#and you know it's a dream. so i can't /scream/.

[dreamsteddie]

Wowza. Part one blew up way more than I thought it would so here! Part two! I do have more thoughts about this so there might be a couple more parts to come. We'll see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

------

Eddie takes half a second to consider just not answering. Maybe throwing his phone away and never going back to the restaurant they went to last night so he never has to confront whatever it is that's about to happen. Maybe even fleeing the country and living alone on a sheep farm with no friends and go relationships ever again so something like this never happens again.

But then he thinks of Steve. Kind, funny Steve with the bright eyes and soft skin who looked at Eddie like he could fall in love with him and he knows that whatever comes next, Steve deserves for Eddie to see it through with him.

New Message: Steve H.

Hey

Just that one word sends Eddie's heart into his throat. He can see that Steve is still typing, those little ellipses of doom popping on and off the screen. Realistically, Steve probably doesn't know what happened, right? Eddie's pretty sure Steve wasn't in on it and it's been less than an hour since Eddie himself found out, so probably not.

Steve H: Gareth called me

Fuck.

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.

If Eddie's heart was in his throat at the first text, the second one has it dropping through his body and out of his goddamned ass. It's not that he doesn't want Steve to know. He was always planning to tell him, he was just hoping he could be the one to do it. Gareth being a little shit and calling Steve first was not part of the plan.

Steve H: He told be about the prank. I'm sorry if I wasn't what you expected and you were just being nice. We can pretend it never happened. No hard feelings.

Eddie slams his head into his pillow. This is such a cluster fuck he can hardly bring himself to look at the text but he needs to come up with some kind of response, like, yesterday if he wants any chance of keeping the man of his dreams from running for the hills because apparently, Eddie's friends are trying to destroy his life. He takes a deep breath and starts typing.

Eddie: Hey, I'm so sorry about that. I just found out about what they did an hour ago at practice. I didn't think they would just call you out of the blue like that, I was just about to text you.

Not completely true, but Eddie was going to text him about it, just after screaming into his pillow and making a couple Vudu dolls first.

Eddie: For what it's worth I really do like you and I would love to still take you out on that second date, but I understand if my friends scared you off and you want nothing to do with me. I know it's fucked up.

It takes a minute for Steve to respond, the typing bubbles ebbing and flowing as Steve types and retypes whatever it is he wants to say. Eddie is about ready to call it a wash and start googling sheep farms for sale in Ireland when a new text comes in, dispelling all thoughts of learning to sheer wool.

Steve H: Are you sure?

And fuck if that doesn't hurt his heart. Eddie has spent all of two and a half hours with Steve, he's a virtual stranger, but Eddie can swear he can feel all of Steve's secondhand insecurity through that one lonely sentence. Before he even registers what he's asking, he send a quick reply.

Eddie: Can I Facetime you?

Before Eddie can try to rethink his decision, his screen lights up with a notification. Steve is calling him.

Eddie scrambles to answer, fumbling his phone a little in his haste and almost missing the call completely. He manages to get it on the last ring, breathing heavily in a way he knows can't be flattering.

All thoughts about his lack of dexterity fly out the window when he looks into his screen. On their date, Steve was perfectly put together. Hair meticulously done, clothes freshly pressed, and a light sheen of lipgloss accentuating the perfect curve of his mouth. While Steve is still beautiful through the lens of his camera, it's clear that he's been crying. His eyes are red and a little puffy, hair out of order in a way Eddie thinks is probably unusual for him, and Eddie can see that he's wearing a well-loved beige hoodie.

"Hi," Steve says, waving a shy hand almost the same way he had last night.

"Hey sweetheart," Eddie says, keeping his voice low and gentle, desperate to soothe Steve however he can through the distance of their phones.

For a minute they just look at each other, neither one knowing what to say in a situation like this. Eddie sees Steve gearing up to say something, but he cuts in before he starts. There's something he needs to say while Steve can see him face to face.

"I'm really sorry about what happened!" He says, much lounder than he intended. "My friends were being dicks. I haven't dated in a while and instead of being normal fucking people they set up this whole stupid prank but I swear I wasn't in on it!"

Something about what he says draws a small smile from the corner of Steve's mouth, so Eddie keeps talking. "Besides, if they wanted to prank me they should have picked someone that isn't a literal fucking model in disguise. There wasn't a chance in hell I wasn't going to beg you for that second date."

At that, Steve gives a little chuckle and it lifts Eddie's heart from where it'd fallen onto the floor and puts in back in his chest 10 times lighter than before.

"Jesus, are you always such a flirt Munson?" he says.

"Only when the boys are especially pretty," Eddie responds.

Steve gives another little laugh at that before sobering up. He gives Eddie a long look through the phone, and Eddie lets him.

"Are you sure you don't want to just call it quits here man? Gareth was pretty adamant that I'm not the kind of guy you usually go for. I don't want you to feel like you have to humor me out of kindness." There's a forced flippancy to Steve's words that Eddie knows well from his own Munson Coping Strategies Handbook. Steve is trying to give him an out, but Eddie can tell that he doesn't want to.

For the first time since this all started, Eddie is well and truly mad. Gareth and Jeff had absolutely no business poking around in his love life in the first place, but now they've reached out to the guy Eddie already told them he liked to what? Tell him never mind actually, we don't think you're the right guy for our friend even though he told us very explicitly how into you he is.

Eddie lets all the frustration, anger, and tenuous hope building up in his chest fuel his reply. This one has to count, he can feel it. It's a charisma saving throw with the whole campaign on the line. He can't miss this one.

"Honestly Steve, if you asked me two days ago what I was looking for in a partner, I probably would have said I wanted to date another alternative metalhead or punk who likes playing DnD and getting high on the weekend." Eddie can see Steve's shoulders slump as his eyes dart away, but he pushes on, determined to make his point.

"But, I haven't had as good a time as we had last night in a really long time." Steve looks back up, eyes alight with the same tentative hope Eddie himself is channeling. "I think you're funny and interesting, and you have the absolute worst takes on ice cream flavors, and you're hot as hell. Like, seriously the hottest guy I've ever seen in real life."

Steve smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkling.

Critical success.

"So, about that second date."

-------

Tag List

@wheneverfeasible @the-dark-hearts @sofadofax @wrenisfangirling @whatfinestandsfor @lilpomelito @raisedbylibrarians @ollyxar @mugloversonly @xxbottlecapx @hezaaxdexangelous @kimsnooks @that-one-gay-crow

[memepocalypse]

Nightmares

"I just want to sleep."

"I hate waking up like this."

"Did I wake you up?"

"You were screaming in your sleep."

"Wake up! It's me!"

"What were you dreaming of?"

"How many nights are you going to lose to this?"

"I know it's scary, but you've got to sleep."

"You're clearly exhausted."

"I can lay with you, if it'll help?"

"Do you want a cuddle?"

"Hey, hey, take a deep breath. You're awake."

"It's just a nightmare."

"You have to get over this."

"Won't you admit that this is a problem now?"

"I just want you to get some rest."

"I hate seeing you so tired."

"You deserve to sleep peacefully."

"I feel so tired... all the time..."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to cry, I'm just frustrated."

"No sleep turns me into an asshole."

"Stop snapping at me, I'm trying to help."

"Did you dream about me?"

"Why don't you trust me with this?"

"Don't - don't shut down. Please."

"You have to talk about it if you want it to stop."

"I keep sceaming, but I can't move. I can't stop."

"I just want to get - get away from them -"

"Can't - breathe -"

"Take a breath. It's over."

[heys0ulmate]

veneration (this faith's got me high)

pairing: sofia falcone/gigante x f!reader

summary: sofia isn't the same anymore- but you've waited too long for her to care.

warnings: uhh .. unnegotiated/dubcon, gun usage, slight bondage, passing out, im sure im missing stuff, not proofread, major abuse of italics sorry lmao

word count: 4.6K

A/N: this is the first part of what i PLAN to be a series, tho im not sure when the next part(s) will be out. i legitimately havent published a fic in over a decade so im sorry that its like. poorly structured LOL. not much smut in this one sorry yall. title from holy by zolita btw. also this was posted prematurely by accident cus it was still in my drafts but oh well

〰️

You don't recognize the room you're in, but you feel no danger. All you feel is giddiness and bliss.

There's something warm next to you. Sofia.

Her red, pretty lips are moving, corners curled up slightly, but you can't hear her. You laugh despite the fact, because it feels right. The joy in your chest overwhelming.

She's closer, now. You're laughing hysterically, to the point of tears. It's getting hard to breathe.

Sofia cups your face. She looks scared, but you still can't hear what she's saying. You can't speak- all you can do is laugh and choke for air.

The room changes.

It's crowded.

You spot Sofia from across the galley.

Something in you tells you to run to her, as fast as you can, like you'll die if you don't. It's an all-consuming type of panic, the inability to breathe slowly creeping back.

You push past the crowd, but the more progress you make, the larger the room seems to grow.

The crowd parts, and you see her. She's leaving the room, hand in hand with her father. Her lips are parted in a scream that you still can't hear.

"Sofia!" You shriek, running as fast as you can now that the people have cleared a path.

You're inches away from Sofia and the grip her father has on her when you suddenly hear her voice loud and clear from behind you.

"She's not here anymore."

You bolt up from your bed, gasping for air and flailing under your blanket, desperately trying to wrestle it off.

It takes a minute to gather your bearings.

"Shit," you mutter to yourself, rubbing your eyes.

It shouldn't phase you. You can't remember a single night in the past ten goddamn years that you haven't woken up from a some sort of dream-turned nightmare about Sofia. But something about this one seemed to stick to you like summer heat, an uncomfortable, lingering sensation that seems to amplify the harder you try to ignore it.

"She's not here anymore."

It rings through your head like a catchy song as you stumble into the kitchen for a glass of water.

In the ten years since Sofia was taken from you, you haven't heard her voice even once. You weren't allowed visitation as a non-family member, and phone calls were prohibited for the same reason.

It was almost if the sanctions had carried over into your psyche, some form of cruel punishment that prevented you from hearing her even in your dreams.

At least you were able to see her at night.

You'd never grown used to the inevitable, debilitating dread that suffocated you each time you awoke, but you still looked forward to falling asleep each night, knowing it'd grant you a brief illusion of having Sofia by your side again.

"She's not here anymore."

You try not to think to hard about it, to instead appreciate the blessing of being graced with her voice, even if it was just subconscious. You tell yourself it's probably just a result of the weeks recent events; the flooding of Gotham city. The death of Carmine Falcone.

The impact of it all must have rattled you.

That's all.

But... you can't shake the nagging feeling that there was something more.

It's then that your phone rings on your bedside table. *BRRR*

You set your water cup down with a huff, shuffling your feet slowly towards your bedroom. You're in no rush to pick up. Who the fuck call at this time of night; and without warning?

In your experience, this meant one of two things: the call was your basic, run of the mill scam attempt, or a reporter who had found your number and was desperate for some kind of story. Not that you'd ever give them one, of course. Even when Sofia was still around, and your relationship was somewhat in the public eye, you never discussed anything with journalists of any kind.

After Sofia was sent to Arkham, the scrutiny on you had increased. You went from being the occasionally mentioned girlfriend of Carmine Falcone's daughter, to 'the woman who loved The Hangman.'

Generally, the public saw you as a pseudo-victim; someone who had been manipulated by The Hangman, paraded to maintain a false image, and used as a front to keep Sofia's cover. They didn't believe you when you claimed to have been with Sofia on three of the nights that those women were killed. "The poor girl- who knows what that woman subjected her to, to make her lie for her?"

The year following her arrest was the peak of your exposure. You were relentlessly assaulted with press whenever you went outside, and you had to change your cell phone number four times.

Everyone was dying for an inside scoop on what it was like to know The Hangman intimately.

By the second year, you were more comfortable leaving the house. You moved just outside of Gotham, and slowly, the pressure for statements and interviews died down the longer Sofia was away. You still get the occasional phone call, someone hoping that now that it's been 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 years, maybe you'd be willing to share your 'story.'

You'd hang up immediately every time, until you got to the point where you just stopped picking up.

*BRRRRR*

You approach your bedside table with every intention to hit the reject button, squinting at the brightness of your screen in the dark of your room.

That's when you see the caller ID.

*000*

You pause.

So far, every telemarketer, every scammer, reporter, and journalist, were listed as either Unknown Caller, or a string of numbers.

The only time you received calls with three digit numbers was when it was Alberto.

A part of you hesitates. Alberto does this, sometimes, though it's become more sparse over the years: he goes on a bender, gets too in his feelings, and calls from a nurner phone and leaves you a barrage of voice and text messages. It's always the same, with him going on coked-up rant about how he's going to get Sofia out one day and wrong everyone who wronged her.

Outside of that, though, Alberto never called. When Sofia was sent away, Alberto had begun simultaneously spiraling and attempting to survive and thrive in the Falcone family. Between the drugs and job, Alberto became a lot more isolated than he used to be. Any attempt on your part to reach out wasn't successful. He stopped responding from the number you'd had saved, keeping communication one-sided.

Still, every week, you texted him the same thing at the same time. Sunday, 9AM, an hour before you knew Sofia had visitation hours. Tell Sofia I love her, please.

You'd never get a response, but you never really expected to, either. You had no way of confirming if he was seeing your messages. The only way you knew Alberto still even thought of you or knew your number was with the increasingly infrequent, triple digit ID calls.

Either way, the occasional drug fueled messages always left you feeling even more depressed. Knowing Alberto was suffering just as much as you didn't bring any sort of comfort; it just reminded you of your own pain.

*BRRRRR*

Between the unease from your dream and timing of the call, though, every instinct in your body is telling you to pick up the phone.

Your hands tremble as you clumsily smash the answer button with your thumb, bringing the phone up to your ear.

"Hello?" You wait with baited breath as you hear Alberto on the other side of the line. "...'Berto?" There's nothing but silence for a moment.

Then, you hear him clear his throat. "I, uh-" There's a pause, and a sniff. "I'm gettin' her out, [Y/N]."

You're heart pounds almost painfully. "Y-you mean-"

"Yeah," Alberto confirms with a disbelieving laugh, as if he can't wrap his own head around it. "Yeah," he says again, more firmly this time, confirming everything you've wanted, pleaded, prayed for, for ten years. "She's comin' home."

The news breaks two days later.

Two days of silence from Alberto after he dropped that fucking bomb on you.

You aren't sure if you're in shock, or if it literally hasn't quite hit you yet. Maybe it's because, despite a part of you accepting you'd never see her again, you always had faith in your heart that she'd come back to you. That naive hope kept you alive for ten years.

You aren't sure what to do with yourself, now. You've grown so accustomed to just... existing. Holding hope, with nothing to really do with it. This sort of feels likes that, but with more anticipation knowing what's to come.

Except, it doesn't.

She comes home, yes. You watch the reports about it, read the headlines, hear the outcries. But you don't see her. You don't hear from her, or Alberto, and you're resigned to waiting for one of them to reach out.

After a few days, you grew impatient. The anxiety you'd felt from waiting around had turned into a sort of panic, an all consuming need to make any attempt to quell your nerves.

Why hadn't you heard anything? Had something gone wrong? Did they forget?

You'd gone to the Falcone residence. It was fucking packed with news casters, journalists, rioters and spectators. It had taken you a while to shove your way through the mob, and when you had, you were turned away like everyone else.

You went back the next day, and the next, and the results were the same.

And then, Alberto dies.

You think the shock will return, but all you can think is Sofia, Sofia, Sofia. Your Sofia. Your girl, who must be hurting so tremendously right now, who you can't cradle and comfort.

It seems your deep seeded need to be by Sofia's side reignites some of your more rational thinking, though, and you consider your options.

The crowds of cameras and protesters should disperse by the time the sun goes down, you'd assume, giving you more of a shot to see her.

So, you decide to return to the Falcone's late that evening, when the moon has settled and the stars are at their brightest.

Despite the time, it seems the family is well awake, as all the lights can be seen as you walk up the driveway. You hear voices, though you're too far away to tell if they're shouts from behind the walls, or conversations outside.

Soon, two of the guards notice you approaching. "Hey!" One hollars, hoisting up his gun as he stalks towards you. "What are you doin' here? You got business with Luca?"

You should probably be more concerned about the possibility of being shot by a paranoid guard, but your adrenaline is pumping too hard to care.

"Uh- no, I'm- I don't," you stutter. "I wanna see Sofia."

As the second guard approaches, you hear a soft chuckle. "Ah, yeah, I remember you," he drawls, before turning towards the other man. "Used to hang around Sofia," he explains to him, making the other relax his posture slightly.

"She's not available," the first one grunts, "probably won't be for a while."

Being turned down does little to deter you. "So she's here? Just, not available?" You ask hopefully. They don't get a chance to respond. "That's fine. I can wait."

You make a bold move to squeeze past them, speed walking over to the grand stair case in front of the house with purpose.

Behind you, the guards bicker. You don't hear what they say, outside of something about 'letting Ms. Falcone decide,' but based on the lack of pushback, you assume the one who remembered you was suggesting the other guard leave it be.

You're perfectly content to sit for as long as you need to. You've waited a decade for Sofia; you can wait a few hours- or even until the morning- to finally see her after all this time.

To your surprise, though, you only wait for about 45 minutes.

The front doors of the mansion swing open, and you hear the click of heels stomping down the steps.

"Fuckin' pricks," someone mutters, and you immediately recognize the voice.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you stand on shaky legs, and you can't turn around to face her fast enough. You almost lose you balance in the process, but catch yourself in time for Sofia to notice your presence.

She has a cigarette halfway to her lips as she stares at you, an unreadable expression on her face.

You blink.

She blinks.

"You're..." her voice sounds empty for a moment. Then she shakes her head a little, blinking hard a few times and huffing. "What are you doing here, [Y/N]?"

You open your mouth, but your brain is moving a mile a minute. Nothing comes out, and you just gape at her like a fish for a few moments. "Uhhhh..." you trail off dumbly, but you're too frozen to even feel stupid about it.

Sofia rolls her eyes. "Come on," she says as she resumes her walk past you, lighting up her cigarette as she does. "I'm not staying too far from here at the moment."

You practically trip over yourself in your rush to follow Sofia. It's a bit of a struggle to keep up with her pace, but you manage. The car is parked at the end of the driveway. A burly man is propped against the hood, and he moves around to the back door when he sees Sofia quickly approaching. He opens it for her with a quick acknowledgment as she slides in smoothly, and remains silent as you clumsily follow suit.

Sofia keeps her eyes fixed out the window as the man gets into the drivers seat. You can't help but stare at her, though, something akin to awe making it impossible to look away.

A few minutes into the drive, you see Sofia tentatively shift her eyes towards you. She looks on guard, as though unnerved by your eyes on her.

Still, she says nothing. Her gaze stays trained on the passing scenery for the remainder of the ride, like she's stubbornly making an effort to ignore your blatant staring.

Sofia hardly waits until the car is parked to unbuckle and hastily exist the vehicle once it's pulled in front of her building. You rush to get your door open, jogging a little to catch up to her.

You're paid no mind as Sofia struts inside and walks to the kitchen. It's almost like you're invisible, a silent, unseen witness.

Sofia moves around the kitchen with a practiced ease, retrieving a glass and wine bottle that she pops open, pouring a sizeable amount. She takes a long, long sip, her head tilting back until the contents of her glass are almost completely gone.

Then, she sighs, her shoulders relaxing a bit as she embraces the warmth of the alcohol.

Finally, she looks at you, indifference written all over her face. "You didn't give me an answer earlier," she states simply.

You take a small step forward. "Sofia..." You blink hard, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions.

Sofia is looking at you. You see her. You hear her.

You take another step, and another, until your knees buckle in front of her. "Sofia," it's an almost reverant sound that makes Sofia inhale sharply.

She's so close.

You wrap your arms around her legs as you kneel before her, nuzzling against her thighs.

"Sofia," you say again, just as softly.

You can breathe again. After ten long, dreadful years, you finally feel like the air in your lungs is pure and real.

Sofia freezes. She's unsure of how to process this.

You're here. In front of her- willingly.

It feels wrong; you bowing before her when you have no idea who she is anymore.

"Cut it out," she mutters, lightly pushing your head away and taking a small step back.

You remain on your knees, looking up at her with half lidded eyes.

The adoration in them makes Sofia uncomfortable.

"Get off the floor," Sofia says, her tone indescribable. "You aren't an animal." She turns to top off her wine glass, takes a sip, and leaves the room.

It takes you a minute to gather yourself, but you slowly move towards the direction she headed in. You find her in a room down the hall, an open, office-adjacent space. She's sitting on a loveseat in the center of the room, staring blankly ahead as she sips away.

You pause in the doorway to observe her for a minute, wondering if she's aware that you've followed. You decide to let your presence be known, taking a few confident steps forward.

Sofia doesn't look at you when she speaks.

"Whatever you're here for," she starts, "you won't find."

"No," you find yourself saying. "No, Sofia, I..." you trail off as you come closer. "I... I just want you."

Sofia's jaw clenches. "You don't know what that means anymore," she spits, before taking another sip of her wine, attempting to grow the irrational anger brewing inside her.

There's a certain, panicked heat that comes over you then, feeling unheard and misunderstood. "No, no," you say hastily. "No, Sofia, please," you drop in front of her again. "Please, Sofia. I don't care what that- what that means. All I care about is you."

Sofia scoffs, her temper getting the best of her. She grips your hair without thinking, pulling your head off her lap to look up at her. "You want me to show you what it means?" She hisses, eyes wide and manic. "Okay. Take your clothes off."

You're momentarily stunned, not expecting Sofia's request. "What? Ah-!" Sofia yanks your hair again, gritting her teeth as she speaks. "Take off your fucking clothes," she repeats.

Her tone sends you into motion, and you scramble to remove your top. Sofia settles back against the couch as she watches you undress for her, keeping her features schooled.

Once you're bare, you shift on your knees a bit, unsure of what to do. Being naked in front of Sofia certainly isn't new, but, it's also been ten years since you've last been intimate with her. You never anticipated it happening again like... this. Sofia never acted this way with you in the last. Usually, she undressed you herself, slowly and with kisses on each inch of skin she revealed. She had been teasing, sure, but never so stern.

It stirred something in you that you couldn't place your finger on. All you know is, you certainly aren't complaining.

So, you stay still, not wanting to do anything without instruction lest Sofia decide she's no longer willing to entertain you. You bask in Sofia's predatory gaze, letting her drink in your exposed body.

Soon, though, you start to squrim a bit. It's not cold, per say, but the air was just brisk enough on your bare skin that you couldn't ignore the slight chill.

You shiver a little, and Sofia smirks.

"You cold?" She asks knowingly. Sofia keeps her eyes on you as she reaches for her wine glass, standing as she does.

You tense a little as she begins to stalk closer to you, a small sneer on her face.

She's behind you, now, but you don't dare to move your head, not even when you hear the clink of her wine glass on the ground. Instead, you stay still and complacent as Sofia picks up your discarded shirt and begins to wrap it around your wrists. You moan inadvertently at the feeling of her skin on yours, but Sofia takes a deep breath. She ignores the sound, instead making quick work of restraining your hands behind your back.

When she's done, Sofia picks her glass back up as she towers over you. There's a dark, empty look in her eye that sends a chill down your spine.

Sofia, of course, notices this.

She smirks. "Is that it? You chilly, sweetheart?" Her voice is patronizing and full of faux concern.

You're not sure if she wants an answer or not, but aren't given a chance to respond either way, Sofia suddenly splashing the remenants of the wine from her glass onto you.

You flinch, and gasp loudly at the cold sensation. You're hands instinctively move to rub at eyes in an attempt to clear your vision, but you find yourself tugging fruitlessly at the shirt Sofia had binded your wrists. The wine soaking your face and dampening your hair ends trickles down your body, erupting goosebumps in it's wake.

You're still blinking heavily in an attempt to normalize your seeing when hear a breathy cackle. You feel her pinch your jaw, a strong grip on you as she licks a filthy stripe up your face, lapping up the spilt wine. She releases you, the sound of footsteps echoing through the room as Sofia struts past you and towards the desk by the window. You can't see what she's retrieving, your eyesight blurry and unfocused.

By the time Sofia circles back, you've mostly regainedy your vision. You don't have any time to visually process what she has in her hand, though, as she wastes no time in forcing the barrel of her handgun past your parted, panting lips, and into your mouth.

"It's a terrible feeling. Isn't it?" The gun presses a little harder, and you cringe at the feeling of rough metal pressing against your tongue. "Nothing left to hide behind," Sofia drawls, her voice is surprisingly even, though her words feel weighted.

You blink up at her with an unnerving lack of fear.

Sofia bares on with a tilt of her head. "The guards at Arkham stripped us bare every morning," she states, and your heart clenches at the thought. "It was humiliating," Sofia continues, a subtle anger brewing in her voice with each punctuated annunciation, "being turned into a thing."

Sofia shoves the gun hard enough to make you gag, and presses forward until you're bending backwards. Sofia straddles you, her grip on the gun directing your movements. She has you sprawled on your back, hands twisted painfully under you, pressed between your spine and the hardwood floor.

Sofia lowers her face, her wild eyes inches from yours. "You think," she growls, "that I'm still who you knew?" She smiles, though there's no joy in it. "That I'm not just a thing?"

Apparently, it wasn't a rhetorically question, as Sofia yanks the gun out of your mouth.

You sputter for a second, before rushing to respond, "no," you gasp. "I- I don't expect you to- to be the same, Sofia, I don't." Your voice cracks a bit, and you pray that your eyes convey your earnesty. "I don't care that you- you don't feel like yourself, Sofia, if you feel different, now. I love you. I love you. I love you, Sofia," you insist, your voice soft.

Sofia regards you for a long minute, and you wait with abated breath to see how she'd react.

For a moment, you think she's heard you. Really heard, and believed you- believed in your unconditional love and devotion for her. There's a hopeful, but guarded look in her eye, something akin to a skittish street cat assessing if it should trust the hand reaching out to pet it. But, just as quickly as it appeared, it's gone.

Sofia's features go hard again, and she moves her face away, straightening her back and kneeling over you.

"You don't get it," she says- simply, quietly, almost as if to herself.

You part your lips to protest, but Sofia is quicker, and slaps her hand over your mouth. "Don't," she warns.

Sofia hates it. The way you don't even struggle under her; the way you just take it, like you understand what this means.

Why don't you get it? Do you really not understand what kind of horrors she was exposed to? What they did to her; what they turned her into?

It pisses her off.

How dare you, how dare you, prance back into her life, expecting her to be untouched by the hell that was Arkham?

Do you think she's naive? That she'd truly believe, after all this time, you'd still want her? Want her for who she actually is now?

You don't even fucking know her anymore.

Fuck.

It infuriates her for so many reasons that she refuses to acknowledge right now.

Instead, she let's herself embrace the unbridled rage that's always threatening to erupt inside her.

"Alright!" She exclaims, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading across her face. "You love me?" She taunts. "You think you want me?"

She shoves herself off of you to pull her underwear down her legs. You're heart thuds as she slips off her fur coat and hikes up her dress. Sofia easily drops back down, straddling your face and gripping your hair with one hand. "Show me, then." With that, she lowers herself completely, smothering your face in her cunt.

Your primal instincts kick in, then, and you press forward, your tongue eagerly swiping through her folds.

Jesus fuck, you think somewhere in the back of your mind. Finally, finally, finally.

You hadn't realized how much you craved the taste of Sofia until this very moment. It feels like you're starving, like you haven't eaten in ten goddamn years, and Sofia is the first meal you've been granted.

Your ministrations are messy and desperate. You can hardly think straight, overwhelmed by the taste and scent and feel of Sofia. All you do is lick and suck and moan, embracing the pure bliss you feel. The rapidly decreasing supply of oxygen in your lungs is easy to ignore when you finally have the privilege of pleasuring Sofia again.

Sofia's eyebrows furrow. You won't struggle under her. You won't look up with panicked eyes, even as she deprives you of air, even as she suffocates you.

You don't get it.

Sofia narrows her eyes and her hips buck forward. It's almost violent, the way she fucks your face, riding harder and harder. She grunts softly, losing inhibition as she watches her slickness spread all over your face.

Still, you only whine as though you're the one being pleasured.

Why don't you fucking get it.

Sofia tightens her grip in your hair, pushing your face impossibly closer against her cunt as she feels her climax approaching. She's panting harshly through her noise, controlling the means threatening to spill out of her.

Just then, your eyes slugglishly blink open and lock with hers. It's clear that you're moments away from passing out, and Sofia can only stare down at the dazed look in your eyes.

Still, there's no fear there. There's nothing but adoration.

Your eyes roll back, and your eyelids flutter shut. Sofia's breath hitches as your body goes limp under her.

It's then that she cums, her body tensing and jerking. A ragged moan escapes her as she grinds and grinds against you, using your unconscious body to draw the waves of pleasure out.

Sofia slumps off of you, sitting by your side as she recovers from the exertion. She just sits for a while, until her breathing regulates, and she gathers the courage to look over at you.

You're still passed out, but the slight rise and fall of your chest tells Sofia you are, in fact, alive.

It doesn't do much to relieve Sofia- not when there's a sick, familiar feeling of dread forming in the pit of her stomach.

No.

Sofia squeezes her eyes shut.

This isn't supposed to matter.

This doesn't mean anything.

Sofia stands, and smooths out her dress. She can't afford to have regrets; to have... things that make her question herself.

That's not her anymore.

Sofia takes a deep breath.

She squares her shoulders, and doesn't spare you a second glance as she forces herself to leave the room.

[karaeilishh]

SALVATORE

i was so wrong not to tell, I'm in regine, tangerine dreams.

"catch me if you can" you feel the warm sand of the Miami beach under your feet as you run away from a beautiful foreigner with aqua marine, ocean's blue eyes. you hear her muffled laughter behind you as she tries to catch up with you, running along the sunny beach. you were so carried away by each other that no one else existed around you.

you met a few weeks ago when you were traveling in Italy. you felt her warm hand on your shoulder as she offered to treat you to cacciatore, and then bought you gelato, soft ice cream. you fell in love with her eyes from the first seconds.

i adore you, can't you see, you're meant for me?

"aspetta amore" she screams at you, trying to catch up with you. the sand rises behind you, and the sea is calm, as if it allows you to be together.

a light summer rain begins.

you didn't know how you ended up in the arms of this girl, your savior. from the day you met, you were together every second. you didn't know who she was or what her name was. She told you to call her salvatore. This girl might have been a criminal, but you would be happy to die at the hands of a foreigner woman. 

you stopped abruptly, looking at her through the bright sun and raindrops. the italian girl slowly approached you. "You won't run away anymore, amore?"

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both smile, letting the warmth of the rain soak your clothes. tangled in your hair was a beautiful white flower that your new lover had found. you tuck it behind her ear, examining every freckle on her face.

"tell me your name and i won't run away anymore." you run your fingers over her face, touching her cheek softly. your question somehow makes her giggle. "you can call me salvatore."

you roll your eyes playfully, not getting an answer to your question. you want to call her by her name. Her real name. "you know that's not your name" you pout, hoping it will work on the italian girl who asked you to move to florida after only a week of knowing each other.

the summer's wild,

and I've been waiting for you all this time

"you can call me billie, amore" she gives in to you, wrapping her strong arms around your waist to spin you around in the air. your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you realize how easily she lifted you. your dress flutters in the wind and billie would give anything to capture this moment in her memory.

"let's go get some soft ice cream?" she gently sets you down and leads you towards the city. you take her hand, accepting the invitation.

now it's time to eat soft ice cream.

a/n - im just so in love with this song and i needed to write it

requests open !!

[pedrosgrogu]

Born Too Late - Chapter 4

pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak

Warnings: MDNI, SMUT. FILTHY SMUT. dirty talk, unprotected p in v (be smart yall, wrap it up) age gap, no use of y/n, i think thats all idk let me know if i missed anything xoxo. 

Summary: All you wanted to do was thank Joel, and apologize for the bar mishap. How the hell did we get here? (1.3k+)

a/n: i am SO sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. its my first time writing smut and i was so nervous :P. also been super busy with midterms and work and whatnot. If you have any suggestions, as always let me know. i love to see/hear feedback :) <3

You’re trying to take in Joels room but you can't focus. You can't focus because he's tearing your clothes off your body. His lips are tracing your neck and his teeth nipping your ears. “Come on babygirl, we ain't got all day.” He says in between bites. All you can let out is a moan. He slings you onto the bed and your body goes numb. Your clothes have been strewn throughout the room and you can feel him. “Joel please. I need you” you moan. “You’re gonna get me. All of me.” He throws his face in between your legs and laps up the juice in between your folds. You grab his hair like you're holding on for dear life and let out a moan so loud that the neighbors probably heard. He doesn't stop. You’re seeing white. “Joel I’m so close, please dont st-” and before you can finish, he’s ramming is cock into you. You scream with pleasure. “You’re so fuckin tight baby. Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well.” His left hand is holding himself up and his right is rubbing your clit. You literally can’t breathe. He’s ramming into you, over and over. And suddenly it stops. He’s gone. You see stars, and scream in agony. Feeling so fucking empty that it hurts. His tongue begins tracing a line from your stomach to your nipples. The sensation brings you back to reality and you look him straight in the eyes. They’re dark and full of lust, and hunger. He crashes his lips into yours, and his tongue swirls around your mouth. You moan with pleasure, happy to let him have all of you. “Baby I'm gonna come. But not before you.” He spits out, effortlessly. He throws his cock back into you, letting out a groan. He picks up speed, slamming in and out of you over and over, rubbing your clit. You’re seeing white all over again. “Joel, please don't stop.” You manage to say. Your breathing intensifies and you reach your climax. You’re screaming, borderline crying because the sensation is almost too much. “Where do you want me babygirl?” Joel says, still ramming his cock in and out of you. “In me. I'm on the pill.. FUCK!” You scream, barely able to get the words out. Your body is drowning in pleasure and overload. “Fuck baby” Joel moans. “You take me so good. Such a good girl.” You can feel his cock throb inside you as he slows down, releasing his seed. He slowly pulls out and you whimper. You feel empty. “Don’t move. I'll be right back” You can barely open your eyes. You hear the sink turn on, and then off. Joel comes back with a warm washcloth and begins to clean you up. “So beautiful,” He says, cleaning you off. He throws the washcloth back into the bathroom and leaves a trail of kisses up to your forehead. He falls beside you on the bed, & you’ve finally come down from the euphoric high. You look him in the eyes to make sure you arent fucking dreaming. His eyes look different, they’re soft and warm. He kisses you, this time its gentle and smooth. You can feel his body loosen with every second the kiss lingers on. He pulls you in close and begins to drift into a light but still there slumber. 

And then it hits you. You fucked someone you barely know. And not only did you fuck someone you barely know, you fucked someone you barely know that happens to be your mean grouchy neighbor, that is also the dad to one of your students. You jump out of bed, startling Joel awake. “Where are you going baby? I was-” but you cut him off, throwing your sweatshirt and shorts back on. Not even worried about your shoes or bra. “I’ve gotta go” You basically run out the door, and straight into your house, slamming your door behind you. You fall to the floor with your face in your hands. “What have I done?” you mutter. Not expecting a response, you jump when you hear Penny say “Girl what the fuck are you talking about? And why do you look like you’ve been hit by a bus?” Looking up you see Penny rubbing her eyes. “I fucked Joel” you mumble. “Huh?” Penny says, sliding down the wall beside you. “I said, I fucked Joel.” Its silent for a second, you’re scared to look up. “You WHAT?! Holy shit bitch!!! Tell me everything!! I've gotta pack but I can multitask.” 

“I mean it wasn't bad” you say, trying to spare Penny the details. “Yeah yeah but how did that even happen?!” Penny exclaims, zipping her hygiene bag. You let out a sigh. “I went over to take him some Im sorry / Thank you muffins and it just kinda did.” “Yellow, I love you but sex with the grumpy hot neighbor doesn't just happen” Yellow. You remember him calling you that, how the fuck does he know about that? “Penny it literally just happened. He brought up the window thing and it kinda just escalated.” She looks at you, one eyebrow cocked. “Okay so honestly, was it bad? Like I can't think of why else we’re beating around the bush here.” “That's the problem, it wasn’t bad. It was mind blowing.” You pause “It was so good that I'd do it again.” “Why don't you?! I mean, that's as convenient as it gets.” Penny says, giggling. “His daughter is in my class. That's a huge boundary I don't want to cross, especially in my first year of teaching.” You say, sounding a little defeated. Because let's face it, the sex was great, and he's hot. And my god, the after care. Something you’d never had with Connor. You sigh. “Chin up girl, it’ll work itself out.” “Pen, you ready?” You yell out. “Coming!” She says. It's 3:30 and Penny's flight leaves at 5. She offered to get a cab but you told her no worries. “Where the fuck are my shoes?” you mumble to yourself. Then it hits you. Joel. Joel's room. Goddamnit. Penny comes down the hall, suitcase in one hand and her duffle in another. “Hold on Pen, I've gotta go grab my sandals. I left my shoes at Joels. You begin walking down the hall and you hear “Your vans? The ones on the porch?” You stop dead in your tracks. You step onto the porch and there they lay, with one of your muffins and a note that reads “Figured you’d need these this week. I had a great time this morning. I’d love to do it again, or get coffee. Whichever you prefer. Here's my number. -Joel.” “Fuckkkkk” You groan. Throwing the note in the house and the muffin in your mouth, you lock the door behind you and hop in the car. “Who was the note from?” “Joel” you mumble. “I don’t want to talk about it” You say, backing out of your driveway and peeling down the street. Too scared to look in the direction of his house.

Chapter 3 - Masterlist

[capitalisticveins]

Seeing as how you're doing headcanons again i'd like to request hcs of Gavin,Milo,Sam,Vincent,and Guy( btw here's a thought for ya Guy as Hermes dangerous has stuck in my head for the past couple hours send help) also your previous hc were also great!(you could say they were ruthless ha ha ha im sorry that was bad lol)

~ Deviant anon （⊃◕ω◕(´ω｀*⊂)

idk if you can tell but I really like Guy

also I wrote headcanons for some character recently so characters like Gavin, Sam, and Milo have them a lil short than Vincent and Guy since it takes a while to think about possible in-character hcs for them. Sorry :(

Lots of Headcanons #3

Gavin

Believe it or not, Gavin’s social media accounts are usually blank. Save for Instagram. He just has them to comment under the group’s posts.

Despite never reading a book, Freelancer has told him he’d do best in the writing industry.

He does not know how to hold a baby. If you give him a baby for any reason he’d hold it with both of his hands under its shoulders.

The worst he’s been scared was when he played a horror VR game, but he didn’t scream or anything he really just jolted and went “shit” and moved on. Freelancer was not amused.

He likes being the big spoon when he and FL cuddle because he gets to breathe in their scent, hold them, and remind himself that this is real, and not just a dream he’ll wake up from.

Milo

You can’t beat him in cup pong. Digitally or physically. You just can’t.

The only reason David is considered a better cook than Milo is because Milo uses a lot of seasoning and the pack is full of babies who can’t handle oregano or sazón.

Whenever the pack goes somewhere tropical he has to wear a shirt or Sweetheart will constantly attempt to latch onto his torso.

Milo and cats have always gone together like peanut butter and jelly. He had a cat toy when he was a toddler, his first cell phone had a stray cat as his wallpaper, he’d feed the stray cats around his home, etc. So when he learned that he and the people around him could turn into “dogs” (wolves but still) he was DEVASTATED. Got over it after a day tho.

He likes juice boxes.

Avid Apple Juice “tastes like piss” hater, although he also says mint ice cream tastes like toothpaste so take that as you will.

Sam

Sam fucking hates cowboys.

Sam had braces from the ages of 19-21 and the only upside he had to being a vampire when he first turned was that he didn’t need his retainer anymore.

Sam always reads manga wrong and no matter how many times anyone explains it he’ll read it from left to right and never understands what’s going on.

The closest Sam has gotten to riding a horse is when he flopped on top of Darlin’s back while they were shifted and they walked around his house like that…he’s never been on a horse.

Sam has a lot of existential crisises, compared to like Vincent or Porter.

If something's flying and he can't figure out if it's a plane, helicopter, animal, or any identifiable flying object, he just believes it's an Alien UFO and moves on.

Darlin' gave him a wheat head for Christmas once. He was not amused.

Vincent

Wanted to be a youtuber for a brief period in time in 2010.

Had a weird obsession with those traced anime characters dancing tiktoks in 2020, a little after meeting Lovely.

He canonically has multiple cars he likes showing off to Lovely, but he also nearly never uses them and it’s Lovely who showboats them and takes them on joyrides.

He didn’t believe William at first when he was first told he’s a vampire now and was the only one who survived The Surge incident, until they both saw his funeral take place and see his grave, which took place a long time after the accident because his parents refused to believe he was dead.

He had 3 tomodachis at once and they all constantly died because he forgot feeding them was a thing.

He commonly "regrets" asking William to make him unable to lie to Lovely because they like to ask him embarrassing questions on purpose and he can’t help but answer them, even though he could just stay quiet.

His favorite memory as a kid was roller skating with his parents on his 7th birthday. Even though he fell on his face, sprained his ankle, and had a loose tooth fall out. Still his favorite day.

Guy

GUY IS SO HERMES CODED UR RIGHT

Turned a fanfic he wrote as his college essay and got in just because of it.

Was very afraid of Honey when they first met, they kept staring at him like he was the scum of the Earth. They just wanted to talk to him about the Animal Crossing pin on his backpack.

Whenever his friends order from Max’s, and he turns out to be their delivery guy, they make fun of him so much (playfully) and give him a 10 dollar tip

He borrowed his friend’s motorcycle to impress Honey

Cried over Gnomeo and Juliet

Dressed up as the Thomas Jefferson Miku Binder drawing in 2023.

He almost gave himself a buzzcut once when he was drunk, he had to be held down because everyone knew he’d regret it so hard later, not matter how funny it’d be.

[randomingoftherandomness]

Oooo idea

Zhou Yichen is captured/tortured, ZYZ to the rescue, followed by whump/wound tending/healing sex/comfort

Thank you :)

They've kept him somewhere so dark, he can't even see the tip of his nose. The hours have blurred together into a cycle of pain and shadows. Yichen's captors haven't said a word to him through it all. Even when he finally started screaming.

There are probably drugs involved. Yichen is sure of it. He's so out of his own body that it feels like he is swimming in his head.

"Xiao Zhuo-daren..."

Ah. He is hallucinating that demon's voice. By way of voices, it's not the worst. If anything, it's pretty nice. Smooth, soothing, and attractive when he allows himself to be honest about it. Especially when he's teasing Yichen. It makes him so mad whenever he gets under his skin, but that always goes away so fast when Zhou Yuanzhou's voice goes a bit melodic.

The hallucination chuckles. "Do you like my voice that much, Xiao Zhuo-daren?"

Yichen licks his lips before saying yes. Because that's the truth, isn't it? Despite the blood debt, despite the hurt and hate, despite this thread of vengeance that ties them both together, Yichen likes Zhao Yuanzhou.

Likes the teasing because that means his focus is on him. Likes how the demon is gentle and kind, even when it isn't acknowledged. Likes how he is this strong pillar of support that Yichen has begun to rely on. How he is the one Yichen turns to. How even if he dies here, bleeding out and broken in the darkness, Yichen won't ever let his captors know a thing about Zhao Yuanzhou.

There's a quiet in the darkness and Yichen thinks he's alone again when he hears a soft hum cut through the air.

A weight settles around him and for the first time in many days, Yichen feels warm. His mind swims when careful hands slide under his shoulders and waist, lifting him up, holding him close.

Yichen curls into the solid heat against his cheek, feeling a sense of settledness he hasn't had for the longest time.

He thinks someone kisses the crown of his head. He isn't sure, because the next thing he hears is a soft. "Dream now, sweetling."

When he wakes, the light burns into the backs of his eyes.

"Close."

An immediate sensation of demon magic prickles in the air and Yichen hears the sounds of the shutters falling shut and the curtains around the bed falling out of their usual hold. "Is this better?"

Yichen slowly blinks his eyes open again, letting himself adjust to the dimness in the room. He looks up to see Zhao Yuanzhou sitting by him, watching him with a serene sort of tilt of his head.

"Yes. Thanks." He manages around the dryness in his throat. "Can I--"

A cup of tea materialises in the demon's hand and he holds it out to Yichen. "Thanks." He says again, decidedly not trying to think about how the demon is languidly sprawled out on the bed next to him.

"Before you ask, you were out for two days. Xiao Jiu healed most of your external wounds, but I did your inner injuries. You should be fine, though I'm sure Xiao Jiu would want to know if you feel otherwise."

Yichen hands him back the empty cup and allows the demon to help him into a seated position. "Have you been sitting here the entire time?"

"Yes." The great demon chirps, smiling so wide, Yichen can see the gleam of his teeth in the darkness. "I was watching you sleep."

It was disconcerting, to say the least, but Yichen lets it slide, focusing on orienting his inner core instead. When the demon doesn't speak, Yichen decides to be the one who says it first. "I know I said some things back there. Things I would have rather I did not say. Things I would have hoped you never know."

"If you're trying to say that you hope I forget what you said about my voice, you can forget it. I'm holding on to this one forever." Zhao Yuanzhou laughs. It is a good sound. Yichen holds on to it, anchors his attention on the melody of it when a hand slides into his own.

"And I won't hold you to the rest."

Throat clicking around a swallow, he squeezes the hand in his. "Thank you." Yichen whispers and means it. He doesn't fight it when he is pulled into an embrace, held tightly and securely. Closing his eyes, he relaxes into the soft lullaby that the demon hums for him.

[aromanticannibal]

btw i had a dream that some lady came into my house and tried to kill me

[foxy-kitsune]

3-4 business days? i need a whole damn month to process this

[emometalhead]

Since today is Women's Day, I want to take a second to talk about a personal accomplishment. I've been writing as an intern for an entertainment news source for the last few months, and it's been incredibly rewarding. I have been given the opportunity to write about things I love, and they're published with credit. I didn't intend to pursue a career in entertainment writing, but I've fallen in love with it and want to continue on this path once my internship ends.

I've been able to write about a lot of women I admire, and some of them have even acknowledged my work. I love being able to support women, and it feels great when they support me back. I'm so happy about this internship, and I'm so grateful to the women that have taken the time to acknowledge and appreciate my writing. It's really cool seeing artists repost my articles, and also I'm extremely grateful for the women in my life who have shared my enthusiasm for this endeavor.

[monster-noises]

OOF it's been a while since I've had a nightmare visceral enough to wake me up from a dead sleep into straight terror... But I guess I shouldn't have underestimated how much my brain would pick up from a podcast Teirlisting Horror Games. .....

(I go on to describe the dream in the tags so watch out if you don't want to hear descriptions of the horrors my brain can cook up.. cw Body Horror mostly)

[sastielsfandom]

Took a nap, proceeded to have a nightmare. Very fun. I never know how detailed my dreams can get until I'm locked in an elevator, pushing every button to get out, unable to. And when it's finally pried open, I don't even know how it happened but there were multiple people injured. Anyway my dreams can fully produce the image of dead and injured people with blood and bones, organs showing.  And I didn't know that until now.  My description does no justice to what I saw and felt. So yeah.

[godgavemenoname]

as a younger alter i relate to claudia iwtv x_x'

[thecodeveronica]

Oh boy, Dead by Daylight patch time tomorrow. You know what that means! Time for me to unreasonably get my hopes up for new RE skins to be in the datamine and then feel the crushing disappointment when they aren't!

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[apollo-zero-one]

The only breakup song that has adequately encompassed my many feelings about the terrible traumatic friend breakup I had a few years ago