Crane cradled his head in his hands and whimpered. 

“What do you see?” she asked quietly and stepped closer. He shook his head and created more distance between them. “Jonathan, tell me.” She pressed and he exhaled with a soft shutter.

“You… fuck,” he started through heavy breaths, working himself up again. “I see you and Gordon…” He rubbed his eyes and looked back up at her. “It’s been so long since…”

“Since what?” She furrowed her brow, questioning. His eyes darted away into the corner and he shook.

“Since my father last used it…” he took a deep breath and finished his sentence with a lengthy exhale, “on me.” 

“The fear toxin?” She whispered, slowly starting to understand what he was suggesting. He nodded and flinched as if something had attacked him. Was he saying that his father used a prototype of the fear toxin on him? She grabbed onto the sleeve of his suit jacket and tugged his attention away. 

“It’s just me. There’s no one else- nothing else in here except for me,” she gestured to the nearly empty room (the officer was still unconscious in the corner). “And I’m here for you,” she whispered and closed the distance between them, her hands slipped around his small waist beneath his suit jacket. She felt his body tense beneath her embrace before slowly (very slowly) releasing its tension. He didn’t hug her back but rested his forehead on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, and found the shallow wound on the back of his head. She ducked her head as she pulled away, finding his mouth and kissing him gently. The toxin was slowly wearing off and she could tell he was only beginning to return to his normal self. 

“We need to get up to my office,” he muttered and looked at the door. “They’re releasing the patients.”

“What?” She furrowed her brow. Crane sighed and shook his head. 

“Ra’s gave orders to open all of the cells. The patients will be let loose into the city.” He licked his lips and looked down at her. “We need to get upstairs.” His expression was tense as she could tell he was trying to fight the lingering effects of the toxin. She nodded. 

“Show me where to go.” 

He pulled her through the door and they ran down the corridor to an elevator. When the doors opened, Crane used his key to override the system, preventing anyone else from calling the elevator. He pressed the button for the floor with his office, not realizing that his other hand was squeezing tightly around hers. When the doors opened again, they rushed down the hallway and into Crane’s office. He sighed when the door was locked and the blinds closed. 

“What are we going to do?” She asked him quietly and he inhaled slowly. 

“I need to inject you with the antidote so the toxin doesn’t affect you when we leave the building.” He murmured, more to himself.

“We’re going out there?” She tried to keep the fear from her voice but he detected it instantly, raising an eyebrow. 

“Are you scared?” He asked automatically. 

“Of both of us dying out there at the hands of one of your old patients, yes, yes I am.” She nearly laughed. 

“Don’t you want to be part of the fun?” The Jonathan Crane she knew was definitely coming back. 

“I’d rather not become the ‘fun’,” she quipped and he smirked. 

“As you wish.” 

She followed him into his lab and he rummaged through a collection of vials arranged on one of the counters. Finding the right one, he slipped it inside a cartridge of what looked like an epipen. 

“Pull down your pants,” he ordered and then it was her turn to raise her eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that and do what I tell you,” he said sternly and she did as he asked, pulling down her trousers where he had access to her thigh. “This will hurt,” he warned her before immediately plunging the needle into the fat around her thigh. She hissed in pain and heaved out a breath. 

“The good news is that you don’t have to ever do this again,” he patted her leg and buttoned her pants for her. “Now me,” he changed the vial and unbuckled his pants. He raised the hem of his boxers and punctured the needle into his upper thigh. He grunted in pain and closed his eyes for a moment and whistled out a tight breath. A large explosion shook the ground below their feet. She jumped and winced as she landed on her sore leg. Without opening his eyes, Crane nodded. 

“And that would be the patients leaving the building now.” He withdrew the needle and tossed it to the side, buckling his pants. 

“Let me see your head,” she touched his arm and he leaned forward slightly, turning his head where she could see it clearly. She carded her fingers through his dark hair and parted the dark roots away from the shallow wound. “It's a small cut, you’ll live.” 

“Thanks, doctor.” He smirked. Her fingers shifted through his hair as he straightened and she tried not to look disappointed when they were no longer twirled around his black locks. 

“Are you back now?” She looked up into his eyes, looking for trances of fear. 

“I think so,” he responded and traced his index finger around the collar of her sweater. There were small bruises where his fingers had been when he forced her against the wall in his state of panic. “Was I terrible?” He whispered. 

“Not more than usual,” she laughed lightly and covered his hand with hers. “I’m ok.” She insisted and he furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips. 

He was going to apologize, he was going to tell her how much he loved her and that was why he had reacted so strongly to the toxin, but the words died on his lips so instead he said, “We should leave before the city goes all the way under.”

“They’ll raise the bridges so no one can leave, it’s too late.” 

Crane chuckled and leaned against the lab table behind him, his fingers grasping around the edge. “And once again, you severely underestimate me. Come on.” 

vi 

“Get on,” Crane held the bridle and gestured for her to mount the large black steed. 

“You’re kidding right?” She looked around at the burning city and then back to the police horse who’d lost its rider. 

“I wish I was,” he sighed and tugged her closer by her waistband, “now giddy-up, Miss —.” He joked flatley and pushed her up onto the saddle. He hoisted himself up after her and sat in front, taking the reins in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed her thighs around the horse's stomach, holding on for dear life. 

“Where the hell did you learn to ride a horse?” She yelled over the panic and she felt him chuckle. 

“Oh, there are a lot of things that you don’t know about me, detective.” He smirked and kicked the horse into action. She gasped and held him tighter as they flew through the violence-strewn streets. She couldn’t imagine how ridiculous they looked to the people of Gotham but under the influence of the fear toxin, she hoped people were more afraid than amused seeing a man in a full suit riding a horse. Crane focused on the route ahead, navigating them through the broken city. 

“Where’s Ra’s?” She yelled into his ear. 

“Forget about him.” He growled and urged the horse faster. 

“Why? What happened?” 

“He tricked me. He didn't just want to impose an arguably better government, he wanted to kill everyone and to kill us too. He tipped off Batman and that’s how Batman found me. He didn't need me after the toxin had been released. He kept you away from me, didn’t he?” He called over his shoulder, leaping over a crashed car. 

“Yes, he told me to go to the precinct instead when I tried to warn you about the DA.” 

“He wanted Batman to find me and he assumed that you’d get stuck here after you followed Gordon. Two birds with one stone. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” He growled and turned the horse onto a side-street and into an alley. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, her grip tightening around Crane as she saw people screaming in the streets. 

“To my father’s house.” 

“How?” His father’s house? After his father had probably done something horrible to him?

“Just hold on,” he warned and flicked the reins again. She closed her eyes, wanting to block out the terror in the streets. While some of it gave her pleasure to see the raw side of humanity express itself, it reminded her of what she had seen as a child- the side of people that came out when they needed to survive. 

They rode to the edge of the city and Crane slowed the horse to a stop beside a tall building that looked abandoned. He hopped off of the horse and helped her down, catching her as she forced herself to slip over the saddle. The building was far enough away from the inner-city that it looked like it hadn’t been touched yet by the chaos, though the toxins had definitely reached it. 

“We need to get to the roof,” he informed her calmly and pointed her to the elevator. 

“Another elevator…” she whispered beneath her breath, knowing it wasn’t the right time to mention how much she hated the idea of going into one when the world around them was ending. Crane pressed the button labeled “20R,” and the elevator began to soar up. The elevator had windows that opened into the city. As the elevator climbed, they could see the destruction of Gotham and right across the bridge, normalcy.

“Ra’s is moving the micro-wave emitter by the high speed rail. If his plan goes accordingly, the emitter will poison the other side of the city beneath Wayne tower.” He pointed out the tall Wayne building from their vantage point. “I hate Gotham and I hate Batman, but I think I hate Ra’s Al Ghul more.” He sneered distastefully. “We could have run Gotham…” he sighed and shrugged, “maybe another day.” 

She couldn’t help herself but laugh. Being with Crane had opened her eyes to a new side of herself, one that was dark and masochistic. She liked this side better, way better. She liked thinking that one day she could be in charge, force out all of the government officials that were too dumb or sexist to listen to her. She could lead beside Crane… 

When the elevator doors opened a gust of wind met them. The doors opened onto the roof of the huge building. A helicopter stood in the center of a large bull’s eye, its blades running in circles above their heads. Crane’s hair ruffled in the wind and he squinted his eyes against it. Her mouth fell open in shock and Crane chuckled at her reaction. 

“That’s the funny thing about, trust, detective. I don’t believe in it,” he smirked and beckoned her to the helicopter’s doors. 

“You planned this?” She yelled as he gestured her to climb onto the landing gear. 

“Of course,” he smiled, "I always have a backup plan." Her mary janes slipped across the bars as she climbed and Crane supported her back, guiding her back into the body of the machine. He pulled himself inside after her and collapsed in one of the seats. She tried to orient herself, looking around the small helicopter, landing on the pilot. The pilot nodded at Crane, he was wearing a thick mask and goggles to keep the toxin away. 

“Ready doctor?” The pilot called from the front and Crane nodded breathlessly. He looked at her and clenched his jaw, returning to the version of Crane she knew so well. 

“Yes.”

[meltwonu]

|     𝖓𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒     |     CHAPTER 10

pairing; camboy!seokmin x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; camboy!au, university!au, camshows, camboy!seokmin, dom!seokmin, (mutual)masturbation, sex toys, mentions of exhibitionism, dirty talk, sending of dirty photos/audios. Omg WE ARE BACK YET AGAIN!!😮‍💨😭 The last chapter for Neon Dream was in Nov right before I went to those bts concerts and then the rest of dec went to shit lmao ☠️ Altho January is kinda pickin up where dec left off in the shit zone so y’know, it is what it is lol… 😗🥲 Anyway, thank you so much for your patience and support with Neon Dream, I’ve very excited to get back into it! I know this chapter went up a day late and I am too sorry for that too, I had some business to attend unfortunately 😭 Thank you all for always putting up with my bullshit lmao... 😭💕 Enjoy ch10! And have a lovely rest of your weekend! 💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - ?

You’re nervous.

So much so that even Seokmin is concerned.

“Hey… Should we cut the fitting short, you look so… Preoccupied? I’m worried.”

His eyebrows furrow and his eyes are filled with concern as you kneel in front of him – shaky hands holding a needle in one hand and thread in the other as you gulp.

“H–huh? N–no, it’s okay, sorry I’ve just–just had a lot on my mind. We’ve been so b-busy with musical stuff so I feel like I’m just not, um, g-getting a lot of sleep, that’s all. It’s making me jittery, I think.”

You laugh nervously as Seokmin bites the inside of his cheek, nodding as he stares off into the mirror.

“If you need a break, just let me know, okay? I know it’s a lot of work but we’re allowed breaks too, y’know?” He laughs lightly under his breath – the action calming you a little as you join him.

“I know, it’s honestly not really hard work either, I think my brain is just always somewhere else lately. Or really, no where at all.”

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

You thread the needle, sighing as you start to hem one of the pant legs as Seokmin does his best to stand still.

“I mean, it’s just, I dunno – I think it’s just stress.” You sum it up as simply as you can; somewhat embarrassed to say any more than that knowing that a lot of your real frustrations lately were mostly sexual in nature.

“Like, from school? Or…?”

Seokmin peers down, eyeing the back of your head as you lean down to sew.

“I–I guess so… You know how it is.”

He nods gently, laughing as he remembers his debt to Jihoon being the cause of most of his stresses.

“Yeah, I–I get you. I’ve been thinking about quitting some of my part time jobs, it’s kind of getting to be too much and I’ve already missed so many shifts with all the musical rehearsals and stuff. Kinda feels pointless, y’know? To have them rely on me and I can’t show up.”

His cheeks burn knowing that half of that was a lie – but he doesn’t say more in fear of exposing himself.

Except it’s already too late.

“I thought you owed Jihoon for vocal lessons? And weren’t your extra jobs for rent bills ‘n stuff?? How are you gonna afford it, Seokmin? Did you get a new job?”

In a panic, he shifts slightly, almost kicking you as you yelp and fall backwards onto your ass on the carpeted floor.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry, hold on,” He helps you up and makes sure you’re okay, “Sorry, I’m so clumsy, I shouldn’t have moved like that when you’re literally holding a needle!”

You shake your head, giggling as you put the needle away for now; Seokmin being secretly glad that his little ‘fuck up’ seemed to have distracted you from the answer you were looking for, only moments prior.

“It’s okay, let’s take that break real quick, huh? And then I can finish hemming your pants and we can get out of here early.”

“Sounds good!”

But when you’re by yourself is the hardest part – being left to your own thoughts and imagination when you laze around in bed, in and out of sleep.

You hadn’t posted any more anonymous photos of yourself and you’d actually been too scared to listen to Dokyeom’s last stream in fear that he might’ve found out who you were.

It’d been a few days since your fitting with Seokmin and he’d been too busy with his vocal lessons and actual musical rehearsals to meet up with you – even going so far as to postpone a fitting session with you in favour of more vocal rehearsals.

But two things had come from that.

You’d realized that you were starting to really, really miss being around Seokmin.

And also that you couldn’t function without Dokyeom’s audio streams to get you off.

“This is so stupid…!” You scream into your pillow; legs thrashing wildly against your bed as you groan.

You had a real attraction to Seokmin and an obsessive fixation to a voice who apparently belonged to someone on campus – someone who could be anyone out of thousands.

“Maybe I can… Find out who he is... Get him to tell me so I can get over this...” Mumbling, you sit up, eyeing your laptop as you drag it closer.

“Yeah, yeah, maybe this will work…”

You load up Dokyeom’s chat window in a hurried panic; quickly making a decision before you completely regret it.

‘Hey, this is going to sound crazy but… In that one audio stream you did… The picture you were talking about was me. I just wanted to let you know.’

Dokyeom doesn’t respond for hours.

And you convince yourself that you’ve fucked up whatever it was you had with him. But you tell yourself you can then just focus on Seokmin instead; laughing maniacally to yourself as you sat in front of your laptop.

“It’s fine, it’s fine – Maybe this is better for me since I—”

*ping*

*ping*

*ping*

Your breath hitches – cheeks warm as your laptop screen lights up with multiple message notifications.

Dokyeom: Oh?

Dokyeom: Is that so?

Dokyeom: You know I’m going to need proof of that right?

Your mouth hangs open, unsure of what to do next.

You genuinely hadn’t thought about what you’d do if he actually responded.

Dokyeom: Sorry I didn’t reply sooner

Dokyeom: I was at work~

“Oh, f–fuck, wait, wait, wait…”

You scramble off of your bed as your eyes dart around your room; you could take a picture of the pink dildo that was in your photo as proof but you had to make sure nothing else in the photo had anything distinguishable.

“Okay, just—just one photo…”

Seokmin waits patiently as he twiddles his thumbs.

This meant a few things to him.

Mostly that he had a chance in meeting whoever ‘b@d_dream’ was and that they were closer to him than he ever thought.

‘I do want to meet her,’ He thinks to himself – cheeks warm with the thoughts of actually meeting the person who’d been able to help him find his confidence.

b@d_dream: [attached image]

b@d_dream: is this proof enough?

b@d_dream: or do you need more?

Seokmin clicks on the photo, eyes wide as saucers as he takes it in.

It was the same pink dildo and the same bra with the same purple and blue butterfly charm in the middle. 

The same one that made Seokmin cum hard thinking about.

Dokyeom: Hmmm…

Dokyeom: Maybe… Can you send me a little more?

Dokyeom: I’ll reward you too~

Your body buzzes with electricity as you snap photo after photo for Dokyeom – adrenaline making you hurriedly put the lingerie set back on before easing onto the bed with your toy.

You snap a photo between your legs; the toy sitting right against your clothed mound much like it’d been in the photo and you check to make sure your face isn’t visible in it before you send it off.

“Oookay, deep breath, deep breath, what’s the worst that can happen?” You giggle nervously as shivers roll down your spine with the toy resting against your warmed skin.

And it takes a second for Dokyeom to respond back but when he does, it’s with an attached voice message that you weren’t expecting.

‘Hmm, oh my~ It seems like I’ve found my ‘lil princess after all, huh? What were the chances, sweetheart? Hah, you’ve gotten my cock so hard with these pictures… What do you think we should do about that, hmm? I’ve been thinking about you so much~’

You let out a mewl as you replay the audio – fingertips reaching for the toy while simultaneously trying to push your panties to the side.

You’re already embarrassingly wet when you glide the toy through your folds; soft cries on your lips at the desire to already slide it into your needy cunt. But you try to hold back as you snap photos of the toy glistening with your wetness – the images more revealing than anything you’d ever sent to anyone.

b@d_dream: [attached image]

b@d_dream: [attached image]

b@d_dream: [attached image]

Dokyeom: [attached voice note]

‘Oh? Already wet too? Tsk, what’s going on in that head of yours, huh? ‘Cause I’ll tell you what’s going on in mine’

There’s a moment of him shuffling around; the sheets rustling as he gets comfortable before you hear his long drawn out moans filling up the air.

‘I’m thinking about how good it’d feel to fuck you on campus now that I know we go to the same one – in one of the rooms where it’s just you and me, sweetheart~ How cute you’d be bent over one of the lecture hall tables with my cock deep inside that hot ‘lil pussy of yours… Fuck, I couldn’t stop thinking about that photo.’

Your breath hitches as you max out the volume to hear the slicked noises of Dokyeom’s hand sliding up and down his cock. He was touching himself too.

“Mmngh, D–Dokyeom…”

‘Mm, how cute it’d be with you trying to keep your voice down while I pound your ‘lil cunt… You wouldn’t want someone to catch us, would you? Or maybe you want someone to see how good you fuckin’ take it~ How your body jerks against the table when I’m fucking you good~’

Impatience gets the best of you as you make sure the dildo is thoroughly wet before you position it at your entrance – head thrown back when it meets no resistance when it slides right into your wet cunt.

Your shaky hand reaches for your phone again as you start to thrust the toy in and out with your other hand; the photos a little blurry when you send them to Dokyeom.

“Please, please, please…”

The two of you continue to exchange videos and messages as you get off together and Seokmin’s hand tightens around his cock; hips thrusting up into his enclosed fist as he stares at the multitude of photos you’ve sent.

The pictures of your pussy stretched around the thick dildo making his head spin.

He’d never done anything like this but the excitement was almost enough to make him cum.

“God–fucking–damn it…” Groaning, he imagines it’s his cock instead when he hits the record button on his phone.

“Mm, so you can take all of that toy inside your pussy, hmm? That means you’ll be good ‘n ready to take my cock too – after I make you cum with that toy~ Ah, sweetheart, you’re making it so hard to not cum… I wanna get you so dirty with my cum inside and on your pretty ‘lil cunt...”

His eyebrows furrow as precum leaks from the tip of his cock; his grip tightening when he starts to feel it start to throb.

“Ngh, please tell me you’re close too?”

You let out a cry as the dildo grazes your g-spot; your fingers sticky and wet from how much you’d been thrusting the toy in and out imagining it was Dokyeom’s cock instead.

b@d_dream: cklo s e….

Your eyes flutter shut imagining the scenario he’d fantasized about – toes curling at the idea of being fucked in such a public space with your panties just pushed to the side when he made you cum.

“Oh, mmnh, p-please… I need to, a-ah, cum so bad… I w-want it inside...”

Your walls tighten around the toy and you see one last voice message from Dokyeom as your shaky hand hits play.

‘Then cum. Right now.’

Crying out, you hastily open the camera app one last time before the pleasure washes over you completely and your back is arching off of the bed sheets – incoherent garbles rolling off of your tongue as you finally ride out your high.

“Oh?”

It takes Seokmin by surprise at the 8 second video you send him.

Eyes wide as saucers at the silent video that only shows the toy thrusting into your pussy all the way up to the base – the clip enough to send him tumbling over the edge of an orgasm as rivulets of cum paint his torso and his hand.

“Fuck! Fuck!”

It replays on his phone screen over and over as he rides out his pleasure and he goes so far as to time the movements of his hand to match the way the toy thrusts into you so that he, too, can imagine it’s his cock fucking you instead of the toy.

Seokmin rides out his high as sweat slides down his forehead, unsureness making him groan as he peers down at his phone.

What now?

b@d_dream is typing…

b@d_dream: I

b@d_dream: sorry i have to go

b@d_dream: i have an important meeting tomorrow so i have to go but

b@d_dream: can we talk about this next time? I promise

Seokmin laughs under his breath, nodding off with his hand still loosely wrapped around his cock.

Dokyeom: you owe me an explanation next time, okay, sweetheart?

Dokyeom: you can’t run from me forever~

[rattyoakenbitch]

❝𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞❞ ─ 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝

i never really noticed

that i had to decide

to play someone's game,

or live my own life

and now i do,

i wanna move

out of the black

into the blue

❥ content ; gn reader, angst, happy ending, comfort, fluff

❥ warnings ; language, anxiety, dark topics such as sx!c!de, depression, s/h. triggering dialogue. do not read if you’re struggling with sx!c!dxl thoughts. this will not be a safe experience.

❥ synopsis ; n/a, too lazy to write tbh

❥ a/n ; hi!!! please read this!!! okay hi (: if you’ve been following me since 2020, you know i used to write a lot of thorin x readers. obviously a lot has changed since 2020. i gradually stopped being active on tumblr. or i wouldnt write fics that catered to the hobbit fandom, which is a majority of my followers. the reason for that is, well, i haven’t really grown out of lotr / th. it’s not one of those things i’ll ever grow out of. it’s my comfort fandom / trilogy. i just couldn’t bring myself to watch them for a while. didn’t have motivation to write, either. it should’ve brought happy memories, but rewatching the trilogy and trying to write fics about it just made me sad. after september of 2020, i started getting depressed. it only got worse because i can’t afford treatment. i stopped participating in my favorite hobbies. i was m.i.a from all social medias. from the summer of 2021 to now, november 2021, i was, and still sort of am, extremely sx!c!dxl. i’ve watched myself, things, and people around me, change. i moved to a completely different place. ten hours or more from where i grew up. i lost and gained friends. a lot changed within a year. it really scares me. even if i haven’t exactly lived a long life, i still look back on the years that have gone by and it makes me cry. i was an enthusiastic person who would indulge in their favorite activities every day, but now i’ve been reduced to a crying mess. this fic is about that. while yes, it’s still about a fictonal character that shouldnt seem too deep, it’s my most vulnerable fic. thorin has always been my comfort character and though i’m not as active in the lotr / hobbit fandom as i used to be, it will forever have a special place in my heart. it reminds me of innocence and i hope that maybe someone can connect to this. sorry for the long a/n lol if youre still reading this.

Get. Up.

...

Get. Up.

...

Get. Up.

...

What’s wrong with you? Just move your limbs.

...

A heavy sigh leaves your lips.

Like a sloth, you drowsily remove the covers from your body.

“Okay. Getting somewhere,” you whispered to yourself. You use all your strength to lift yourself off the bed to stand. And then..

Nothing.

You don’t move. You don’t walk to your closet to change out of the same robe you’ve been wearing for a week straight. You don’t go to your mirror to brush the knots out of your hair. You don’t go to your bath to wash off the oil and grime on your skin.

You just stand, still as a statue, shoulders hunched, eyelids threatening to shut.

It feels like years have passed before you move again.

Slowly, you make your way to the bath. The once hot water was now cold to the touch after hours of letting it sit there. Thorin had one of the servants fill it before he left your chambers, hoping you would finally use it. He guessed you most likely wouldn’t. You push the robe off your shoulders and let it fall to your feet. Then you climb into the tub, suppressing a wince at the feeling of the icy water prickling your skin like needles.

Instead of sitting there and staring at the wall for hours, you wash yourself the best you could. You rub the dirt off your face and remove the oil from your locks, almost feeling like a completely different person when you step out of the tub.

“Getting somewhere..” you repeat. Picking up the dirty robe off the floor, you place it somewhere in the room and instantly forget about it.

After slipping on some new clothes, you hesitantly look in the mirror. The person in the reflection is startling. But it’s you. Pale, eyes dark and wide in shock. You bring your hand up to the mirror, fingers pressed against the glass, no doubt leaving prints.

What happened to you?

You were a ruler. Or supposed to be. But that thing in the mirror.. That was no ruler. That wasn’t someone anyone should be bowing to. That was a...

y̵͓͗̽̈̌͝ǫ̶͎̹̭͆͜ͅű̸͔̬͂̽ ̴̣̖̭̫̳̗̾d̸͇̪͕͒̋͝͝ȋ̵̘̮̪̘̖̝͋̇͐̇͋g̵̡͕͈̅́u̸̡̚s̸̝̦̱̞̹͒̏́͜t̸̫̤̖͙̭̆͌͝ ̸̡̥̱̾̔̂̌́͠ͅͅm̷̜̖̹̰͍̌͐̆͒͝ë̶̜̖̣̙̜̣́̓̏̈́̈́

You squeeze your eyes shut and press your hands against the sides of your head, as if it would quiet your mind. It did.

Right now, you needed to force yourself to focus on the important things. You had a task; leaving your chambers for the first time in forever.

Your heart was already thudding at the thought of it, and though you wanted to hide under your covers, you pushed open the doors to the outside world. The halls were wide and seemed to stretch on forever. It was almost unfamiliar, but as you walked down them, you remembered..

You remembered walking hand in hand with Thorin, laughing about something silly he said.  You remembered running around, playing childish games with the nephews.  Or running in fear, a burst of fire right on your tail the smell of dragon’s breath filling the air.

You also remembered chatting it up with relatives and friends, talking about everything and nothing as you strolled down the intricate, emerald halls. Occasionally a laugh would echo, followed by more laughter. The sound of comfort and family in your ears.

But now, you were walking down the cold corridor, the only sound being your small footsteps. You were alone. For a minute, at least. As you made your way to... Well, you didn’t even know where it was you were headed to. But eventually you bumped into two servants. They almost passed without noticing you, but when they glanced your way, they had to do a double take.

“Oh! Your Majesty,” they gasped in disbelief, curtsying shortly after. “I hope we didn’t offend you,” one said. “We hadn’t seen you in so long. It took a bit to recognize you.”

Just their way of saying you look pathetic.

They both gave you a soft smile, but you knew it was out of pity. You didn’t say anything, only nodding before walking off. You swore you could hear whispers behind you, but you didn’t bother. You knew it was probably something like, “Why does the king even keep her around?” or meaner variations. You didn’t blame them. You wanted to ask the same thing.

The past week, you've done nothing but lay in bed and cry. You would cry until you were hyperventilating and aching. You would cry until you physically couldn't. You'd beat your fists against Thorin's chest when he wrapped his arms around you to comfort you. He wouldn't make a single noise, never told you to shut up when you continued to sob and shriek "why?!" over and over. You didn't even know what you were asking him. It was the only thing you managed to choke out.

And Thorin took all of it. He didn't complain, didn't mock you. He didn't force you to get out of bed to attend important meetings. Of course, it hurt him that he had to leave you every day, morning till night time. But you didn't want to be a burden, so you lied to him. You reassured him with a smile, saying, "It's all right, amralime. You go. I'll be okay here. I just need to rest."

Every time, he'd give you sad, worried eyes. And it hurt you that he cared. It hurt you because you were hurting him and you couldn't do anything to stop.

Somehow, you ended up outside. Somewhere in a garden, trees and flowers and fruits surrounding you. You lied on the grass, gazing up at the dark blue & orange sky, littered with thin, white clouds that birds glided through every other minute. The sight was gorgeous. It should've made you happy. You should've been smiling as you soaked in the view. Instead.. nothing.

You stared up at the sky with a blank expression on your face. You were unmoved. Numb. You looked at the sky and thought back to a time where watching a simple sunset made you grin from ear to ear. But even now you didn't feel much. Everything seemed so bleak.

Hot tears gathered in the corner of your ear and spilled down your face. You wiped them away angrily, tired of crying like a child.

"Y/N!"

Two familiar voices brought you back to the present. You sat up, your eyes finding Kili & Fili's. Their mouths were curled up in excited smiles as they ran towards you. You picked yourself up and opened your arms to your nephews, who almost crushed you in theirs. You couldn't help but laugh. You didn't realize how much you missed them until now. Eventually you pulled away, and it took everything to not look down and avoid their gaze. Did they notice you were crying?

"Y/N! It's been too long!" Fili said. "We missed you."

"It's only been a week," you shrugged, trying to downplay it. "But I missed you too. I wasn't feeling well so I had to rest for a while. It might have been a seasonal thing."

"Well you're here now," Kili beamed. "That must mean you're better!"

If only they knew.

"Of course," you lied. "But I wasn't able to make it to the meeting today. I was in bed too long."

"Thorin will fill you in on what you've missed out on. Then you'll be back on track," Fili reassured.

Thorin. Oh, fuck. You've almost forgotten about him. How could you? How could you forget about your own husband?

"Thorin!" You blurt out. "I- mean, is Thorin.. How has he been?"

"The same," Kili said too quickly. "Why do you ask?" It was easy to see through his lies. But did that mean they could also see through yours? What if they knew you weren't actually ill? What if Thorin told them about the nights where you'd throw fits? What if-

"Are you sure?"

The brothers look between each other, then back at you.

"To be truthful.. We've noticed he's been more antsy than usual-"

Fili cut Kili off. "He's stressed out, Y/N. He's worried about you."

You get a pit in your stomach at the serious look the brothers give you. Guilty. You felt so guilty.

What were you putting him through?

"What do you mean?"

You know exactly what they mean.

Kili gulped. "Thorin spoke with us. He told us you were getting worse and he didn't know what to do to help. He said the doctors couldn't do much and that you were just.." He trailed off.

"I need to go." You don't wait for an answer as you make your way out of the garden, your walk becoming a full on sprint. You force yourself to ignore the brothers' shouts and pleas. You needed to find Thorin. It was already dark out. He must've been in the chambers by now.

But when you returned, it was cold and empty. No Thorin. You were alone again.

So you screamed. You screamed your throat raw. And despite the screams, nobody came. So you didn't stop. You didn't stop until you were coughing and gagging and choking on your own breath. You didn't even know why you were screaming. Were you angry? Sad? You just didn't know. As if you were detached from your emotions entirely.

The only thing you felt was heavy. Your heart. Your head. Your body. You needed release. You needed to cut it out.

You found a knife. A small, pocket knife. One of Thorin's. You unsheathed it and weighed it in your hand, before rolling up one of your sleeves. Dark streaks nearly covered your whole forearm. But you found a patch of unmarked skin.

c̵̼͈̪̺̰̦͚̆͌̓̓͊͜u̸̲͉̲̱̐͋̉͑̈͐̄̏̋̎t̵͙̤̬̼̿͊̋̉̈́́̒̈̋͠ͅ ̴̡͎͙̳̬̼̻̭͙͔́̾̓̄̍̏͛̑̿̕̕i̴̢͓͉̯͓̞͓̐̈́͒̀͂̑̈́͜͠t̸̡̢̛̫̳̳͔̝̗̱͇̍̿̅̀̕ͅ ̷͍̥̼͍̬̏̊̀͛ả̵̰͎͉͓͇͛̂̀̈́l̵̢̥̖͉͔̲̫̩̀̈̀̒͛l̴̢̮͔͔̼̥̰̰̍̈̏̀̈́͆͑́͛̚͝ͅ ̵̞̥̜̼͙̠̖̜̆͐̏́̕o̶͖̗̱͐u̷̧̼̝̠͖̲̭͔̦͚̗͒̆̽̆̈́̌́͐̚͠t̷͇͕̙̣̺̺͕̺͉͖͉̔̐̚

You didn't think about it what you did. Like the actions were completely natural. And like before, you didn't stop. Not until crimson pooled on the floor and you ran out of space.

But even then.. even when your skin was crying, you didn't feel anything but a sharp sting and nothing more.

You weren't stupid, you knew you'd die if you didn't take care of your arm. So you bound your arm and finally, no more red. It stopped and you let out an exhale of relief. You were tired. From the running, the screaming, the crying, the bleeding. You collapsed onto the stone, cold floor, bringing your knees to your chest in a fetal position.

You pictured Thorin walking through the large chamber doors, looking heroic and strong as ever. He'd find you on the floor in a puddle of your own blood and tears. "Oh, amralime," he'd say and pick you up, taking you to bed with him. He'd hold you and never leave. Tell you it's going to be all right. Tell you you're beautiful, even with the dark bags under your puffy eyes and your red, tear stained face.

But he wasn't here to do that. The doors remained unmoving. The room was still and quiet, save for the shaky cries leaving your mouth.

You waited.. seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours. Thorin didn't return for a while.

The loneliness was suffocating. You thought you would die if you had to go another second without him. When you needed him the most.

But finally, exhaustion took over and you drifted off to sleep. No thoughts, no worried, head empty. For once, you were at peace.

"Y/N! Can you hear me?!"

He was crying.

Your eyes shot open at the shout of your name. You sat up quickly, almost jumping into Thorin's arms while he kneeled by your side. But you were weak and Thorin..

Oh.

"Y/N.. Why is there blood?"

You only stared, at a loss for words. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You fucked up.

"Why is your blood on the floor?" He pleaded, voice cracking. "Please, talk to me, amralime."

For a moment, you were numb. Shocked at how fast everything happened. But it hit you. Suddenly you were very aware.

Thorin had walked in. He found you on the ground, unconcious, a small puddle of rust smelling blood underneath you, and your light robes soaked in crimson. There was a knife beside you as well. That's just something nobody should ever see. And Thorin saw it. He saw his significant other, and presumed them dead.

The realization was overwhelming and you felt awful. But still, you hadn't said anything. What was there to say? "I'm sorry"? "It's not what it looks like"? "Relax"?

"Y/N, please, say something. Why?"

You opened your mouth and no words came out. Instead, your chin began to wobble and you broke.

You clung onto Thorin like you'd die if you let go, burying your face in his chest, sorries and I'mso f fucking sorry ohgods ple ase don't h hate me s falling from your mouth over and over.

Thorin shushed you, embracing you tightly and making soothing motions up and down your back.

Your cries subsided and the room felt peaceful for once, despite the previous events. Thorin hummed one of his lullabies as he scooped you up and sat you down on the bed. He went to grab another one of your robes, but you wouldn't let him.

"Thorin. I want you to stay. Please."

"I'm not leaving you, my love," he spoke gently, caressing your face in his hand. He swiped his thumb across your cheek, drying the silent tears that couldn't seem to stop.

Still, you shook your head and held onto Thorin's arm until he relented and climbed into bed with you instead. You both stripped down to your undergarments, your soiled and bloodied clothes forgotten on the floor.

You huddled close to Thorin, your legs intertwined with his and your head resting underneath his chin. He enveloped you in his arms securely, unwilling to let you go ever again.

"You scared me.." He muttered tiredly. "I can't lose you, too, Y/N. Don't let me lose you, too. We've seen so much death. Lost so many people. I don't know if I could do this without you." His voice trembled, and you knew he was crying.

"Thorin," you started, but realized you didn't know what to say. Just.. "Don't cry. I'll be here when you wake up. You won't lose me. I'm right here." You pressed your head against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat that gradually began to slow.

"I can't do this without you, too," you whispered.

Thorin pressed a kiss on your forehead.

"Rest, Y/N. We're okay."

"I love you, Thorin."

"I love you, amralime."

For once, change wasn't so scary. Because it was going to get better.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.16

No One

02/04/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,025

Warnings: angst, jealousy, crying, infertility, talk of pregnancy, trouble conceiving, smut, LOTS of fluff

A/N: I’m sorry this one took me a bit to get out. I know y’all tell me not to be sorry but I am still sorry lol I stopped taking my endo meds since I can no longer afford them with no healthcare, I got my period and my endo said FUCK YOU! I was in bed for the entirety of my period with no energy to do anything but lay there and do nothing. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I’ve been excited to get to this chapter and I hope it’s worth the wait. Thank you for any comments or reblogs! xoxo

Thor has never been so eager to get back to New Asgard. Even back in the beginning when Jane had been living with him in those first small houses that they’d built when his new Kingdom was nothing but a distant dream.

Even then, this sensation of yearning had not been so strong.

Every moment away from you has been unbearable. The detour he’d taken after just arriving only increased his desire because if seeing Jane has shown him anything it’s that he has indeed made the right choice.

He really hadn’t doubted it, but it’s nice to know that even with Jane standing inches away from him, his heart had not pounded. His breath had not caught. His fingers had not tingled as they once had in their wish to touch.

Her brown eyes, once beyond beautiful, are indeed still pretty. However, they aren’t yours. Yours that look at him with an innocent admiration. Love pours from them so freely. Eagerly.

You’re not afraid to show him how you feel and it takes his breath away how much you’ve given into loving him.

All he can do is try to return your love with the same fervor. So far he thinks he has been doing the job well.

As he struts forward towards your shared bedroom, he reaches into his cloak, down along his left hip to unhook a small leather satchel bulging with its contents.

Smiling down at what he hopes will be a welcome and pleasing gesture, he makes to open the doors to the room but finds them thrust out towards him.

Instinctively his hand twitches around the satchel, almost throwing his palm out to call his remade hammer, but he resists.

From his bedroom spill two beings. One Asgardian, one human. The doors swing shut behind them.

“Doctor Wilson? Alric?” Thor teeters back onto his right foot, completely surprised to see them. “What brings-?”

Both of them look grave and Thor’s heart hits the pit of his stomach. All of the strength in the universe leaves him in one terrifying instant.

“Is Y/N alright? Is she hurt? Injured? Has something happened?”

In his panic he begins to push through them and they move aside for him but before he can open the doors to get in to see you, Alric reaches out to place his hand on Thor’s shoulder.

“Just our monthly visit, nothing to fret about Your Majesty,” Alric assures him and yet, Thor’s squirming nerves are not put at ease. “Unfortunately things do not look well for an heir as of now.”

“They don’t exactly look bad either, Alric,” Doctor Wilson interjects. “We’re in uncharted territory, Your Majesty. We have to play this as it comes at us. I’m sure with Alric’s help we’ll find a way to make it work.”

Their words at the moment aren’t making any sense to Thor. All he wants is to see you.

“Right…” he says on reflex, but his voice is weak.

His mind on you and only you.

“She is a little melancholy after our news so, perhaps it’s best we let you go see her. Until next month, Your Majesty,” Doctor Wilson gives him a curtsy. “If you need us before then, you have our numbers.”

Alric gives Thor a bow and the two of them march off, Alric lugging a strange metal case along with him.

With nothing to hold him back now, Thor pulls the doors open and hurries inside.

He scans the room from the left to the right, expecting you in the bathroom but you aren’t there. Several of the doors to the balcony are open letting in a much warmer breeze than this morning but still very cool.

Thor finally spots you sitting at your vanity, your hand pressed to the inside of your elbow as you hold a small cotton ball against the point at which one of your doctors probably drew some blood.

Even that tiny sting of a needle piercing your beautiful skin makes his heart ache. Any pain you feel is his own and he can’t believe he forgot what today was.

“Cherub?”

You don’t look at him and instead keep your hand pressed tightly, fingers moving in slow and small circles.

He can’t see your face from here. You’re turned away, sitting with your gaze trained on the balcony doors closest to your vanity.

Thor can’t take you not looking at him. He sets his satchel on the chaise at the end of the bed and when he reaches your left side, he squats down so that he can look up at you, his right hand taking gentle hold under your left bicep. His left hand he places over your right one, pressed against the inside of your left elbow.

“I’m sorry about today. I forgot they were coming for your tests,” Thor confesses, feeling so guilty he could leap from the balcony and welcome the pain of any bones he might break.

The silence is heavy and he thinks he might really be in for it and opens his mouth to plead for your forgiveness when you give him relief, “So did I.”

He breathes in deeply and with a wave of relief releases his worries in a gust of air.

“Alric said that things did not look good. You’re not with child?”

Even though he knows, he still needs to hear you say it. He wants to know what you’re thinking to make whatever is making your face look so sad go away.

He takes his right hand and runs it along your lower back instead, rubbing in what he hopes is a soothing way.

Finally, you turn your head towards your vanity and he can see more of your heartbreaking expression. He hasn’t seen that loss of hope in your beautiful face since the night you begged him not to make a fool of you just before dinner on a night that feels a lifetime away.

“No, it-it wasn’t a no. The test was inconclusive.”

“Inconclusive? So, what does that mean? Does that mean they don’t know?” Thor asks, confusion twisting his handsome face.

“No, it just means that the test didn’t come back in any way that they could read it. We’re not exactly the same species even if we are compatible physically, we don’t know if we can even get pregnant. They took more of my blood and are going to do the test with more reliable equipment.

“They’ll call when they know something,” you sigh heavily, leaning back against your seat and trapping his hand between it and your body.

Thor tries to think of what he can say to make you feel better. What can he do?

And then what he has to say doesn’t matter as you turn to meet his gaze with your own full of betrayal and suspicion.

When your mouth parts, your words freeze him and his brain short circuits.

“I saw you with Jane earlier on the tower, Thor. I’m sorry but I-I thought you were going to come find me as soon as you got back, not your ex.”

You take a deep breath and Thor watches as your nerves spill forward, your lips trembling as you slowly exhale and all of your fears shine out through the depths of your eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you crying, cherub?” Thor gushes, pulling his hand from your back to turn your seat to face him.

He cups both sides of your face, his large thumbs wiping away at the tears that spring forward.

It had seriously messed with you to see him and Jane so happy and close earlier. And then the tests and Doctor Alric and Doctor Wilson had no idea what was wrong with them so that was stressing you out.

All of your jealousy and frustration pours out of you suddenly. So fast and so unrelenting that with just this small bit of affection from Thor makes you shut your eyes tight as you sob two-three times.

“Y/N...no, my love, please. Don’t cry,” Thor begs, his own throat tight as he pulls you towards him.

You let him hold you because as insecure as you feel, as upset as this morning has made you, his love still feels real. The softness in his voice doesn’t sound fake and as much as he is the source of one of the aches in your chest, he’s your comfort now too.

How fucked up is that?!

He caresses the back of your head as you bury it against his shoulder, slumped down a little because of how low he is in his squat.

His other arm is wrapped all the way around you, firm. Possessive and eager to make you feel better. Can you trust this display?

Until this morning you had no reason to doubt it.

“We will have our baby soon, I know it. I can feel it. I’m not only the God of Thunder, you know? Trust me, cherub. I know these things. We’ll have our little one before you know it.”

He sounds so confident, so sure. He’s lost that tightness in his throat a little and he pushes you back so that he can look into your eyes, quickly wiping away at the saltwater stains on your cheeks.

“As for your former worry, I went to the tower because the lights were on. I wasn’t sure who was there so I simply went to check. I wasn’t expecting Jane out of all the people it could have possibly been.

“I’d hoped it was you, finally making use of the tower for your own office to write or perhaps your own personal library?” Thor’s instincts on what you might want a private space to be.

You suddenly feel foolish for doubting him for even a second. It makes you cry again, and you bury your face in your hands.

“No, my love, please don’t cry anymore,” he continues to beg. “Look, I’ve brought you a gift.”

He gets up suddenly and moves towards the package he’d been carrying when he came in. It wasn’t large. About the size of a shoebox.

“I thought of you when I was passing over Paris on my way home. You can eat them all at once or slowly, whichever you prefer,” He flips open the leather satchel and from inside pulls a thick and shiny rust colored box with a satin brown ribbon that delicately holds it closed.

It looks expensive and he doesn’t wait for you to take it since you’re too busy wiping at your cheeks and sniffling to grab it. He pushes the ribbon off of the box then removes the lid and places it underneath while tossing the ribbon onto your vanity.

“I’m not sure what each of them is, but you don’t have to eat the ones you don’t like. I’ll eat them for you,” he pushes fancy gold tissue paper aside to expose the contents within.

Inside the box is a tray of twenty-four chocolate pieces. Some of them have designs painted on them with what is more likely more chocolate in bright colors and patterns. Other pieces look to be decorated in plain chocolate with small embossed hearts, triangles, or teeny tiny bows.

The box is too thick for this to be all there is, so you’re pretty sure there are two trays of chocolates.

“Do you like them?” Thor checks, his voice light and rising at the end gently almost as if he’s talking to a small child which maybe should offend you?

But it doesn’t because you know that’s not what he means by the tone he’s using. He’s being as gentle with you as he can in your moment of sad anxiety and you love him so much for it.

“They’re so pretty…” you hiccup, wishing you weren’t so emotional and crying all over his lovely gift.

“That’s not all,” he tells you, putting the chocolates on your vanity to free up his hands to reach into his satchel again.

You quickly cover the chocolates, pushing the ribbon around the sleek container before they can be ruined.

Thor tosses the satchel onto the chaise with a flick of his wrist but draws your attention to him when he places another box on your lap. This one is much smaller, but wide and square.

“Happy two months of marriage, cherub,” Thor says softly, then carefully lifts the lid of his second gift.

Nestled within lush purple velvet is a beautiful platinum chain, thin, short so that the gorgeous lotus flower with your birthstone gem settled at its very center will sit just below your collarbone.

“It’s so beautiful, Thor.”

All of a sudden you’re crying again.

Thor smiles and rises again, taking the necklace from inside the box which he tosses onto the chaise too before moving around behind you to slip the necklace around your neck.

You reach up to place your fingers on the pretty flower, sniffling and trying not to make your crying too vocal but a sob or two slips out.

Thor moves back around you and takes a long look at your mess of a face before he takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, “Come here, love.”

He waits for you to stand then takes your spot on your seat but then leads you down onto his lap.

Reaching up with his hand, he gives the back of your neck a squeeze while his other hand finds a resting spot on your thigh.

“Is it Jane still upsetting you?” he guesses.

You nod, unwilling to say it aloud.

“Why? What exactly is it that’s troubling you?”

He genuinely doesn’t seem to understand. While he might understand your nerves about her, the reason you’re still crying is lost on him.

You don’t want to say, but Thor bounces you a little in his lap, taking his hand to caress the side of your face and hold your gaze.

“Nothing you can say will make me love you any less.” A promise.

“When I saw you two this morning, you just looked so h-happy,” your lip quivers. “You looked happy. Pleased. You were smiling that one smile that’s only supposed to be mine.”

For some reason Thor’s chest puffs up a little, a proud fix to his chin as he reaches up to grab yours and give your head a little shake.

“It is all yours, cherub. I am completely yours. I was so happy when I was with Jane this morning because I felt nothing of what I’d once felt for her. I had no stuttering in my heart, no butterflies in my belly. I wasn’t taken by her eyes or tempted by her lips.”

“Alright, I get the picture,” you grumble, hating everything he’s describing even though you know he’s telling you that he wasn’t feeling any of it.

He chuckles, bringing his hand down to rest on your hip.

“I was happy because Jane is no longer the source of all of that for me. You are. All meeting her so unexpectedly proved is that I am more in love with you than I ever thought I could be. You were my arranged match. The most I had ever expected was friendship. And when that turned into more, I wondered if it could really be more than what I ever felt for Jane and it is.

“Jane was always a dear love but you are family. It’s only been a short time since we married but you are more my love than Jane ever was. You’re my cherub!”

He doesn’t wait for you to recover from his little speech. He hooks his hand behind your neck and pulls you down for a kiss.

It quickly changes and shifts and the lonely night you’d spent tense and worried, missing him, explodes you onto him. You’re both a frenzy of movement, Thor ripping away at his armor until he’s in the plain dark undershirt and a very small pair of black briefs.

You’re about to push him onto your bed when he suddenly grabs you and tosses you around his massive body and onto the bed to bounce as you land with a gasp.

He shoves his briefs down, still kicking them away as he steps towards you and gathers the long skirts of your dress higher and higher around your hips.

“Thor…” you whisper, a gasp of anticipation which drives him a little wild as he yanks you closer to the edge of the bed and thrusts into you with a shaky groan.

He goes still for a moment, hooking his hands around your thighs more securely. He bottoms out, sheathing his cock within you until you reach down to scratch at the bottom of his shirt then his hands as you fall back against the bed.

“Please,” you plead and he quickly obliges.

He pumps into you, filling you to the brim with no intention of ever stopping.

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Thor eventually come out of your room. You dressed in your carefully chosen dress and Thor a little less regal in a pair of crisp dark jeans, and layered up in a green sweater over a blue button up collar shirt over a plain white t-shirt.

Honestly though, even in his slightly more casual ensemble, Thor screams royalty. He’s so beautiful.

Both of you giggling like giddy kids, he pulls you closer and loops your arm through his.

It makes you happy that he likes you close by. He proves it now as he leans down to whisper so that only you can hear him as the palace staff moves about cleaning and fixing up the rooms that have been used throughout the day.

“I’m a little glad you’ve decided not to use the tower for a workspace.” Thor confesses.

“How come?” you wonder, turning your face to look at him, genuinely curious as to the change of mind. He’d been so insistent before about you having your own personal space to work in peace where no one could bother you and you didn’t have to give up writing your stories even if you were now Queen of New Asgard.

“I don’t know if I could stand having you that far away from me. Our night apart has only driven that home for me. I want you always at my side.”

His sentiment is sweet and you stop to turn and face him, reaching up to place your hands on his bearded cheeks to smoosh them because he’s so damn adorable. He’s massive so you have to push yourself up, lifting your heels a little to do so comfortably.

“Do you have any idea how incredibly lovable that makes you?” you ask.

He smiles despite you morphing his face, beaming down at you with a look that must mean he loves you. Everything he says has to be true. The more you think about it, the more you realize that your jealousy, while founded, doesn’t make any sense now that you’re married.

Not after everything the two of you have shared and been through. Not after all the time you’ve spent building this foundation with him. 

“Quite a lot more than I was before?” he guesses. “Only, maybe not when I go to the bathroom?”

Through your smile you tilt your head to the side a little, confused by his amendment to his desires.

“Why?” What difference does it make?

He drops his voice to a whisper and leans down a little closer to you, “Sometimes I have smelly poops.”

You’re not expecting that and throw your head back as a loud unfiltered laugh rips through you. The movement pulls you down flat onto your feet but Thor catches you with one arm around your waist to pull you back up onto your toes and against his hard body.

He’s laughing too as he dips down and kisses your laughing mouth, silencing you a little so that it’s only air slipping through your lips as you kiss him back.

It’s just a long held peck. He’s relishing in the feel of your lips against his as your body shakes with more laughter.

Still laughing with you, Thor pulls back and gripes, “Stop laughing and kiss me!”

You drop your head against his chest as you keep laughing, unable to help it because the cuteness of him being self-conscious about his smelly poops is too much for you to handle.

Especially considering that you’ve both already been in the bathroom together when the other is using the toilet.

He loosens his arm around your waist so that you fall down a little further but keeps his hand resting on the small of your back while the other hand he places on the back of your head, caressing it as you chuckle weakly from laughing so much.

The sound of a clearing throat brings both your heads turning to the end of the hallway.

Your visiting trio stand there, Tony smirking, Bruce smiling shyly, Jane averts her eyes.

“Uh, get a room?” Tony suggests, but you can tell from his tone that he’s only teasing.

“Where do you think we’ve been all morning?” Thor grins, readjusting with you to hook your arm on his elbow before leading you towards your guests.

“So that’s what those screams were,” Tony counters.

Thor wiggles his eyebrows at them but your neck burns and your mouth pops open in surprise and embarrassment.

You start to fret, hands fluttering up towards your new necklace as you look from Tony to Jane, who’s looking at her shoes, to Bruce who is smiling with his own laughter in his eyes.

“Was I-? I didn’t mean to-! Thor, I didn’t know that I was being-” your panic is real and your heart is thrumming a million miles an hour.

“He’s teasing you, cherub, don’t worry,” Thor assures you, dropping your arm from his elbow to wrap his own arm around your waist to pull you into his side again.

You turn to Tony and he’s laughing a little. Not maliciously, just purely entertained by your reaction.

“I-a joke?” you ask him, still uncertain.

“Sorry,” Tony says, nodding. “Just a joke.”

You swallow hard, trying to settle your heartbeat.

Thor kisses your head and like a switch is flipped, all of them shift into work mode.

“Have you started installing the security system?” Thor asks Tony and all together the five of you move down into the lowest level of the palace which actually happens to be a dungeon?

You’re not really listening to their conversation as you move with them, still flustered about you possibly letting all of your sex noises reverberate through the halls of the palace for everyone to hear, but when you reach a large vault-like door, you start to focus again.

As the heavy door slides open like part of some futuristic spaceship, you’re thrown into a large room about the size of the throne room where you’d had your wedding reception only it looks nothing like the rest of the palace.

This place looks more like the Avengers compound. High-tech stations line the walls, large monitors with readings you don’t understand and camera footage from places you recognize from around New Asgard and the palace itself.

There’s a full crew working all of the stations, Asgardians and humans, all of them wearing the same charcoal gray uniforms, splashes of gold and red like Thor’s cape on their shoulders and chests.

As you and Thor enter, they stop what they’re doing to stand at attention, bowing to both of you as Thor leads you to the center of the room where a large stone table is set with schematics of plans that you don’t understand.

Tony moves over to them and starts to sift through the many scrolls all laid out for viewing while Thor nods to the crew.

“At ease, my friends.”

He’s so nice. The crew fall back into their respective jobs.

One of them moves towards a large screen against the wall, a TV you realize, playing different news footage from all over the world.

He flips to another channel and you pull away from Thor to walk and stand beside the crewman who stands taller once you’re beside him.

He turns to you and gives you a quick bow, “Your Majesty.”

Turning to him, you smile and then look back at the screen, “To monitor any weird things happening around Earth?”

“Yes, m’am,” he asserts then flips the channel again.

This time it’s a documentary style report, you see a familiar scene. New York in shambles as Iron Man, Hawkeye, Black Widow, the Hulk, Captain America, and your Thor fight off the invading Chitauri.

Slowly another body settles beside you, its warmth drawing your attention to it.

“I still remember that day, sort of,” Bruce says gently, his voice always so easy and calm.

It’s hard to believe he can turn into the giant Hulk in seconds.

“Was it scary?”

“Sort of. I think for me, I was just worried that Hulk would hurt someone other than the aliens. But by then I think he understood what side we were on.” Bruce nods.

“But, aren’t you the Hulk?” His words confuse you a little.

“Well, yeah, but also no. He’s like another half of me? If that makes sense? I haven’t worked out how to combine both sides yet. I’m there, I’m just...it’s like someone takes who you are and reduces you to your most basic instincts.

“We’re almost like two different people but we’re also the same person. I’m working on understanding our connection better. Underneath the Hulk, I’m still me. I’m still there I think. I’m just trapped for some reason.”

The two of you watch the screen in silence for a moment then Thor shows up, blasting the Chitauri with his lightning. He looks a little different because he has both eyes and his hair!

“Thor had long hair,” you realize, gushing a little.

“Did I look better with long hair?” his deep voice slips into your right ear and you jump not having been expecting it.

“Not better,” you promise him, smiling at him before turning your eyes back on the TV. “Just different. It suits you.”

“Should I grow it back?”

With excitement, you turn to face him and he chuckles at whatever look you have in your eyes, “Would you? Wouldn’t it bother you?”

“If it will make you look at me the way you’ve been staring at me on that television, I will go out and buy a wig.”

You laugh and Thor leans down to give you a quick peck.

“It’s that time of year I guess,” Tony says, sliding over to stand on Bruce’s other side where Jane is already standing having moved over at some point.

She still hasn’t said anything.

“What time of year?” You wonder.

“Oh, in Spring they always start to play footage on some of the news channels about Loki’s party days in New York. Some type of anniversary celebration or something? Only it’s more like a wake.”

“It’s a memorium,” you realize, then look at Thor who seems to sense your upset.

He wraps his arm around you and settles in beside you, kissing the top of your head again.

“Where is Loki?” you ask him, frowning with worry and wondering if it must upset him to have one of his biggest mistakes thrown in his face for weeks.

“He’s tending to business with the guard. He’ll come find us when he’s finished,” Thor promises.

After a tense moment, Tony claps his hands and then pats Bruce’s shoulder, “Shall we? Pepper wants me home by Friday so that we can explore the wonderful art of tantric massage.”

As Bruce turns to follow Tony back to the center table where a new console computer has come from a panel at the center you hadn’t noticed, he gives him a skeptical look.

“Pepper? Are you sure it isn’t you pushing the tantric massage?” Bruce sounds like he already knows the answer.

Tony shrugs, “I’m not the bossy anymore.”

You look back at the TV, your worry only spiking at the thought of Loki coming down here and finding all of you watching.

“Change it to something else,” you tell the crewman. “Make sure no one puts it on that channel again.”

“Yes, m’am,” he bows his head in obedience and quickly changes the channel while moving to a small box hooked up to it where a small screen comes out and he quickly goes about pressing buttons hopefully blocking any and all sources of that footage so that Loki doesn’t accidentally have his face shoved into his past.

“Don’t worry, my cherub. Loki is well aware of what the Earth grieves at this time of year. He won’t be blindsided by it.”

“I still don’t like it,” you insist, unable to shake the frown from your face.

“Thor?” Jane’s voice interrupts you both softly.

He looks at her and you give her a glance before turning to look at the news reports on the TV.

“I’m gonna need one of these mainframes for the telescope. Which one can I take?”

“Right,” Thor nods, “Of course. Let’s find you a place to work.”

Before he leaves you he leans in and kisses the side of your head again, squeezing your hip before he moves with Jane away towards the many workstations in the very large room.

After getting everything sorted out this morning, your heart doesn’t even sway towards jealousy and even though you’re worried about Loki, you breathe a sigh of relief that your realization about Thor’s loyalty has really engrained itself into you.

He loves you and nothing will change that. Even as they laugh somewhere behind you, your confidence doesn’t waver.

You reach up and touch the lotus on your necklace, a shining reminder of Thor missing you on his very first night away from you since your wedding.

You’re sure now that no one will ever come between you and Thor.

No one.

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 6503 ⚬ warnings: degradation, drinking ⚬ genres: this is just smut. filthy smut. featuring a lot of dirty talk from soonyoung and a hint of a secret au!

 ✧✎ synopsis: the tension between you and a mystifying stranger at the club only thickens each time you meet. he seems like a risk you’re willing to take.

✧✎ a/n: GOD. i have not written straight up smut in two years! i mean, there is a little bit of a background plot, i hope it’s all enjoyable hehe. also, the “secret au” is pretty easy to guess lol, but i suppose it could be a couple of things!

The first time you see him, you’re surrounded by your friends, packaged into a small space that grants you just enough room to sway your body and bring a pink-coloured drink to your lips. He’s across the room, leaning back on a white sofa. Impassively, he overlooks the crowd, until his entourage returns from the shadows to occupy the hard cushions. One of them leans into his ear and whispers something. You force yourself to swallow more of the sweet syrup from your glass, wondering what was said that makes him smirk.

A hand touches your bare shoulder, to which you turn around and grin rather intoxicatedly at your friend. She’s equally inebriated, and as the music reverberates toward the centre of the floor, you wrap an arm around her waist to pull her in close and move with the beat. You take another sip from the glass before hoisting it high in the air, hips undulating, feeling the heat and the dizziness and her hot breath hitting your ear as she mouths along to the lyrics.

Eventually, you two part, and your turn yourself back around almost immediately. As much as you want to believe it’s not because of the stranger, that seems to be the only plausible explanation, and it only burns that much deeper when you realize he’s staring at you. One arm stretches around the back of the sofa, his other hand loosely holding an amber shot glass at his knee. For a moment you stop moving to return his gaze. The stranger isn’t coy. He evidently scans your body, starting at your laced stilettos, venturing up the black fabric hugging your waist, and landing at the haze in your eyes.

You feel warm, but it’s not the muggy air, the crowded club, or even the violet lights.

However, you’re soon met with the repercussions of the dance floor as an unfamiliar body slams into yours, jostling you forward. You grimace as alcohol sloshes over your glass, prompting you to quickly escape toward a less populated pocket of space. The stranger’s glance follows you, yet his mood has shifted. Instead, he chuckles and shakes his head while bringing the shot glass to his lips, downing the golden liquid in a short swig. Your heart thunders upon watching him gently elbow his friend, where he utters something into his ear that preludes their amused, somewhat snide expressions.

It’s downright embarrassing. You can only deduce they’re enjoying your accident with the drink, even when the same predicament had probably just happened to someone else at the opposite end of the room. The stranger’s gaze seems to be searching out a different body, though you aren’t certain, rather you weave your way through the tables to find the washroom and rinse the alcohol from your hand. Admittedly, you feel disappointed to lose the stranger’s attraction. You can’t remember the last time you experienced a successful hook-up where you weren’t exaggerating your lacklustre pleasure.

Your hopes had simply been too high.

The second time you see him, you’re sucking restlessly at a straw, completely emptying the glass until there’s nothing but crushed ice cubes watering down the last few drops of alcohol. Looking up from the table, you spot him buried in the wave of sluggish bodies, the violet light tingeing his partially unbuttoned dress shirt and his black hair. But it rapidly dawns that he’s not dancing alone, for a girl twirls into his arms, pressing her backside to his front, rubbing herself against him while his hands explore her torso. The light hits a new angle on his throat, illuminating the trail of hickies.

It cuts through you, for the envy is like a blade generously sharpened. Even though you will yourself to look away, it becomes an impossible task, to which you trace their every movement without missing a heartbeat. His hand, clad in a myriad of silver rings, engulfs her breast and squeezes. Her head tilts back onto his shoulder, gasping something that seems to be full of euphoria. His eyes flicker quickly, and as though you’re a rabbit that’s to be nicked by an arrow, you’re caught directly in the crosshairs. You wish there had been more alcohol lining your glass so you could’ve turned further numb.

Enveloped in the stranger’s trance, you watch his hand slide around the column of her neck, how his gaze never falters even when he licks a stripe up her skin and nips at her ear. Folding one leg over the other, you attempt to snuff the venereal warmth that flutters at your abdomen, hating that you’re imaging what each sensation would feel like if you were against his body rather than her. His eyes are black, poisonous, and yet you contain so little care that he might be a menace, not when he grinds his hips against the dip of her spine while she hides her face in his neck, already suckling another bruise.

You have no idea what she’s feeling, or why he can’t take his eyes off you. It’s a bit unabashed and perhaps from a place of unsatiated neediness, but you’d really love for him to fuck you.

Maybe your third encounter will be the charm.

“Drink or dare?”

“Dare.”

For the past two rounds, you had purely subjected your body to the potent taste of sour, cold lime and gin mixed with tonic. Not desiring to ram your consciousness further into the ground, you finally chose dare, which uproots some whistles and snickers from around the table. Your friend bites her lip, straining her neck while her eyes cherry pick through the club-goers. Despite the alcohol exchanging your blood for liquid fire, there’s a nervousness in your tummy, and you can’t help fiddling with the hem of your black dress upon waiting for her sinister verdict.

“Alright,” she says, almost yelling over the thunderous bass, “I dare you to ask that guy what his biggest secret is!”

You follow her pointed finger, and your heart seems to immediately shrivel. He’s standing by the white sofa, invested in a conversation with another man who’s holding a martini glass, filled with a drink that’s an electric shade of blue. He offers the drink toward him, but the stranger denies, aggressively pushing away the glass. You sense a scuffle is going to break out between the two men, until someone else who always seems to accompany the stranger steps in, diminishing the conflict.

“Well?” She calls out to you, quirking an eyebrow. “You going or not?”

“I’m going!”

You slide off the stool and pull down your dress. As you shift your way through the crowd, you attempt to rally some confidence, rehearsing the different approaches you could take upon introducing yourself. Yet, there’s a gigantic roadblock. How are you going to persuade him to reveal his biggest secret? From what you already gleaned, he appears unforthcoming, but awfully magnetic.

By the time you’re tapping his shoulder, your confidence disintegrates like a dried flower petal and every nonchalant line you practiced in a spasm floats out your head.

His eyes are much darker in proximity, the colour of sable, and he smells like a royal cologne you can’t afford. He waits for you to speak first, almost as though he knows how nervous you are, wanting to revel in the trembling notes of your voice.

“I-I’m supposed— I’m, uh… How are you?” It’s painful, but you manage to choke it out.

With his hands casually buried in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed, he shrugs.

“I’m fine, honey. And yourself?”

Your blood surges, for you can feel it dragging through your veins, and a heat unlike any other draws a glimmering film to your palms. Due to the pounding music, you both have to raise your voices.

“I’m –uh– good? Yeah, I’m good!” Somehow, your lexicon could exist on the point of a needle.

The stranger chuckles. He’s enjoying your flustered nature far too much.

Quickly, you spiel out another question: “what’s your name?”

However, he doesn’t catch it. Instead, he taps his ear and leans in.

“What’s your name?” Your entire chest beats wildly upon repeating the question. The black fibres of his hair smell like passionfruit, but there’s a distant scent, and you think it’s charcoal.

He pulls back and smiles. “Soonyoung.” His name simmers in the thick air for a moment.

Your skin intensely prickles as his gaze then traces the length of your body, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, plump and pink as he asks, “what about you?”

Soonyoung lowers his head again, to which your lips nearly touch his ear upon replying with your name. Once more, he smiles contentedly, while you believe that the scent in his hair has to be charcoal, or maybe even gunpowder. You think about the man with the electric blue drink, how he must’ve sunk into the shadows after Soonyoung’s friend intervened. The dare is still in the back of your mind, even when you inquire on a different topic.

“Why do you look at me all the time?”

There’s something about the darkness in his eyes that keeps you allured, even when you sense it’s better to reject the dare all together and brace through another gulp of gin and tonic.

“Hm. That’s not what you came here to say now is it, honey?”

His response unsteadies you. As Soonyoung counters your question with another question, a small curl develops at the corners of his mouth, as though he knows something you don’t. From his backside, another companion of his abruptly slides by, his hand settling on Soonyoung’s shoulder while he whispers into his ear. The man disappears immediately afterward, like he was nothing but mist.

The strangeness of it all leads you to fumble.

“Well… I-I was dared to come over here. I have to ask what your biggest secret is…”

It’s rather embarrassing to admit. You’d shoot a glare toward your friends if you weren’t so enraptured by Soonyoung’s unfaltering eyes.

“My biggest secret?” He drags a hand slowly through his hair while he bites his lip, thinking. You presume the gold watch on his wrist must cost more than your rent.

“I think I have a good one.” The manner in which Soonyoung’s tone had deepened piques your curiosity, though his soft smirk suggests you should consider if you truly want to know the answer.

Not willing to capitulate when you’ve succeeded this far, you dare grin at him, ensuring that you’re heard overtop the club music when you invite, “tell me.”

The sweltering of the amethyst lights and the concentrated gin coursing beneath your flesh does nothing to mitigate how hot you feel. When Soonyoung steps in close, his cologne seems to envelope you in an unbreakable spell, and your fingernails dig into the flexible, tight fabric of your dress when his lips brush your ear’s cusp. His voice laps like velvet at your very core.

“I think about fucking you, calling you my pretty little slut as I shove your face in my pillow and put my cock so deep inside you that you’re screaming. Every time I have a girl in my bed, I imagine it’s you, begging me to give it to you harder, begging me for my cum, and I make you take it all, just so I can watch how it drips out of you, honey. ”

Then, Soonyoung is leaning away with an expression that’s wholly complacent, meanwhile your universe is splitting itself apart beneath the flame of his words, a sensation much too slick now dampening the lace between your thighs. You can’t help but wet your dry lips.

“Is that a big enough secret for you, huh?” He purrs, a purple glint flashing in his eyes.

Nothing pieces together in your head. There is not one sentence bothering to make itself apparent, let alone any margin of thought that was relatively pure. Engulfed in the midst of unintelligible music and sanity that endlessly dwindles, you decide the only sensible reply is to kiss Soonyoung. This is just an opportunity you can’t lose. Pressing your chest to his, one hand gripping his shoulder, you at long last acquaint yourself with his candied taste and the softness of his pink mouth.

Soonyoung grins upon the pressure, the gin and tonic that coats your unhesitant tongue, how you mewl so helplessly when he digs his fingers into your hips like they were meant to be imprinted with bruises. Winding your arms around the boy’s neck, you fall into him in complete vulnerability, pull him down closer while he licks into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he chuckles breathily, his hands venturing lower to squeeze your ass, “bet you’d let me bend you right over on this couch, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Sliding your fingers through the feathery, black hair at his nape, you push your lips to his once more, nipping at his bottom lip that shimmers with your own saliva. Honestly, Soonyoung isn’t far from the truth. The last time you experienced such a sharp, needy pang at the apex of your thighs is thrust back too far in your memory. His hands reach down over your ass to the dress’ hem, where he hikes up the tight material slightly, his fingertips suddenly stroking you through your underwear.

“Please, Soonyoung,” his name feels so right as it escapes your throat, “I need you.”

“Yeah?” His firm grip plants back on your hips, and he catches your stare, deep and lustful. “You’d let me take you home, baby? Are you sure you want this?”

Immediately, you nod your head, arms fastening around his neck. “You can take me anywhere.”

Maybe it’s selfish, but you don’t once consider your friends crowded at the table across the club, nor would you care if they witnessed Soonyoung’s hand slipping beneath your dress to brush your clothed folds, not when a sensation felt that appeasing. He smirks, then briefly turns around, tapping a member of his entourage on the shoulder to exchange another whisper. The only thing you register is your burning excitement when Soonyoung tilts his head in the direction of the backdoor exit.

“C’mon,” he takes your hand, “my place isn’t a far walk.”

Soonyoung seems to live in the esteemed, Grand Plaza that’s no further than a street down from the club. It’s surrounded by the flashy nightlife, and as he pulls you into the foyer, completely marbled and elegant, you infer that he must be paying bigtime in order to maintain an apartment amidst the city’s pumping heart. The second you reach the elevator, he’s already pinned you against the cold metal, his kisses full of aggression and clever tongue that you pathetically whine for.

His palm sneaks up your dress, cupping at your pussy aching for any degree of attention. You grind into his hand and Soonyoung delights at your arousal. In fact, as the elevator nears the appropriate floor, a desire to touch every crevice of your body consumes him. Before you can take in another breath, the sweet pressure deserts your core, his fingers now pulling aside the plunging v of your dress so that he can free your breast, to which he immediately licks and suckles over the soft skin. A small ding resonates from the elevator, though he spends an extra moment lapping at your nipple.

You step away to avoid an embarrassing blunder with the doors and hastily readjust your dress. Once Soonyoung confirms that the corridor is clear, it’s a blitz to his room, his key card shoved carelessly into the slot before he’s dragging you inside. The sight of his apartment admittedly stuns you, particularly the tall, slender windowpanes that reach directly to the floor, the high arch of the ceiling and the diamond chandelier hanging like a celestial object.

Soonyoung touches your waist, pushing your spine to his door. His fingers then graze underneath your dress to the inside of your thigh, where he merely snaps your lace panties against the skin.

“You’re going to be my good little slut for the night, aren’t you?” He asks, his tone dripping much like syrup. You nod without question, and his other hand rests next to your head while he murmurs huskily into your ear, “take your underwear off for me, sweetheart.”

The fabric slides down your legs and drops at your ankles, which you manage to kick away, though you don’t miss the embarrassingly large wet patch that stains the lace. It only amplifies this desperation that’s been blooming inside you, and as Soonyoung slowly drops to his knees, a shaft of moonlight falling across the complete blackness in his eyes, you can’t help the shudder that strings so icily down your back. He begins tucking up the dress until it sits nice and snug over your hips.

Something about the way he gazes at your heat crushes every bit of breath from your lungs. Without warning, Soonyoung nestles his face between your thighs and delivers a long, hard lick, his eyes fluttering open to gauge your contorted expression as his tongue drags against your nerves.

He smirks wolfishly. “You’re so gorgeous, baby. Does your pussy always get this soaked?”

You struggle to articulate when Soonyoung places another lethargic lick with the flat of his tongue, a scoff half-rumbling in his chest while he massages your clit using the slick muscle. Somehow, you find the words, though they sound strangely distant as they echo outside your haze of pleasure.

“N-No, only when I-I think about you.”

Soonyoung’s guttural laugh strikes your core, and with a swift movement, he manages your leg over the back of his shoulder, improving his access to your plentiful wetness. A sharp inhale rushes between your teeth upon the boy sliding his index finger past your slit, until the thick silver ring dissuades him from pushing the digit in any further. He curls it, rubs against your silk to make you moan. Your fingers scratch into the door, not yet sure if you should be rifling them through his locks.

“Yeah? You think about me, baby?” It almost seems like a taunt. “Entertain me then.”

Just as you open your mouth, Soonyoung deviously slips in another finger past your opening, trails of gloss seeping down his hand as he stretches your pulsating warmth.

“I-I imagine this,” even with the boy on his knees and his fingers ticking your sweet spot, it’s still difficult to admit such filth, “I imagine you e-eating me out, n’making me cum.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He purrs knowingly against your clit, his lips kissing the sensitive bud. “Such a good girl, letting me taste this pretty pussy.”

You hum in agreement, eyes falling shut to bask in the overwhelming sensations and how expertly Soonyoung reads on your slightest twitch or exhale, pinpointing the areas that prominently break you down and render you incoherent. Every so often you feel the cold silver of his rings brush your heat as he continues pumping his fingers, to which Soonyoung notes that your leg always trembles against his shoulder. Smiling, he presses his fingers in further, the rings just touching your inner walls while he swirls his tongue at a slow, thorough pace against your clit, satisfying the ache.

Unable to process the insane pleasure, your spine arches from the door and your fingers latch into the boy’s strong, black roots. You pull up on his scalp, cursing vehemently.

“F-Fuck, Soonyoung! Soso good—nngh—don’t stop, please!”

You almost feel apologetic for his neighbours who must hear these unabashed shouts muffle through his walls each night, though you can’t be bothered to moderate your volume when Soonyoung abuses your g-spot with the deep, consistent massaging of his fingers. He attaches his mouth overtop your clit, his tongue lathering across the bud before he starts flicking it harshly. At that moment, nothing else surges through you but an unprecedented hedonism, and you stuff his face in further to your heat. With your head tossed back against the door, you almost fear how greatly this orgasm builds.

It feels like the pressure situated at your abdomen could burst you open like a water balloon, and the only manner in which you can express the pleasure is to wail helplessly. As Soonyoung’s touch sinks so deliciously against that heavenly spot, his tongue, unrelenting and passionate, working to abuse your swollen bud, your body discovers its incapability to hold out a moment longer. Instead, it crumbles, and with a piercing cry of Soonyoung’s name your arousal gushes onto the boy’s awaiting face.

But he doesn’t wither away or allow the room to stop spinning, rather he delivers a few more vigorous pumps with his fingers and licks over your throbbing bud, all while you feel some of the liquid drip down your inner thigh. Breathing feebly, you tug hard at his scalp in an attempt to make him remove his mouth, for your heat feels raw and swells with oversensitivity.

“Soonyoung, please,” your eyes heavily pull open, “i-it’s hurting too much.”

At last, his fingers retreat from your opening and his mouth allows the cool air to ghost over your flesh. It’s alarming to observe the droplets of your cum that glisten on his face, his lips, so flushed and shiny, yet the boy’s tongue only curls out to collect the arousal.

“Fuck, you’re amazing. Did you know you could squirt, sweetheart?” His smile is cunning. “Or has no one ever treated your pussy that well?”

“I’ve never done it before,” you laugh breathlessly, and your head hits the back of the door as you attempt to process what just happened, “I didn’t know something could feel that good.”

While your fingers brush back his hair, Soonyoung places soft pecks up your inner thigh until he reaches the enflamed skin of your core. He catches your infatuated gaze, ensuring you watch as the very tip of his tongue pushes in shallow past your opening before the muscle circles delicately around your clit. Your hips jerk against his face, to which the immediate reverberations in his chuckle vibrate past your folds. Attentively, Soonyoung kisses the sensitive bud, and then your stomach.

After removing your leg from his shoulder, he rises to his feet, the darkness still dancing in his eyes like a flickering shadow. He feels like a foreboding addiction, one that you can’t give up.

“You’re perhaps the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He compliments, his hand sliding around to stroke the small of your back, his lips just brushing your ear’s shell. “Even better than I imagined.”

Despite the complete filth laced into his speech, his voice somehow contains a tender cadence when he pulls back slightly to murmur against your temple, “now that I know how you taste, I wanna know how you feel, honey. How tight that little pussy is when it’s squeezing around my cock.”

A lightheaded blur emerges from your high, now subsiding, less electric. At the mere thought of Soonyoung pounding you remorselessly into the pillows, your knees begin to wobble and that yearning ache rebuilds itself at your abdomen. To steady yourself, you grip his shoulder, though when you look down, you’re somewhat astounded at the pool of wetness gathered on his floorboards. If just his tongue and fingers could force you to gush, then you wonder how you’ll stay together on his cock.

The trip to his bedroom is all but graceful, rather it’s your legs wrapped snuggly around his waist while his palms splay and squeeze against your ass, your tongues consistently brushing together as you taste yourself from his plump mouth. You had been expecting Soonyoung to just toss you on his bed like an insignificant ragdoll, but to your gratitude, he lays you down gently, spends his next few minutes licking and suckling at your throat. To be marked by him ignites a small grin on your face.

“I want this off, sweetheart,” he demands, tugging at your dress, “do you need help?”

“Yes please. I-I think, with the zipper.” You grunt, reaching behind you to feel the ridges.

After shifting yourself around, Soonyoung stands at the end of the bed, one hand resting on your shoulder blade while the latter undoes the zipper and reveals your back. The little hairs bristle along your skin as you feel a compassionate kiss against the first bump in your spine. Upon helping you slide the fabric down to your waist, Soonyoung’s mouth continues to drift across your shoulder, his hands sliding up your ribs until each hand palms reverently at your breasts. His teeth then dig into a sensitive patch at your neck, giving more vibrance to the low groan that flutters past your lips.

He whispers silkily, “I can’t wait to be inside you, baby. Hm? My good little slut? So beautiful and needy? I can’t wait to fuck you ‘til you’re nice and full.”

Your dress lands somewhere at the base of the mattress, and once your heels are unbuckled, they thump against the floor next to it. Soonyoung guides you into the exact position he desires, which entails your chest flush with his grey bedsheets, cheek sinking against his pillow while your ass pokes into the air. Behind you, there’s the rustle of his clothes being removed, prompting you to wriggle your hips in anticipation and whine for his touch to continue grazing your skin.

His slides off his belt without any particular haste. Impatience prickles, and you moan for him.

“M’so wet, Soonyoung. Please, I need you to fuck me, c-can’t wait anymore.”

You spare a glance over your shoulder, examining his firm torso, the muscles smooth and lithe, how he begins shoving his pants down over his hips. It’s antagonizing.

“I know, honey,” he soothes, his black eyes glistening, “you’ve been so patient for me.”

At last, the mattress dips to suggest that Soonyoung is taking his place behind you, to which you can hear the lewd sound of his hand passing up and down his cock, leaking and painfully hard. Despite the sensitivity lingering from your last orgasm, your entire core still throbs in such overwhelming arousal, a sweltering urge to be stretched completely open. He leans over you, pecking your temple.

“Terrible timing,” Soonyoung laughs, his fingers circling below your navel, “but you are on the pill, right? I’d love a child one day, just not at this exact moment.”

“I am.” You smile, though you aren’t sure how entirely bad it would be to bear his child, and you can’t tell if it’s the gin and tonic finally bleeding through your rationality or the viscid lust.

“Perfect.” He hums, his hand gripping onto one side of your hip while he presses his engorged head into your slick. 

At an indulgent pace, Soonyoung drags himself through your slippery folds and rubs at your clit, a satisfied, low rumble emanating from his chest upon a sight so impure, especially as your gloss coats his length, sticky and wet. Your chest heaves largely at his teasing, engendering you to grind back against his body in a desperate hope to have him split you open.

It’s to your absolute pleasure that Soonyoung obliges. He begins pressing his cock in past your opening, your jaw falling slack until he’s digging in as far as he can fit, inducing the delicious stretch that ripples throughout your body. You breathe in raggedly and hiss his name between clenched teeth, fingers curling into the bedsheets once he’s grounded himself enough to start thrusting.

“O-Oh ffuck,” Soonyoung slurs, swallowing tautly, “you’re such a tight little bitch, hm? Just begging for me to ruin this pretty fucking pussy. I’ve waited so long for this, baby. You have no idea.”

He clutches your hips and slams you back onto his cock, grinding himself so deep inside you that the edges of your vision speckle with white dots. While it’s a bit tough for you to admit that your last sexual encounter had been months ago, it only seems to enhance how wonderful each sensation is now, how euphoric it is to feel his length rub against your inner heat and tick all those aching spots that your own fingers fail to prod. Soonyoung shifts onto his one knee, and suddenly he’s striking a newfound depth. You can’t help the loud squeal bursting from your mouth as he bruises your hips.

Suddenly, the boy is reaching for your arm. It’s pinned behind your back, his fingers latched around the wrist while his other hand threads against your scalp.

“That’s it, babygirl,” he growls upon shoving your cheek into the pillow, “scream for me, just like that. Let everyone know how much of a slut you are.”

With an unrelenting pace, he snaps into you, and the obscene noises of your heat sucking in his cock echo endlessly around the bedroom. At this point, you’re completely void of shame. As Soonyoung pounds into you, his hand ironclad around your wrist, your desire to cum warps into a critical essentiality. The tears stream hot and abundant down your face, muddling your makeup.

“H-Harder, Soonyoung! Please! Give it to me harder!”

“Yeah?” The sweat gleams on the column of his neck, black hair tousling before his eyes that shine mercilessly. “My pretty little slut wants it harder? You want me to fucking break you, baby?”

You don’t care if your body cracks in half like a ceramic. The way his cock is pressing consistently and roughly against that pliant, sensitive spot, it’s the only sensation you can feel. Even his fingers helping to smother your cheek against the pillow, damp with your tears and drool, is a sting rather infinitesimal compared to the pleasure. A cold breath expands in your lungs, and you take advantage of it to plead with Soonyoung, your voice falling apart at the seams while you beg to cum.

Unable to deny you, he takes it upon himself to fuck you so hard that the bedframe slaps into the wall. Soonyoung has already adapted to that spot which makes you weep, and he bites his lip harshly while abusing it with the head of cock. Your body immediately attempts to twist itself up as the ecstasy splatters like rain, though Soonyoung uses his grip on your arm and hair to keep you in position, instead forcing you to take the stimulation until you’re erratically clenching around him.

“Right there, honey? Does it feel good when my cock hits you right fuckin’ there? Huh?”

“Fuck, Soonyoung!” Your howl pierces the dense air, and he can tell you’re sobbing. “M’cumming!”

He tosses his head back as you convulse around him, the juices dripping down the back of your thighs while your world momentarily fades. You’re clamping against his cock with such warmth and silk that Soonyoung releases only a minute later, his seed thickly coating the inside of your heat, his length throbbing with every hot spurt. His guttural cursing subsides into laboured breaths. You feel his hands leave your wrist and hair, retreating to their favoured hold on your hips where he manages to deliver a few more thrusts, languid enough for him to watch his cum get pumped back inside you.

Spent in every single manner, you possess only a dying wisp of energy. You whimper and tremble at the vacancy when Soonyoung removes his cock, a feeling you never thought could be this horrible. Not soon after, his cum slowly pools from your opening, trailing down the inside of each thigh, to which he slightly stretches your ass in order to see just how much he’s emptied into you.

“I can’t believe you’re this beautiful,” he sounds mesmerized, “fuck, baby. Just look at you, so full of my cum. I’ve waited so fucking long to see you like this.”

Soonyoung then leans forward, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine.

“My good little girl. Perfect, aren’t you? Just for me?”

His soft chuckle is somehow a comforting sound, even when your body collapses against his sheets and there’s nothing you’re able to do but nod in agreement. You’re purely exhausted in the afterglow, too tired to even care that his cum is spilling out of you or that you’ve completely deserted your friends at the club. Soonyoung kisses a trail up your back and stops at your shining temple. You can’t tell if he ever joined you in bed or not, though he did stay with you for a few minutes afterward, rubbing your back, brushing his lips over shoulders, a beaming praise whispered every now and then.

You just know you fell asleep smiling.

By the fragile light of morning, you hear Soonyoung’s voice. It doesn’t seem as though he’s beside you or even sitting atop the bed, more like he’s standing somewhere distant. The dimness to the room helps your eyes adjust, and with a low groan you turn your back to the window, snuggling into one of the boy’s cold pillows. When you peek downward, you notice that a decent-sized blue blanket had been strewn across your waist, which you quickly pull further up your body to hide from the cool air. Through the fuzziness, you spot Soonyoung leaning against the doorframe to his washroom.

He’s partially dressed, wearing his black pants while a towel hangs around the back of his neck. The bathroom mirror is smudged with fog and slipping beads of vapour. It isn’t until you hear his quiet voice for the second time that you realize Soonyoung is speaking with someone over the phone. Your eyes fall shut as you attempt to concentrate on snippets of the conversation.

“Fine, we’ll meet at the abandoned hanger off Lake Avenue… Yeah… Just the handgun… Isn’t that too many though?... No, no, not the stash at East End… If he shows up then it’s fucked… That’s what I’m assuming… Okay, sure… Call me back after noon.”

Then, Soonyoung hangs up his phone and slides it with a sigh into his pants pocket. Your eyes open wide again, and you blink a few times to properly clear the sleepy, clinging remnants. Not wanting to overstay your welcome and become a potential hinderance, you slowly shuffle up in his bed, the blue blanket pooling around your hips.

“Did you sleep well?” Soonyoung inquires, tossing the towel from his neck onto the bed.

Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you nod at him. “Yeah, I did,” your voice has yet to lose its monotone rasp, “who were you talking with?”

“Just a friend.” He replies.

Soonyoung walks toward a desk placed across from the bed, picking up a white dress shirt that he slips into. He leaves the front unbuttoned, though he cuffs up the long, flimsy sleeves.

“Hey, do you think I could take a quick bath or something? I promise I won’t be long.”

As he continues to adjust the sleeves, he shrugs. “Yeah, you want me to start it?”

“It’s fine.” You decline politely.

Though the moment you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and prepare to stand, a doubtful inkling has you rethinking that choice. A resounding soreness thumps at your core, the marrow of your hips, yet you pretend that your muscles feel nothing like gelatine and attempt to take your first steps after such a rigorous night. Soonyoung watches in amusement, for your knees immediately begin wobbling while that deep-rooted ache has you buckling to the carpet.

When you look up, cheeks heated from embarrassment, Soonyoung is standing before you baring a fond smile.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” He inquires again, folding some black hair behind his ear.

“No,” you sigh, “I’m sorry. I need help, please?”

“All you have to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Soonyoung proceeds to bend down, tucking you carefully against his chest while your arms loop in a secure fashion around his neck. Feeling like a moonstruck bride whose being carried off to her honeymoon, you can’t evade the tiny smile that flits from each corner of your mouth, and it sticks coyly, even when Soonyoung sets you down on the closed toilet in order to run the bath water. You realize you’re going to need your dress, heels, the lace underwear that’d been deserted by his doorway.

Swallowing nervously, you watch as warm water fills the tub.

“I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but do you think you could grab my clothes? A-And I might need to use your phone, since I never took my purse with me last night. My friends are probably worried.”

He stands from the porcelain edge, a laugh rumbling in his chest, “why are you so apologetic?”

“I don’t know,” you quickly shrink into yourself when Soonyoung’s gaze falls over you, hardly as poisonousness compared to the night before, “I don’t want to be an inconvenience if you’re busy, and you just seem like a busy person.”

“And I also fucked you so hard that you can’t even walk.” He reasons lightheartedly, keeping an eye on the bathtub, “I don’t mind, honey. I’ll get your clothes, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

At least if he’s a poison, it’s a sweet one.

“Don’t worry about your friends either,” Soonyoung comments, at last shutting off the faucet while thin steam curls into the air, “One of my guys told them you’d be safe. They know where you are.”

“Really? Thanks.”

He baffles you; he feels mysterious yet personable. You want to ask him what he does for a living, especially upon recounting his earlier phone call, though you dismiss the question when Soonyoung helps you slide into the tub. The hot water works magnificently to relieve the soreness from your muscles, and though it’s a bit uncomfortable to squeeze back into that tight, black dress and the expensive heels, at least you’re able to walk (as long as you keep a hand flush against the wall).

Thankfully, Soonyoung helps you toward the front door of his apartment. A one-night stand has never felt so painful to leave behind, and you’re overwhelmed with poignancy as you wonder why you had never approached him sooner. He announces that there’s a driver stationed out front the Plaza, in a jet-black car you don’t catch the name of, and that you only have to lend him your address.

“He’ll take you home.” Soonyoung assures you.

Already, you find it astonishingly natural to trust him, engendering your hesitance as you stand in the corridor wishing you could somehow stay.

“What if I want to see you again?” You pipe up, catching his gaze.

Your heart is racing, and warmth dapples each arch of your cheek.

Soonyoung steps forward, cupping your face in his palms, his soft mouth pressing to yours while a fragrant, winter mint cuts sharp to your senses.

“You know where to find me, sweetheart.” He responds casually, and smiles as though he knows you’ll come back to him. “See you around.”

✧✎ a/n: i am handing out water bottles down here guys, it’s okay i got you covered! after not writing serious smut for so long, it just FELT SO? BIZARRE? TO TAMPER WITH IT AGAIN. like i remember the times when i could write smut with a straight face and you’d think i was typing my will or something. anywho. I REALLY HOPE IT SATISFIED SOME OF U!! and WHAT DO U THINK THE SECRET AU IS HEHEHEH

[kimberly-spirits13]

Random Characters with Creative/ Designer S/O HC:

Characters: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Bart Allen, Conner Kent (RSS), Jamie Reyes

Damian Wayne (Fashion Design):

·      You’d started off your career when you were young

·      Your father wasn’t super supportive of everything and said that you were too young to start a business or what have you

·      So, with approval from your mother, you started one behind his back

·      He didn’t know until one day you ended up treading and going viral with a dress you made for a very famous celebrity

·      At that point he couldn’t stop you and was just impressed that you made it for months without him knowing

·      As long as you were keeping up schooling, it would fly

·      You ended up getting to travel the world and go to fashion week

·      More specifically NYFW

·      New York was the big one

·      That’s where you and Damian met

·      He was there for a business trip with Bruce and saw you at one of the shows the girls dragged him to

·      He was immediately infatuated with you and wanted to meet you

·      Thank the heavens he has sisters who wear your clothes to almost every gala

·      They got to go back stage and talk to you which led to you two exchanging numbers and the rest is history

·      When you started dating it was really hectic

·      You had a few kidnapping scares which made him want to break it off especially after you found out about the entire Robin thing

·      Heeeellllllllll no

·      You didn’t let that happen at all

·      Bruce actually commented and said that if you were that stubborn, Damian should probably keep you

·      Fashion week becomes more tiring and you also hate not being able to see Damian as much

·      He comes and visits though to make sure you don’t throw yourself out a window or something lol

·      When it’s over, you guys always take a long vacation to Lake Tahoe in a house Bruce owns on the Nevada side

·      He loves seeing your studio since it’s so organized and colorful

·      You’ve got walls of mood boards and mannequins with unfinished garments everywhere along with a massive soft couch that one of you is always sprawled out on

·      Sometimes he’ll send you pictures of pretty things he thinks you’d might like which ends up being incorporated into something

·      You taught him how to drape and make his own suit so that Alfred can have a day off

·      If anyone has a wardrobe malfunction and you’re around, you’ve got the needle and thread kit on hand at any given moment

·      Some things in the kit come in handy for picking locks too

·      He thinks it’s hilarious if you ever critique something or just call it straight ugly

·      If you’re at a gala and do it it’s even funnier

·      “Omg...”

·      “What is it beloved?”

·      “The drape and hem of that dress is the most preposterous thing I think I have ever seen. The fabric isn’t even the right material or fit for their shape. How rich are these people? And they can’t afford clothes that look decent on them?” You said giving them the famous inspecting side eye, “Also, who wears pearls with double sided sequins and fur?” “They can’t fix everything sweetie.”

·      *intense snickering from Damian*

Tim Drake (Software/ Web Designer):

·      It’s a match made in heaven

·      The two of you meet at a tech conference

·      He thought that you were such an interesting person to talk to and you had offers from places like MIT

·      You got along so well and then he found that you liked coffee like he did

·      Omg

·      He asked you out in the nerdiest way by making you decipher code on your own computer

·      You were kind of mad since you had been doing some other things for some major companies but after reading the message you determined you were fine with it

·      I mean how could you say no

·      Anyways the date when off great and eventually the media caught heavy wind of what was happening

·      You already knew about the Red Robin thing pretty quickly into the relationship though

·      Tim was a genius and you weren’t far behind

·      It was scary how similar you two were

·      From expressions and shared humor and meme taste, it was everything

·      Staying up together was another thing you did

·      Although, after some time one of you would pass out and the other would go to bed too

·      It was like a competition in sorts of who could stay up the longest but at the same time you needed him to sleep

·      The time he felt most betrayed by you was when you replaced his coffee with decaf

·      You guys just sometimes hang out in his bed tangled up in the weirdest way watching vines or weird movies

·      Totally the couple that would watch the worst rated movies just to laugh at them

·      Damian commented on it once and got a tired middle finger from you once

·      It wasn’t the classiest move however you couldn’t care less and Tim laughed his ass off

·      After that Damian seemed to respect you more

·      You guys probably have matching hoodies or something with really funny or obscure culture references

·      Clingy couple but nothing too over dramatic

Bart Allen:

·      Your designs in architecture went down in text books

·      You were famous for some really amazing builds and constructions

·      You started off by building these really insane LEGO sets or doll houses based off of designs in your notebook

·      Your mother still has the models in the attic which is kind of embarrassing when he sees it but he thinks it’s really cool

·      When he came to your time line he knew immediately who you were

·      He also totally came to you and complimented your work plus some additional hinting at what was going to happen pretty soon

·      Bart was there at the rise of your success

·      He basically was your number one fan the entire time

·      He’ll stay up with you as long as he can when you’re working

·      It’s kind of funny seeing that when you’re designing the things you went down in history for you’ll be stuck on something and he’ll just tiredly recommend what he remembers learning

·      You let him look through the designs sometimes but he understands if you don’t really feel comfortable with it

·      He also knows that in order to do all of this, you’re wicked smart

·      When the cave needed remodeling, you were the first person that they called in

·      The League was very glad that you were there and they didn’t have to pull any strings to get anyone different in

·      Plus, you knew what was needed since you were there all of the time

Kon Kent:

·      You got your start writing

·      It was the best thing that you did to relive stress

·      Once your parents saw that you were such an imaginative child, they got you in a ton of art related classes but you liked writing the most

·      Your writings had won awards before but then you wrote a book and it did amazing

·      So now, that’s what you do

·      Kon secretly actually really likes your books and met you at a book signing

·      Nerd

·      He got your number there and then you realized who he was

·      It was kind of funny cause you were both in that moment of realization like

·      Ohhhhh I know who you are.... kinda thing

·      He finds it hilarious that sometimes you’re just all over the place

·      When doing research your room isn’t terrible messy, it’s just piles and piles of notes and articles

·      You also probably have an expansive collection of literature yourself ranging from all genres

·      You don’t really like him to proof the book, however if you have an idea for something he’s all ears

·      Coffee dates to strange hole in the wall joints

·      Clark really likes you and finds your humor funny in the sense that it’s close to Bruce’s

·      Both very sarcastic and dry

·      Lex is just glad that his son found someone with an intellect

·      You don’t really like Lex though

·      That’s because you hear everything that Kon has to say about him

·      Although, without giving the man too much credit, the charade that he plays on the daily in quite impressive

·      You will never admit it however

·      Ma and Pa love you

·      So does Lois

·      You get along because of the writing

·      Sometimes Kon will just take you to some random part of the world if you need inspiration

·      “Hey wanna fly to Morocco?”

·      “Why not?”

·      You make a day trip out of it but if it’s a long one you’ll stay longer

·      Short distance he’ll fly you himself but overseas or something, he takes one of Lex’s jets

·      He likes to tease you sometimes but will take it easy during the editing phase

·      Those aren’t fun at alllll

·      You get cranky sometimes during that and he just backs off lol

·      He will make you sleep though

·      He doesn’t want you turning into Tim or anything for an extended amount of time

·      Nope

·      Not doing it

Jamie Reyes:

·      The team didn’t know anything about your job as an artist

·      You were internationally revered

·      No one knew of your job but for the boy wonder who saw the paint in your hair

·      Once the team did know however, everyone was amazed

·      You and Jamie were already dating by then though

·      He was always impressed with what you did

·      Laughed when you were covered in paint

·      He lets you paint or draw on his hand

·      You both have matching hoodies or jackets from your clothing line or merch that you painted

·      If you have a YouTube channel, he’s in some of the videos

·      Scarab notes that you have a more creative personality which Jamie responds to with a sarcastic remark

·      Your clothes are partly covered in paint

·      He’ll go to every show

·      During the Reach thing you still stayed with him

I have more parts of the Damian Wayne x reader story coming and also requests but I’m just getting into school which is my priority so that’s why I’ve been a bit more inactive. Anyways I hope you liked this one and I can’t wait to put out more 

[thevoilinauttheory]

Deconstruct

[ FFxivWrite2021 Prompt 17 - Destruct ]

[ Content Warnings: purposeful destruction of someone else’s structure / of cultural or protective structure ]

[ Maximiloix learning magic, something something title lol - Earth - Water - Fire - Lightning - Wind - Ice ]

==

After their run-in with the Sahagin, both Maximiloix and Caromont decided that it was best to take a rest in Limsa’s inn for a few days. Those few days were spent on the expensive, frivolous, purchase of - to the major insistence of Caromont - getting tattoos for Maximiloix. He had said that the design should make it easier for him to cast magic safely; which covered him from the chest down in odd shapes and patterns he had only seen occasionally in their travels. Sore was an understatement, having to come back every day to get it finished, having to wait for the red and swollen skin to rest before continuing on with even more. It felt like it had already been a moon, and he wasn’t all that certain how in the hells they could afford this, which he had thought pointless.

When their travels finally took them back to Thanalan, Caromont took the lead again, following the signs and path towards the southern portion of the area; that was when he realized the boon of having such designs etched on his skin - the heat irritated the still healing flesh, but every now and then, he’d mess around with a spell that seemed to cool down the blood rushing in his body. He always hated the heat, anyways. He sat down on a rock for a break when they about made it across the gap which separated the dust from the sand. “Why couldn’t we have gotten th’damned things done *after* all of this?” “Because then I would be spending thousands on new weapons for you. I tried to get your lance repaired, but this was the best they could do. Thankfully, they carved the slots for crystals for me, so hopefully no cracks on that front. So… I can spend thousands on something once, or I could do that several times.” Maximiloix let out a heavy sigh. “I sure hope it does help, ‘cause I’m boiling under all this mess.” He had donned longer sleeved shirts and more protection from the sun, at the cost of hotter temperatures. “How far away?” “Not far, you will start to feel it soon.”

And soon it was; it was only a few yalms before the heat filled his lungs - the thick aether surrounding the area, the only difference, however, was that he could feel that fire dispersing under the shapes of those tattoos. It was a different kind of heat - while still annoying - it was more of a warmth that had spread across his body. Before he could ask, Caromont answered. “It will help you control the aether around you better, so that you do not pull the same stunt you did in La Noscea. I will not have you dying on me so soon after marrying!” He laughed. “Huh. Well, rest ‘ssured, I ain’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon.” It was a bit easier this time, while the Amaal’jaa occupied the area, the space they needed to practice spells was fairly empty and devoid of the beastmen. Maximiloix found another place to sit and rest as he tried to cool himself off. Caromont began his lesson then. “Fire is an Umbral aspected element, usually used for harm - to cause as much destruction as possible as quickly as possible. When using magic to defend yourself, you may find yourself using mostly fire magicks. This time, we are keeping the magic *small*, Maxie. No pushing yourself. You are still recovering.” “Alright, alright… so what am I castin’?” “I want you to aim with the intent to burn that cactus over there.” “Sounds easy ‘nough.” Maximiloix took back his lance after Caromont had finished putting the fire aspected crystal into the slot created for it. The wood around the edges started to blacken from the heat, but did no more than scorching the abused weapon. He wasn’t entirely certain how to stance himself, it felt as if the element refused to show itself unless he was physically prepared for it - in which, he wasn’t. It was too damned hot.

“Like this.” Caromont came over to adjust where his arms and legs should be placed, gave him a small kiss, then backed away again. “When casting from a thaumaturgy spell, it is best to draw directly from the crystal itself. Positioning yourself like this will make that far easier.” Maximiloix nodded - yeah, that felt right. He closed his eyes and held his free hand out over the small crystal, pulling out the burning fire from his veins and ink into his palm - which he thrust out in front of him when he felt his hand singeing under it. The cactus stood no chance against even his smallest fireball - in fact, it exploded before it caught flame, having boiled the water within the plant until the pressure could not be held. Thankfully, Caromont had seen the outcome before it happened, casting a shield to protect them both from the needles which rained down on them. “Perfect! Now… do that *without* trying to take out an eye.” “Hey! It ain’t like I was tryin’ t’do it on purpose!” He huffed in response, turning his head to look around more - and the grin that grew on his face didn’t make Caromont comfortable in the slightest. “Maxie… what are you doing.” “Tryin’ somethin’ out.” “Do not even dare!” “It won’t be bad, promise.” “You are going to be the death of both of us if you get any closer to that camp.” “I ain’t gettin’ *that* close.” “And do not break anything!” “Can’t promise that.” “Oh, gods.”

Maximiloix held that same stance as he had before, having near perfected after once - including the spell he was about to cast. It was as Caromont expected, his husband was going big or dying trying. He drew as much aether as he could from his lance, feeling the heat escape his skin, leaving him cold - even underneath the layers of thick leathers. It had gathered so much into his hand, that even his wrist burned under the fires of the spell. His foot shifted backwards to steady himself when he pushed both the aether from his hand *and* weapon at the same time… with the much anticipated expectation of the Amaal’jaa watchtower some distance away suddenly finding itself in flames. After another shift in his position, he had pushed out a consecutive spell, causing the base to burst, wood and bones splintering as the creators of it scrambled to get away from the collapsing structure. Maximiloix only started laughing at the destruction. “Did y’see that!” “Unfortunately. And now they have seen us, you idiot.” “Ah… shite.” “How many times are we going to have to run because of you?” “All of the times?” Caromont let out a heavy sigh, now forcing his husband along for the run, no matter how exhausted - that was his punishment for now, at least until they got to a safe area where he could be scolded properly without the risk of them being cut down.

[citrineghost]

I’ve been seeing so many people talking about teeth brushing and I know it’s generally positive - encouraging people to brush their teeth even if they forgot to earlier, when they normally would have, that kind of thing - but it kinds feels shitty to read. I’m not saying anyone should stop, just like, airing my personal feelings ig

My teeth are super fucked up because of both genetics and also I was mad depressed for a year and barely brushed them at all and I’m too poor now to afford dental care so eating like 50% of things causes tooth pain from the number of cavities I have and I low-key expect I might end up having a bunch of them pulled when I do eventually have dental care.

I want to care for them now but I literally can’t. Toothpaste of any kind, even the natural stuff, has acid in it and I brushing my teeth with it is like driving thousands of little needles into the nerves of my teeth. It’s excruciating. Brushing without toothpaste is possible but leads to more pain from eating because - yeah this is gross - anything that could be brushed off my teeth is actually keeping things from contacting the cavities directly

It’s all a massive, shameful clusterfuck and I feel so fucking terrible about my teeth all the time. I avoid smiling around people because I’m afraid they’ll see the cavities and have one more reason to think I’m gross, you know?

There was also a news episode from Philip DeFranco not that long ago where he was talking about some dental procedure he had because his teeth were fucked up and he said something about teens showing off their implants and whatnot and thinking it’s cool and how it’s not cool and you should take care of your teeth and not let them get fucked up and I know he didn’t mean anything negative by it but I’m just like, 

yeah, I wish I hadn’t let my teeth get like this but they’re like this now. If I ever get implants or something, you bet your ass I’m going to be taking lots of pictures and smiling a lot and being excited. People should be allowed to celebrate the sudden lifting of a massive source of shame. Teeth are such a personal, yet public thing and when your teeth get fucked up, it’s humiliating and it drags you down from so many directions. 

I just feel like people don’t often look at the reasons why people ‘let’ their teeth get fucked up. It’s not always just not caring. I would guess more often than not that it’s mental illness, disability, and genetics. Did y’all know genetics dictate like 60% of your teeth health? It’s not easy keeping your teeth in shape when you have thin enamel, a family history of bad teeth, and feel like life isn’t worth living anymore, you know?

Anyway, this isn’t to say we shouldn’t push people to take better care of their teeth, just like, try to be more understanding of people who end up with cavities, people whose smiles aren’t very pristine, people who have to get implants or dentures or fillings or crowns. Try to remember that other people might have more obstacles between them and dental care than just ‘didn’t feel like it lol’

[therainroguefanfiction]

⍚ HaikWeek!! 2020 ⍚ Day 1 (Yaku, Tanaka, Mattsun, Ikkei) Seasons

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Comedy (summer)

Word Count: 1,844 (447 spring / 439 summer / 624 autumn / 375 winter)

Pairing: Reader x Yaku (spring) / Reader x Tanaka (summer) / Reader x Mattsun (autumn) / Reader x Ikkei (winter)

World: Haikyuu!!

Prompt: Favorite Character + Seasons

Author’s Note: Here is the first entry for @haikyuuweek2020​, yet another daily set that I’ll probably regret doing but hey, at least it’s Haikyuu lol

━━━━━━༻⍚ 🏐 HaikWeek!! 2020 🏐 ⍚༺━━━━━━

» Spring; Yaku Morisuke

Today was the day that you confessed your feelings to Nekoma’s demon, Yaku Morisuke. He played as the libero for the school’s volleyball club and, despite not being the tallest boy, he was like a stick of dynamite, packed with explosives that could be lit at any moment.

You weren’t sure how or why you had fallen for this boy, but you blamed your cousin, Kenma, because he was the reason you had met the boy in the first place. At first, you had thought nothing of him, but after spending weeks with the team, you had started to develop feelings.

Now, a year later, you were head over heels for the third-year and had finally worked up the nerve to confess. The problem was that Kuroo and Kenma knew about your plans and the former wanted to make things challenging for you by refusing to let you be alone with the libero.

Finally, you just slipped a note into his locker asking him to meet you behind the school. The cherry blossom tree that towered into the sky was rumored to be magic and the story claims that anyone who confesses beneath this tree in the height of spring would be together forever.

You wanted desperately to share a strong love with him that would last a lifetime, and this was the first step on that path. At least, you hoped it would be. There was still the chance that he would reject you.

“Y/N.”

You jumped, whirling around in surprise at the sudden voice. “Y-Yaku-senpai, you scared me.”

“Sorry about that,” he smiled before holding up a slip of paper. “Are you the one that left this note for me? You forgot to sign it.”

‘Crap,’ you smacked your forehead with your palm. “Uhm, yeah, that was me.”

With a nod, he stuffed the note into his pocket before placing his hand on his hip. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

“R-Right, that.” You cleared your throat, feeling the tips of your ears growing hot. “I need to tell you something important, senpai. I… I really like you! A lot… and I get that you might not feel the same way. That’s okay! I just really wanted you to know and I -”

Yaku’s lips met yours to silence you, his fingers resting on the side of your neck. You groaned, tilting your head to deepen the kiss as you clutched at his jersey, body pressing tightly to his own.

Despite the blush upon his cheeks, he smiled teasingly. “It’s about time you confessed.”

You scoffed. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, demon-senpai~”

His nose wrinkled as he pinched your side. “Brat.”

━━━━━━༻⍚ 🏐 HaikWeek!! 2020 🏐 ⍚༺━━━━━━

» Summer; Tanaka Ryuunosuke

“Beach trip!!” Tanaka and Noya were the first ones off the bus, screaming loudly as they ran in circles, their arms waving above their heads like pool noodles.

You stepped off behind them, stifling a yawn. The heat always made you super tired and with it being the height of summer, it was hot outside. You weren’t sure who had come up with the idea of this trip or how Takeda managed to convince the school that it was summer training in order to secure the bus for said trip.

“Babe!” Tanaka grinned, throwing his arms around your body. “Let’s build a sandcastle!”

“But I wanted to nap,” you pouted, your mumbling going unheard by your excitable boyfriend as he grabbed your hand, tugging you toward the sand.

“Mine will be better!” Noya declared, already digging into the sand with his hands.

“Not a chance!” Tanaka plopped down a few feet away, forcing you down beside him. The sand was warm beneath your body, making you wince because you hated the feeling. The sun was beaming down on your body, creating a thin sheen of sweat across your skin.

You watched lazily as Tanaka dug into the sand, trying to sculpt it into what you assumed was meant to be a castle. Honestly, it looked more like a castle after a fire nation attack, but you certainly weren’t going to tell him that.

He poked you in the ribs. “You’re supposed to help. It’s not our home if only I’m working on it.”

Despite your sour mood, a smile tugged at your lips at his childishness. You scooted closer, your hands digging into the sand to gather up a clump, molding it into a ball as best you could before placing it on the roof. You had to shift it a few times before finding a spot where it would stay put.

“What is that?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side as he stared at it.

“It’s a volleyball.”

“Eh?” his eyes met yours, slightly wide at the realization. “You want to put a volleyball on our roof?”

“Maybe not that big,” you commented, scratching your cheek. “But, we met through volleyball and it’s important to you, ya know? Seemed appropriate.”

“I love you so much, baby!” he launched himself at you suddenly, his arms around your neck. The sudden weight sent your body backward, landing against the sand with a soft grunt. In doing so, his foot shot out and rammed through the sand house, toppling it to the ground.

“Ha, I win!!” Noya grinned proudly.

“Hah?” Tanaka lifted his head, seeing the destroyed house. “Crap!”

━━━━━━༻⍚ 🏐 HaikWeek!! 2020 🏐 ⍚༺━━━━━━

» Autumn; Matsukawa “Mattsun” Issei

Autumn had finally arrived and with it came a slew of dreary, cold weather. The wind was frigid, feeling like pins and needles against any skin that was left exposed, and nearly every day saw a drizzle of rain. This left a mist over the town which blocked out the warming rays of the sun.

While you thoroughly enjoyed this, you knew that your boyfriend did not simply for the fact that he couldn’t afford to get sick. He was an athlete, a member of the Aobajohsai’s volleyball club, and getting sick was akin to a death sentence for him. Because of this, he often bundled himself up in layer upon layer, doing his best to avoid the chill.

You had recently discovered a new hobby that took up the time that wasn’t spent with your boyfriend – crochet. And while you were a complete beginner, you were determined to make a scarf for the man you loved. You knew it was going to take a while, so you started well before Autumn arrived, working diligently every day to try and get it made for him.

Now that Autumn was here, you felt the pressure to complete it and so you did. A week into the season, you had completed the scarf, but you weren’t exactly proud of it. The stitching was super tight at the bottom, slowly loosening up as you got more comfortable in what you were doing. The edges were uneven, resembling waves rather than a straight line, and it was a mix-match of three different colored yarns because you thought it would look cool.

Now that you were preparing to give it to him, you were feeling quite nervous.

When practice came to an end, Mattsun immediately made a beeline for you, bringing you into his arms. It didn’t matter to either of you that his clothes were clinging to his body, soaked with sweat. He gave you a squeeze, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hey, darling. Let me go get changed and I’ll be right out, okay?”

“Wait,” you grabbed his arm when he pulled back, chewing on your bottom lip.

“What is it?” he questioned softly, taking your face between his hands.

You met his worried gaze and fumbled around inside your school bag before producing the scarf, neatly wrapped in a brown paper bag. “This is for you.”

Curiously, he took it from your hands, starting to unwrap it when you stopped him again, feeling the tips of your ears grow warm.

“Open it later, not now.”

Though he was curious about the object, he did as you asked, tucking it under his arm before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Alright. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You followed him out of the gymnasium, waiting near the locker room for him to finish changing. What you didn’t expect was for him to step out of the room with the scarf wrapped around his neck, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“Sorry, I couldn’t stop Oikawa before he could open it…”

“It’s okay,” you smiled nervously, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “I’m sorry it’s not that great. I did the best I could but I made a lot of mistakes.”

“Wait, you made this?” his eyes widened a bit, his hand coming up so his fingers brushed against the material.

“Yeah…”

A smile bloomed on his lips as he threw his arms around you, bringing you to his chest. “I love you so much, baby. I can’t believe you made this for me. I’ll cherish it forever.”

You returned the smile, your own arms wrapping around his neck, fingers playing with his short hair. “I’m so happy to hear that.”

━━━━━━༻⍚ 🏐 HaikWeek!! 2020 🏐 ⍚༺━━━━━━

» Winter; Ukai Ikkei

Ukai Ikkei was a strong man in all respects. Every single day he rose before the sun, getting to work tending to his garden and cleaning the house from top to bottom. When the afternoon arrived, a group of kids would come to his house to learn volleyball and he would teach them well into the night. He’d get to bed hours after the sun had fallen only to wake up and do it all again.

Despite his age, he rarely stopped moving.

You knew he was more than capable but you did worry. While you didn’t want to hold his age against him, he was an older man that was trying to live the life of a young adult.

Winter was especially harsh on him, the chill going straight to his joints and causing them to lock up. This didn’t stop him, though. Even you were feeling the effects of the oncoming snow, wanting nothing more than to just crawl under the covers and sleep.

Ikkei had other plans, though.

You awoke when you felt the bed shifting beside you, eyes peeling open only to squint in the darkness. You felt the warmth beside you slowly disappearing as cold began to take over and your arm shot out, grabbing a hold of his t-shirt.

“Did I wake you?” he questioned softly.

“Yes, now get back in bad,” you muttered, tugging on his shirt. “It’s too cold for you to be going outside.”

He huffed in annoyance. “I’m not going to keel over just because it’s cold, Y/N.”

“Really? Because I sure as hell would,” you scowled, tugging him harder. “I am freezing and if you leave this bed, I will die.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, darling.”

“Yes.”

Ikkei glanced at the clock before heaving a sigh and crawling back under the covers. You didn’t hesitate to cling to his body, throwing your leg over his to keep him in place as you snuggled up to his side, enjoying the heat that his body offered. His arms wrapped securely around you, hand rubbing up and down your back.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he grunted, thankful that you couldn’t see his smile in the darkness.

You chuckled, already slipping back into dreamland. “M’love you.”

━━━━━━༻⍚ 🏐 HaikWeek!! 2020 🏐 ⍚༺━━━━━━

» Next Day

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[tobias5819]

My Testimony!

 I like giving it because it's like giving praise to Yahuwah every time I do. I was raised a Jehovah's witness and my childhood wasn't that great I won't go into that let's just say my dad was not a good dad. I rebelled against the witnesses and my parents and was kicked out of my home at an early age due to the use of Marijuana and other drugs. I moved to Livingston Texas being thrown from one place to another. So a guy I knew He was a Jehovah's witness He was a good one(one of the few) He got me this house and it had no stove no heat and no hot water heater, (winter was a real you know what.) In my hatred fueled life for everyone especially my dad I went to the library to find out how to curse him, so he to would feel the pain I was feeling. So I got a book on how to sell my soul to the devil. I did the ritual and believe it or not and to my surprise, he came, Him and his demons!! My contract was signed in my blood, not for money or fame but for vengeance on my dad. I cursed him by doing this and I believed then that I had made a mistake but filled with hate for him I would not lift this curse on him. The day after I did this, I took the books back to the library and low and behold I met some men in white robes declaring Jesus had returned that I should not go to war but live in peace with all men. I was intrigued and got on their bus and they took me home and they fed me and told me that I should leave all my possessions behind and follow this new Jesus. So I did, I took off my shoes and got on their bus and left. We got to Austin where I left the bus to travel with a man named John. Now get this, I'm barefooted in a white robe now following this stranger I just met. well, I spent a few years on the road with them and decided one day I wanted to meet this Jesus so I went up in the mountains of Hemet California to meet this so-called messiah, Lol he was a joke as soon as I met him I knew in my heart this was not Jesus at all. So I left them after a while I did spend a total of five years with them but as I said I went my own way and off and on I returned to the highways because out there I was free to see nature and see the country by walking the highways. I loved it but sometimes it was really hard because freedom comes with a price but I was far away from those who had brought me so much pain and heartache. I was willing to starve myself to keep from looking at them anymore. I never stopped doing drugs the whole time because it took me away from this world that I hated and filled me with solace for very short periods of time I was deceived by myself believing that meth and cocaine acid weed would help the pain I felt in my heart, but things just got worse as I went along I lost my will to live so I started to get depressed more and more, at first I took overdoses looking for death and relief of the pain I was in. So one day I took a massive overdose and for some reason, the police came to my door. I was dying as they sat and watched me fade they wanted to take me to the hospital but I refused so they waited till I passed out. I had taken 3 bottles of sleeping pills so I didn't last long. I died they brought me back. I was so angry when I woke up. I thought I had made it out of this cruel world but I didn't I threw a fit I cussed the nurse and cursed her for saving me so they shackled me and took me to a mental institution. It was not the first time I had been because I was on a mission to destroy myself. Well, I got out and felt that I might be able to go on, but still, I loved my drugs and kept doing them. One day I did a shot of cocaine it was a big one almost killed me I got up after nearly dying and I rammed that needle into the sink and swore id never do hard drugs again and I never have eventually I came to be in Virginia and I was in love with a woman I met online and one day I was at my computer can't remember what I was doing but something happened to me. I signed up for a blog on blogger I still have it. But I began to type and felt funny chills ran over me as I typed much like what happens to me now. I began to warn people of things to come to warn them to repent and I was inspired by the Holy Spirit to give my life over to the Father, It led me to be baptized and be washed clean. but I fell once more till recently a month ago I sat and I had a bottle of muscle relaxers. I had enough to kill an elephant but I wanted to say goodbye to the only friend I had left so I messaged her on messenger and told her I was going to kill myself I couldn't take the pain anymore, That I was being kicked out of the place I was in. I was tired folks. I wanted peace so bad. I had been crying for days and was very weak I was one step away from death and my friend ask me if could afford my own place she knew of a place across the street from her she told me she could help me so I did just that I packed my stuff and I got my own apartment. She got me on her herbs and I had already been to her before to get off the poisons my quack dr had prescribed me but I had fallen back into bad habits again but she got me straight. She and some others prayed for me and one day over here I prayed and forgave my dad finally in my heart and took my curse off of him and I believe it released me from my commitment with the devil I once again felt the presence of the Holy Spirit and in doing so I started His ministry again and here I sit today to warn you of the dangers of satan and his demons. This is my testimony honoring the most high God Yahuwah Bless you all in His holy name! 

[shhh-no-ones-home]

behind the barrier din djarin x reader

+++++++++

Im back! or at least for right now i am. this is the only story i have for a while because i started writing a new book during my break and have been focusing on that more than anything. i promise i will be back with something else before the month is over, i just dont know how soon that will be right now lol. until then though i hope you all like this one because i have thought of nothing but the Mandalorian since the season two finale absolutely wrecked my body and soul :)

themes of nightmares, war flashbacks, and surgical ptsd. its nothing too heavy, i dont think, but as always read at your own risk

Song: disguise by motionless in white

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

I sat at the end of the bed, head in my hands and shaking it lightly to a beat that wasn't there. Din had been asleep for a good while now, curled up behind me. God I wanted this to be over, I wanted the nightmares to be over. I stood up, rubbing my hands over my face as I started pacing the otherwise empty room. It had a bed and a small table and a sink placed outside the privy. It was cozy, or at least it should've been. When I heard the bed creak I drew my blaster, pointing it to din as he sat up slowly.

"Y/n? What time is it?"

He asked groggily, his voice gruff coming through the modulator. I sighed, holstering the gun.

"Almost day light."

I said reluctantly, moving to the small window and pulling the wood slat back. We probably had about two hours till the suns came up.

"Have you slept?"

He asked, sounding more awake now as he started the walk around the bed to get to me. I shook my head no as I leaned against the window sill.

"We have a long day ahead of us, you might want to try."

He said and I scoffed, a laugh barely audible emerging from my chapped lips.

"I'll be alright."

I said, Finally looking to him. He was still in full armor, helmet too. He was still on the fence about removing it, despite having taken it off for the kid he spoke so fondly about. I grew up hearing about Mandalorians and it was never anything like what he told me, even in the few months id known him. And I still hadn't seen his face, or the foundling. He puzzled me sometimes.

"You're lying to me aren't you?"

He asked and I sighed.

"Just go back to sleep. I'll figure something out."

I said, being startled by him leaning into the window beside me, causing me to scoot over in the small space.

"I hear you screaming sometimes."

He said and I tensed up.

"And?"

I asked, seeing him turn to me out of the corner of my eye.

"You haven't told me everything have you?"

He asked and I shook my head.

"I'm not what you see on the outside that's for sure."

I said through a dark laugh.

"Do you trust me?"

He asked and I shrugged.

"Do you trust me?"

I asked back, a long silence following.

"Touche."

He finally said, standing and walking away. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply before standing and turning to him, now on the other side of the bed where he had started.

"Din-"

I said quickly and he stopped, his back still to me.

"Don't take it personally, I don't trust a lot of people. But I'm glad you took me in when I had nowhere else to go. It's just-"

I paused for a second, trying to collect my words and he turned to look at me over his shoulder.

"You don't know what it's like out there, to be stripped of your identity and put back together piece by piece."

He slowly turned his whole body to look at me.

"I close my eyes and I see them. I'm so tired of running but I know I cant really face myself either."

I said softly, looking to the ground.

"Maybe we're more alike than I thought."

He said nonchalantly before turning back around and opening the cabin door. I sighed as he disappeared down the hall, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration.

"If you only knew."

°°°°°°°°°

"What happened?!"

He yelled as we ran through town, shots being fired.

"How should I know?"

I quipped back, ducking behind a metal beam, grabbing him and pulling him into me. We both panted, looking to each other as the red flashed around us.

"I can't keep this up."

I said through a harsh breath and he tilted his head.

"We don't have another choice right now."

He said, looking over my shoulder before grabbing my hand and pulling me along.

"Din I can't!"

I yelled over the crashing behind us, feeling my legs and eyelids getting heavier. I was exhausted. I hadn't slept in over 38 hours and we had been working all day. My body just couldn't keep up anymore.

"Keep going."

He said through what sounded like gritted teeth as he drug me around.

"Din."

I said softly, feeling my feet go out from under me, his hand slipping from mine as I hit the ground hard.

"Y/n!"

He yelled as my eyes closed. The last thing I felt was a gust of wind before everything went blank.

°°°°°°°°

More running. Except this time it was from a tall, dark, hooded figure. I couldn't quite make him out but he was chasing me. He was gaining on me, his hand outstretched as the sounds of gears grinding filled my brain. No. No. I wasn't being put under again. I couldn't take the pain anymore. No. Don't take me back. No. I can't do this again. Let go of me. Get off. Why won't you all listen? I don't want to go to war for you again. No. I just want to be normal again. Stop it. Let me go. No. No!

"LET GO!"

I yelled, jolting upright in bed, feeling my body drenched in sweat. It was then that I realized I had pushed din backwards away from me. He was stumbling back at the foot of the bed and we were somehow back at the inn. Everything was painted in the low glow of orange light and this was the first time I'd seen him without his helmet. But I knew it was him, he still had his other armor on. Then I realized. He looked scared. Was that because of me? I let out a staggered breath, one I didn't know I was holding, as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I closed my eyes for a second before snapping them back open and placing my head in my hands.

"I'm sorry."

He said, peaking my interest. His voice was harsh, like he'd been screaming too. I wonder if his throat burned like mine did.

"For what?"

I asked, barely above a whisper, now noticing I wasn't in the same clothes I had been in before. I sat upright, looking to my exposed arms, the metal and wires of my upper arm and shoulder shining under the tank top straps. I was mad but only for a second.

"I'm not sure."

He said a little lost and I laughed.

"I guess we know each other's secrets now."

I said looking from my arm to him. He sent me a small knowing smile, matching my own.

"Does it hurt?"

He asked, noting the irritated skin where the metal was attached both at my chest and my forearm. After they configured my new shoulder and upper arm they had reattached it to the metal. I inspected it as he moved to sit beside me.

"Sometimes."

I said softly and I could see pity flash across his face.

"Is that what you dream about?"

He asked, me looking around for my jacket. I nodded as I found it and slipped it on.

"Sometimes."

I said again.

"Is that what you where dreaming about this time?"

I sighed, sending him a look.

"yeah. They were hunting me, holding me down and bolting me back together."

He nodded once, clearing his throat.

"I see why you wanted them to let go."

He said and I laughed.

"It's not all bad I guess, I'm more ashamed than anything and I only dream about it when it hurts. Or I guess it hurts when I dream about it, I've never really figured out which it is."

"How did it happen?"

He asked, turning to face me and running his hand over my arm, tracing his finger tips lightly over the leather of my jacket and pushing the wires flat.

"I got shot by a battle droid, point blank. It completely blew out half my shoulder, chest, and arm. I was a soldier at the time, drafted, not willingly; and because I was one of the poorer soldiers they decided I was a perfect test subject for their new med team. I couldn't afford proper help and my forearm was barely holding on by a few tendons so they experimented on me. Sometimes I can still feel the pain of their needles digging into my skin and tacking my muscles to the metal."

I said, looking down at my hand, opening and closing it a few times.

"It took months to figure out how to use my hand again, after more poking and prodding, reattaching the nerves to more wires."

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut. There was a flash of white light and I could see the doctor clear as day, coming at me with a scalpel. I opened my eyes back up when I felt him hug me.

"I won't let them do that to you again."

He said softly and I froze, not sure what to do.

"Din-"

"I promise I'll keep you safe."

He whispered and my face fell. There was a long moment of silence like he needed this as much as I did but I finally hugged him back.

"Thank you for being a friend din."

I said and he nodded against me.

"I'll keep you safe."

He repeated and I could feel tears burning my eyes. No one had ever done anything like what he'd done for me in the few short months we'd been traveling together. Maybe this was it, this was what family felt like. I squeezed him tighter to me, digging my face into his neck and he let out a shaky breath.

"I'll always keep you safe."

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #308

“you don’t need treats, and you don’t need tricks, and you don’t need me.”

Middle name? Marie. Or Marie Catherine, if we're technical, but as someone who loooong left Catholicism and never even agreed with many aspects of it in the first place, I don't like to include it. If you're confused, there's a ceremony called Confirmation, and while I honestly don't even remember the details of it, you adopt the name of a saint you want to stand for, kinda. I chose Catherine just because I liked the name outta my other options. Democrat/republican/other? I classify myself as Independent because I really don't relate well enough to either, but I do know I'm becoming more and more liberal with time. Do you dress according to your mood? My mood? No. I dress with what I feel like wearing at that time, but my actual mood has nothing to do with it. Are you good at doing hair/make up? No. Are you always worried or stressed about something? 24/7, my friend. Can you swim? Yeah. Are you afraid of needles? I don't like them, but I'm not afraid of them. How many kids do you want? Zero. Long/short nails? I keep mine short. Do you like wearing hats? No. Does mall Santa Clauses or Easter bunnies freak you out? Nah, I loved seeing Santa as a kid. :') Would you consider yourself clumsy? I am RIDICULOUSLY clumsy. Do you like when a guy picks you up in his arms? In concept, but I ain't easy to pick up anymore lmao. Do you like hairless cats? I do!! Females, anyway, for... obvious reasons lol. Not having fur makes some things waaay too ~obvious~ otherwise. I would love a sphynx. Do you like the color yellow? No; it's actually one of my most disliked colors. Have you ever seen a cat have a hairball? Yeah. Have you ever had a tooth pulled? Not by a dentist, no, just by myself as a kid when I was losing my baby teeth. When someone says don’t look do you look? It depends on why they're telling me to not look. Have you ever played spin the bottle? No. If you had to name three important details about you, what would you say? I'm a very emotional person, I need a lot of "me" time, and to be aware of my social anxiety so not every interaction I have is perceived as just a dumpster fire. What are your three biggest insecurities? My creativity, my goddamn body, and my lack of social skills. If you could write anonymous letters to three people, who would you send it to and what would you say? Ummm. I can only think of people I miss and don't WANT to be anonymous... Favorite photo of yourself? A senior prom picture I don't have anymore. I looked so, so happy and fuck my low self-esteem, gorgeous. Who are you disappointed with right now? I'm like, permanently disappointed in myself lol. Would you date an 18-year-old at the age you are now? No. My minimum is 21. What question do you hate to answer? "Are you a virgin?" because it's just a confusing answer. It doesn't sound like one at all, but trust me on this. The subject of sex just makes me uncomfortable anyway, so even if I was confident in the answer, I wouldn't want to talk about it. What’s your most listened to song? I don't have a way of actually finding that out, but I'd say I've been listening to "ULTRAnumb" by Blue Stahli quite a lot lately. If you were a performing artist, what would you title your first album? I mean, I don't know. It would depend on what was going on in my life and head at the time. If someone told you you could give one person a present and your budget was unlimited–what present would you get and for whom? A nice car for Mom. She's had the same shitty car for yeeeeeaaaaarrrrrssssss now because she just can't afford a new one; hell, this one was free. A dance friend hit a deer, so the front of the car is messed up, and she bought a new one, but because the car itself was still functional, she gave it to my mom. Mom is so loved at the studio. The car just has various issues by this point, like trouble starting, accelerating, it's bumpy, etc., so it's way past time for a new one. Do you like licorice? NOOOOOOOOOO that's a big 'ole "ew." Have you ever visited your country’s capital city? No, but I've seen it from a distance when riding up to NY. When was the last time you were outdoors for over an hour? WOW. I couldn't even try to guess. What is the shortest amount of time you’ve lived somewhere? The house I was born into. I actually don't know how long Mom and Dad lived there, but I was only in that house as a very little baby. I have zero memories of it. What’s your favorite kind of mint? (Peppermint/wintergreen/spearmint/etc.) ... There's a difference? lol I guess peppermint? What was the last thing to frustrate you? I wanted to draw yesterday, but I didn't know what to draw to even get started. Have you ever been to a bachelor or bachelorette party? No. Did any of your family members serve in WWII? I don't believe so? Well... maybe my grampa did? I don't remember. What’s your favorite kind of salad? Gimme an Olive Garden salad and I will deadass eat the whole bowl. Are you more realistic or idealistic? I'd say I'm more realistic with most things. Are you currently borrowing something from someone? No. Is anyone currently borrowing anything from you? No. What is your last name’s heritage/country of origin? Ireland. When did you last buy a new pair of shoes? What kind? I got new flipflops a year or so back because my old Rainbows were so worn out and blackened my feet. Have you ever experienced culture shock while traveling? If so, where? No. Are you able to see the stars at night where you live? I actually haven't checked since moving here. We're in the suburbs though, so it's questionable. Do you include your middle initial in your signature? Not unless it's required, usually. I think. When's the last time I physically signed anything, anyway? What brand of computer do you have? It's an Acer Nitro. What operating system does that computer run? Windows 10. What’s the oldest piece of clothing that you still own and wear? I don't really know, given how much my weight has fluctuated. Went drastically up, went down, now it's back up. .-. I still own a handful of shirts I want to "shrink back into" from late HS and early college times, but yeah, I don't know if I'll actually achieve that. Is the area in which you live flat, hilly, or mountainous? Flat as my ass. What is your significant other or best friend’s ring tone? No one on my phone has a "special" ringtone. Where do you keep your hair brush? There's a comb I use in a drawer in the bathroom. Which pair of shoes have you owned the longest? Multiple pairs of Converse, also from high school. When’s the last time you were sick at the same time as someone else? I'm very happy to say I don't even recall the last time I was sick. My immune system is the fuckin GOAT. What did you have for breakfast this morning? A pb&j. We've got very little rn, but thankfully Mom's picking up our Wal-Mart order today. Last time you were in pain? If I'm standing, you can bet my legs hurt, so. What color is your mom’s hair? It's growing back totally gray now. Is that also your hair color? Well, no, I'm only 25. Do you watch any daily vloggers on YouTube? Who? No. I watch people who vlog occasionally, but not regularly. It's gotta be people I'm very into to really be interested in vlogs. What room of your house do you usually do your surveys in? Sigh, I'm always in my bedroom. Really hoping Mom and I muster up the motivation to clean up the extra room soon to turn it into my "dayroom" or "office," if you will. What do you put on your tacos? I hate tacos. What is your favorite stuffed animal and where did you get it? I have a bittersweet connection to the adorable plush meerkat Jason gave me for Valentine's our first year together; I always slept with it when we were together by apart, and for a year or so after the breakup. It was a source of comfort for me, so I'm really fond of it. Fella's fur is so worn out and matted down with age and lots of love. He's on my dresser now, towards the front of all my plushies. Last thing you hung up on your wall? My Illidan poster, I believe. Do you have a full length mirror? Yeah, on the back of my door. Is it currently raining? No, finally. It's been raining for like a fuckin week, it seems like. It's finally a clear day. It's nice to hear birds outside. Does anyone you live with talk in their sleep? Does this happen often? I'M the one doing the talking/screaming in my sleep. Thanks, nightmares. When was the last time you cried, or felt tearful? I'm not positive, but I know I had a pretty rough PTSD night not too long ago where I teared up. Did you wake up with a song stuck in your head today? What was it? Ohhh yes; I've been listening to Mother Mother's "Ghosting" on repeat because it's jammed up there. When was the last time you used moisturiser or lotion of some kind? Not too long ago on my hands. They get dry this time of year, and besides, I wash my hands a lot nowadays especially. What was the last thing you owned, that was accidentally broken or damaged? Were you able to get it fixed? My laptop, and yes. Tell me about the last dream you recall having. Was it weird, amusing, etc. So this is pretty wild. I know I had a nightmare last night, but I don't remember it; the night before, however, I had a nightmare about a possibly rabid and ginormous rat (I mean like, smaller dog sized) in the house and trying to bite me. It was SUPER weird, because I was actually afraid of it, yet I absolutely adore rats in real life. What was the last video you watched on YouTube? I've really gotten into John Wolfe (a let's player) lately, and I'm going through his The Evil Within playthrough. Do your parents use any social media at all? My mom has a Facebook, and hilariously, Dad has a Snapchat to talk with my sister Nicole. He has no clue what he's doing with it and it's adorable, haha. Mom also has a Twitter, but she doesn't use it. Is there anyone in your life who regularly asks how your day has been? Regularly, no. I've always been that person, especially in the WoW guild I'm in. I'm very close and comfortable with them and ask how everyone's doing any time I log on. Lovely people who give me some social interaction every day. Tell me something positive about the day you've had. It's still early, but once again, it's pretty and bright outside. Why do you prefer Facebook over MySpace, because I know you do? Ha, you'd be incorrect. MySpace was more personal, so I actually preferred it. But it's obviously long-dead, so I just settle with Facebook. Have you read the Pretty Little Liars series? No. My sister looooves it, though. What product do you use to moisturize your lips? I don't remember, actually... It's in my purse somewhere. When did you start using Xanga? I never have. Be honest, do you judge people on their appearance? Judge, I don't think so. I can make assumptions like everyone else, but I'm not gonna think someone is beneath me just by their attire. Do you know anyone who does not like The Beatles? Me. At least, most songs. "Hey Jude" is good, but everyone agrees with that, haha. Did you have a friend in middle school that you’re now enemies with in high school? I'm long since out of HS. I had a middle school friend who I disconnected with following a fight in high school, but we weren't "enemies," and we reunited our senior year anyway. Aaaaand we're not friends anymore once again lmao. What is one thing you hope your children don’t inherit from you? If I hypothetically wanted kids, God knows I'd hope they wouldn't have my psychological issues. Do you think you’ll be married in 10 years? It'd be nice, anyway. What type of foundation do you wear? None. Who’s the most controlling person you know? Someone I'm no longer friends with, partially because of this. Do males look good in skinny jeans? Yep. Are you for or against guyliner? Ugggghhhhh guyliner makes me weak in the knees. How many jobs have you had? Where do you currently work? Three; nowhere. Who did you last hit? Um, nobody??? What way of self-care do you enjoy the most and what feels more like an obligation? I enjoy my alone time on the computer as the best self-care, especially after being social all day; I don't, however, enjoy the act of performing hygiene care. I still do it, it's just not fun. The feeling afterwards is great, though. Have you ever tried specific diet plans or fads? What made you do it and how did it turn out for you? I was briefly using NutriSystem, which didn't work for me. I hated too much of the food. More recently I stuck with flexible dieting and calorie counting for a while, but I drifted from it when I still lost no fucking weight in like a month. I want to get back to it, though... oh, and intermittent fasting. I don't think it really worked for me yet again, even though I did it correctly, but that and the aforementioned flexible dieting is all I feel like I can handle. I guess I just have to give it longer. Do you know anyone who has been directly affected by COVID-19 e.g. testing positive, losing a loved one, or their job due to the pandemic? Too many people I know have had it or had someone they loved die because of it. Take this shit seriously. Is there a kind of music you only prefer listening to during specific type of activities that you otherwise wouldn’t enjoy under normal circumstances (e.g. EDM while doing sports or instrumental music while studying, etc.)? No; I have to actually enjoy the music. If you had to start a YouTube channel and motivations/skills/resources/any other inhibiting factors weren’t an issue, what would it be about? Either animal (preferrably reptiles) education or let's plays, ig. Has anything ever happened to you that if you told someone about, they would think you’re making it up? I don't believe so. What travel destination or popular spot have you been to that you found overrated? What about a lesser known place that you thought was a hidden gem? I really don't know; I haven't traveled nearly enough for this.

[tussive]

I don’t care anymore.  I used to have some type of social relevance in my act, and there was a point where I really gave a shit about stuff to a point where it was ruining my life.  And I guess like 10 years ago I thought well, yeah, you know, I’m gonna change the world. I’m gonna talk about stuff. In 20 years of comedy, I’ve probably had a dozen good points that I reflect on and go, “That was actually a really Fucking good piece, and it really, it had a point that made sense.”  But that whole changing the world thing never really kicked in.  The revolution I was starting where I thought I could yell at 200 people in a bar every night and change the world, yeah, it’d didn’t quite happen like Egypt or Syria.  Yeah.  And it’s frustrating, because you do a bit and then you’d go, “Oh, that’s a fucking really good-” and then it just appears, the problem is still there.  And someone will say, “Oh, abortion is back in the news.”  And you go, “Why?  I already solved that on a 2004 release.  How can it possibly still exist?  I’ve yelled at thousands of drunk people about that.  Maybe I’ll rewrite it and repackage it.”  It gets frustrating as shit where you’re like, I don’t care.  Fuck it.  Fuck everyone. It’s as frustrating as if you lived in a world full of starving people where occasionally you could point out food that no one else seemed to notice, for a living.  Where you go on stage and you’d go, “Did you ever notice there’s a plate of nachos right over there?”  And people would go, “Oh, he’s so right, there is a plate of nachos.  I never noticed that.”  But instead of eating them, they shove them up their noses and assholes for entertainment value and get no nutrition out of it even though they’re fucking starving to death. And it’s not just the audience or the world, even my own social circle, people who fucking, “Doug, you know, what you said about gay marriage, that was right on the money.  Marriage itself is an antiquated institution.  It has no place in a progressive society.  It has nothing that anyone needs to do.  I’m still getting married on Saturday, though, cause Janice doesn’t really get your act.  She doesn’t think you’re funny, so we’re getting married. [pouring beer in eye]  But it’s a really good point, though. “And what you said, that one thing you said, overpopulation.  You’re right, Doug.  You’re not really funny anymore, but you’re right.  What you said about overpopulation, most of the world’s problems are based on overpopulation.  There’s just too many goddamn people.  We’re still gonna have the baby, cause Janice’s biological clock is ticking, and plus, we live in a gated community.  It’s not really overpopulation if you can afford to send them to a Montessori School, is my take.  But it’s right, what you’re doing is a good thing, and you should keep doing it, and don’t die on us. "What you said about drugs, you’re right on the money, Doug.  Drugs, I never thought of it like that.  It’s a private property issue, all drugs should be legal cause your body is your own private property.  You own your own meat.  If you own nothing else in the world, you own the fucking meat that’s packing your bones.  Yeah, so all drugs, yeah, it doesn’t matter what it is.  Drugs, put a fucking needle in your arm, tattoo yourself, pierce yourself, fucking eat cheese sandwiches, throw cheese sandwiches down your top hatch until you’re so fat you have to pay for two seats on Southwest Airlines.  That’s your prerogative, cause you own your own meat, do whatever you want to it.  Drink yourself silly.  You find something living rent free in your uterus?  Evict that motherfucker.  This is private property.  There’s no squatter’s rights, pay rent or quit.  "That’s a good point Doug, drugs should be your own prerogative, whatever it is.  Huffing a gassy rag, that’s what you wanna do.  Except for heroin, cause that’s what killed Hedberg.  That’s why we really need the federal government to come in and stop this.  And I can’t understand why I’m so fucking thirsty all the time! [pouring beer into nose, ear, and eye]  You’re so right.  You’re so right.  I just don’t listen.  I just don’t listen.” So I just don’t give a shit anymore.  That’s what I do for a living, I try to write more fistfuck jokes and enjoy myself more.  It doesn’t matter.  We ain’t winning shit.  I got to a point where, like my act was making my entire life miserable where it’s just…and it’s still not good, but it’s, I just hate everything and fuck it.  It’s so dumb.  Doesn’t anyone see how dumb this is?  Like some people go, “Isn’t the world a crazy place?”  And they’re fine with that.  And I’m like, “This is fucked up.  This is really fucked up.  We’re like Dark Ages people and I’m not even smart.  And that’s the most terrifying part, when you realize I’m not even a bright person, but I’m still probably in the top 3% of the smartest people on this planet and I’m pretty fucking dumb.  And you go, "How alone are we?”  And then you go, “I don’t give a shit.”  At one point, you go, “I’m 44.  I’m way closer to dead than I am life of the party.  And I don’t have children, so why am I getting so enraged about all this nonsense?  I don’t care.  I don’t care getting all upset about the fucking planet.  I’m gone pretty soon.  I left no litter behind.  That’s your problem.  I’m treating this planet like the fucking rental car that it is and I’m turning it in trashed with a bumper hanging off.  Fuck your insurance.  Fuck the environment, I didn’t ask to be here.  Someone created me.  Yes, I know that’s a selfish thing.  It’s a selfish thing.  But you know what?  I’ve cared about other stuff and yeah, me not caring about stuff will affect it as much as me caring about stuff, which is none.

Doug Stanhope

[kaz3313]

Hell is in the Ink Machine

Chapter 3 and not close to being done (this story was originally going to be 5 chapters lol)

@a-rae-of-sunshine thank you for all the support you've given to me and for inspiring to create this!

Also I added a few Ocs that I just meant them to be a one time use kind but I might actually expand on them (and make versions of them out of this AU!)

As always TW violence/gore

(PS I live for reblogs and comments and tags and you can just key smash and it will warm my heart. So thanks to all those that have done any of those things or all of them I appreciate it)

Screaming is never a good sign especially in accordance with Henry’s new violent tendencies.

Wally closes his eyes hearing the screech. He’d made it to a vent and was planning on leaving the place through it. Henry made no attempt to join him, just aimlessly walked away, and for once Wally felt he’d be able to escape.

But that scream...it sounds a lot like Miss. Campbell...how could he leave her if she is in trouble? Wally is the only one Henry wouldn’t attack outright he should stay with him to keep him in line.

 Though why should he? He’s barely twenty-three and he shouldn’t have to babysit a man who in an instant could kill.

The moral dilemma sits in his mind like a stomach full of food poisoning. Susie is one of the nicest people he knew; the two would gossip, eat, and even go shopping together (Both Shawn and Sammy poked fun at him for it. Wearing clothes he knew he could never afford was always fun to him it felt like an adult game of dress up).  When she was new to being a voice actress at the studio Wally would always encourage her. The two even did funny voices together to pass the time on slow days (though Wally half the time only exaggerated his voice). He left Tom and Alison without a second thought and even if neither were hurt he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Wally sighs but his mind is already made up.

 Sammy’s vision still is sinking in darkness when he manages to crawl to his office. His body yells in protest as he forces himself to his knees scrambling in one of his drawers. He pulls out an extra pair of pants and shirt he saves in case of an ink leak. Instead of a usual new stain of ink on the old clothes splotches of red show on the grey fabric. His fingers tremble as he attempts to tie both articles to his chest.

The loss of blood finally makes a bigger impact as the world wobbles but Sammy tries to counter it with rhythmic breathing and sheer will. Luckily he’s stubborn enough to stay conscious as he scoots his way to the office phone. He dials the police department’s number but nothing-not even dial tone- answers his call. Suddenly he realizes the lines dead and drops the phone emitting a small whimpering noise. Out of all the days-

His half broken thoughts are interrupted by the scream echoing through the studio. The voice seems so familiar but Sammy can’t place it. Not that he needs to he sends silent empathy to whatever poor soul is caught in line with the axe and the man behind it.

He swallows again not knowing what to do. He assumes either everyone in the art department is dead or unaffected; Henry doesn’t seem to have any in betweens. If there is alive people he could do his best to explain but...well the dead have to use Not only that but Sammy isn’t too sure how long he'll last with the pain he’s forced to endure. Stairs seem unpleasant and time consuming at the moment.

Now he can always travel downward but the chance of encountering Henry again was high. Then again it would be a better chance to find alive people then the animation department.

The exit is in the animation department though he could escape, collapse in the road, and someone may be a kind Samaritan to bring him to the hospital. If he leaves though the studio will be,without warning or mercy, in the hands of Henry.

He closes his eyes to better consideration unknowingly he’d fall under the ever present threat of a restless sleep.

 Shawn hears the scream as clear as day and as much as he’d love to run to be hero he fears he’s too late. Last he knew Susie was I an unsuspecting storage room with shelves to block the door but based on the scream and a gut feeling Shawn guesses she didn’t stay there long.

 He stares at his desk knowing the selfishness of grabbing his stuff in case he needed to leave quickly rather than looking and helping people out beforehand. He reasons with himself that he can’t help anyone if he’s dead as well as reasons that if he has no money he might as well be dead.

A familiar whistle fills his ears as his head pokes up seeing the wandering man in the department. Shawn recognizes him instantly.

Henry; Head to toe he’s covered in dried blood and from lack of apparent wounds Shawn guesses it it’s not his own. He whistles the theme of the cartoon and Shawn remembers he’s the whistler for the theme. That fact does little for him at the moment of the approaching murderer. He quickly shoves himself beneath his desk searching for anything that could be of use to defend himself. All he can find is a sewing needle that he holds like one would hold a pocket knife.

Henry walks slowly and begins to mess with the machines that fill the room. He stuffs then takes out plushies with a mad sort of daze in his eyes. Henry flips switches on and flips them off before turning to the time clock. He repeatedly punches in a time card while muttering phrases under his breath. Although these actions could just seem a little odd Shawn is terrified.

After a few minutes of Henry doing virtually nothing he walks over to Shawn’s desk the Irish man still under. Henry stands staring at Shawn but makes no move toward him. Almost like he can’t see. Shawn breathes out; whatever is in this man’s vision it definitely wasn’t him.

“Don’t even notice me, do ya? You’re in ya own world, ain’t ya? Well at least I’m not there,” Shawn states and Henry tilts his head to the side. “Can ya here me? Do you know where the noise coming fr-“ Shawn feels a pit develop in his stomach as Henry raises his hand. His father always told him not keeping his mouth shut would kill him; Shawn never thought much about the warning.

Henry places a hand on the other’s head and waits. Minutes pass and Shawn feels sweat form on his face. Something more had to happen right? The man is just waiting to kill him? Is he just drawing it out.

Nothing.

Henry leaves; Shawn realizes his opportunity missed but can’t seem to blame himself. There's something otherworldly about the animator. Something that terrifies Shawn even more than anything else.

Screaming and running is a very stereotypical thing for ladies to do but for once Susie decides that it’s not the time to be a groundbreaking women. No, all Susie wants to do is scream and run and cry into Sammy and be held and-

 With all her heart she just wants to be saved and out of this hell. Quickly she finds a large room and barricades herself in breathing heavily. The room she noticies has another glass window and it looks about the same as the last one; why is everything down here so confusing?She sinks to the floor holding her legs to her chest and burying her head in her knees.

“Woah, Boris don’t scare me like that,” Wally jumps just hearing the older man’s voice. He manages a smile out of noticing the twisted irony. He would love to know why he’s always referred to as Boris but hey as long as “You found a weapon buddy?” Henry plucks the pipe Wally has out of his hands.

“That- it’s not yours Henry,” but he just swings it around no desire to give the new item up. “Please, you been calling me buddy and everything. I’ll keep it safe for you,” Even with asking nothing happens and Henry ventures on. Not wanting to leave him too his own devices Wally follows along.

 Henry feels sick to his stomach as he grips the pipe tighter in his hand. The world around him a blend of cartoons and reality. His mind is muddled with memories but a sinking feeling in his chest told him something is off. Something off with the studio closing down, with him leaving, and the ink machine. He couldn’t get his timeline straight but he presses forward hoping an answer would provide itself at the end of his adventure.

His adventure full of ink and horrors no one should live through. At least Boris has joined him; otherwise it would be a rather lonely road.

“Where are you?” These question drifted to his head a few times previously. He was in the hellish Joey Drew Studio in the toy department.

“What are you doing?” Obviously trying to get out; too bad all the falling just lead to his spiral downward.

“Why are you attacking?” The ink creatures were attacking him! He has to defend himself.

“Why have you let your mind succumb to the Ink Machine?” This thought leaves him in a curious wonder. It’s an odd scary thought but something in him resonates with him...but not for long.

They encountered a room full of dead Borises; how horrific.

Wally is forced to see the horrific beginning of the massacre. As soon as he walks in the room full of people he knows bad things are to come. None of them suspected a thing. Wally tries to shout out, a desperate attempt to give them any warning but it was too late. Henry is already coming toward them so without a word Wally swiftly leaves.

Screaming, crying, begging, chaos that Wally decides he won’t experience  experience again. Even if his own mind berates that he’s a coward, at least he’s going to live. A guilty conscious is better than no concious.

Daisy Patch has worked, in the toy department, at Joey Drew Studios for a little over month. It isn’t bad job to say the least nice people, paid enough to provide for herself, and all she has to do is make dolls sometimes even getting the benefit of taking one home when Shawn botches the smiles on them. Her own small smile creeps on her lips thinking of the Irish man. She already knew he wouldn’t be interested in her, well he wasn’t interested in any gal, but a girl could dream. Dream she did and keep all the dolls he gave to her. Daisy always reminded herself that he gave the plushies to everyone, not everyone but anyone who was halfway decent, but the thrill of getting a gift from a crush always gave her the blushes. Or when he greeted her, or when he asked for her to bring some message to another. or when she much delivered his love letters written in Irish to Wally; she read them like they were her own but who wouldn’t?

 Speaking of Wally she just saw him dart out of the room when- her eyes widen as she notices the man covered in blood in the doorway. Her coworker,Stephan, stands up about to say something to the man but he strikes him with a pipe. Stephan shouts and the rest of the toymakers begin to panic. Daisy can’t bring herself to leave her seat and watches the mass of bodies run around like chicken with their heads cut off. Blood man is meticulously striking them down with his blunt tool.

Worker after worker falls; he beats them to unconsciousness and hits them a few more times, whether good measure or insanity Daisy isn't sure. Blood fell to the floor and many people along with it.

Stephan, who's closest to her, lays on the floor unmoving. Blood runs down his face and is matted in his blond hair. Daisy scoots from her chair to the floor beside him.

"Stephan?" She gently pulls at her friend's clothes but he doesn't stirr. He won't stir will he?

Daisy stares at the dead man pondering morality and wondering why she hadn't screamed from this morbid sight. Why she fails to cry; instead she sifts her fingers through his hair not noticing that all her other coworkers have fallen. She doesn't even notice the murderer right behind her. Not until with the pipe connects with the back of her head.

[ofstvtches]

ROCKY LYNCH,  MASCULINE NB,  HE/HIM & THEY/THEM.  —  looks  like  SAMHAIN SKELLINGTON is  attending  AURORIA  UNIVERSITY  in  auradon.  they're  the  TWENTY  year  old  child  of  JACK & SALLY SKELLINGTON,  which  means  they're  from  THE ISLE.  heard  they're  NURTURING  &  GENTLEMANLY,  but  can  also  be  INFLEXIBLE  &  SELF-PITYING  ;  we  all  have  our  bad  days.  people  normally  associate  them  with  SEWING NEEDLES REPAIRING A BROKEN DOLL , A BAG FULL OF BANDAGES, TRYING SO HARD TO BE TOUGH WHEN YOU’RE SOFT , SOFT HAIR HELD BACK WITH A BAT-SHAPED PIN.

                    ❛  when you saw that little girl , and she was in the sandbox                            and she was crying , and you gave her your toy truck and                            I told you we couldn’t afford to get another one. you said ,                          ‘ she should have it because she’s sad. she’s sad , mommy. ’ ❜                            playlist. pinterest. to listen as you read.

lol u guessed it it’s me , again , by unpopular demand - i am so sorry. third muse already bc i can’t keep myself away from playing absolute CINNAMON ROLLS so that’s what u can expect from sam w/ a pumpkin spice twist. bc nightmare is my absolute favorite movie and ... halloween, motherfuckers. so as usual this will PROBABLY end up long bc i love writing sam so much so yeah , more below ! 

HISTORY 

So as we know , Jack & Sally were sent to the Isle w/ the rest of Halloweentown for trying to steal Christmas ! And unlike Christmas , Samhain was not born in Halloweentown. In fact , he wasn’t even born - he was made. 

Magic wasn’t a huge thing on the Isle - but a resource of science was Dr. Finkelstein , and despite the limited resources and technology on the Isle , the couple begged the mad scientist to create another child for them. And from Sally , it took a lot of convincing , but Jack was able to talk him into it. 

It took even more of an effort to pull off , again considering the state of the Isle. But a good few months into the project and Jack & Sally were greeted with the cries of a tiny ragdoll baby boy. Keeping up with the holiday themed names , he was named Samhain - Sam for short. 

He grew with multiple touch-ups from the doctor to simulate an actual boy growing up - every year , a check-up making him taller , stronger , etc. And in that process he started to look more and more like his mother , with her big eyes and stitched smile and patchwork clothes. But he grew up loved by his brother & parents - though it never quelled the fact he always wanted... more.

He was loved , he was coddled , and as sheltered as a child could be on the Isle. So , much like his mother , he took a habit of sneaking out frequently and trying to fit in with the other Isle kids , even though he knew he didn’t. 

He just wanted to fit in. That was it. And it started off with him wearing large hoods and heavy clothes to hide the stitches on his body as well as masks to cover facial stitches. And while some other Isle kids found him odd and sticking out like a sore thumb , some found him cool. Some found him interesting. But nobody really knew what he was hiding - and it added mystery to someone so NICE , because Sam’s overall sweetness could rival that if sugar’s. 

Curiosity only reached dangerous points though when Sam snuck out on night to camp out with friends - and when everyone else was asleep , one removed his mask , and of COURSE did Samhain immediately wake up. He didn’t stay to see the reaction of the other when revealing his stitches , too afraid that he’d be seen as scary or repulsive for what he was. And he ran. He ran back home , locking himself in his room , and those friends he routinely hung out with . . . well , he didn’t talk to them much after that. Because what if they knew , now ?? What would they think ??

Villain & Auradon kids coming together was a new chance for Sam to try and fit in - be more in his element. He was immediately acquainted with a magic-practicing individual ( could be an AK or a VK - this’ll be a wc ) who struck a deal with him to offer him glamours so he could look less scary. Of course , these glamours would have to be applied and would wear off until the next application , but it’d make him feel more comfortable - even though he WOULD technically be hiding who he is.

While Christmas , the elder sibling , would be sticking around in Auradon Prep , Samhain would prefer to move immediately to Auroria University to try and figure out who exactly he wanted to be , and how he could do that. Currently he’s majoring in Nursing , given he’s always had a rather NURTURING and charitable nature - never turning down someone else’s request to help.

CHARACTER & FACTS 

So lemme get this one thing out of the way bc if I don’t I’ll be itching about it - but all my resources for ( the love of my life ) Rocky were made by me , and while they’re all from multiple eras from both R5 & TDE , I imagine Sam to resemble how Rocky looks around the post-Louder , Heart Made Up On You & Sometime Last Night eras ( basically from like 2013-2015 ). Here , here , & here for some references. I’m nOT DONE GIFFING THOUGH bc frankly I find giffing him therapeutic.

Now I don’t have a drawn reference or anything for this next part so we’re gonna have to use our imagination here but unglamoured , Sam basically looks like his mom in terms of the fact he’s a little ragdoll baby. Putting on a glamour doesn’t change his appearance much save for the fact the stitches disappear and he looks more human. 

The glamour is an enchanted bat charm he wears around his neck that can also be used as a hairtie. And it has to be refreshed every so often , so he has to keep going back to whoever provided him with it so it doesn’t lose its effect.

He still has a backup mask just in case , and he’s been practicing with makeup if need be.

Personality-wise , the best one can describe Sam as is sweet and polite. I included tht Stranger Things quote at the beginning 4 a rEASON bc he’s honestly such a sweet kid and will give anything to anyone.

And also bc I imagine Sally as Joyce mom-wise so yEAH bt I digress.

He knows his manners and treats everyone with the UTMOST amount of respect , which makes it extremely easy to get along with him . He’s also maybe a tad bit too giving for his own good , since it’s incredibly easy to use that to one’s advantage and he’s so inclined to believe people have the best intentions. An optimist , even if it’s to a fault. And then when he gets hurt he just sits to the side feeling sorry for himself like “ :’’’(. ”

Now when I say he’s inflexible , I mean that Sam is a very ORGANIZED person who likes things to be done a certain way - like , he can never do anything without a plan , and if even something slightly goes out of what the plan pertains of , he panics. He’s a goody-goody and he’s afraid to break the rules , which is why he’s still hesitant to even do things with the friends who are more “ bad ” than he is.

Everything has to be done BY THE BOOK and if it isn’t then something is bound to go wrong and Sam’s too worried about that happening.

He’s also incredibly insecure about his appearance but I think I’ve hammered in that fact enOUGH ALREADY

But if he takes his glamour off in front u that’s like. A Major sign of trust. So beware.

Again as I mentioned he tries to hang out with kids with the lesser reputations because :

1.) He wants to give them a chance

2.) He wants to make sure they have a friend to look after them

and 3.) He’s so used to trying to fit in with the other Isle kids that he’s trying to be ‘bad’ himself but it never works out bc he’s so sweet and he can dress in skinny jeans and leather and shit as much as he wants but at the end of the day he’s still Sweet Lil’ Samhain. 

One thing he’s always had a fascination with would be angels - he’s always believed in them , always though he’s had his own guardian angel watching over him somewhere , he’s always loved the idea of them. He has lots of angel decorations around his dorm as well as ornaments and stuff for the holidays. It’s also pure irony that he just so happens to be just as angelic in nature.

He’s also a big holiday person like the rest of his family and loves helping to decorate for events and stuff !!

One of his greatest talents is his ability to play both the piano & violin , and he’ll often do that if there’s a piano in common areas or so on. He’s also a talented singer , but he’s so used to putting that to the side , making him lack confidence in his voice.

i v much encourage u to listen to the song i linked i find his voice so....soothing.

Like his mom he’s also very good at cooking , sewing , etc. !! Often has to stitch himself back together if he gets hurt - you know , Sally style. 

More basic facts are that his final height clocks in at 6′4 , he’s homoromantic homosexual , and identifies as masculine non-binary who doesn’t really care how you address him. He’s very chill. And sometimes he has to walk with a cane of sorts if his stitches are loose or if his legs are feeling especially weak.

but yeah that’s it on that end !!!

WANTED CONNECTIONS

So obviously - the person who provided him with the glamour. Only requirement is that ur character’s good at magic or something of that sort.

AND ALSO - I’d love the person who initially removed his mask !! Sam didn’t stick around to see them react to how he truly looked , so it’s all up to you on how this character feels. But he’s avoided them since that scenario.

Also , his group of friends around the time that scenario happened on the Isle. Maybe they’re a little more rough around the edges than him , but this group was always tight-knit. And then Sam lightning mcghosted bc he wasn’t sure if now they knew what he really was.

Ppl who think his whole sweet thing is fAKE bc we know it isn’t but it’s so easy to THINK it is.

Also would love some folks he routinely cares for maybe in the aspect of like. Bein their shoulder to cry on. Patching up a wound. Just being There for them. 

Folks who in general just wanna know more abt him bc he is kind of a mystery !!

Would lOVE sb who his glamour wears off in front of and he begs them to keep his secret but instead they want him to try n be more comfortable w/ himself and who he is. Bc he’s a cute ragdoll let’s b honest he just. Doesn’t see himself that way. 

Ppl who Sam crushed on at the Isle and deffo broke his heart bc life just b like that sometimes 

Also present day folks who r just ready to break his heart bc again thats so easy to do

also once more i’m open 2 ANYTHINNNNNNG sam is my Baby(tm) and i’d lov any plots thrown his way !! will probs make another wc page for him like i’ve done w/ luke and am in the process of doing w/ trixie !!