#I don't think I want them to go /dark/ to do it - as much as I love the trope of like... LI pulling their S/O out of a Feral Haze

[gffa]

I'm going to climb up on a new hill to die on: I THINK PALPATINE'S PLAGUEIS STORY IS 100% MADE UP BULLSHIT. If you discount supplementary material created by other authors, the only thing we know about Plagueis is that speech Palpatine gives at the bubble opera, one we already know is designed to manipulate Anakin, but watching Revenge of the Sith in the theater again, thinking about how Anakin will later parrot Palpatine's words exactly--I realized, oh, it's not just a story being used to manipulate Anakin, I think it's a story created to manipulate Anakin, right where Palpatine wants him. It's a story about a Sith lord who learns how to make people stop dying. A Sith Lord who wants to stop his loved ones from dying. We know Palpatine doesn't actually know how to do this--the movie seems to imply that Palpatine was Plagueis' apprentice, but I'm not so sure. Palpatine says that Plagueis taught his apprentice everything--which would include the saving people bit--but Palpatine doesn't know how to save people, he says that he and Vader will discover it together and Anakin doesn't go, "Hey, wait, I thought you were supposed to know this!", which throws unreliability onto Palpatine's story already. There's a lot Palpatine is doing in this movie to manipulate Anakin very specifically--he puts Anakin on the Council, knowing they will ask him to spy on the Chancellor and even "guesses" it before Anakin can say anything at the opera, that he suggests Anakin should be the one to go to Utapau knowing that the Council will vote for a more experienced Master, he reveals himself to Anakin knowing that Anakin will tell them and be forced to choose, he tells Anakin the Plagueis story knowing that Anakin fears Padme's death (he is likely aware of Anakin's emotions about this, being an evil psychic space wizard himself) and sets it up so that it's the perfect bait. The conversation in ROTS goes:

Palpatine: "Remember back to your early teachings. All who gain power are afraid to lose it. Even the Jedi." Anakin: "The Jedi use their power for good." Palpatine: "Good is a point of view, Anakin. The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way... including their quest for greater power." Anakin: "The Sith rely on their passion for their strength. They think inwards- only about themselves." Palpatine: "And the Jedi don't?" Anakin: "The Jedi are selfless. They only care about others." Palpatine: "Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise? I thought not. It's not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend. Darth Plagueis was a dark lord of the Sith... so powerful and so wise... he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians... to create... life. He had such a knowledge of the dark side... he could even keep the ones he cared about... from dying." Anakin: "He could actually... save people from death?" Palpatine: The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities... some consider to be unnatural." Anakin: "What happened to him?" Palpatine: "He became so powerful... the only thing he was afraid of was... Iosing his power. Which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew. Then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. It's ironic. He could save others from death... but not himself." Anakin: "Is it possible to learn this power?" Palpatine: "Not from a Jedi."

This entire conversation is a set-up to make Anakin think that it's not selfish to change his views, because it's just exactly as Anakin says the Jedi are selfless and only care about others that he starts the Plagueis story about this legendary Sith who just cared so much about his loved ones that he learned how to stop them from dying. But, oh, he couldn't stop himself from dying, he was only thinking of others! Not himself! Throughout the movie Palpatine is manipulating Anakin's thoughts so that Anakin will think in exactly the lines of thought that Sidious wants him to. ("Good is a point of view, Anakin." --> "From my point of view, the Jedi are evil!", "You know I'm not able to rely on the Jedi Council. If they haven't included you in their plot, they soon will." --> "I should have known the Jedi were plotting to take over!" Etc.) So when he wants Anakin to really consider using the dark side, he tells him a story about this mysterious Sith Lord who just wanted to save his loved ones, not himself, just those he cared about. It's the perfect way to give Anakin an excuse to take that first step that doesn't seem so bad, so against everything he knows is right, and think that it's okay if it's for someone else. It's not because he's so scared to lose someone he loves that he'll make a deal with the devil, no, he's just thinking of others, the ones he loves. The story is so perfectly designed to appeal to Anakin at this moment in time and so incongruent with everything else we know about Sith Lords and how the dark side works (the dark side is not a path to anything good), that I think it's 100% made up bullshit, just like everything Palpatine says to Anakin in this movie is a set-up to direct Anakin's thoughts where he wants them.

[muntitled]

Rabid

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Fem!Reader

Summary: You've figured if you paid him, then your debts would be settled and maybe... just maybe he'd let you go

Warnings: Language, Dom!Seongje, Gangsterism, Bullied!Reader, Angst, Neglect, Coercion, Bullying, Extortion, Absent Parents, Violence, Smut +18 (mdni), Sadomasochism, Sadist!Seongje, Fingering, Dark fic, Dubious consent, Exhibitionism, Desperate Sex, Humiliation, Degradation

A/N: Comissioned by @tojii11 ... as always I'm not responsible for the media you consume.

Since you've known him as of late, lying has become almost as voluntary as breathing. It should scare you, how fluidly a lie slips past the confines of your lips. Making you more and unrecognizable to even your own self.

"I'm tutoring late tonight."

"I’m studying at the library,"

“I'm having dinner with a friend.”

You didn't have many of those. Had your parents been the caring type they might have known that friends were a luxury you could not afford.

Still, it bothered you that you were making excuses for him. You were helping yourself get extorted everytime you stole for him and everytime you didn't let a living soul know.

The first few times were as difficult as it ever got. But the more you were forced to work for him, the more he corrupted you-the more that infection spread until it became all you were.

"What do you need that much money for anyway?" You squeeze your phone tighter with one hand while the other sits in your blazer pocket. You maintain a calm, controlled gait as you walk out of the school gates, surrounded by your peers dressed in the same uniform walking in clumps of groups- little ecosystems that they formed to help manage their anxieties. You wish you had their problems: Boys. Makeup. Parties.

You wish you had your own little ecosystem. A group who'd be more concerned with strengthening your mental health, not deteriorating it.

"You think school trips to Bali are gonna be cheap?" It was always easier to lie to her over the phone or through text. There was something biting in your mother's eyes that you couldn't always face. Something that would eat you alive if she found out you've been working for the kind of people you're working for.

"Backtrack on the attitude," her words snipe you through the receiver like barbed wire, "It's just strange that they're organizing a field trip in the height of your assignments like this..."

"It's an incentive I guess. They're telling us about it now for extra motivation to see this exam season through.." lies lies and more lies. Your mouth is full of them.

"I don't know if I want you to be thinking about a trip to Bali during all this work... have you been improving?"

There was no improvement with her. Only perfection. She tried your whole life to wipe you squeaky clean until you were spotless. If only she knew that over the past year you've acquired a spot almost impossible to scrub away. He's irremovable. Or at least you thought he was...

"When did you say your field trip was? Perhaps your father and I will tag along, make a family vacation out of it. We never see you anymore because you're always studying and Bali is lovely all-year round-" while your mother talks, your heart sinks and panic festers. You try to focus your steps on making it across the road, down a path you've walked all year.

"Mom, please don't be embarrassing."

"How am I being embarrassing?"

"You'll be the only parent there." Above you, the afternoon sun sits snugly against the horizon, guiding you down a decrepit lane. Stray cats and empty soju bottles litter the street the farther you walk from the safety of the school grounds. You're getting closer and you needed her to send the money.

"It's my money. I can do with it as I please."

You scramble your brain, searching furiously for a lifeline.

"It's just..." More and more lies, "This trip is actually just Geo-camp. Our teachers planned a few cave explorations. We're gonna check out the different stalactites and stalagmites-your presence might hinder my concentration-"

In the distance, the warehouse looms and your fist in your blazer pocket begins to coil.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place instead of wasting my time?” Your mother tsks, “I've sent the money to your account."

"Thank you ma'am..."

The call ends abruptly, void of any warmth. Void of any love. You pull your phone away from your ear and your nerves settle as you see the money reflecting. You suddenly feel bigger than this warehouse- bigger than life itself- like you're armed and ready to take on anything this rabid dog might throw at you.

You tilt your head back to watch the clouds disappear behind the iron roof and you steal your nerves. Word on the street is that this place once belonged to Baek Jin before his untimely disappearance. Until, naturally, a wolf came in and marked it as his own...

The nearer you get to the slightly opened door, the clearer the sound becomes: You hear the sound of a broken man groaning and your body has a visceral reaction. By now you recognize the sound of a fist slamming against human flesh and bone. You know what that sounds like and it haunts you through those quiet moments at night when it was just you and your memories. You fight the urge to stop walking, something in you tugging and begging to just walk away. It's either this or remain a slave for the rest of your foreseeable future.

That thought is enough to have you sucking in one final breath of air before waltzing into the warehouse. It's dark, the air damp and stuffy with little to no circulation. Despite the location, the interior is somewhat tidy and were it not for the man kneeling and bleeding on the floor, you might have thought the place fitting for any dignified bachelor.

“I didn't expect to see you today,” Seongje addresses you the moment you step in. His fist is paused in mid air and it's pulled back as if you'd just saved the man on the floor from experiencing one final blow.

He smiles at you, as if he didn't have blood on his knuckles. As if he didn't have a man on his knees, pleading for his life. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Seongje asks, before digging his fingers into the boys scalp. You hide your trembling hands in the pockets of your blazer and you appear as unaffected as you possibly can when Seongje tilts the man's face to look up at you. “This is Eungmin. He's very cute, very small.” Seongje smiles. “Eungmin is getting beat unconscious because he's been stealing some of my money for himself, isn't that right, Eungmin-a?”

The man’s left ise completely disappeared under a swollen mass of flesh. His skin is broken in several places- all is red and yet he still tries… “P-please-” his words are slurred. You can tell he's getting closer and closer to blacking out. His brain can't comprehend the words leaving his mouth and it's far too painful to watch. “My grandfather's sick and- I needed the money-”

“Sob, sob, sob, stories, Eungmin-a,” Seongje lets go of the man's head before tucking his hands into his pockets. Eungmin sways from side to side as Seongje rounds his bruised and battered body, tsking lightly like a scolding parent.

Before you're made witness to any more bloodshed, possibly even a murder, you grab your phone out of blazer pocket and with trembling hands you press a few buttons on your screen.

Seongje's phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pockets. He taps away at the device with bloodied fingers, his orange windbreaker stained with the same blood and for a moment, all is quiet.

Seongje stares blankly at his screen.

“What's this?” He asks without looking up.

Something in you tells you that you have the upper hand. Power has shifted, even minutely and it gives you the courage to reply back, “It's an incentive.”

Seongje's dark eyes finally flit up to you and you're arrested by that wolfish grin. “Big words.” He smirks. “You want a promotion or something?”

You ready your voice. “Actually, Seongje, I’m looking for a way out.”

More silence but this time, it's fucking suffocating. Even the man on the floor, the man who's experienced the very worst of Seongje's wrath has his mouth slightly open from shock.

“I never want to steal for you again. I never want to do anything for you again.” You find your voice in the rubble of your pain and all your anxieties that have gone unnoticed by the adults around you. “I never wanna see you again.”

He nods slowly. “I hear you.” Seongje's voice is calm. So calm it births a sliver of hope inside you: Maybe he'll just accept the money and you might actually be free. You could go back to being a girl forgotten by the rest of the world but this time, it'd be on your own terms. You'd love to be invisible again. Invisible girls don't get extorted like this.

“It's just… I'm really sensitive-”

The very moment those words leave his mouth, the moment a glimmer of a smile flits onto your lips, Seongje delivers a bone-cracking punch to the man's jaw.

You gasp and cup your mouth with both hands. Shocked.

The man slumps over, face hitting the floor. Knocked out cold.

“This is interesting.” Seongje says but you can't look away at the man laying on the ground. His body twitches periodically until there's barely any movement at all. Were you looking at someone passed out or were you staring at a corpse?

Soengje doesn't care about either outcome because he's already lighting a cigarette, standing as if pondering something else entirely.

“Where'd you get this money from?”

“D-Does-” you swallow thickly, “-it matter?”

He nods his head slightly before sticking the cigarette on the tip of his lips, “I could buy a million cig packs with this. The good kind too,” he chuckles, “Fuck, I could buy a fucking factory-”

“It's not that much-”

“Are you rich?” He asks suddenly, ramping up your nerves as he tucks his hands in his pockets to stalk closer towards you. “Have I been extorting a princess this whole time and I didn't know it?” You make your body an iron rod- your face cold. Something like him can't sense discomfort or he'll play with it.

“Not rich,” you say, “Just desperate…”

His feet stop directly in front of you and you keep your gaze there. Not daring to look up at him until he brings his own index finger under your chin, tilting it up.

“I like that word… Desperate.” He blows out a plume of smoke but not in your face. The small, gentlemanly act is almost laughable.

“Seongje, at this rate I'll be working for you for the rest of my life-”

“The rest of your life…” he nods slowly, looking away in a pensive manner before looking back at you, “That sounds fun, doesn't it?”

“Seongje- please just accept the money…”

“Are you calling me poor?”

“That's not what I'm saying at all and honestly, I feel like you know that's not what I'm saying-” your brows are furrowed, voice rising.

“So I'm delusional then?” He asks with a smile.

“Why do you get off on making yourself a victi-” his hand contracts around your throat and it tightens.

“Lemme stop you from saying what you wanna say because you really won't like the outcome.”

He squeezes one more time in warning before letting you go

“Why would I let you go? You're so perfect for me. We work well together.”

“Seongje, Please-”

“Shh… shh… shh…” he lets the cigarette hang off the side of his mouth before cupping both of your cheeks with both hands. He pushes back a stray braid and you tremble under the weight of not only his hands, but his gaze. His eyes are two endlessly cold voids. You don't wonder what's behind those eyes because you bet there's nothing there.

So focused, you've become, with Seongje's eyes, you barely notice his hand slithering down your neck. He feels you, touches you like he's just discovered something new…

“You've just made me more money than any of these useless scumbags ever have…” He stands closer and you watch as he opens his mouth to let the cigarette fall to the floor. You hear his foot stomp on it but your eyes are hazy with tears.

“I pride myself on being a good businessman… Letting you go?” He tsks, “That's not very good business.”

“Please, Seongje-”

“I do believe in rewards though so…” he lets his hand roam lower and lower. On its way down, he squeezes you tit through your shirt, causing a small gasp to slip through.

“Is it okay?” He asks in a low voice, “That im touching you like this?”

He waits patiently for a response that never comes. Truth is, you're completely and utterly overwhelmed. Caught in a web of feeling good and fucking terrible.

A tear falls.

“Shh,” he pats down your hair while all too slyly inching his hand up your skirt. “Seongje will make you feel better-”

You could tell him to stop, but your mind is clouded with all sorts of contradictions. You can't lie some more and say you don't find him even a little bit attractive. Isn't it fucking terrible how that works? This man has tormented you and yet-

“You're so wet, Princess,” you open your legs wider, only flinching when his fingers rub against your clothed cunt. You don't have the energy to look up at him, but you notice the visceral reaction his body is having from all this.

Over his shoulder, you notice the bloodied man unconscious on the floor.

“You just became wetter-” he whispers into your ear before cursing ever so lightly as his finger pushes aside your panties. You notice his movements becoming less controlled, far more hungry and you begin to pull away.

“Say it.” He urges, before fisting your neck in one tight grip. “I need you to say it.”

In a moment that feels unreal, Seongje pushes you backwards, forcing your feet into motion until he has you firmly pressed against a wall. “Say we work well together- tell me-”

You can't very well say much of anything because he's already sinking his index and middle finger into your cunt. Your mouth flies open and you're caught in a silent cry.

“Fuck- Look at how well we work together…” he says, bringing his fingers up to the light. He watches your slick coat, his fingers and something in you coils with disgust and immense pleasure.

His eyes immediately snap to you the second a small moan croaks out.

“F-Fuck-” you gulp in all the air you possibly can when his grip around your throat loosens. There's absolutely no space between you as he crowds you against the wall, staring down at you with the bad fluorescents reflecting against his glasses.

“You don't get to do that… You don't quit on me. I quit on you.” He's forcing his hand between your legs, this time he fucks you properly. Your cunt clenches around his fingers and a tear falls.

“Say sorry.” He taunts with another manic smile flitting across his face, “I want you to take my fingers and tell me how sorry you are-”

“F-Fuck Seongje-” your hips snap awards and you stare up at him with watery eyes- watery eyes that havr his cocktail straining against his pants. He brings you in close by the nape of your neck while he forces you down until your clit meets the palm of his hand.

“You keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna cum. And I hate cumming first.”

“Shit…” your eyes roll to the back of your head as you force yourself to grind down on his fingers. His hand around your throat is the only thing keeping you somewhat upright. You've slipped into that mental soace where you'll embarrass yourself to achieve orgasm. You needed this.

And him.

“What a greedy slut, huh? Tell me you're done with me. I want you to say it again-”

You can't say much of anything because you grab ahold of his wrist, keeping his fingers inside you as your orgasm crests and breaks.

You're screaming wildly, devoid of all rational thought, unprepared by the fact that a bleeding man still lays forgotten on the cold floor. All you feel is him. Jts all him and its suffocating.

You've quite literally found yourself in the clutches of a sadist and he's guiding You gently through your orgasm… patting your head down lightly like you were a delicate baby bird.

"Why would I ever let you go?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just What I Need 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, control, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: In an effort to evade a creep, you walk head first into Bucky Barnes. (short!reader)

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: based on this

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The dress you choose is simple. Light pink. Nothing too over the top. You're not sure about what to wear on a date. It's your first one. Ever.

You flit around your apartment nervously. There isn't much room to do so. You keep knocking into things. Ugh. Why are you so nervous?

Maybe it's because of Bucky. You barely know him. He's a stranger. And he just told you to be ready. Oh, but how many men do you have even asking for a date?

The knock at the door makes you jump. Oh, it better not be Debbie telling you to turn down music you don't even have playing. You swear she imagines things to be unhappy about.

You shuffle to the door and slowly pull it open, keeping the chain in place. You let out a squeak of surprise.

"Bucky? How-- you didn't buzz up. Didn't I give you the number?"

He smirks and tilts his head as he extends an arm to lean on the door frame. "I have tricks," he assures you. "You ready, doll?"

You look at him. He looks nice. A black button-up and black pants; polished shoes that shine. His hair is parted and combed neatly. You can smell his rich cologne.

"I think," you say. "Just a minute."

You shut the door and spin away. You grab your purse and stumble to step into your shoes. Maryjanes with a short kitten heel.

You unhook the chain and open the door. Bucky pushes himself straight. "Thought you were about to ditch me," he chuckles.

"Sorry, no, I..." you lock the door and smile at him nervously. "Grabbing my stuff."

"Well, doll," he steps back and gestures to you with open hands. "Give me a spin. Let me see."

"Huh?"

"Well, you look good in the front. I bet the whole picture is even better."

You fidget and hook your purse on your shoulder. You wring your hands and turn slowly. Your body thrums with heat. You come to face him again, his teeth dug into his lower lip as he hums.

"Gorgeous, doll. And you're all mine."

He offers his hand. Your eyes flick over to the other; the one with the glove hiding metal plates. You quickly latch on. You don't want to be rude and you have no idea what you're doing. You'll let him lead the way.

He shifts his hand to grip yours. His hold on you is strong. He turns you down the hall. He struts proudly along beside your sheepish slink. You've never been the type to stand out.

Outside the building, the evening air is balmy. The street lights glow above and the moon beams down. He gestures along the sidewalk.

He stops you at a sleek black car. Even in the dim, you can see how the paint shines. It sticks out like a sore thumb in your neighbourhood. He opens the door and doesn't let go of you until you're in the seat.

He shuts the door gently and circles around to the driver's side. You take the subway, you walk, rarely you'll dole out for a cab. He has his own car. He must be well off. Is he as famous as he let on? Why didn't you look that up yet? Too busy, too anxious.

"Go for a nice dinner, get to know each other," he says as he turns the engine and it hums quietly. "Sounds like a dream getting to spend the night with a girl like you."

You blush. He's flattering. Almost too much. The praise is overwhelming and you don't want to come off ungrateful.

"Thanks."

"Thanks. No need. It's just the truth." He insists.

He pulls out from behind the car parked ahead of him. He steers with one hand as he snakes the other over the shifter. He grabs yours again. As he steers casually, his thumb rubs your knuckles. The touching is almost as smothering as his words.

You watch the streets pass by. You're not sure what else to do or say. You don't know if you've been to this part of the borough. He finds a spot and puts the car into park. He squeezes and reluctantly lets you go.

"Don't move," he commands.

He shuts off the engine and unclicks his seat belt. He gets out and hooks around, opening your door so swiftly it frightens you. You fumble to untangle from your seat belt and he once more opens his hand. You take it and he helps you to your feet. Your purse catches awkwardly on your hip as you stand and the contents spill onto the ground.

Bucky tuts and releases you. He bends to gather up your lip gloss, mascara, and your phone. He examines the last. His eyes drift up to yours.

"Wanna turn these off for the night? No distractions?" He asks.

"Oh, uh... yeah," you straighten your purse and reach for your things. He hands over the makeup but keeps the phone. He holds down the side button. You stare. It's another moment before he gives it to you.

He reaches under his jacket and slides out his phone. He taps the button at the top and puts it away again. He takes your hand just as you drop your phone into your purse.

"Come on. I booked us a table."

He tugs you up to the pavement. He pauses as he steps over the curb. He stops you as three men pass by, garbling loudly and laughing. He growls and shakes his head. He ways until they clear the space before he pulls you forward. "Punks," he mutters.

He guides you down the sidewalk to the hazy restaurant beneath a neon blue moniker. He lets you go and opens the door. He's so polite. You're glad to have him to lead you.

He enters behind you and greets the woman stood just inside with a tablet leaning on her bent arm, "hey, table for two. Barnes."

She scrolls through with a smile, "ah, yes sir, I see it here." She taps and lifts her head. "This way, please."

She strides through the doorway behind her and Bucky nudges you ahead of him. You follow her and he tails you. He puts a hand on your hip and keeps it there, as if not to lose you. His fingertips curl into you as he lets out a silty drone. He gets closer as you're shown to your table. He pulls out the chair as the hostess promises the quick arrival of a server and taps away on her heels.

You fold your hands on the table and look around. There's women in sparkling necklaces with beautiful chignons. You feel underdressed and underdone. You chew your lip.

Bucky sits. His own eyes scan the space and his forehead stitches. He huffs and arches a brow. You follow his gaze to another table. The blond man there shifts and quickly looks down at his menu.

"I didn't realise it would be so... fancy," you twiddle your fingers nervously.

"What'd you mean? You look wonderful, doll. The only girl in the room I can see," he pushes his shoulders wide and winks. "Not just me either."

He looks around once more. You don't understand what he means. You stare at the table.

"Something to drink?" He reaches for the smaller leather folio on the table.

"Hm, just water," you shrug. "I don't really... drink."

"Of course you don't, doll. You're a good girl. I know that," he considers the first page then closes the menu. "You don't want something fancier? Sparkling?"

"I think I'm okay," you assure him and wring your hands. Overly conscious of the frantic act, you pull your hands into your lap.

He clucks and his eyes narrow over your shoulder. He hunches slightly, almost defensively. He sighs.

You twist and look behind you. You just see tables with shadows. There's too much to focus.

"You notice it too, huh?" He rasps.

"Notice?"

"All these men. Staring at you."

"Me?" You squeak.

"Uh huh," he nods. "The minute we walked in."

"No, I don't think..." you eyes crawl over the table and find another pair. Brown eyes that seem to look above you, not at you, but you can't be sure.

"Right? I mean, that dress is amazing on you, sweetheart. Spectacular." He purrs. "But I'm not into sharing."

"Sharing... no. They aren't looking at me."

"Oh yeah? And what about that creep I scared off the other day? He wasn't following you?" He turns his blue eyes on you. "You don't get it, doll. You don't see the bad in people. That's why you asked me for help. You're this little mouse scurrying around in a city full of tomcats."

"What?" You shift in your seat as heat scalds across your chest.

"Look around then... tell me they aren't looking."

You gulp and do as he says. Shyly, you skim the space with your eyes. You frown and face him with a fruitless shrug.

"But... why?"

"Look, doll, you deserve the best. It's what I'm tryna give you but we can't stay here. I can't sit here and let them gawk at you. You're my girl," he grips the table and pushes his chair out. "Come on, we're going."

"What? Where?"

He sniffs and steps around the table. "Somewhere private. Somewhere safe."

He shows his palm and waits. You accept his hand and he pulls you up. 

A woman in all black approaches. "Oh, I was just coming for drinks--"

"No need. You can release the table," Bucky grits. "We're leaving."

"Oh, sir, I'm sorry. Is there something the matter?"

"Nothing you can fix," he shoulders past her and drags you with him. You give an apologetic wave and bow your head down.

He doesn't stop until you're outside. He heaves out a breath and his grip on your tightens. You squirm.

"I just couldn't stay. I'm sorry, doll. It's okay. How about we go back to mine, order in?" He turns to you. "Just us. That'd be perfect, wouldn't it?"

You stare up at him. Your nerves are still flickering. You can't believe what just happened. And after that man on the subway, you're starting to see these things more and more. You can't trust people in this city. It's lambasted across the newspapers and whispered outside your apartment door.

"Sure," you agree. "I just want to get out of here."

🤍

Bucky's building is nice. Just as nice as his car. Nicer than your place.

His life is so much bigger than yours...

He takes you up on the elevator as you bounce nervously on your feet. You never imagined your first date going like this. It isn't that you imagined one of those silver screen romances but the night has been unexpected for sure. You never thought you'd be going home with a man on the first night. It's not like that, but still.

He unlocks his door with a small fob on his keys. You just have an old-fashioned key. Another shortcoming. You feel smaller and smaller by the moment.

He holds the door and waves you inside. He flips on the lights as he follows you in. The high ceilings and open concept have you in awe. Windows stretching from floor to ceiling let in the night sky.

"Wow," you murmur.

"Bigger than I wanted, but the building is high security." He explains. "Got nothing to fill the space with."

It is a bit sparse but not any worse for it. He brushes by you, dragging his hand around your lower back.

"I got some sparkling juice. Buddy brought over this organic stuff. He can be a bit much," he chuckles. "What kinda food you into? Steak? Sushi?"

You watch him pass through a wide doorway. You can see right into the modern industrial kitchen. That's a style, right? It's like one of those decor magazines. Or a set for a photoshoot that's used once and torn down.

"Sure, juice sounds nice, thank you," you take off your heels before you trail after him. "I'll have whatever you like. I'm not picky."

"I wanna know," he insists as he searches the fridge. He takes out a long-necked bottle, "raspberry apple? Sound good?"

"Yeah, um, thanks."

He nods and moves along the counter. He's at ease. Not like at the restaurant. He was on high alert. You understand. You're much more comfortable at home.

He pours a tall glass of the juice and replaces the bottle on the fridge shelf. He grabs shorter brown bottle and pops the cap with his thumb. He takes the glass off the counter and offers it to you. You take it with another thanks.

"So, what do you usually get when you go out?"

"I don't eat out," you shrug.

"Aw, come on. Doesn't have to be fancy. Pizza? You know, when I was a teen, we lived off water pie. It's... different," he chuckles.

"Pizza's good with me," you sip the juice and your cheeks pinch.

"Whatever you say, doll. And I mean that. I want to give you everything you want so I don't want you just agreeing with me to agree," he nears and smiles as he reaches to pet your cheek. "A thing like you can ask me to get on my knees and I'll be kissing your feet."

You giggle in surprise, "please don't."

"Ha, alright," he shows his palm and swigs from the beer in his other hand. "Like I said, you're the boss."

[lightparty-fullparty]

You know, I don't think as a fandom we explore what being a Dragoon WoL means the same way we do like, Dark Knight.

Because the Eye of Nidhogg resonants with the WoL when they met Estinien for the first time. The Eye that (iirc) only 'chooses' very specific kind of peoole for Azure Dragoon - If Estinien and to a lesser degree Alberic is anything to go by. Vengeful, angry people. People who have been hurt and are seeking revenge for it.

Personally, I'm of the headcannon that this is because Nidhogg (able to sense where his eye is and kinda feel things through it? Maybe even see through it) is trying to get those people worked up enough to possess them. Like with Estinien during the DRG 50 duty.

So what does it mean for a WoL who is also a Dragoon? Who has done that series of quests and had the Eye look at them and go:

"Ah yes. You. You too feel hatred and rage and pain enough that you could easily lose yourself over it. You want revenge for something, vengence. You want to make someone or something else hurt just as much as you do right now."

Idk I just think it's interesting and feel like I don't see it very much for WoL meta.

[blythedolly]

you have me, yeah?

—♡ leon has successfully been able to restrain his desires for you until you bent over in front of him, revealing a part of you that he deeply craved.

—♡ warnings: pervy best friend leon, reader is kinda bimbo coded, feminine reader, dom!leon, manhandling, teasing, oral sex (reader recieving), mentions of rough sex.

“why don’t you like my teddy bears?” you asked, arms crossed with a pout as you stare at your best friend. he stares back at you, his muscled body resting against your white bed frame.

“i don’t hate them i just don’t see why you care about them so much. they’re not rea-”

“leon!” you cut his off, a look of genuine terror on your face. which makes him chuckle.

you were too cute for words. your sweet personality making his heart gush. as it always does. 

you captured his heart so effortlessly. you were pure, so delicate. in every possible way. he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander to the dark side. he felt so disgusting and tried so hard to keep them in check. but oh god, it was so fucking hard. especially when you were prancing around your bedroom in tiny sleep shorts, smooth thigh highs that hugged your soft legs in the most intoxicating way, white tank tops which were borderline see-through. showing the outline of your perky breasts and nipples. and here you were now, you kneeled next to him on the bed. dressed in exactly that. he felt like a fucking animal, wanting to destroy every ounce of purity that radiated from you. 

he wasn’t stupid, he knew you liked him more than just a friend. always finding himself enamored by the way your cheeks tinted pink every time he touched you, or called you pretty, or rested his large hand on your soft squishy thighs. just above where your cute little thigh highs sit. he couldn’t possibly help but think how pretty your pussy would be.

fuck leon, quit it. take your time with her. he’d think to himself.

he can’t quite recall when his forbidden feelings had exceeded a platonic level, all he knew is that he wanted you. needed you. the days would go by where he didn’t make a move and felt himself growing more and more sadistic towards you.

"well, you don't need to cuddle this little thing tonight. you've got me, yeah?" he says, carelessly throwing your cute little plushie on the floor. an overly dramatic gasp escaping your mouth.

"leon, that's not funny. you're so mean. you have to be gentle with them," you say softly as you move down the mattress to retrieve the beloved little bunny, bending your body off the edge of the bed. as the front half of your body disappeared, leon looked. wanting to get a glimpse of as much as he could without you noticing his devious gaze. but what he wasn’t expecting to see was your bare cunt on full display before his eyes. his breath hitched as his thoughts ran wild.

do you always forget to wear underwear when he's around? why hasn't he noticed this before? is this an invitation?

he couldn’t help but stare. you looked so so soft. eyes locked onto your entrance. swearing he could see it glisten. he gulps, saliva filling his hungry mouth at the thought of fucking you open with his tongue. 

“fuck…” he mutters a little too loudly, causing you to turn around. still bent over to retrieve your plushie.

“what’s wrong, lee?” you ask, your pretty doe eyes looking into his with wonder. “are you feeling ok?”

god, you really and no fucking idea what you were doing. 

“you… you’re a little fuckin’ tease aren’t you?” he hisses, grabbing your hips as if you were a rag doll and forcing you to lay down on your bed. hair splaying across your silky pillows. he was hovering over you now, you felt like you were drowning under his large frame.

“w-what are you talkin about, leon? i-” you attempt.

“‘i-… i-… what are you talking about, leon?’” he mocks, a sadistic smirk on his face. “you’re not fooling me, doll,” he moves his large hand down to your cunt, resting it over your thin sleep shorts. gasping as the warmth of his skin laid against your most precious area. “did you forget to wear your panties today like a silly little dits?”

“n-no, just wanted to be comfy. didn’t do it on purpose,” you look into his eyes as you plead, precious little pout on your lips.

oh god, he was going to fucking ruin you. 

“is that right?” he asks, biting his lip. you nod your head. he doesn’t say anything as he moves down your body, forcing your thighs open as he settles between them. his toned stomach resting against your frilly duvet. he then pulls your bottoms to the side, revealing your glistening pussy to his properly. “then why is your needy little cunt dripping for me?”

“i.. leon i just-” you spoke, being cut off by your own gasp as he pulls down your shorts and throws them carelessly to the side. you blush, nobody had ever seen you like this before. your legs instinctively begin to close, but he effortlessly pulls them open again.

“wanted to see this precious little pussy of yours for years, don’t even think about hiding it from me now,” you whimper at his words. recalling the countless nights you spent alone, whining his name into your pillows to the thought of his rough fingers touching you there. and now, it was finally happening.

your head was spinning.

you weren’t naive, you knew about sex. what your sexual preferences were and what you desired, but you’d never actually done anything before. he knew that, he’s your best friend.

of course he knew.

he leans in, pressing his nose to your clit and inhaling your essence deeply. taking in your scent. it was feral, but your pussy clenched around nothing at his action. he hums, saliva filling his mouth as he prepares to taste you for the first time.

he could no longer resist and licked a rough stripe from your hole to your needy clit, the unfamiliar feeling causing a small gasp to escape your lungs. but oh god, did it feel good.

“leon…” you whine as he kisses your clit softly, and then again, and then again. legs trembling pathetically with each kiss. the sound of you whimpering his name sent him into a feral state, his tongue messily tracing along each crevice of your cunt. his pretty nose poking your clit in the most heavenly way.

“oh… oh, leon,” you whimper out, your trembling back arching off the bed. he finally locks his slick soaked lips around your needy bud, aggressively sucking on the delicate bundle of nerves. he rests one of his large hands on your tummy, semi exposed as your little top rode up when he threw you down on the bed.

“taste so pretty and sweet, knew you would,” he speaks against you, thighs trembling softly around his face and head. he contemplated using his fingers, but concluded quickly that it was unexplored territory for you. he didn’t want to overwhelm you too much, so he decided that simply eating your pussy would suffice. for now.

his attention stayed on your puffy clit, sucking and nipping the bundle. anything to hear those desperate whines and pleas of yours. he could tell you were already about to cum based on the way your body shook in his grasp, the way your hips attempted to buck towards his mouth. not to mention all of the pathetic whimpers that fell from your sweet lips.

all it took was for his eyes to meet yours for the band inside of your stomach to snap. your head flew back as the intense pleasure flooded your jolting frame. limbs wildly trembling and sweet cries that only drove him to buck his hips against the mattress himself. leon collected every drop of cum that fell from your slit, groaning at the sweet salty taste that he knew he’d now be addicted to for the rest of his life.

he continued to lick your cunt until he decided it was enough, kissing up your tummy and torso until his face was hovering over yours. you looked so pretty and fucked out, all he could think about was how you’d look after he finally gets to split you open with his cock. like he’s been waiting for for so damn long.

he couldn’t wait for that day, but he knew that’d be too much. he knew what was best for you.

he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. you whined when he abruptly moved back. not satisfied with the shortness of the kiss. you watched him as he moved off the bed, bending down to pick up your long lost stuffed animal before returning to his previous position.

“here you go, baby doll. think you’re gonna need his after that,” he says, handing you the plushie that he had carelessly tossed onto the floor earlier. that’s when you noticed the way his chin was glistening with your essence. the warm lamps light reflecting on it causing it to sparkle. you blush and clutch your plushie to your chest. you look up at his lips as you bit yours, hoping he’d take the hint and kiss you once again. and he did.

because he knew you so well.

[userautumn]

Just an idea, natalia helping buck with grieving bobby

Buck texts her on a Saturday to ask if she wants to meet for coffee.

She's blindsided, of course, because they haven't spoken for over a year but she's curious so she says yes. He looks terrible when she sees him, like all of that resurrection-light that was in his eyes after he came back from the dead has up and guttered out, leaving a dark emptiness in its wake. They make small talk, catch up on life and then work. He asks about her job, and she asks about his, and doesn't really notice that he doesn't answer the question until his breath hitches when he looks somewhere over her shoulder. It's a man, older, maybe mid 50s to early 60s. He's vaguely familiar, she guesses, with one of those faces that just skirts the edge of her memory. But then he's gone into the coffeeshop and she doesn't think anything more about him. Buck, though... he's still staring at the place the man was.

She reaches out across the table and touches his hand. He visibly startles like he forgot she was there.

"Hey." She tilts her head to meet his gaze. "Not that I don't love coffee as much as the next girl, but are you okay? Seriously."

He blinks slowly, eyelashes damp. "Bobby died."

He says the name with enough gravitas and weight that she thinks she's supposed to know who that is, but she doesn't. She never spent enough time with his family to be able to commit them to memory. She knows the word died, and suddenly a whole lot of things click into place.

"Buck."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't—I really did want to catch up with you, but then I saw that man and he looked—he looked just like him and—"

That man. The older gentleman.

And then she remembers who Bobby is clearly, Buck's father in every way but blood. The man who raised him, and shaped him, who knew him down to the marrow and molecules and everything in between.

He's shaking underneath her hand, a fine tremor that rattles through his entire body. She wonders if he even notices how precarious the thread he's hanging on by really is, one small nudge and he'll come crashing to the ground like a puppet with cut strings.

She clears her throat and slips into work mode between one moment and the next.

"When?"

"Two weeks ago. It's been on the news."

Two weeks. Still fresh, then. He looks almost offended that she doesn't know already, which makes a sort of sense, she supposes. The 118 is famous around these parts, even for people who don't work in response. She's seen the subreddits and the tumblr pages and 118-inspired amateur porn on Twitter in the LAFD tag. Which is to say that she should know, probably. But she doesn't watch the news, she doesn't keep up with social media. She sees enough death during her day job than to want to go home and turn on the television and be greeted by another act of violent misogyny, another genocide, another war.

Even she has to turn it off sometimes.

She stares down at the table, thinking, his hand still trapped and trembling underneath hers. "You know, there's this thing people say when someone dies: I'm sorry for your loss. We always shorten it to I'm sorry and hope the idea still comes across. But I've never really liked that much. It's well-meaning until you really sit with the idea of apology, of saying I'm sorry for the inevitable."

"What do you mean?" His voice sounds painfully small.

"I mean, when we're taught to apologize as children, it's always within the context of wrongdoing. Something has gone wrong. We've hurt someone, either through accident or intent. So our ingrained response to wrongness is an apology. But that just means that, when someone dies and we say we're sorry for it, we are associating death with something bad; and something that, more importantly, could have been avoided. But that's not true.

Death is the only thing we can count on in life. No matter what journey you take to end up on death's door, whether suicide or murder or cancer, the act of dying is morally neutral. It's not a flaw. It's not a failure. It's not an accident. It's not intentional. It is one of the only naturally unfolding things in the entire world. Yes, it feels bad for those of us who are left behind. It feels horrendous, actually. But the way we frame it, with an apology and a hope that gets better, like there was something that could have changed the outcome if we'd only been a little bit smarter, done a little bit more, is a cruelty we deal to ourselves and to each other."

There's a memory knocking at the doors of her brain—her grandma's frail, cold hand in hers while her relatives and the EMTs bustled around her. Strange, fleeting hands on her small shoulders saying sorry for a loss she had nothing to do with; the fear and guilt that if she'd checked on her grandma that night instead of falling asleep on the sofa, she would have been able to spot the symptoms of the heart attack before it took her away. But those memories are best left untouched for now.

Natalia watches him carefully. "Your journey is going to look at lot different from here. Your life, all the moments you thought you would have him for, are not going to happen and you will grieve him multiple times for the rest of your life. But that's not different from anything else in life, right? You make a wrong turn and the GPS recalculates. You pursue a different career than the one you studied for and hope for the best. You move out of your home state and pray you're making the right decision. You say yes to a date with someone who will either be the best choice you've ever made or the worst. Every moment that passes, every decision we make is a course correction, a change from where we began until we get to our destination. That's all death is. Why would I, why would anyone be sorry about that?"

"But he should be here. His wife needs him here. His son and daughter need him here. I need him here." His tears do start to fall then, though he doesn't sob. He doesn't stop staring at her face, waiting, wordlessly begging her to give him answers she's not entirely sure she has. "We need him back."

Her voice is soft when she says, "But you can't have him."

It's just five words. They shouldn't hurt as deeply as they do, but they do. Every time. She's given the same version of this speech to so many people she wouldn't even begin to know how to count them all, but each time, these words steal something from someone. She watches the way they land now, each emotion rippling out across Buck's face: grief, anger, despair, loss, love, all wrapped in one, tragic image.

"Every choice Bobby made, every single one, was a course correction that led him to his destination," she says with that same soft voice. "Maybe it was too soon. Maybe it wasn't. But he's there now and you've parted ways. I told you I don't like saying I'm sorry when someone dies, but you know what I do say?" He shakes his head and she squeezes his hand and meets his gaze. "I say thank you. Thank you for sharing your journey with me. Thank you for all the times we got lost together, for all the arguments, for all the large and small ways we found each other, healed each other, rebuilt each other. Thank you for the memories. Thank you for such a unique and irreplaceable love. Because that's what it is, right? No one will ever love you the way Bobby loved you, which hurts now, but god, Buck. What a beautiful imprint to leave on someone's life."

His voice is watery and miserable, his face damp as his tears fall in earnest. He shakes his head. "I don't know how to do this."

"No one does. But we try. Every day, we try just a little bit more and eventually we stumble our way into something like healing."

"The car starts moving again."

Her mouth turns up into a small smile. Her grandmother's smile, her aunt always used to say. You're damn near the spitting image of her.

"Yeah," she says, and she's proud of the way her voice doesn't crack. "The car starts again."

Buck nods. He's silent for a long time as he wipes his face and gets his bearings. Eventually he extracts his hand from underneath hers.

"Sorry," he says after a while. "I didn't mean to get all..." he waves a hand as his voice trails off.

Natalia shrugs. "It's what I'm here for."

"I owe you another coffee, one with less emotion attached to it, but I do have to run. I promised May—Bobby's daughter—I'd help her pack her apartment." He pauses a beat. "She's moving back in with her mom."

Ah.

His face darkens with grief and Natalia lets him have his moment before she shakes her head and waves him off.

"Go do what you have to do. I'm just a phone call away. You know that."

They say their goodbyes and Natalia watches him jog to his car, then watches him pull out and continues to stare at the empty parking space for a long time. She twists the ring on her right ring finger, the gold polished and smooth, in just as good condition as it was the day her granddad proposed to her grandmother with it and lets her grief spill through her body.

This is a well-worn routine they have by now.

She breathes through the pain, through the loss and the memories until the phantom hands on her shoulders disappear and sound of the flatline fades.

In her mind, she says thank you. Thank you for the journey, Gram. It was lovely, and imagines she can hear her beautiful, warm voice saying it back.

Natalia takes a sip of coffee. Overhead, the birds chirp and sing, calling each other home.

[gay-dorito-dust]

bob reynolds/sentry/the void dating headcnaons where reader is apart of the thunderbolts and a magic user (dark magic hehe)

I did too much for this I fear and went beyond request…I don’t apologise.

it wasn't hard for you to look into Bob's eyes and not feel something when you first met him, a sweet soul of a man, someone whom you'd gladly protect if it meant seeing him smile so sweetly.

Yelena was the first to notice your growing fondness for this seeingly unasuming man with the puppy eyes, and was already ontop of teasing you for it whenever she possibly could.

'you've barely known this man for a mintue and you're already feeling something for him?' she says with a raised brow, 'does dark magic make someone such a hermit that they fall for just anyone with pretty eyes?'

you shrugged. 'dark magic tends to be the breaking factor for most relationships, so i guess you can say that it had made me a recluse because of it and i'm not falling for bob, he's just-'

'a mission?' Yelena interupts with a knowing smile. 'you can't lie to me, you kinda suck at it.'

'how can i suck at lying? i'm not lying!' you exclaimed

menawhile Yelena jsut points to your face 'your face give it all away before you even open your mouth.' she replies as she walks away and you're left with your face deep into your hands as you tried to stop thinking about bob, and his cute smile, his gorgeous eyes...fuck.

yeah so that plan to not feel more for bob then you already did orignally, especially when you got to know him more and see just how much of a sweet and genuine person he truly was.

it made you a little skeptical at first but soon enough bob did indeed win you over with his kindness and ability to uplift you from your less then stellar thoughts that would float in now and then unnanounced.

you soon found that all bob wanted was to belong to something, to help others and to do good by people and you could unserstand that as well, you wanted to belong also like many people and find what it was that you excell at.

sure your magic gave you alot of leverages in life but most fellow magic users didn't react kindly when the person who helped them harboured dark magic, however it wasn't like you were using it for nefarious means like stealing anothers life force, or their powers.

unfortunately there was an bias against those who were posessors of dark magic, they were often called conjurers of chaos and destruction, fated to bring about ruin and death even if they used their magic for good and so you used your magic sparingly despite being proud of your abilities.

'why don't you use your magic more?' bob once asked when it was just you and him after a mission, he must've noticed your minimal usage of magic during the fights firsthand, so your theory of him being more observant were proven true when now and then you could feel his eyes on you as some points during the fight.

'not much reason to if i'm going up against average people.' you tried to use as an excuse but from the look on bob's face , he wasn't buying it, so you caved and told him the real reason. 'black magic isn't widely praised, it's still misunderstood by many magic users who probably rejoice at the fact that they don't have to deal with the critisim and judement that comes from being born with dark magic, as though i had a hand in making that decision at all!'

'why bother listening to them and hiding what makes you unique.' bob says soflty as he grasps your hands securely within his own stronger ones. 'i'm told that your one of the powerful few of the group, told of what you've achieved with your powers and i don't see how can people still think of you any difffrently becuase of how your magic is formed.' he adds before whispering. 'it's beautiful.'

'what about you?' you then asked, making him look up at you with a look that reminded you of a confused pup, head tilted and all that you had to stop yourself from rubbing his furrowed brows free of stress, free of worry and guilt that could be swarming his mind. 'your a uniuqe case yourself, powerful and yet you seem to be holding back.' you add as you squeeze his hands back.

bob shrugs. 'same as you i guess,' he starts, 'wanting to use my powers for good, to use my abilties for something instead of standing on the sidlines like an toy waiting to be used, only to be put back on the shelf when people are done with me.' he continues as a sad smile crosses his face, somwthing that made you want to hold his face and do anything you could to bring back his warmth back. 'is it so wrong to be seen as something more? to be proven useful?' bob then looks you in the eye as he says his next thing. 'to find someone who makes me feel more then what i am right now.'

you swallowed thickly as you contiued to look into his eyes that seemed to read you like a book, like he understood you and everything you were and wanted to be, like he was the only person you'd allow to be your voice of reason. 'i'm sure we can be that for each other, only if you want me to.' you said.

bob's face relaxed as his smile came back in full force, his warmth bringing you comfort once again as he squeezed your hand, tempted to intertwine your fingers but not wanting to overstep a line that he couldn't see. yet you didn't seem to have the same aprehension in intertwining your fingers with his as you found yourself wanting to take this first step into a bright future with bob.

'i'd like that very much.' bob says softly and all felt right, even the weight of his hand resting within yours, a comfrting weight that told you that he was here for you, and that he wasn't going to be easily persuaded into leaving you any time soon.

being in a relationship with bob had to be a dream come true, he was the sweetest man you've ever met, that even his kisses that he'd pepper across your face when waking you up in the morning was like you were being kissed by a million butterflies. he made you feel as though you could walk on air without trying, for he made you feel as though nothing could ever touch you as he held you from behind as his grip on you was protective yet comforting from all your daily worries.

'will you stop being so cute?' you asked him once as you held his face between your hands, caressing his cheeks as you kept kissing his temples, his nose, his forhead and lips under the impression that you would never do so again, and you never wanted to stop showering your powerful boyfriend in kisses and affection that he had went far too long from without. 'you're too handsome to be this cute and distracting.' you added as you pressed a final kiss to his eye lids.

'should i be taking this as punishment for being a handsomely cute or an reward for being handsomely cute?' bob chuckles as he sinks futher into your embrace of love and finding himself never ever wanting to leave this moment, not ever. 'becuase i'm not certain what i'm meant to be taking away from you blaming me for being cute yet kissing me as though your praising me for it.'

'does it matter?' you asked with a smile upon your face. 'you're getting kissed either way.' bob laughs and got himself comfortable within your shared bed. 'reward it is.' he says cheekily as his timed himself perfectly so that when you went to kiss his nose, your lips would touch his, making him hum in content.

bob was your person, the one you'd always admit to anything to as though he was your personal confession booth, for you knew he wouldn't look at you any differently even when you over use your dark magic, he still looked at you with love and affection becuase you look at him the same.

you were aware of the void and would do everything to keep it away from bob, to keep it away from taking over the man you loved so deeply and without needing any reason to other then he deserved it more then anyone you know. The void would try and convice you to unlock darker corners of your power, to use them against the people who have wrongly judged you as you both made shadows out of people who crossed your paths.

yet you refused for your heart was with bob, and that would never change even when the void claimed that you were very much in his possession as you were bob's and there wasn't much you could do to stop it before leaving you be with bob as you held him in your arms, vowing to use all your powers to keep the man you wanted to see the end of your life with together safe as possible. unkowing that bob would vow to do the exact same for you without hesitation.

On missions you try not to worry about the other and focus on the objective but it was hard, yet you both knew that the other was tough enough to handle anything, power through all hardships with willpower and determination, and yet the moment either of you came back with even a slight scratch your holding onto each other as the fear of losing the one thing grounding you from completely losing it all consumed you both from the inside out.

You’d rush to one another and press your foreheads together as bob allowed you within his thoughts, allowing this moment for you two to be focused on one another as your fears and anxieties relaxed as the familiar feeling of comfort was brought back as you whispered words of reassurances to one another. ‘I’ll always come home to you.’ He would tell you. ‘I will never wander too far into the dark where you can’t follow me.’ You would reply with much to Yelena’s disgruntlement.

She’s happy for you both, but did you both really have to do the cliche romance bullshit in front of her? You had a room for a reason, be sappy there and not in front of her! It’s putting her off her breakfast. ‘Get a room.’ She’d tell you both and you’d reply by shooing her an unimpressed look as Bob smiled sheepishly, burying his head into your neck. ‘We’re in a room, so if you’re that uncomfortable you can leave.’ You replied.

‘Or we can always find another one.’ Bob counters in hopes of bringing peace to the situation.

You and Yelena looked at each other for a prolonged period of time before Yelena relented and raised her hands. ‘No it’s fine, besides your cute couple moments have put me off of any food for a good few hours.’ She says playfully as she leaves the room, though not before giving you a knowing look, telling you that she’s happy for you and that you certainly picked a good one in Bob Reynolds but you didn’t need to be told you picked good when he was the one who more or less picked you.

[keirareidss]

slow dancing in the dark - a.h

♡ summary: aaron and reader share a sweet moment after jack goes to bed

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

wc: 0.7k

Aaron was trying to be home earlier more often. He wanted to spend time with his family. He didn't do it right with Haley and he was lucky enough to get a second chance. He didn't want to ruin it. So on office days where there was no case, he made a point to leave the office at his scheduled time if not earlier. He'd be home in time to help you make dinner and put his son to bed. He was happy. Truly happy for the first time in a long time.

"Alright. Jack is in bed. It's just us now." Aaron said, walking back into the kitchen where you were washing dishes. He put a hand on your lower back, sidling up next to you to dry the dishes. The two of you work in harmony, you scrubbing and rinsing the dishes before handing them off to Aaron to dry and put away. Once the last dish was away in the cupboard, you turned to the small radio sitting in the kitchen window, turning it on and dialing the volume up a bit, not enough to wake up Jack.

"Dance with me?" You asked, holding a hand out to Aaron who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, smiling at you. He chuckled, shaking his head before pushing off the counter and taking your hand. He spun you before pulling you into his arms. You laugh as he sways the two of you, the dim light of the kitchen casing a golden glow over both of you. His arm finds its way around your waist, the other holding your hand in his as your arm goes around his shoulders. You rest your head on his chest, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces that were always meant to fit together. You sway softly together to the gentle jazz that's playing on the stereo. Aaron leans down, his breath caressing your ear.

"I love these moments with you."

"Me too."

"I... I've been trying to do better. Be home more." You pull back a little bit to look up at him.

"I've noticed. You're doing good. I think Jack has noticed too, he's been talking about how much he likes having family dinners again." You grinned and Aaron smiled right back at you.

"I'm glad. I was- I was worried he was starting to forget about me." You stop swaying, looking up at him with concerned eyes.

"Forget about you? Never, Aaron, he loves you."

"I know, I just worry. With Haley... I didn't get it right. I see that now. And I wish I could go back and fix it somehow but I can't. All I can do now is make sure that I don't ruin it again."

"You won't ruin anything."

"You say that now, but..."

"Hey," You stopped swaying, looking up at him. "You haven't ruined anything. I love you Aaron. So much." He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I love you too." His head dips down further, slanting his lips over yours. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, kissing you deeply as his other arm pulls your body closer to his. "I love you. I love you." He whispers like a mantra against your lips. "I'm trying."

"I know." You feel something warm and wet drop onto your cheek and when you open your eyes you see another teardrop sliding down Aaron's face. "Oh, honey, why are you crying?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. He shakes his head.

"They're happy tears. I'm just happy." He says, smiling down at you. You wrap your arms around his neck and he buries his face in your shoulder as the two of you start swaying again. Aaron's hand slides up your body, up your arm to grab your hand. He takes a small step back, spinning you under his arm with a giddy grin. He knew, that this time, he was doing it right. He was trying and it was working. He could feel it in his heart, he could see it right now, and he saw it yesterday, and the day before, he sees it every day when he looks at you. Love. He had it and he wasn't letting it go.

[notitlesapply]

Okay I had a lovely and very horny idea late last night, and I figured I would share.

Basic premise is that clones have no sense of body shame (because they grew up where 95% of everyone around them looked the same) and Jedi, for the most part, have no body shame because of the whole "luminous beings we are not this crude matter." I mean sure for both groups there are exceptions, but for the most part Jedi and clones don't care about nudity. They also don't care about being shy about sex. Sex is natural and feels good.

Mandos on the other hand, like to cover up like Victorian maidens and they have matching sensibilities about nekkid time.

(more under the cut for spice 🌶️🌶️🌶️)

Okay, so in this fic, Jango is alive because I wanna scar Jango. I love him so much but I want him to be punished for his crimes 😈

Anyway, basic set up, things are like canon, Jango is the clone template, a bounty hunter, morally dark gray asshole, hater of Jedi yadda yadda, but also at some point he got control of Mandalore again. He's Mand'alor, ruling the sector, and didn't die. Like canon, Mandalore wants nothing to do with the war, but just like in canon keep getting dragged into shit.

BTW Satine is not gone in this AU because I love her. I think she and Jango have a very loveless political marriage for the stability of Mandalore. Satine is head advisor, and in reality she's the one actually getting shit done in Mandalore's government. Do you think Jango gives a shit about infrastructure? About economics, land rights, keeping the peace between clans, or setting and collecting taxes? Does Jango even know how to fund hospitals, schools, and roads? HELL NO! He leaves that to Satine, who's doing the actual work of running the government, but Jango always gets the final say cause he's the absolute ruler and whatnot. Yes Jango and Satine butt heads and sometimes he fucks up her projects, but for the most part, he leaves the bureaucracy to her.

Anyway, back on track. So at some point Mandalore has to make nice with the Republic. They're going to make a treaty. The Republic sends Obi-Wan and the 212th because 1) Obi-Wan is the Negotiator and 2) Obi-Wan can actually speak Mando'a and is familiar with their leaders and culture.

Of course as soon as Jango hears it's Obi-Wan on his way, he cockblocks Satine. He knows they have a history. He's not going to take the chance that Satine will go soft on her old flame. He's going to deal with the Jedi himself.

Meanwhile Satine is laughing at him on the inside because if he thinks he can handle Obi-Wan Kenobi better than her, he's even more of a meathead than she thought.

Anyway, Obi-Wan and the 212th touch down on Mandalore. Jango, being an absolute ass, goes with a power play right off the bat. He issues a single room for Obi-Wan and his soldiers. To be fair, it's a barracks room, so it can fit quite a few of Obi-Wan's entourage, but even though Obi-Wan informs Jango how many people are coming, Jango only provides half the number of beds required. So when Obi-Wan comes down, there's barely enough space for all the men.

Obi-Wan and the men play it cool. They'll just double bunk. No problem. (Cody, of course, volunteers instantly to be Obi-Wan's bed buddy. No one is surprised.)

Jango is a little irritated at how calm they are about the arrangements, so he decides to double down on the assholery. He orders his staff to turn the heat up in the guest barracks.

This was his first mistake.

His second mistake was barging into the room early in the morning with his advisors in an effort to surprise the Republic dogs. The 212th are half asleep. And every. Single. One. Is. NAKED.

The Mandos brains short out. That's a LOT of nekkid men sharing beds or laying on the bare floor. Sure the room is hot, but don't they have the decency to wear light sleep clothes?! (Jokes on them, the Republic doesn't provide pajamas.)

Jango is not about to be beaten though. He's red as a chilli pepper under his helmet, but he's going to power play like a BOSS. He demands to be pointed in the direction of Kenobi. (A sleepy soldier points to the back of the room and promptly passes back out on his brother's sweaty stomach.)

The Mandos march to the back, struggling not to look at all the exposed body parts. (The advisors are horrified to realize they now know what their Mand'alor looks like naked.)

Jango is sure the Jedi at least will be clothed (don't Jedi wear like 10 layers of robes?) but to his horror, Obi-Wan is lounging nude on his bed, working on a data pad. Commander Cody is sprawled out next to him in the bed fast asleep, also nude, and (to Jango horror) sporting morning wood. (The advisors are now crying under their buckets because now they've seen their leader's erect cock, how scandalous!)

"Good morning, Alor, how may I help you?" Obi-Wan asks politely in a quiet voice so as not to disturb Cody's sleep. Jango sputters, his brain rebooting.

"Cover your dicks!" Jango finally growls out. This wakes up Cody, who opens one glaring eye. Cody mutters under his breath before rolling over, pressing his hard on into Obi-Wan's side to cover it, then hitching up a leg to cover Obi-Wan's groin.

"Happy now, Prime?" Cody grumbles. He doesn't wait for an answer before promptly closing his eyes. (The Mandos have blue screened. Mando.exe error)

Obi-Wan looks fondly at Cody before looking back at Jango expectantly. Jango sputters some BS nonsense and keeps staring resolutely at Obi-Wan hair line before making the basic pleasantries to leave. Cody mutters "Finally" before rolling back over, exposing his hard dick again. The head is suspiciously shiny and there's a bit of wetness against Obi-Wan's side. Jango firmly Stops Thinking About It before basically sprinting outta there, his advisors following in his wake. He orders more bedding for the Republic envoy pronto and to lower the AC in the room. Make it chilly.

Now Jango is not one to give up. He's going to one up the Jedi. He does his trick of barging in unannounced, his advisors with him. They're all going to be clothed this time because now it's cold in here.

No such luck.

The 212th have made a giant cuddle pile in the center of the room to keep warm. While yes, a few soldiers are wearing their thermal blacks and wrapping up in blankets, most of them are butt ass naked in a giant pile snuggling for warmth and comfort. And since it's no longer hot, more than a few of them have decided to let off some steam with sexy times. (None of the Mandos wanted to know what Jango's O-face looked like, but apparently they get to know now!)

But to give Jango credit, he's not willing to back down. He asks to be shown to Kenobi. (A clone points him to the far edge of the pile before going back to pound a fellow trooper into the mattress.)

Red faced, Jango and (most) of his advisors march over to the Jedi. (One poor advisor was just like "Nope!" and dipped.) Luckily it looks like Kenobi is one of the ones who kept clothes on. Yes Cody is sprawled on top of him, dozing, but they're both wearing their shirts and a blanket is over them for warmth.

"How may I help you, gentle beings?" Obi-Wan asks politely. He's petting Cody's hair. It's disgustingly domestic and Jango HATES it. (But at least they're not doing anything risque, because Jango thinks he'll die if he ever saw one of his clones fucking a Jedi.)

Jango starts in on his well practiced speech of all the demands Mandalore has for the Republic. He goes on and on, sounding angrier and angrier. He's desperately trying to ignore the wet sloppy sounds behind him and the moans. Another advisor flees. Jango takes note to prepare discriminatory action.

Finally, Cody opens one baleful eye and calmly says, "Shut up."

Cody sits up on Obi-Wan's lap. The blanket falls, revealing that while they had their shirts on, they had kicked off their lowers at some point. Cody apparently was warming Obi-Wan, because the Jedi's prick is firmly wedged in his Commander's ass.

Cody proceeds to rant at Jango about how this is not the time to talk politics and demands. They have a goddamn schedule, remember?! Their meeting is later. The 212th has rest time for at least another 2 hours, this is a private space given to them, and the Mandos being fucking rude for bothering them.

As he continues berating the Mandos, Obi-Wan starts softly moaning underneath him. Cody has decided to lightly bounce on his Jedi's lap because he's a multi-tasker, and he's fucking horny after warming his Jedi for half an hour. Jango and his advisors are staring and dying a little inside. It's like watching a speeder wreck. They can't look away.

Cody wraps up his little rant before turning his attention solely on his panting Jedi.

"You cum when I say you can," Cody orders firmly before riding Obi-Wan in earnest. The Jedi cries out in agreement, his hips bucking. Cody starts groaning out filthy praise, "Oh oh your dick is so perfect! Long and fat and filling me up so good! Good boy..."

Jango books it outta there, his advisors trailing after him.

Later, when they have the official meeting, Jango wants this to be over with pronto. He agrees to everything Obi-Wan says. He just wants the Jedi and the clones gone. He can't look Obi-Wan or Cody in the eyes. Satine is giving Jango the side eye, but also smirking a little. She doesn't know what happened, but whatever Obi-Wan did, it rattled Jango and she's laughing at him for it.

She also offers to let Obi-Wan and the 212th stay longer as her personal guests so Jango can't just throw them out. Jango is horrified to know that these horny degenerates are going to be on his planet longer. Obi-Wan gracefully accepts her offer. Satine suggests that the 212th explore the city. The 212th heads out and more than a few hook up with some locals. Sooooo many Mandos now know what Jango looks like naked. Jango is nicknamed "Mand'alor the Lover" and "Mand'alor the Big Dick". He's dying.

[gffa]

Another reason I agree the Plagieus story is bullshit: when I saw ROTS again in theatres last week, I noticed that Palpatine seems to almost...grin? when he tells Anakin/Vader that Padmé is dead and it's Anakin's fault. The dark side feeds on strong emotions, especially despair, self-loathing, anger, shame - everything Anakin would feel after being told the person he (thinks) he has risked everything for is dead and further isolating him...perfect for Palpatine's own plans. Like, narratively, does Palpatine even know padmé is dead (I don't think so) -- saving Padmé thru the dark side is 100% bullshit concocted to sway Anakin into rationalizing the the dark side. Sorry for the word vomit lol

Anon, you just sent my mind spinning in a whole bunch of different directions! I noticed Palpatine's smirk when Vader starts ripping apart the room in his anger after learning of her death, he absolutely enjoyed that, because he knows that will sink Anakin into the dark side forever, I don't think he ever had any intention of saving Padme. But, to be fair, I think he could have worked with that if they had found a way--if Vader were constantly afraid that she would die, Palpatine could use that really, too. Having her live would have been a useful manipulation tool that would have lasted forever. It also would have been great because Palpatine was good at manipulating Padme as well, so he could have played them against each other, could have played them against each other, as Padme was willing to run away with Anakin, but she drew the line at his actions. Her being torn on her feelings for him, her desperation for him, but also revulsion at his actions, would have put so much fear, anger, self-loathing, and resentment into Anakin's mind. I do think Palpatine knew that Padme was dead--he spent a lot of time with her as well (his greatest connection in TPM was with her after all) and knowing when someone lives/dies seems to be based on how well you know them, how connected to them you are--and Palpatine knew her enough to know that she was dead. But how did he know that Anakin had been the one to kill her? I think he probably saw it in Anakin's mind (he's an evil psychic space wizard, after all) and saw Anakin's memory of it. Whether he believes Anakin killed he or not is up in the air, but he's certainly not going to tell Anakin anything different, because he wants him as steeped in the dark side as possible. That's why he sent Anakin to the Temple to kill the Jedi, even the younglings, because it would be impossible for Anakin to climb out of the dark pit in his soul after that. But as for whether Padme lived or died? I don't think he cared, because he could work with both. Either she lived and he constantly made Anakin fear losing her, being angry at her and then guilty for being angry at her/yelling at her, or she died and Anakin was so out of his mind with grief that he could never get out of the dark side. Both ways, Palpatine wins.

[losver07]

lmao it's fine i wouldnt care much about repeating tbh, i think slowing down a bit might be good for me :)

"why am i always sick? well you see, every full moon i— seriously mate i have a fucking chronic illness, and you have a problem with being nosey. god, i'm not allowed to break bones anymore? for fucks sake"

i mean please look at him and tell me that's not a baby version of timothee. like a special edition lmaoo

oof yea i get that :((

yeah!!! like it happens to me with writing & drawing, my hand just doesn't wanna pick a side lol

obv it makes sense babe we share a braincell

yuppp she's lowkey crazy so it's fun to hear from my bedroom lmao. anyway they've broken up now so ig i won't see her until..... tomorrow probably (and then three days later aprox they'll break up again, so fun)

YES have you seen futurama cause i think there's a chapter where they have a time machine and it's like. the same shit over and over again. like there's a ton of liberty statues buried one on top of each other. gosh that show is my childood

AXOLOTLS ARE SO FUCKING CUTE!!!!! and yea moles are awesome. i identify as a mole when im out in the sun (astigmatism)

oh definitely we should french revolutionise her. and yup the stuff she says does not even make sense?? like did an actual human being say that??? idk it makes me depressed tbh she's having a huge economical impact in the worst stuff when she could be donating to orgs that at least don't harm anybody. like ok, you don't like trans ppl. fine. you can donate to OTHER stuff. idk, help orphan children? she should care about them taking into account hp.

i honestly think she's just stubborn and wants to piss us all off. i took a look at her birth chart some time ago and i think she's a leo so yea. she think she the loudest roarer but we used to screamin our lungs out!!!!

↑ idk what that was i just woke up if you couldn't tell :)

i mean how could i reject a cute doggo pic.....

YES IM CONVINCED ITS THEIR REINCARNATION!!!

lmaooo im suuuuch a shakespeare (im not i say dumb shit so the occasional smart shit sounds exceptional)

YAY ill be listening tomorrow hehehee

lol no please god i cannot let my tumblr comments be better than my actual writing jsbckdbckd

okay i can confirm the brush is not that bad. but the expensive ones last years and this one is probably gonna last two months at best (again, can't complain for 4€)

REMUS REEINCARNATION???? we need to find the rest. it's a quest.

sorry did i hear shark tooth collection???? 1. yes that smells like neurospice 2. THAT IS SO FUCKING COOL WTF

in my case i think both my parents have something going on lol, like i very clearly got the ocd from my mum but my dad has over 2k books and probably around 100 game consoles at home so..... (also he has like 6 copies of the divine comedy which is fun cause of course you need six of em dad, sure)

anyway not complaining cause i can play street fighter in a big ass arcade machine :)

not sims but if i wake up from a coma and they tell me i've been dreaming everything since 2020 i would fully believe it. literally every single aspect of my life changed that year. crazy. a lil too crazy...

nuh uh i totally didn't adapt my fashion sense to a fandom.... that's embarrassinggggg......

WE THE FUKIN BEST!!!!

oh shit we already do that LMAO, i have one w a wolf howling at the moon (cause we're cubs but also.... rjl) and one w just the cover of the dark side of the moon. and i have a bowie one in my scarf but that's second hand shopped i fear. we have a lot of meme pins it's scarily funny (the most popular one is the "I DONT SELL COOKIES" one)

you ARE a disney princess like whatttt that's so sweet!!! poor birdie i hope it's okay :(

this is one of the best interactions in the history of tumblr btw. like wtf

"my child is fine" ma'am your child prioritises memorising every single full moon that happened in 1975 over their schoolwork

[at4-raxia]

Mark Grayson x Ladybug!reader part 4

(part 3, part 5)

Before you read: Mark and the reader are whipped for each other (obsessed to some degree), suggestive, non consensual touching/kissing, the variants want that cookie, Sinister Mark is his own warning (I don't think I need to specify that any further honestly), the reader is not okay, angst (because why not?), and lastly but not least, violence and blood.

Synopsis: In every universe out there you're the sweet girl that knows Mark Grayson since birth and that sticks with him until you die. One way or another, no matter the circumstance, you die. The ways differ: some are more gruesome than others, some are just mercy, some deaths are an extreme act of rebellion. Right now, as you swing from building to building to try and save your parents, you don't know how exceptional you are, since no other version of yourself has ever left Mark's embrace.

("Mark"

It's a peaceful morning, a weekend. As always, you spent those at his house and wake up on his bed with him wrapped around your midsection. You know he's awake but doesn't want to get up since he tickles your stomach with his nose and hair as he tries to find a better position.

"Mmh?" That's the only thing that comes out of him as he just tightens his hold. You smile, amused, because out of all the people around the globe you're the only one that can 'tame' Invincible, you're the only girl in the world that has the opportunity to see him like this, make him like this.

Even if your parents don't approve of him.

They never did actually.

You wonder if their dislike comes from the fact that when you two were little he broke your wrist from playing too roughly. Maybe it's not that, but the fact that his eyes are a little too apathetic to be normal, his way of handling things is too rough, too harsh, sadistic at times. Nevertheless they don't know what you see in that mess, in that boy that smiles at you only when things go his way. Mark hated them just as much, they were nuisances in his opinion.

It's not that you don't see. You do, you do it better than anybody. It's just that you don't want to acknowledge, accept, that they are right. After all he is not a good person, he is not kind, he is merciless as he slaughters another monster in a way that's too gruesome to even record and show on the news. But he is so good to you, they just don't see it.

You know he loves you in his own distorted way, and that's enough. Because you'd prefer having Mark than not having him at all.

"I have received my acceptance letter from that culinary school. The one that has that two year experience course."

"The one in Paris?"

"Yeah", for a moment nothing comes out of his mouth as he is thinking about this, or maybe he is waiting for you to give him the answer he wants.

"I've been thinking we could go to Paris, since you dropped out of high school". After his father's indoctrination, he didn't see a point in completing his studies when instead he had to train for more important things, like the empire he was going to build.

"I don't know". It's almost a warning, it feels like one.

"What do you mean 'you don't know'? There's nothing that's holding you back". He's the one holding you back instead, because everyone knows that wherever you are, Mark is not far behind.

"What about the GDA?" His voice is calm, collected, a bit scratchy like always, and he has yet to look at your face. To him this conversation is meaningless, it's pointless, just a way to pass time as you comb your fingers through his hair. At the end of the day, no matter how much you whine, you always give in to what he says.

"Mark don't give me that bullshit, we both know that you don't give a shit about them", your statement is not authoritarian, it doesn't question the dynamic between the two of you, but your tone is enough to make Mark finally turn around and look at you.

His gaze is always so dark, so cold, it makes you wonder if he loves you at least a little bit.

"Are you going to keep wasting my time with this nonsense? Why would we even need to go to Paris anyway?" It's not as if in the long run you're going to need the certificate from that course if you're with Mark, the next ruler of the viltrumite empire. You frown, obviously. He knows how much you love baking, he knows how much you've trained and how much sacrifice you've put into this passion, and yet he remains selfish, even if it's you, the only person that's ever made him feel something.

"Then I'll just go alone", he laughs, of course. Where would you even go without him?

"[name]", his laugh tickles your stomach and then you feel his breath move higher and higher as he gets up from his previous position—like a wolf does to his prey as it decides which part to eat first—until your noses are almost touching.

"Do you really want to try me?" He stands now fully on top of you, his breath hot on your lips as he stares at them. You know he is a monster, you know who you're dating is not sane. He is dangerous, a killing machine that stands above any other man, any other creature on this planet, and in this little fantasy you're above anyone else too, above all the carnage and the blood.

But you're caged.

Like a little exotic bird who's known nothing else but that cage for their entire life. You dream, you dream big, you try to chase the feeling in your chest that screams that out there there's something else other than bars of metal, that there's a big future ahead. The cage is big, there's a lot of space to roam, it's not locked and your wings are not clipped. You could fly away at any moment, you've had plenty of opportunities before, you could leave him behind and stop following his twisted rules, and the funniest thing is he would let you. But you don't, because you've never known anything else but the cage, nothing else but Mark in your short pathetic life.

Right now you could tell him to fuck off, to let you be and let you live out your dream and have the life you want for yourself, you could get up right now from the bed and go home, and throughout all this he would look at you with those cold, dark eyes and then let you go.

Then you would be a person like the rest, nothing special, just a nobody like everyone else on this weak, miserable planet.

And you couldn't live with that, you could not live in a world where you're nothing for Mark Grayson.

And he knows it.

There's a cruel mocking smile as his lips get closer to yours with each word, his hand moves up your leg as if you were made of glass, a contradiction to his cruel behaviour. You don't give an answer to his threat, you just frown and look away, giving away your decision.

He doesn't say anything more, content with you as he closes the distance between the two of you. He almost crushes you against the headboard, your head banging against it as he assaults your lips. He's cruel, everything about him is. Everything about Mark is rough and bloodthirsty as he just bites your lip in the frenzy of the 'kiss'.

You nearly scream as you feel his canines rip through the skin, piercing it. It's muffled anyway as he doesn't even let you breath, he just takes, and takes, and takes.

Then, just when you think you're going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, he finally lets you breathe. You slump against his shoulder like a puppet whose strings had just been cut, dizzy and lightheaded as the room spins. Your lips hurt, they are swollen and red, just how he likes them.

You don't shed any tears yet, he's done it many times before that you almost like the pain now, but your eyes are glossy as you try to recollect yourself against his shoulder.

Mark' s grin becomes bigger, happier, as he looks at your unfocused stare, at the trickle of blood that runs down your mouth and that you don't bother to clean as you regain your breath slowly.

In mock comfort he nuzzles his nose against your neck, enjoying the way your vein is pumping faster to compensate for the lack of oxygen. He inhales your scent and then he sighs, genuinely pleased with the outcome.

"Maybe if you like we could go on a date in Paris?" You don't answer, still trying to get yourself together from this murderous make out session, even if you're already thinking about what he'd like for you to wear.)

-

Your feet collide with the glass roof of the factory as you smash your way in, the twisted version of Mark had not returned yet from his little trip, but it was only a matter of time before you would have to face him.

Your parents are relieved to see Ladybug here to their rescue, but not enough since that man is out to get you.

"My daughter" your mother gasps as you remove the gag and untie her as quickly as possible.

"Where is she? Is she safe from him? They were on a call just now". She sobs as she thinks of what he might be doing to you right now, and wonders how you knew this man. It was difficult to ignore his desire that radiated from every word as he talked to you on the phone, even harder to not puke at how quickly he had launched himself in the air after you had given up your location.

"She's safe, you don't need to worry about him, I'll take care of him." You make quick work of your parents' restraints, your only thought is being quick, hoping that you'll be fast enough to be able to not fight another version of Invincible. Even if you really want to murder him, you know it will be nearly impossible to do so, maybe it could also cost your life. "Go somewhere else, not your house, it's not safe".

"But our daughter, where is she—"

"She's fine!" You're sweating bullets as you feel the air change, your instincts already feeling the ripple in the atmosphere as something approaches. Something fast, murderous, angry.

"You need to go! Now!" You scream as you suddenly need to push your parents towards one of the doors as this Mark comes crashing down going straight for their heads. You manage to evade near decapitation by jumping acrobatically over his flying body, everything seems to go in slow motion as the both of you make eye contact.

Then, before he can stop himself and you can land on the ground, your yo-yo wraps itself around his whole body sending him flying against one of the machines. The whole building shakes from the collision, but you don't even hear him grunt as he just grabs the string of your yo-yo and pulls you to him. You yelp as you don't have enough strength to stop him, he's smiling, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he throws a lethal punch to your head, finally free from your yo-yo's hold after you were forced to let him go because of his pull.

"This is entertaining and all, but you've just interfered with a personal matter, did she send you?" His outfit comically matches yours as he flaunts the colours black and yellow.

You were a ladybug and this Mark looked like a wasp, aggressive like one two.

You would have laughed if you weren't busy shitting bricks thinking how to come out of this alive. Some dark part of you screamed to just kill him, to murder this tainted copy of your Mark not only to avenge your parents, but also the ones of the other version of you. Another part of you, the most rational one probably, tended towards a more cautious approach, one that would make sure you would come out alive with intact limbs.

"Very personal might I had, and now you're even blocking my path", then he laughs, all teeth and gums, "What's with the costume anyway? A ladybug? And those ponytails?"

"Could say the same for you with all that black and yellow", he doesn't even look at you, deeming you insignificant as he just dusts himself from the remaining debris on his costume.

"You sure do talk back for someone so pathetic"

"And you talk too much" you glare at his pitch black lenses, hoping to find at least something in those eyes that for a moment could make you remember that he is Mark, no matter what universe.

"You don't want me to be silent, little bug, after all I'm giving you time to think." He smiles cruelly, gloating at the large disparity between the two of you. Your hate returns triplicated, your whole body trembles under its weight. You know it's the truth, you know how limited you are. Yet you don't like not being taken seriously, you never did.

There's a moment of silence, the both of you waiting for the other to do something. You don't want to ponder too much on the proof of how twisted Mark could have become, had he made different choices. His cape twists around itself due to the wind, it's caked in blood along with his costume. Some of it is old and dried, some of it is bright and fresh as it drips on the ground, but no matter what form, that is still the blood of millions of people who were annihilated along with the city he chose to destroy.

People you can't bring back to life with your powers, because death is not something you can reverse with a quick smile and an object thrown in the air that vanishes in tiny little ladybugs and pink sparkles.

Death is permanent, the only irreversible act of destruction.

He doesn't wait for a remark, suddenly remembering why he was there in the first place, and he makes the first move by flying towards you with the intent to kill.

Every single one of his punches is deadly, so you're forced to dodge every single one of them.

This man doesn't even let you summon your lucky charm, he doesn't move like the Mark you have fought a couple of hours ago. His movements are the manifestation of years of honing his technique, of sharpening his body and mind in a machine that only works to massacre his enemies.

You don't have time to even say the famous words, since he just violently makes his way through the contraptions that surround the building, just to get to you.

You've seen yourself nearly decapitated, or with a hole in your chest as he just squishes your heart in his hands. You don't know how much longer you could escape all these near death experiences, you're just running on pure adrenaline as the beast in front of you gets more restless with each punch and kick that hits the air and not your guts.

Your luck for a moment falters, maybe it's just you making a tiny mistake, but it costs you dearly as the yo-yo you send his way is caught by him. In a matter of seconds your arms and legs are tangled around it, tying you up as he uses the other end of the weapon to send your body through at least three walls.

He hears the cracks your bones make, you feel all of it as you groan.

"Look at that, the little bug doesn't even know how to use her own silly 'weapon'." Your body is suspended in the air thanks to him and you're still tied up like some sick sort of present, all blood and cuts.

"Pathetic", the strings tighten around you, ripping through the costume and cutting your skin. Your yo-yo is indestructible, so you know that before the strings even think of snapping from his brute force, your body will already be a lifeless, sliced mess.

At every scream you make, his smile grows bigger. If he could, he'd take his sweet time with you, maybe even taste your thick dark blood that is now regrouped in a puddle on the dirty floor. Some of it splutters out of your mouth, adding some more red to his collection that stains his body which he wears proudly.

Before he can finally squish you like the bug you are, he's blinded by the pink sparkles of your de-transformation, shocked when he doesn't feel your yo-yo in his hands anymore. When you hit the ground, all tired and rapidly approaching blood loss, you struggle to get up and transform back.

"[name]?" It's a mix between euphoric and speechless, your name once again sounds like it hasn't been said in a long time, and it deeply freaks you out. You're afraid, don't really know what to do as you shed some tears that mix with the blood that coats your chin. You're back in your costume, but you feel naked in front of his gaze that speaks volumes, that almost devours you whole.

He laughs, ugly, like a maniac as he just hugs you tightly like you're the only medicine that can soothe his ache.

"I hate you so much" his words are fused with disbelieving laughter, his tight hold nearly makes you see god as he just inhales your scent, taking it in with deep long breaths and exhaling it in hot sighs that make you shiver.

"You don't know how much I hate you, after all I did..." He sounds so desperate, all his previous composure discarded. "You—you just left me, after everything I did for you—for us", he squeezes you even tighter, you can feel his rage, maybe even disappointment. You're scared like never before, cold sweat runs down your forehead, afraid of what he might do to you, seeing as he is losing his marbles ranting about things that happened with the you from his world.

"I fucking hate you so much, you had to go and ruin everything", he sounds like he might cry as he grits his teeth, but he doesn't, and you know he won't since instead his hands grip your blood coated skin even tighter, almost as if he was trying to imprint the feeling of it in his memory. He won't cry now, not when he didn't even flinch when he saw your lifeless body hang in the kitchen.

He had buried you, you had made him bury you.

He had taken care of every problem that stood in your way: his father wanted to get rid of you? Murdered in cold blood with his heart as an offer for you, people who did you wrong? Gone in the wind, your parents when they decided they had enough of him? Fucking ripped in half, bodies bent in the most gruesome ways imaginable.

You had always accepted him for how he was, because you couldn't live without him or with the thought of being nothing to him. You had flinched when you saw his dad's bloody heart, you had grimaced at the smell of the blood of your friends, of his coworkers, of innocent people, but it had never repulsed you enough to hate him or to not hug him, to not kiss him.

Yet, when he finally decides to murder the bastards that stood in the way of your future, the world he had envisioned for the both of you, you suddenly think it's too much?

How hypocritical could you be?

Your struggling is useless, you're punching him, trying to kick him, but it's all futile.

"Maybe deep down, you knew that I would have never let you go, even if I was so cold and 'heartless'". Without meaning to, you had given him clear access to your neck, to your vein that moves so rapidly due to the frantic beating of your heart.

"You're satisfied now, right? I let you make the choice you wanted for once." He hates how much he needs you, how dependent you had made him.

"Let me take care of the rest, now you just need to listen and be good for me, alright?", you don't understand how a statement could be both so malicious and adoring at the same time. After witnessing his delirium, anguish consumes you, were you the reason why he was such a psychopath? Was Mark destined to go rouge if he stuck with you?

Your speeding thoughts come to an abrupt stop as you feel teeth sinking in your neck, a scream erupts out of your dry throat, but he's quick to silence you as he just licks the blood running down your neck.

Your neck becomes his canvas, he covers it in bites and hickeys, brandin you like an animal and tasting your flesh and blood as if they were the most delicious things he has ever tried. A sob escapes you as you just close your eyes and take whatever he is giving you, but when you open them he is staring directly at you.

His mouth is covered in your blood—just like yours—then, as if he couldn't get enough, he slowly licks the blood that's running down your chin, loving the taste too much to let any of it go to waste. Your eyes widen as you feel his warm lips move against yours, your hands fly up to his hair and he moans in the kiss after you pull them to get him off you. For a moment your mouths separate but your lips collide again in a vicious cycle of tugging and pulling. He's panting, hair sticking in every direction, and you're light-headed, most likely due to the blood you're losing.

He doesn't give you any room to breathe, uncaring that unlike him you need oxygen to survive.

So you do the most logical thing really, you bite his tongue.

Nearly chewing off the squishy organ.

Naturally, his reaction is instantaneous as he screams and drops you to the ground. "You bitch—" he splutters out with a newly acquired lisp that makes you giggle as you lay on the ground, high in the clouds from all the blood that you were rapidly losing.

Before he is even able to grab you from the floor like a little mindless puppet, you're scoped in the arms of someone else, red paints his white suit.

You can't move, your eyes slowly closing as the cold air hits your face and warm, bloody hands hold you like you were giving to die at any moment, maybe you were, maybe not, you don't really know.

"Hey, don't go dying on me", the voice sounds as if it were underwater, you don't get all the words, but hearing 'dying' is enough to understand the meaning of the entire phrase.

"Don't worry, I'm just resting my eyes for a bit, okay?" You're mellowed out, tired and giggly as you just touch his nose with a "BOop!", your bloody finger smearing your insides on his perfect nose.

He looks at you with an undecipherable gaze, or maybe you're not really in the best conditions to understand his feelings, but then he just sighs, worried? Angry? Loving? All the above?

"You better just be resting".

( "Don't you sometimes wish you could just—I don't know—disappear, even for a second." It's cold, it's a dark night only illuminated by the full moon.

"I have done that sometimes, there are so many desert planets in the galaxy—", you interrupt his calm voice, gentle and relaxed as always when he is with you.

"I—I don't know Mark. I think that no matter where we could go, we can't escape this, our responsibilities." You're sitting on a roof, your black suit clashes with his white one. Another reminder of how incompatible the both of you were.

"I can't let you conquer earth, I can't let the viltrumite empire win, but I don't want to lose you".

"You don't need to lose me" he breathes out, after his hands always find yours. Sometimes you think that it might be an instinctual response for when you need comfort, stability.

"And then what? I give up like a coward and live off the rest of my days in luxury as earth is enslaved? You know right that I can't just do that". He doesn't get why you need to make it so difficult, he could force you to just accept his way and get this over with, but he doesn't want to hurt you.

"But why not?"

"Would you give up Viltrum for me?"

A shaky breath. A twitch. The air stills.

"Don't do this to me [name]..."

Your lips twitch downwards and you don't hesitate to just get away from him, baton ready to just fly out of there.

"There you have it, your answer, why should I give up Earth when you wouldn't do the same for me?")

Taglist: @xzmickeyzx , @fijiwaterbottle

[mbbmz]

Hey, I don't know if you're accepting requests again or not, but if you doyou can do a Rindou Haitani x Reader having sex, reader is a police officer and Rindou is a Bonten executive, They used to have a relationship, but it ended when the reader ended it when he found out about Rindou's hidden life and they meet again and there is a lot of tension to the point of having sex together. (I don't know if I made myself clear, but thanks anyway)

Sorry I took so much time writing this, been on it since February lol, hope you enjoy!

Hey, Ms. Policewoman~

✧˚Synopsis: You stopped seeing Rindou after discovering his real identity, but two years later, you can’t stop thinking about him…

✧˚ Warnings: Smut, porn with plot, a bit of gore (mild), Reader is a bit drunk, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, lmk if I forgot anything

✧˚WC: 2.1k

It shouldn’t have ended this way. When you learned the truth, you swore you’d be done with him. But no amount of resolve was enough to forget him. The feeling of him.

Life as a police officer isn’t easy. Working until dawn, witnessing gruesome scenes… not the ideal setting for relationships. And you were fine with that. Until you met him.

Rindou Haitani was so effortlessly handsome, a gentleman through and through at that. For once since you started your carrier, you considered actually involving yourself with him. His work hours were as strange as yours, which made it easier to see each other. Everything was going well.

But it all crashed out that day.

-"If Bonten’s involved, you shouldn’t dig into it. I say that for your own good."

You swore you didn’t hear the chief correctly. When you became a detective, you had this youthful, naive desire to solve as many cases as possible. This one wasn’t an exception.

A macabre double murder. The scene was awful to watch. The father and the son had been found in their lavish apartment. One in the bathtub, the other in the bed. Their kidneys, livers and eyeballs were harvested, and there was evidence of torture on their bodies. Missing nails and toe nails, teeth and broken fingers. This was probably the worst you had ever seen at the time.

Eventually, the investigators had been able to identify Bonten’s involvement in the affair. Then, everything stopped. And those words still haunted you to that day. But what haunted you the most was what you found in the files.

Unable to just accept the sudden abort of the case, you went to snoop into the files that gathered informations on Bonten. Classified informations, that you weren’t supposed to see. And part of you wish you never did.

Sano Manjiro, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Hitto Kakucho, all those names were completely foreign to you. Your hands clenched on the paper.

Haitani Rindou.

What? That’s not possible. There must be some kind of mistake…

Then you saw it, the dark, blurry picture probably taken from too far to really make out anything. But it was clear to you. That familiar lilac mass of hair, the confident stature, even the tuxedo you saw him wearing once. Everything was the same.

A wave of nausea crashed onto you, and you messily wrapped up the papers before going home. You could’ve just left it at that. But you needed to hear it from his mouth. It was probably a dumb idea, but you needed it.

He arrived at your place with that usual nonchalant expression you knew so well, and that lazy smirk. From the sudden text asking him if he was free, he thought he was going to blow your mind.

Well he did, but not in the way he hoped.

The conversation was rough, but eventually, Rindou knew it was useless to lie.

You told him you never wanted to see his face again.

This still haunts you, two years after. You still had trouble sleeping, overwhelmed by the guilt of having entertained one of Japan’s most dangerous criminals, and you also didn’t try relationships anymore.

That night, when your colleagues asked you to join them for a drink, you almost said no. Call it peer pressure, but you ended up having a few. Well, who cared. Tomorrow was your day off. Unless they needed you, then you’re fucked.

You were already two drinks in when you caught a glimpse of lilac. Your heart leaped in your chest, in a mixture of unease and unwanted excitement. Even after all this time, even after trying to forget him, your body remembered. A bit too well.

Remembered the fleeting touches, the building pleasure and the mind blowing orgasms only him could rip out of you. And before you could look away, his eyes locked with yours. As his bold stature made it’s way toward you, you started to turn away. But you were too slow.

You felt a strong hand gripping your wrist. Not forceful, but convincing enough to make you stop in your tracks. Your words were curt and discourteous, his were keen and smooth. And after a few protests…

-"Why, are you still in service right now?"

And then you thought, no, you weren’t working tonight.

Your body was now entirely caged against the door of your small apartment. He didn’t even take the time to lead you inside before his demanding lips crashed against yours. There wasn’t anything soft or sweet about this, only raw hunger and desire, fueled by a lack of contact that lasted too long. His hands gripped your hips forcefully, pulling you in as your crotches pressed together. You let out a barely concealed moan against his lips, and that’s all he needed. One moment, you were standing, and the next he had hoisted you up in the air, his hands gripping the back of your thighs as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

He already knew the way to your bedroom at this point, and in less than 30 seconds, you were under him on the mattress. He pulled away, your lips unconsciously chasing his, and he smirked.

-"Is that your way to gather evidence, detective?"

You hit his shoulder lightly, before grabbing his collar and pulling him into another deep kiss.

-"Shut up and kiss me…" You mumbled against his mouth, eyes closed and teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. You felt him smirk again. Damn him.

-"You sure are bossy t’night… Did ya miss me that much?"

You felt the urge to smack him in the face. But the urge to get rid of his clothes was stronger, and your fingers started working to unbutton his dress shirt. He let you, looking at you with an uncharacteristic heated gaze. After unfastening the three first buttons, he lowered his face, his lips moving hungrily over the sensitive skin of your neck, kissing and nibbling until you let out a shuddering moan. You felt him grin, sucking harshly on a spot he knew was sensitive. You almost let out a gasp at the intensity of it, but you managed to hold back.

You felt his hands, his big, rough hands pawing at your body without an ounce of restraint, before deftly working on the buttons of your shirt. He didn’t waste time, and before you knew it, he was unhooking your bra, exposing your chest to him. He took a moment to look at you, as if reminiscing something, rediscovering your body as if it was the first time he’s seen it. He palmed your breasts in a soft movement, contrasting with the rough feeling of his calloused hands. Pushing them together, before his thumbs rolled on your nipples, already stiff with arousal. You couldn’t hold back a moan this time, making him look at you as if you hung out the stars in the sky. Paying attention to every small twitch, every breathy sound.

He undid the last buttons of his shirt, effectively taking it off. You realized you had missed this sight. Rindou Haitani, with his perfect body, the kind of body that made your thighs twitching just from imagining what it could do. You let your hand wander, nails raking on the tattoo covering half of his torso. But you didn’t have time to do much, as he pressed himself against you, lips finding yours in a passionate dance, eyes fiery with hunger and want.

You tried to touch him again, to feel the warmth of his skin. But he didn’t let you, pinning your wrists above your head. You looked up at him, confused, but he kissed you again before you had the chance to say anything.

-"You’re gonna take what I give you, like a good girl." He muttered against your lips, the playfulness from earlier completely gone.

Your wrists strained slightly beneath his tight grip, pinned securely above your head. The look in Rindou's eyes had shifted entirely; the playful, cocky gaze replaced by an intensity that made your heartbeat quicken, warmth pooling insistently between your thighs.

-"Rin…" You began, breathless and unsure, but he silenced you with another deep, consuming kiss, claiming your mouth entirely, tongue tangling with yours, stealing your breath.

-"Shh…" He hushed you softly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath ghosting over your parted lips.

-"I said, take what I give you."

You swallowed hard, feeling your body instinctively arch toward him, hips pressing against his in an unspoken plea. His smirk returned, satisfied with your silent surrender. His free hand slipped downward, fingertips trailing a slow, tantalizing path along your ribcage, over your waist, and down your trembling thighs. You shivered under his touch, your body remembering every sensation it had been craving for the past two years.

His fingers reached your skirt, and he deftly hooked them under the waistband, dragging it down along with your underwear, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable beneath him. You felt your face flush as his eyes hungrily traced over your naked form, drinking you in as if memorizing each curve and detail.

-"Fuck, you look even better than I remember…" He muttered, finally releasing your wrists to grip your thighs, spreading them apart shamelessly wide.

You gasped, cheeks burning at his open display, but the embarrassment quickly melted away as he lowered himself, his hot breath ghosting over your aching center. He smirked, his tongue pressing flat against you without hesitation, dragging a slow, firm lick that made your entire body jolt.

Your fingers immediately tangled in his hair, gripping tightly as he expertly teased and tortured you, his mouth working you over with practiced ease. He alternated between slow, sensual strokes and sharp flicks of his tongue, knowing exactly how to push you closer and closer to the edge.

-"Oh, fuck-!" You cried out, hips bucking helplessly against his face, chasing the delicious friction.

Rindou groaned appreciatively, the vibration traveling straight through your sensitive flesh and sending shivers racing up your spine. He brought two fingers to your slick entrance, sliding them inside with ease, and began curling them gently, rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you. Your vision blurred slightly as pleasure overwhelmed you, waves of heat and sensation crashing through your body.

He continued relentlessly, lips closing around your clit and sucking softly, his fingers pumping steadily until your muscles tightened, thighs trembling violently. You felt the coil inside you snap, your climax washing over you in a sharp, intense burst.

-"R-Rindou!" You moaned his name loudly, body arching off the mattress as your orgasm hit you with blinding intensity.

He didn't give you time to fully come down before pulling away, swiftly undoing his pants and freeing himself. You bit your lip, anticipation rewaking as he moved over you again, pressing the tip of his hardened cock against your sensitive entrance.

He hovered over you, gripping your jaw gently yet firmly, forcing you to look directly into his eyes.

-"Tell me you want this…" He demanded softly, voice rough and filled with raw desire, still waiting for your answer.

Your mind was fuzzy, consumed by lust, but you managed a breathless whisper.

-"I want you… Fuck, please…

He sank into you slowly, savoring your warmth enveloping him, groaning deeply as he buried himself completely. Your nails clawed into his shoulders, gasping sharply at the delicious fullness.

He didn't wait long, setting a deep, hard pace, driven by pent-up passion and longing. His hips snapped against yours, fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to leave marks, his mouth capturing yours in messy, frantic kisses.

The room filled with a chorus of your moans mingling with his and the sounds of skin meeting skin. You clung desperately to him, each powerful thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, rapidly pushing you toward another release.

-"Can’t believe… I get to feel this way again…" Rindou rasped in your ear, his voice tight with restraint.

-"S-Shut up- Ah!" You cried out, your body shuddering violently as a second climax overtook you, even stronger than the first, stealing your breath and leaving you trembling uncontrollably beneath him.

Feeling your walls tightening around him, he groaned your name roughly, hips stuttering as he found his own release deep inside you, his body shaking as he rode out his orgasm.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sounds in the room your ragged breathing. Rindou pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed, chest rising and falling rapidly.

-"You done avoiding me now?" He asked, whispering roughly, possessively.

-"Shut it…" You muttered, your own voice hoarse. But deep down, you knew the answer to that.

I feel like I’m never that proud of my work, but fuck it

[meganwritesfanfics]

As It Was (Dr. Jack Abbott x Reader)

This is a companion story to The Highway Don't Care

Word Count: 2224 

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of injury, negative self-talk.

This one gets a bit spicy. I tried to make it even spicer, but I learned I am not good at it, lol.

Jack hated physical therapy. He hated the sound of the machines, the clicking and stretching. He hated the smell. He hated the obnoxiously bright lights. All of it reminded him of the countless visits he had. It brought him back to a very dark time after he lost his leg. It brought him back to the feelings of hopelessness and desperation. 

But this time, he wasn’t there for himself, this time he was there for Y/N. After multiple surgeries to repair her femur, Y/N was on a recovery track. But it was a slow and grueling one. 

He sat in a corner trying to read but he just kept reading the same sentence over and over because his focus was on Y/N as she tried her best to walk with her physical therapist. 

“Fuck,” She screamed as she crumbled her therapist catching her. “I think we are done.” 

“You still have 10 minutes…” The therapist started. 

“No I’m done!” Y/N screamed and Jack was instantly on his feet heading towards her. 

“I’ve got her.” He said and the therapist just walked off. “Baby, are you ok?” 

“I’m fine, I just want to go home.” She snapped at him. 

Jack sighed. Ever since Y/N had started physical therapy, she was constantly short with him. It felt as though she was pushing him away. He knew the pain and frustration she was feeling, and he knew that eventually she would confide in him. But Jack also didn’t want to push her too far, knowing it could break her. So he had patience, and tried to be there in whatever way he could. 

“Come on,” He said as he got her crutches and handed them to her. “Let’s get you home.” 

The whole car ride rome, Y/N remained silent, her attention focused out the window.

“Why don’t we order pizza for dinner.” Jack chimed in. 

“Sure,” She sighed but she wasn’t fully paying attention. 

“Y/N, baby, are you ok?” He said and he reached out for her hand but she pulled her hand away. 

“Jack I’m fine. I’m just tired.” She said as she ran her hand over her face. 

“Ok,” He said as he nodded. He just accepted her answer. He knew her, he knew her better than most anyone, and he knew at some point she would let him in. He knew she would breakdown and he would be there to catch her when she did. 

When they got home, Jack came over to her side of the car to help her out, but she didn’t grab his hand. “I’ve got it.” She snapped and again Jack just nodded. He stayed by her side ready to catch her if he needed. 

Ever since she had gotten out of the hospital, Jack had been by her side. He had taken off work, using all of the PTO he had built up and never used. He had also spent so much time making sure that everything in the house was set up in a way that would make it easier for Y/N to recuperate. He had set up their guest bedroom into their makeshift masters so that Y/N wouldn’t have to struggle up the stairs. Event though he offered to carry her up the stairs every night but she quickly shut that down.He had also moved her entire wardrobe down into that room. 

“I’ll order the pizza, you want your usual?” Jack called. 

“Sure,” Y/N called back as she made her way to the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?” He asked. 

“I’m going to get us plates.” She said. 

“I can get them.” Jack said as he made his way towards her. 

“Jesus Christ Jack, I’m not helpless I can get the fucking plates!” Y/N screamed as she threw her crutches to the ground. 

Jack froze looking at Y/N his eyes wide. “Baby…” 

“No, I can’t fucking do it.” Her voice cracked hard as she started to take a step she let out a cry of pain and she collapsed to the ground. 

“Y/N,” Jack rushed to her side. 

“I’m sorry I’m so sorry.” Y/N cried as Jack sat down next to her. 

“What are you sorry about?” He asked.

“I’ve been such a bitch to you, for so long. And you have just been absolutely wonderful with everything. And I have been so horrible.” 

“You have not been horrible.” Jack tried to sooth. 

“No I have, I have been horrible to you and I have been horrible to everyone.” 

“I know it’s hard baby, trust me, I know.” 

Y/N let out another sob as she placed her head in her hands. 

“Baby, talk to me. What’s going on in the beautiful head of yours?” He asked as he rubbed her back. 

“I feel so guilty.” 

“Why do you feel guilty?” 

“I shouldn’t be feeling so bad about how badly my recovery is going. I’m alive, and I will be able to walk again. I should be grateful. And I hate that you have to witness all of this. After everything you have gone through, me being upset must feel so ridiculous to you.” She sobbed. 

Jack was shocked. He had never thought about the fact that Y/N may have thought he was judging her for her journey, based on what he went through. 

“Baby, I do not think you are ridiculous. What you are going through is really hard. Really hard. Just because my recovery journey looked different doesn’t mean I’m judging you for yours. How long have you been feeling like this?” 

“Since the first appointment, I could see how uncomfortable you were being back at physical therapy.And it just got me thinking about how stupid you must think I am. I didn’t lose my leg, I shouldn’t be complaining” 

He pulled her into his arms. “I would never think that, and you know it. You’re right, being at physical therapy does bring back bad memories of a very rough time in my life. But I can be a little bit uncomfortable to make sure that you are supported. You are worth it.” 

Y/N just groaned as she buried herself further into Jack’s embrace. 

“Look at me.” He said as he held her head in his hands. “I don’t want you to not talk to me because you think you don’t deserve to complain. Physical therapy is the absolute fucking worst. And I am going to fully understand what you are feeling and going through. Hell I am a wealth of knowledge when it comes to surviving the recovery journey. I just want to help you. You know I hate seeing you like this. It tears me up inside. I just wish I could fix it for you instantly so you wouldn’t have to go through this.” Jack’s voice cracked slightly. 

“I hate feeling so helpless. I hate that I can’t work. I hate that I don’t feel like I’m making any progress. And I hate how I feel like I am such a burden to you, and I…” She hesitated her eyes looking into Jack’s. “I hate that I feel like you would have been better off if I died in the crash.” 

Jack’s heart stopped. He hadn’t realized how bad things had gotten with Y/N. He felt horrible that he hadn’t recognized the signs, and hadn’t done more to help her. 

“Y/N.” He said firmly. “Don’t you dare say that. I was an absolute mess when I thought I was going to lose you. You are my life. If I lost you I wouldn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry I didn’t realize things were this bad.” 

“I didn’t want you to know. I wanted to pretend I was ok, and pretend I wasn’t a hot fucking mess.” Y/N sighed. 

“Baby,” Jack pulled her in for a kiss. “You are not a hot fucking mess. You are just hot.” He teased and she cracked a smile. “There is that beautiful smile I have been missing.” 

“Have I told you how wonderful you are lately?” Y/N sighed burying her face in Jack’s chest again. 

“I know I’m a fucking catch.” Jack replied and Y/N laughed. 

They sat for a while before Jack scooped her up and carried her back to the couch. He sat down holding her tightly in his lap. 

“I love you.” Y/N said as she ran her fingers through his hair. “I love you so much. You are the best part of my life.” 

“I love you too. Will you promise to let me know when you are getting overwhelmed or feeling guilty. I want to be there to tell you how much I love you and how proud of you I am.” Jack said.

“You are proud of me?” Y/N said her eyes watering again.

“I am always proud of you, my girl.” Jack replied as he pulled her in for another long kiss. “You are a badass doctor who is absolutely brilliant  and so unbelievably kind.

The sweet kisses suddenly turned passionate as Y/N began kissing Jack’s neck. 

“Y/N,” He moaned. 

“Take me to bed Jack.” She purred in his ear. 

He quickly scooped her up and started towards the guest bedroom. 

“No, I want you to make love to me in our bed.” She insisted as she sucked on the spot right below his ear she knew drove him wild. 

“We aren’t going to make it there if you keep doing that.” Jack growled as he started to carry her up the stairs. 

Y/N giggled. “I thought you pride yourself on your patience. Dr Abbott.” 

“You make being patient a struggle darling.” 

He walked them into the bedroom and he dropped Y/N on the bed gently and then he was on her in an instant. 

His lips kissed down her throat as his hands roamed her body causing her to moan. 

“Jack,” She moaned as his hands wandered under her shirt. 

“You are far too dressed.” He said as he instantly pulled her shirt off over her head. 

Y/N blushed a little bit remembering what outfit she was wearing. Her sweatset, sports bra, and least flattering pair of underwear. 

Instantly Jack could feel the mood change and he pulled back. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked. 

“I just look super sexy in my outfit right now.” She said trying to make a joke out of it, but he could hear the sadness in her voice.

“Y/N, I would find you sexy in whatever you wore. Hell I think you are sexy in scrubs.” 

Y/N smiled. “That must be really hard for you at work.” She teased. 

“Oh it’s impossible. I constantly want to pull you into a room and fuck you senseless.” He growled. 

“Jack!” Y/N gasped but Jack’s mouth was instantly back on hers. 

*********

Y/N woke to the sound of whimpering. She groaned sleepily trying to find the source of the sound. She instantly sat up when she saw Jack thrashing in his sleep. 

“No, please, no.” He mumbled in his sleep. 

Y/N was no stranger to Jack’s nightmares. While they had gotten better since he started going to therapy, ever since the wreck, they had become more frequent. 

“Y/N no,” He broke and she could tears falling down his cheek 

“Jack, honey.” She said as she gently placed her hands on his chest. “Honey, you need to wake up.” 

“Please I can’t lose you, please.” He sobbed. 

“Jack, wake up, it’s just a nightmare.” She shook him a little. 

“No, no, no.” He just kept repeating as his body started to tremble. 

“Jack!” She said a bit more forcefully as she grabbed his face with her hands. 

His eyes snapped open and his brown eyes frantically searched hers. 

“Are you ok?” He asked terrified. 

“Jack I’m fine, everything is fine, you were having a nightmare.” Y/N said running her fingers through his curls trying to calm him down. 

“I thought… you were…” He started his breathing becoming erratic. 

“Baby, Jack, I need you to breathe ok. Look at me, look at me.” Y/N quickly grabbed his hand and placed it on her throat so he could feel her pulse. “You feel that, I’m fine, it was just a nightmare. I’m here. You saved me.” 

Jack took deep breaths, as he hand shifted from her throat to her cheek as he ran his thumb gently over her cheek. 

“You are ok,” He said mostly to himself as he pulled Y/N into his embrace. 

“I am ok.” She comforted as she felt him kiss the top of her head. Her head was resting on his chest and she could feel how rapidly his heart was beating. 

They just lay together in silence as Jack tried to calm down. 

“Clearly you aren’t the only one in this relationship who is a hot fucking mess.” Jack sighed. 

Y/N playfully gasped. “You said I wasn’t a hot fucking mess.” She teased. 

Jack laughed. “We can be hot fucking messes together.” 

“I love you Jack.” Y/N said as she snuggled into his embrace. 

“I love you too Y/N.” He sighed happily, and it wasn’t long before sleep found them once again.  

Tag List: @pear-1206 @frazie99 @brnesblogposts

[prapaiwife]

Ssaeng vs fan

It's telling in this episode they showed us two different fans interactions with Kin! One with one fan just basically praising him for being such an amazing actor and even implying that he's going to win the best new actor award! This was just a simple wholesome interaction and most of all kin was happily conversing and comfortable with his fan. And then with the other interaction with the ssaeng it was just so uncomfortable. The way she spoke to him as if she chose her words carefully to literally see if she can get anything out of him any information. She didn't really care nor see that she put him in an uncomfortable situation and position. But kin being so nice he tried to keep the conversation light but she continually made it dark. Kin himself obviously being in the industry he's had both of these interactions on both hands. So he immediately felt the difference he had with the first fan in the store compared to when she came in. Cuz he was already getting these weird signs that something is very off with him hearing cameras flashing. And him also just remembering her face from the beginning that pretty much was ingrained in his mind! So the fact that he could sense from her energy that it was completely off says a lot.

But it also says a lot that they showed us those two different interactions so people can know what is acceptable and whaf isn't at all. Seeing your favorite person your idol in person and letting them know how much they have made such a positive influence in your life is great. There's no harm going up to them to simply just praise him for what they do for what they love. But to have this a very kind of demanding demeanor tourism with just completely turn them off completely from you. And you put them in an uncomfortable position say you love them but you talk to them as if you own them as if they are old to tell you every single part of their life their business. That is not normal and that is not acceptable there's not always going to be people like Kin who was very empathetic and very understanding. Like he was with her till the end to even chop the charges against her! he knew that everything she did was off the rails and not acceptable. But he also heard her out.. and her praying at her heart to him about how she just wanted that one-on-one moment the one that they're having right now. But the lengths that she took to get this moment the way she made her favorite person that she loves so much uncomfortable and traumatized because this behavior is traumatizing.

She recognized that in the last moment when she says that he's not looking at her the way that he would normally look at his fans. And they should click to her in a moment because this is not a normal fan interaction! But because she is his fan that's what sticks to Kin the most that's the only way he could honestly probably look at this. But then again I don't think it's him coddling her behavior. Is that that he had to basically stoop Domino for her to not feel so I guess you can say disconnected from him because he reaches out to her and touches her hand. But when you're handling people like that who are not in the right mind at all mentally you have to be careful.

[traumacatholic]

I don’t believe God is love anymore. I’ve started thinking of him as some detached uncaring cosmic entity that’s going to delight in torturing me in hell if I don’t want to spend eternity doing nothing but worshipping him. Which I don’t, and I’m wondering if that makes me like a demon, because I thought their whole thing was that they didn’t want to worship God. But I’m scared to death of hell and now I’m scared of heaven too because I just don’t believe eternal happiness and contentedness is possible no matter what. I can’t fathom it, I can’t fathom existing without suffering. I’m angry that God created me just to be part of a cruel game with no good ending and I’m scared that there’s something evil in me that’s making me angry at God. I’m just so confused and angry and scared all the time I’ve ceased to be able to function in day to day life. On some level I’m aware it’s not normal to feel this way but I genuinely believe the conclusions I’ve come to are reasonable given what I’ve been told and what I’ve read.

There is a book called 'On Job: God-Talk and the Suffering of the Innocent' by Gustavo Gutiérrez that I think you would benefit from reading. Further to this, I think you should read the poem 'Dark Night of the Soul' by Saint John of the Cross and the two commentaries that he has written for that poem. Another book that would be beneficial for you is 'The Catholic Guide to Depression'.

On Job and The Catholic Guide to Depression both try to understand the meaning of pain, how there can be pain and a loving God. And I think that they both present their arguments very well in a deeply comforting way. And they both by far would do a much better way of talking about suffering than I could ever hope to do. The Dark Night of the Soul is a poem more or less about tangibly feeling the absence of God. That God has withdrawn from you. That separation from God. And what the soul goes through when it experiences it.

I think having books to read can be helpful because they can often stop our mind from spiralling into anxious circles. In order to progress through the book, we need to be focusing on the author. And when our mind wanders, we can draw ourselves back to the words of the page and for some people this can be very helpful at stopping mounting anxiety. These works should hopefully be able to offer you some fresh perspectives that you might not have come to, or that you might have heard from other people but not in a level of depth that was helpful enough to you.

Further to these works, I think it is very important that you speak to a doctor about this. As well as a Priest. Both of these people can help with your troubles, and both of these kinds of people should be consulted. If you are concerned about bringing up faith to your doctor, don't be. It is entirely normal for people to bring up in doctor's appointments how their faith is impacting them or how their mental or physical symptoms are impacting their relationship with their faith. Your doctor can work with you to address any physical or mental troubles that might be making you feel this way and your Priest can help with the spiritual side of things.

You are not a demon for being angry with God. Many great Saints have been angry with God. Have expressed frustration. Have been outraged at their circumstances. Demons are not upset about feeling angry at God, they do not feel guilty about being angry at God, they do not try to address their problems with God. Humans can not be demons. By the very fact that you are a human being, you are made in the image of God. You are a living Icon of Christ. And although sin may muddy that image at times, remember that repentance and confession washes that clean. And no matter how muddy the image might be or might feel, that does not change that you are made in the image of God.

If you were the only person on Earth at this moment in time, in the past Christ would have still chosen to be Incarnated, to suffer and to be Resurrected in order to redeem you and your relationship with God. To heal that wound that happened in the Garden of Eden. Christ suffered too. When we weep, God weeps. God freely and willingly enters into our pain, our suffering, our isolation. God went to the Cross for you. He suffered for you. Your pain and suffering is wrapped up in the mystery of the Cross. The Cross is above all a message of hope.

“How can Jesus say that those who mourn are fortunate? What does he mean? Leiva-Merikakis suggests that the disciple of Jesus who mourns is blessed because he is viewing death, the ultimate cause for sorrow, from God’s point of view. In a way, precisely on the path of mourning, he is stepping in to share God’s vision and life. The one who mourns is being faithful to a particular love and expressing the conviction that life is stronger than death and that death should not be. The mourner who perseveres in his non-acceptance of death as the ultimate reality becomes makarios — blessed. In other words, the follower of Jesus in the Beatitudes is hopeful within sorrow and grief, even if it feels like despair. He is hopeful because Jesus is there with him. The phrase “shall be comforted” literally means, “to be called to someone’s side.” The sorrowful are called close to Jesus’ side; they are not abandoned. Leiva-Merikakis comments, “God does not console us by abolishing our solitude but by entering it and sharing it.” The disciple of Christ has a hopeful sorrow because Jesus is with him. And this hopeful sorrow — this sorrow of love — is indeed a Christian virtue.” - The Catholic Guide to Depression

“On the Cross and in his agony, our Lord suffered not just our physical afflictions, but our mental anguish as well. Out of the depths we cry to him. And he reaches down into our depths to raise us up with him. God knows the depth of our suffering; he knows our fragile heart. And Christ’s own heart — a heart of flesh, a heart both human and divine — is merciful beyond measure. It is in this mercy that we place our hope.” - The Catholic Guide to Depression

“Even a cursory walk through the Gospels shows that the Lord experienced the range of human emotions, including profound sorrow and anguish of soul. This can be of great solace for those suffering depression. God is no distant figure. He enters fully into human life and redeems nature from the inside. […] These events [of suffering] in the life of Jesus take up the Old Testament themes about sorrow and anguish, expanding and concretizing them in the sorrow of the Incarnate God. Jesus willingly takes this suffering unto himself. Sorrow and mental pain is no longer something foreign to the life of Gd. The heart of the depressed person can find a connection with the profound sorrow found in the Heart of Jesus. When human suffering encounters the Sacred Heart of Christ, the result is life and hope: a withered hand is restored; an only son, a precious daughter, and a good friend are raised from he dead. Jesus points us to the future full of hope.” - The Catholic Guide to Depression

God is on your side. No matter how angry you are. No matter how scared you are. God calls you continually to Him. God does not want your suffering. He does not want your destruction. Fear of Hell, and uncertainty about Heaven can be very normal. Both are wrapped up in a fear of death. We may hate the life we are living, we may hate what events we have went through, but those things are still known to us. It is equally hard to wrap our minds and hearts around Heaven as it is to wrap our minds and hearts around Hell. But when these feelings overwhelm us, it is better to speak with a Priest. Even if we feel silly. Even if we feel that we know the answers. God does not want our despair. But the adversary that wants us to tempt us away from God, does. The adversary does not want us to bring our sufferings to God for love and comforting. He wants us to fall further away into despair and that despair leading to outright anger. Where we do not want repentance, where we do not want a relationship.

But it is important to note that even if we ever do get to that stage, God still loves us. God still calls us back. No matter how far gone you are, as long as you are still living and breathing there is hope. There is repentance. We are always called to repent and come back. Speak with your Priest, and speak with your doctor. And know always, that God loves you. There is nothing you can do to take away God's love for you. God loves you even when you don't want Him to. I will be praying for you.

Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession,  was left unaided. Inspired by this confidence I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, my Mother. To thee do I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me.  Amen.