#drive you insane fic

[familiarscars]

Drive You Insane | Noah Sebastian 04

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.

I really need your reblog! On Tumblr, the content reaches more views and is delivered more through reblog and I really wanted more people to be able to read what I write. I'm counting on you from now on, ok?

A tour through the Hidden.

How exciting.

On your activity schedule, a visit to the red-wristband patients first thing in the morning—before the sky had fully lit up—was the first item on the list. They rarely left the Hidden due to the high level of risk involved in being in the same environment as them. And, of course, you had already experienced firsthand what it was like to deal with one in your office recently when you had to attend to Tom Harrow.

Even if you were surrounded by a legion of guards, the feeling would be the same as walking through those rusted gates that creaked as they opened. The darkness that dominated almost caused a strange sensation, with flickering spots before your eyes. The lighting in the Hidden was scarce, and the dim, flickering light from the cells forced you to strain your glasses.

You thought about how Travis was a rather questionable friend, considering he didn’t even offer support or company during the tour—he simply wished you “good luck” and left for his morning walk. Over the past few days, you had gotten to know more about your colleague. He wasn’t the helpful type, nor was he empathetic, no matter what kind of relationship he had with another person.

Not that you expected anything from him after you’d slept together that one night after happy hour—especially since you suspected he didn’t even remember, given how little importance he seemed to give the moment—but you had at least hoped he would be less… of an asshole.

Honestly, you even found him a little mysterious beneath that impeccable scowl he carried most of the time. Always clean clothes, neatly combed blond hair, a perfectly aligned smile, and flawless diction, never hesitating over a single word. He never seemed unsure about anything. On the contrary, Rune exuded an unshakable confidence, something you could hear in the tone of his voice and see in the way his posture was always elegantly upright.

And so, he planted a seed of doubt in your mind.

Who was Dr. Travis Rune?

Your seemingly perfect, routine-obsessed colleague who didn’t stay in the staff quarters every night. If his father didn’t approve of his chosen profession, then he didn’t live on the island. So where did he stay when he wasn’t sleeping at Grimshade?

The stench of old disinfectant and mildew clung to your throat as you snapped back to reality. Your feet stepped onto the cold, cracked floor of the Hidden, and the sound of your own breathing felt out of place, muffled by the screams echoing through the corridors like the wails of a personal hell.

The lights flickered from the high ceiling, buzzing like flies over rotting flesh, casting erratic shadows that made everything seem even more distorted. The walls were a filthy white, peeling in several places, revealing concrete stained with rust—and something far too dark for you to want to identify. With every step, your shoulders tensed further, as if the oppressive atmosphere of screams and grinding teeth was coiling around your body.

The patients were there, locked in their narrow cells with thick, rusted bars. Some rocked back and forth, staring into nothing with glazed eyes. Others followed you with hollow gazes, whispering fragmented words, laced with something that burrowed under your skin like invisible splinters.

“I see you…” one of them murmured, voice thin and sharp like a knife scraping against glass.

Your hands tingled. Your stomach turned.

Another laughed—a hoarse, broken sound—as pale fingers stretched out between the bars.

“You smell like blood…”

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving, ignoring the cold wave that crawled down your spine. With every step, the whispers grew, indecipherable phrases, words spat into the air, as if the very ward was trying to consume you.

And then, you stopped.

Right in front of his cell.

Tom Harrow.

Your body tensed before you even forced yourself to look.

The memories of your last encounter hit like a punch. The way he watched you during the session, as if stripping you with his eyes. The way his mouth shaped every filthy word, every malicious insinuation, trying to unnerve you. The anger in his lips when he realized you wouldn’t give him the control he craved.

But now… now you were here, frozen.

And he knew it.

“Well, well… look who came to visit.”

His voice oozed through the bars like rotten honey—thick, immersive, dripping with a slow drawl that seemed to savor your presence.

You swallowed down the acidic taste in your throat, but said nothing.

Tom rose from the bed with a lazy movement, like a predator stretching before the hunt. The flickering light illuminated his pale face, the deep-set eyes gleaming with something that made you want to run. He smiled. A slow, arrogant smile that knew exactly the effect it had.

“Did you miss me, doctor?” He tilted his head to the side, fingers dragging along the bars. “That heat on your skin? That shiver?”

Your lungs tightened.

“That chill down your spine that wouldn’t let you sleep after our last conversation…”

You wanted to move. You needed to move. But his words held you in place.

“I bet you dreamed about me.”

The distant screams blended with the sound of your own blood pounding in your ears. The air in the Hidden was suffocating, viscous, and you could feel his eyes crawling over your skin, sensing every minuscule detail of your reaction.

“I wonder…” He slid his tongue across his lips, letting the sentence hang in the air like a venomous invitation. “What exactly did you feel?”

The floor seemed to sink beneath your feet.

And still, you didn’t move.

Tom let out a low, drawn-out laugh, as if relishing your stillness. He stepped closer to the bars, long fingers curling around the cold metal, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. His eyes were locked onto you—heavy, invasive, drinking in every tiny reaction.

“You’re trembling, sweetheart.” His voice was sweet poison, slipping out lazily. “Were you like this last time? When you lay in bed, when you closed your eyes and tried to forget what I said?”

You tasted the bitterness of your own fear in your throat.

“Tell me… was it quick? Or did you lie there, in the darkness, feeling your breath hitch, your body heat up, your mind drifting back to me as your hands slid between your legs?”

Your stomach twisted.

He laughed, eyes narrowing in sheer amusement.

“Ah… that’s it, isn’t it?” He whispered, the words laced with something close to a moan, like he was sharing a dirty secret. “That feeling of your skin prickling, heat spreading, that tightness between your thighs.”

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. No. You wouldn’t react.

But he knew you were listening. He knew that, no matter how hard you fought it, his words were already inside you.

“Tell me, did you try to resist? Or did you give in? Let your mind play a little… let your fingers explore that tight little pussy of yours?” He paused, letting the word drip from his lips like an unwanted touch. “You know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it… I imagine it swallowing my cock every single day, doctor.”

A wave of nausea crashed through you.

His smile widened, something wicked and triumphant glinting in his eyes.

“I bet you tried to convince yourself it was hate.” He knocked his head lightly against the bars, closing his eyes for a second, inhaling the air like he could breathe you in. “But deep down… you liked what I said. Sluts like you always do.”

You took a step back.

He moved instantly, pressing closer to the bars, shoulders tense, his expression shifting into something animalistic.

“That’s it… back away. Pretend you’re running.” His tongue swept over his cracked lips. “Don’t forget—that’s what I love most in a woman, doctor. The ones who resist.”

The corridor around you felt like it was shrinking. The Hidden was breathing around you, pressing closer, heavier, suffocating with every second. The screams in the distance seemed too far away, too muffled, like the world had narrowed down to just his cell. Just him.

And you couldn’t move when something warm and viscous splattered onto your hand.

Your eyes widened, needing to confirm it was real—that on the back of your hand, seeping from the pocket of your coat, was a splatter of Tom Harrow’s semen.

While he had been saying those vile things, he had been masturbating in front of you.

Your mind spun, confusion tangling with shock as your gaze locked onto the stain on your skin. The guards rushed toward his cell, and the only thing you managed to do was stumble backward, desperate to get away from that place as fast as possible.

Your ragged breathing quickened as your back collided with something firm in your frantic attempt to escape. Like an unyielding concrete statue, he halted your steps in place, and instinctively, your eyes lifted—meeting Noah’s apathetic face, his expression undoubtedly irritated by you crashing into him.

The thought that he might have seen what that man had just done sent a wave of automatic heat rushing to your face, and something damp welled up in your tear ducts. Shame coiled inside you, making you feel filthy, unprofessional—completely exposed in front of a patient like him.

And then, he did something entirely unexpected.

Without saying a single word—obviously—Noah wrapped his hand around your right wrist and wiped the back of your hand with his own shirt.

Stunned, you let him do as he pleased. He seemed to… want to comfort you through an act of service? This wasn’t the time for analysis. Not when your skin burned from his touch, as if Noah carried embers between his fingers.

Expressionless, still not releasing your wrist, he guided you slowly toward the gates of the Hidden. The guards were too occupied with restraining Tom’s outburst to notice your absence—nor the fact that you were being escorted by the most dangerous patient in the custody ward.

When you reached the exit, Noah let go. The cold air rushed in to replace the warmth he had held onto so firmly as he led you out of that wretched place.

You couldn’t thank him for what he did.

You couldn’t look at him again.

You couldn’t cling to those fleeting sensations, hoarding the comfort of this moment for the days when agony would come.

Noah turned his back and shut the gates of the Hidden, leaving you on the other side.

"Of course, Mom, I couldn’t be better!" you said, holding the phone with a grimace that didn’t match the tone of your voice.

"I’ve known you since you were a child, girl! You came out of me, and I know when something is wrong!" your mother said, hardening her tone.

"I’m just tired and really eager to find a better job."

"We warned you that dealing with so many lunatics wouldn’t be good for you, sweetheart. You were never all that right in the head yourself… I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it’s time to come home and find something more normal to do." she threw out, alarmed. "I won’t accept you ending up as a patient in that madhouse! Visiting you in Grimshade would be a disaster for our finances."

"Thanks for your concern! Don’t worry, I’ll keep your bank account intact." Impatient, you slammed the phone onto the receiver, hearing murmurs of joy from the never-ending line behind you.

"Mom missing you?" Rune teased, nudging your arm lightly as he adjusted his sunglasses.

"Despite her progress in therapy, her narcissistic traits always find a way to surface. But overall, she’s a good mom."

Returning to administration still shaken, the first thing you did was take a shower, washing away any lingering trace of the Hidden from your skin. Travis suggested you accompany him into town as a distraction, and you agreed.

A little fresh air actually did you some good. The town had little transportation movement, keeping the sky clear and the air breathable. The people weren’t as welcoming as one might expect from such a small Victorian-style place, but maybe that was your fault for expecting otherwise. They were direct, rarely using words of gratitude, and you figured their curt manner must have been cultural.

"It’s not exactly narcissism if it’s a mother. Seems more like something that comes with childbirth and follows them for the rest of their lives," he commented, not exactly offering comfort.

"An interesting analysis, Dr. Rune…" You arched your lips in a brief smile before adding, "Did your narcissistic mother also try to choose your profession like she picked your girlfriends until you turned eighteen?"

"My mother was always easygoing—submissive, even—but easygoing. That title belongs only to my father."

"You rarely talk about your parents. Do they live on the island?"

"Yes, we’re from here." He responded without enthusiasm, twirling his keys around his index finger.

"And you don’t visit them when you come to town?"

"Homesickness isn’t something I tend to suffer from."

From the side, you glanced at his unchanged expression, and for a moment, you almost felt like he was throwing a jab at you for coming into town just to call your mother.

Yeah, despite the narcissism, she was still your mom, and you two got along. Maybe Rune thought you were a little naïve.

Or maybe his parents were simply people he had no desire to be around, no matter how strong their personalities were.

"If you’re from here, then you studied at the only university in town," you concluded, piecing together the obvious but realizing that learning more about him was helping push your mind away from the previous chaos. "So you studied with Noah. His file says he was in medical school."

As always, mentioning Noah made Travis roll his eyes, especially since this was happening outside the asylum. He seemed determined to spend the afternoon eating ice cream and feeding birds, ignoring whatever else was going on.

"Yeah, I was about to graduate when we had a few classes together," he replied, carefully eyeing the ice cream flavors displayed in the glass case. "Chocolate and mint, please!"

"So your issue with him started at university?"

"At university, I didn’t even know he existed. Everyone lived in their own little bubble. Who would’ve thought he’d end up becoming my patient, huh?"

"That’s quite the coincidence…" you murmured, lightly biting your lower lip. "I’d even say it’s convenient."

Rune took the ice cream the friendly attendant handed him over the glass counter and—showing off his impeccable manners—walked straight to the nearest available table without offering you anything. You followed him and took the seat across from him.

"Are you implying that I made Noah my patient for personal gain? Or maybe as revenge for my ‘grudge,’ since, from day one, you’ve assumed that just because I treat him like any other patient?" he asked mockingly, holding the spoon between his teeth.

"I heard his parents have a lot of money and that he has a certain… protection. The kind that got him into the asylum instead of serving a prison sentence."

"And what does that have to do with me?" He shrugged. "Hate to disappoint you after all your investigative effort, but my salary hasn’t changed a cent since he arrived. I don’t need to protect him or make his life harder. To me, he’s just another file, another patient whose brain will be fried by meds and electroshock therapy… That is, if he doesn’t end up offing himself first."

"I don’t think it’s ethical of you to talk like that."

"You wanted to know, and I simply answered, doctor. And I believe that’s the most you’ll get out of this story that intrigues you so much. But if you’ll take some advice, I’d suggest you find another hobby… Maybe work, what do you think?"

Your neck prickled, and your fists clenched on the table.

"As punishment for this unpleasant conversation, you’re paying the bill," Travis announced before getting up and leaving the ice cream shop.

You blinked a few times, processing his audacity.

Bastard.

On the way back to the asylum, you opted for silence. After what happened at the ice cream shop, the ideal thing would have been to refuse Travis’s ride, but what other choice did you have? The next taxi wouldn’t pass for hours, and by then, the sky would likely be dark. You weren’t about to test your luck wandering around an unfamiliar place at night.

Travis turned on the radio, the sound crackling slightly as they climbed the hill, getting farther from civilization. The song playing sounded like a creepy opera or something you couldn’t quite place, but listening to Dr. Rune hum along in his undisturbed peace as he turned the steering wheel—

It bothered you.

It bothered you a lot.

The night at Grimshade was never truly silent, but the sound that woke you cut through the air like a blade. A muffled, deep, hollow thud—like something heavy hitting the ground.

Your eyes snapped open, your heart already slamming against your ribs. For a moment, you just lay there, listening to nothing but your own breathing and the distant ticking of some old clock. Maybe it was just another one of the strange noises that place emitted all the time—old pipes, doors creaking under the whim of the wind.

But then came another sound. Lower this time, a rough scraping, like something being dragged.

A shiver ran down your spine, and you felt the weight of fear settle onto your shoulders.

You hesitated. But you couldn't ignore the urgency swelling inside you.

With a sudden jolt, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting the cold floor. The thin nightgown clung to your skin, still warm from the bath, but the hallway’s chill wrapped around you like a warning.

You followed your instincts.

The asylum looked different at night. The emptiness of the corridors was suffocating, as if the walls were closing in, swallowing every sound, every breath. The dim light flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to shift on their own. Each step echoed against the floor, a muffled whisper that trailed behind you.

The air was thick.

Wrong.

Your feet carried you through the garden, where the icy wind brought the scent of damp earth and something else—something metallic, which your mind refused to name.

The Hidden’s gate was slightly ajar.

Your body locked up.

It was like reliving the horror from hours ago, Tom Harrow’s voice still clinging to your skin like a filthy touch, his eyes still hanging in your mind like hooks.

But you kept going.

Your steps were firm but dragging, as if some invisible force were pulling at your ankles, trying to hold you back.

The Hidden was darker than usual. The shadowed cells gaped like open mouths, starving. Something seeped from the bars of some of them—mumbled words, raspy laughter, incoherent sounds bleeding from the blackness within. With every step, the cold sharpened, crawling up your spine, digging invisible claws into your skin.

And then you saw it—and froze instantly, your body locked as if torn from time itself.

The blood.

Black under the flickering light, thick and heavy, pooling from the last cell in the first corridor.

Your heartbeat pounded like a frantic drum.

The same cell.

The one that had made your body recoil earlier, as if something had been wrong from the start.

Swallowing down the panic, you forced your legs to move, each step heavier than the last. The scent of iron flooded your senses now, nauseating, thick like smoke.

And then you saw him.

Tom Harrow.

His body lay carelessly on the floor, face turned upward, lifeless eyes fixed on the ceiling as if still staring at something unseen. His throat was torn open in a jagged, grotesque cut, the edges of the wound shredded as if the blade had chewed through his flesh.

And there, embedded in the still-warm flesh, was a pair of gardening shears.

A dry shiver shot down your spine.

For a long moment, nothing moved.

The Hidden held its breath with you.

The shock struck like lightning.

Large, strong hands emerged from nowhere, clamping over your mouth and waist in a vicious surge. The world tilted violently as your body was yanked backward, feet scraping against the cold floor of the Hidden, darkness swallowing everything before you could even react.

The scream died before it was born, smothered beneath the hot, calloused palm silencing you.

You struggled instinctively, but the strength holding you was like iron. Your heart hammered, so hard that the pain echoed in your chest, your skull, the tips of your fingers. The scent that enveloped you was overwhelming—something between wood, metal, and a trace of smoke.

The flickering light in the corridors revealed only fragments of his face. Deep brown eyes, burning with fury. A clenched jaw, teeth gritted tight. The tattoos winding down his forearms, shifting like living shadows.

Then, in one swift motion, he slammed you against the cold wall. The air fled from your lungs in a single, choked gasp.

The temperature in the room shifted—the icy shock of the concrete at your back clashed violently with the solid, burning heat of his body pressing into yours. Every muscle beneath his fitted shirt was taut, as if holding back a storm on the verge of breaking.

The silence between you was electric, heavy as lead.

Your eyes traveled upward, slowly, meeting his in the narrow space between your faces.

Shadows danced over the sharp angles of his jaw, his gaze locked onto you like a blade—dripping with anger, warning... and something else. Something so raw, so feral, that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, his voice came. Low, rough, thick with menace.

“Which part of ‘I don’t want you here’ does the doctor still not understand?”

Noah spoke.

⭑ @bloody-spades ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @do-it-jakey-baby

[seokminfilm]

crybaby 🤍 lee seokmin

🤍 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🤍 warnings, idol au, very short, hurt/comfort, established relationship, boyfriend seokmin, crybaby seokmin, seokmin calls reader lovie, kissing, reader calls seokmin baby boy, lowkey just really soft

🤍 summary, caratland made your soft boyfriend cry, and you did your best to comfort him without crying too.

🤍 author's note, been obsessed with caratland 2025 recently and this seokmin is one of my favorites 😭 the fluffy hat and outfit is everything LMAO also seokmin's just such a pretty crier 😞 makes me want to cry just looking at his watery eyes and reddened nose and squishy frown and UGH i'm tweaking out. gonna pour out my heart and soul into this just watch

🤍 now playing, if you leave me (seventeen)

🤍 word count, 502 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

"it's okay to cry seokmin. you didn't look stupid at all." smiling at your boyfriend's wet face, you cup your palm under his cheek, wiping the tears away with your thumb.

seokmin had just come backstage from finishing the second day of caratland, and you had expected him to cry at the end─you were tearing up yourself, especially with the way all of the members were so soft with wonwoo, realizing that their time with him was coming to an end.

seokmin was one of the more uncontrollable criers of seventeen, and he proved it even now; tears were dripping down his sharp jawline as he quietly sobbed to himself, lips downturned into the meltiest frown you think you had ever seen.

"lovie, i'm sorry, i really am sorry, i─" seokmin's apologizing for the third time in the past twenty minutes, and you shake your head, moving closer to your boyfriend as you cradle him towards your chest. he clings onto your shirt like he has nothing left, and your heart melts a little more, pressing a kiss to his scalp as you sigh.

"are you crying because you're going to miss wonwoo, baby boy?" you ask softly, and seokmin nods, head still on your chest as he sniffles.

"i honestly don't know why i'm crying anymore." seokmin lifts his head up from your chest, adjusting his hat as he sighs, looking down at his hands as he plays with his team ring.

"that's okay too. you know what i think?" you inquire quietly, and seokmin looks at you, big brown eyes glossy as he shakes his head.

"i think you're crying because you miss jeonghan, you're gonna miss wonwoo, and you just love carat so much, you can't help but give them everything." you take seokmin's hand in your own, tracing his knuckles as seokmin falters a bit, eyes watering again as he nods.

"am i right?" you question, and seokmin nods again, hand going to his eyes as he gently wipes away the tears, trying to be careful of his makeup. "mhm...i think you're right, lovie."

"what should i do? i don't know if i can go on without them." seokmin sighs, and you know who he's referring to; jeonghan and wonwoo. if you were being honest, you didn't know if you could go without them either. since they were seokmin's best friends, they were yours too.

"you can go on without them, seokmin. i know you can─even though you don't want to, you're a strong person. you'll hold on for them, and they can trust you with their positions while they're gone. you'll be the man in the gap while they're absent." you pat seokmin's thigh, pressing a kiss to his tear-stained cheek as he nods.

"i will. i'll do it for carat." seokmin whispers softly, leaning his head on your shoulder as you squeeze his thigh reassuringly.

"that's my baby boy." you smile softly, pressing a kiss to seokmin's forehead as he sniffles once more, finally calming down.

[uc1wa]

jason todd who’s a little religious and says he wants to wait for marriage to fill you full with his cock and cum. jason todd whose tongue is lapping at your entrance and his fingers are circling your clit, reminding you that the bible doesn’t say anything about the inability to do this.

[vitreouspositive]

i find it both a shame and a blessing that their ship name is mainly known as skystar instead of jetstar because imagine constantly having to see your ship having the same name as that accursed aussie airline

[monsterhospital]

the most sickening part of being a caitvi stan is how prevalent it is in fanon that they would have biological kids. AND that caitlyn is always the pregnant one. why would they get ivf when obviously vi could find 3-5 perfectly good kids in dumpsters around town and raise those.

[pidgeony]

what genuinely drives me ever-so-slightly insane every time i see people being like "why doesn't x batfam character kill, that's so hypocritical/ selfish/ whatever reason of them" is when did we ever need a reason *not* to kill??

everyone is justified in not killing. yes, some characters (bruce and cass for example) have very clear reasons (parents died in front of him, killed a man and saw what he felt), and some are less fleshed out or seemingly don't have a reason at all, but that doesn't mean that they are like, obligated to kill (or like/ forgive characters who kill)??? is this not obvious????

they chose this. they are vigilantes held by their own standards and codes and they choose not to kill. they've seen terrible things, tragedy befalls their everyday lives and they wake up and decide: no, life is precious, no, i am going to save lives, not end them, no, i will not be judge, jury, and executioner. if that's not important and significant about the batfam (excluding jason for obv reasons) then i don't know what is.

no, you don't have to agree with their code, but please for the love of all that's holy stop acting like bruce wayne is the worst man to grace the planet because he won't murder criminals or twist tim/ dick/ cass/ anyone basically into some morally gray anti-hero because you don't like their no-kill moral code.

[nart-is-a-monster]

WAAAAHHHHHH ANNE I LOVE YOU SM AND THE STORY YOU WRITE AUUGOHOHOGOHOGOGH

You know I just HAD to draw that scene like- C'MON

IT GOT ME GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET ON MY LITTLE BED TEHEE

Now if you don't know

THIS IS FOR @dreadpirateurania13 who has a beautiful fanfic called "AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES"

That you should TOTALLY go and read right MEOOOWWW

[stxrysnow]

— and your earthly croons in my lungs .

contents. satoru gojo x gn!reader. angst. hurt/no comfort. major character death. may contain disturbing imagery. cursing (?).

★ jiah’s notes. a continuation of beloved @deathofacupid ’s piece. mwa mwa (im such a maso for angst please help me)

is it really worth it?

blank eyes stare, unfocused. oh well, they’re not as blank as your mind. it’s as if your body’s telling you to stop. screaming at you to snap out of it. begging you to rest. go to sleep, it hushes, please, it’ll be over soon.

(no, you whisper.

no, you scream.)

bile rises to your throat but you push it back down. you refuse to let it win. you refuse to let it clamp down on your throat, prying it away with claws of your own. you can fight it, too, you can grow teeth and bite, too, you can—

(but it’s only trying to put a muzzle on your mouth.)

is it worth it, satoru? you want to say, staring at the polaroid.

(the bile stays, muffling out any traces of your voice.)

he looks pretty, really. captured and locked away in a place that’s not your thoughts, with eyes that never blink and a smile that never falters. you can almost hear his laugh, resonating on and on in your head like a broken record—

(— your hands are too sweaty to turn it off.)

strawberry cream on his cheeks, and a sparkle in his gaze. you can’t make out if they really shine, but the light disappears the moment you turn the photograph this way, and that.

gone, just like that. it doesn’t come back.

(you don’t think it ever will, really. you’ve stopped hoping.)

a minute or two passes.

(you can’t take it anymore.)

you can’t— the bile finally, finally wins, and you feel it everywhere. in your throat and in your head, seeping into the cracks that you’d carefully brushed away with blood stained fingers, washing away the foam settled over the rot; transcending something supposed to be new normal back to the raw, unaltered version of itself.

(the uglier version of itself.)

“what’s it like?” you splutter, and satoru stares right back, his smile seeming a little wobbly under your tears, “tell me. tell— tell me. tell me if it’s fuckin’ . . . w-worth it—”

he barely flinches when you slam him down on the table.

(still smiling, with strawberry lips and summer skies.)

you couldn’t answer then, and you can’t answer now.

the stars seem more than usual as you stare at the frosted glass of your window, splatters of gold raining down on the tear in your ribs, bleeding all over the mess you’ve made. the mess that satoru’s made.

(something more blue stitches it right back.)

@stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works without my permission.

[puraiuddo]

༺JazzProwl Fic Recs༻

— brought to you by puraiuddo -

This is by all means not a complete list of banger JP fics! It's my personal favorites—those fics that lodged themselves in my brain for one reason or another and never left.

Hopefully this list satisfies at least some of the sudden influx of interest for JP fics (and given how well rec'ing a fic turned out last time...) But, nah for real, not to make rec'ing fics fake deep or anything, but I think the fandom would be a better place if people were more unapologetically enthusiastic about fics and less afraid to interact with authors. So if you use this list to find some fics you have to promise to leave some unhinged comments! ٩("•̀ᴗ•́")و ̑̑

But before I start, I want to acknowledge the prevalence of potentially stereotypical depictions of Jazz in regards to his speech (❞), criminal/violent/sexual characterization (▾), or backstory/origins (⟲) in the JP/TF fandom. I've attempted to flag fics with the corresponding symbols above, because I'd like to recognize those problems while still rec'ing for a variety of other fantastic qualities. That said, I'm not infallible so please use your own discretion.

I've also tagged fics with "hiatus" if it's been a while between updates, but the author hasn't made a comment—these fics are especially important to interact with, b/c you never know if the author stopped posting b/c they weren't getting any reviews!

Now, without further adieu...

༺♡❦♡❦♡❦♡ -ˋˏ ♫ ♡ 𓆩𓆪 ˎˊ- ♡❦♡❦♡❦♡༻

༺JazzProwl-centric༻

Mistakes on Mistakes Until— by jabberish

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 280,212 - Alt-War AU』

Ricochet's got a bad case of conscience and he's pretty sure it's about to get him killed. (aka I think I've read every defection/ex-Con au and now I'm forced to make my own. Jazz-centric.)

* (づ ᴗ _ ᴗ)づ♡ The crème de la crème of JP fics. I really can't properly articulate the sheer amount of love and respect I have for MOMU other than that if you haven't read it, your life is worse for it. Go read it. Then read it again. Now. (I've read it 4 times. No, I'm not joking) I love all the fics on this list dearly, but MOMU holds a very special place in my heart. Flawless characterization, flawless dynamics, flawless plot, one-of-a-kind writing style... it's got it all. Of note: I've not flagged it despite its premise, because it will expertly subvert your expectations and you need to read it to understand. Bonus: it's got a lot of well-deserved fanart!

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Untitled Series by Need2Scream

『(2/?) - ffn - Words: 158,064 - War AU - hiatus』

Where the Lonely Ones Roam - 116,327

"Say you have a little faith in me. Just close your eyes and let me lead. Follow me home. Need to have a little trust in me. Just close your eyes and let me lead. Follow me home. To where the lonely ones roam." Eventual Prowl/Jazz

Spark - 41,737 - hiatus

"Chase you deep into the unknown. In my dark, in my dark, you're the Spark."/ "Roam with me, come down to where all of the others fell. Get lost, in the dark to find yourself. Just remember what I said, 'cause it isn't over yet."/SEQUEL to Where the Lonely Ones Roam

*It's not clear by the summary, but the series is essentially about Jazz and Prowl's developing relationship as they overcome war-related trauma, intermingled with a spectacular amount of original lore. See the author's ffn bio for a rundown. The originality and attention to detail in the world building in this AU is awe-inspiring. There are 2 fics in the JP series, but the author has a bunch of other Gen fics set in the same AU and another on ao3. Bonus: some of the Gen fics are Jazz & Prowl-centric and can be read as romantic!

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Crime in Crystals Series by Aard_Rinn

『(7/?) - ao3 - Words: 258,030 - Crime/Hitman AU - hiatus - ▾ ⟲』

The Hitman - 6,942 - pt 1

Prowl is the last clean cop in Praxus, the final flickering light in the darkness. There are plenty of people who would like to see him snuffed.

2. The Clarification, 3. The Kill, 4. The Capture, 5. The Prime, 6. The Talk, 7. The Chase 8. TBD

*The main plot is broken into 7 separate fics, but it's all one continuous story. Read the whole thing! It's on my all time favorites. It's thrilling, tremendously action packed, and the character dynamics are some of my favorites. It's also hysterical and wholesome and I've reread it a stupid amount of times. Bonus: it's got fanart + there are 5 extra fics, including a Jazz-centric prequel, in the same AU.

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War Eternal Series by Hearts of Eternity

『(3/4) - ffn - 2m? idk it's insane - Bayverse War AU - discontinued - ▾ ❞ ⟲』

Where You and I Collide - 362,090 - prequel

Separately, Jazz and Prowl are like forces of nature- they are uncompromising and uncontrollable. But what becomes of their natures when these two unstoppable forces collide? Will one break the other, or will they both be stronger for it?

As We Come Together - 485,586 - pt 2 - Gen

While the surviving Autobots begin to flock to Earth in response to Optimus' call, trying to find a new home on the strange organic planet called Earth, some unfortunate bots are beginning to realize the price of war may have been too high. Sequel to Time

May We Never Let Go - 408,409 - pt 3 - Gen - d/c

Hell literally lies in wait above Earth as the Cybertronians and Earthlings coexist uneasily, rattled by every attack the Fallen and his master launch on them. With new evil rising, the powers that be on Earth and beyond are gearing up for war.

1. As We Come Together, prequel 2: Surface of the Sun

*Long, convoluted explanation coming up given that this series is obviously a whole different beast compared to likely any other fanfic series you or I have ever encountered in our lives... b/c the author is just superhuman or smth idk...

The series is officially listed as 4 parts (WYaIC, WTWHL, AWCT, MWNLG). Where You and I Collide is the JP-centric prequel to the other 3 Gen fics (that have substantial background JP). WTWHL is technically part 1 of the series, but it's sorta more character-focused ficlets than a continuous story... which is why I didn't specifically list it as a rec even if that makes things more confusing... (ᵕ¬ᴗ¬) Also the author didn't list Surface of the Sun as part of the series, but it's a direct prequel (like WYaIC) starring the Lambo twins and it's... oh it's so good... absolutely shatters my heart that it's been d/c'd.

I've not listed an exact world count, b/c if you want to read every bit of the AU with all its prequels and offshoots (which I would highly recommend and have done)... I'm not gonna do the math for you, sorry. The main 4-part story is ~1.7m+ which I realize is frankly insane and extraordinarily intimidating, but it is so sooo sooooo worth it. The author has created their own fully fleshed out TF world with its own lore and characters and the time and effort they've put into is mind-boggling .

Anywho, despite ultimately being d/c'd, the series is still tremendously readable and nothing about JP is left feeling unbearably unfinished. I also happened to track down the lovely author and beg for a summary of the ending, b/c I'm a bit of a freak and they very kindly provided it so if not knowing how a fic ends bothers you/prevents you from reading, you have the option of getting closure even if you can't have it written out.

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Fathomless by Sroloc_Elbisivni

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 19,949 - Fantasy AU - complete』

Jazz is drowning on dry land on the other side of the world. Once upon a time, before Jazz was born, the Rust Sea covered a swathe of Cybertron bigger than the territory of any city-state except Iacon. The sea had been more powerful than any engine besides the one at the heart of the planet itself, big enough to swallow a metrotitan in its depths, the birthplace of storms. Thing is, none of that was Jazz. He doesn’t remember those days, before he was himself, except in his dreams. And his dreams are terrifying.

*This fic makes me feel some type of way... it gives me shivers. It's so eerie and the premise is so unique. It's also beautifully bittersweet, which is a hard concept to pull off.

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The Judge by SilenceoftheLlamas

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 107,653 - Alt-War AU』

Prowl’s got a secret, and he’d rather be dead in the ground before he let anyone find out about it. Jazz’s got one too, but he’s not as good at hiding it. Prowl is a secret superhero, Jazz is a secret fanboy who doesn’t know that he works with the guy. By night Prowl is the virtuous hero The Judge, but by day he’s just an unassuming tactical officer.

*Jazz and Prowl are sorta painfully adorable in this fic and the JP is so sweet it makes my teeth hurt. Plus it's got a really fun premise with lots of shenanigans.

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Black on White on Black Series by pipermca

『(3/?) - ao3 - Words: 86,248 - fix-it, War AU - complete』

Anamnesis - 31,097 - pt 1

When Jazz and his team are lost on a mission, Prowl has to carry on alone. But a discovery a thousand vorn later could turn his life upside down again.

2. The Ghost of the Howling Plains, 3. Pulling Strings

*Super interesting sorta-kinda-fix-it fic and/or explanation for the events and characterizations in IDW. There are 3 stories in the main JP plot line. Bonus: there's 2 "Extras" fics for cut scenes from the main fics.

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Crystal Ghosts Series by Rizobact

『(2/2) - ao3 - Words: 85,688 - Fantasy AU - complete - ⟲』

Enduring as Crystal - 40,517 - pt 1

There were a lot of reasons Prowl visited the library. He never knew the most important one was waiting for him in the garden behind it.

Eternal as Love - 45,171 - pt 2

Prowl promised he would help Jazz, the ghost of the crystal chapel in the garden behind Praxus' central library. He just couldn't anticipate what shape that help would wind up taking.

*Another super unique premise! I love a good historical mystery and the imagery is specularly evocative! And I'm a sucker for the trope... which I can't reveal, because of spoilers.

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Untitled Series by Vaeru

『(2/2) - ffn - Words: 10,766 - War AU - complete - ❞』

Descant - 7,925 - pt 2

G1/Jux compliant. Requiem sequel. Prowl doubted that his desired image of Respected Superior Officer came across very well with a half-scrapped mech clinging to his hand, but he loomed as best as he was able and glared.

*Requiem is Jazz-centric and I'd say more of a prequel to Descant than Descant is a sequel to Requiem... if that makes any sense. Regardless of how you view it or what order you read it, it's fucking brutal. (-‿-“) Bonus: author also wrote another really great fic called Transformers: Juxtaposition which is Lambo twin-centric and OC-centric, but perhaps one of the only OC fics that I've ever enjoyed.

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Domino Milkshake by SilenceoftheLlamas

『oneshot - (1/?) - ao3 - Words: 24,886 - War AU - complete - ❞』

Jazz drunkenly pretends that he's dating Prowl. Only he isn't, and the mech is right behind him.

*It's a fake dating AU... what more can I say? I love the the begrudging developing romance and the meddling friends. Bonus: it's got fanart!

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Hunter's Spark by WandersUnderStarlight

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 43,645 - Alt-War AU - ❞』

Jazz disobeys orders to abandon the ruins of Praxus and runs into one of the Senate's dirty secrets.

*This author also has a few more JP fics that I enjoy like An Offer He Can't Refuse and Long Patrol. I gotta offer aisclaimer though: the fics are... fairly cliche and a bit OOC. Hunter's Spark is much more tame than the other two, though. They're all sorta a guilty pleasure of mine, because it's fun to enjoy Prowl being a bit of a BAMF and Jazz being a bit of a damsel on occasion even if objectively I understand why it's not everyone's cup of tea. ("￣▽￣";)ゞ But the author definitely deserves credit for creative and entertaining premises and a really nice writing style!

༺☆★☆★☆★-ˋˏ ♫ ♡ 𓆩𓆪 ˎˊ-★☆ ★☆★☆༻

༺General༻

Little Brother by Meiza

『oneshot - ffn - Words: 64,542 - War AU - discontinued』

Prowl is infamous for being a logical, nigh emotionaless thinker who's better at battle calculations than interpersonal relationships. How he was roped into taking care of the last survivor of Praxus is anyone's guess.

*Prowl & Bluestreak centric, but Jazz has a solid amount of screentime. The subplot is pre-relationship, co-parenting JazzProwl and it's cute as hell. It's not 'officially' discontinued, but it hasn't been updated since 2010... so... At least it doesn't end in a cliffhanger. (╥﹏╥|||)

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Things We Don't Tell Humans by SineadRivka

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 363,057 - Bayverse War AU - complete』

This was a first for us Autobots; never before have we come in contact with a species like these humans, so eerily similar to our own race and twice as tenacious as Sparklings. The question was, how far can we trust the humans with our culture? Some things have translated between cultures without much effort. Other subjects, however…

*Please note the tags! Also... I'll be honest that I mostly skip to the JP parts and main plot points in this fic as it's about a very ensemble cast and I'm not interested in TF humans ... so I can't entirely vouch for the integrity of the whole thing. (￢ω￢;)

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Echoes of Messatine by MlleMusketeer

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 303,863 - Alt-War AU - complete - ▾ 』

Cybertron hurtles toward war, and only a handful of mecha see it. Not Megatron, whose inflammatory writings gain him agonizing attention from those on high. Not Ratchet, the Iacon Medical Center’s most prized practitioner, whose Dead-End clinic remains the worst-guarded secret on Cybertron. Not Overlord, whose iron hold over Cybertron’s underworld is beginning to falter. Not Orion Pax, whose concern over the sudden silence of one of his favorite writers drives him to take up his hero’s pen. Not Terminus, who only wants to survive. But Trepan and Senator Shockwave both know well what’s coming. One aims to use a defiant miner’s fall to crush the aspirations of the masses. The other wants to use that miner’s triumph to ignite them. Neither much cares about Megatron himself, or his ultimate survival. Therein lies their fatal error.

*Not clear from the summary, but the premise is essentially "what if Megatron got the matrix instead of OP" and how their pre-war lives would have to pan out for them to ultimately switch roles. Just a really fascinating, supremely well-done "what-if" fic, but also probably the weirdest one to put on this particular list, b/c JP turns into megatron/JP at the very, very end... but... I just kinda ignore that development since it happens in like almost literally in the last chapter and you can def read it as friendship up until that point... (¬⤙¬ ᵕ)

༺☓○☓○☓○☓○-ˋˏ ♫ ♡ 𓆩𓆪 ˎˊ-☓○☓○☓○☓○༻

༺Mature༻

*listen... don't @ me. They're definitely saucy, but they're not explicit. Yada, yada... hey minors, don't read these! ...But we all know you will so just don't talk to me or anyone else about it, cool? Cool. (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

Intermission by crabapplered

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 5,049 - War AU - complete - ▾』

As the war stretched on for interminable vorn, Prowl found himself faced time and again with the mounting stress of his position. Many of those times he was forced to face alone, the gear grinding stress sending him to Ratchet for system overhauls and forced defrags. But every so often he'd be fortunate enough to have Jazz on hand, and when he did, well, it didn't take much. Pressing Jazz up against the wall, cramming him into corners, pinning him facedown over Prowl's desk. It didn't matter as long he could keep Jazz still.

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Audition by crabapplered

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 12,783 - War AU - complete - ▾』

If one were to be delicate, one would say that Jazz and Prowl are incompatible. The blunt truth? 'You just lie there with this blank expression on your face,' he'd been told by his last partner. Signal had stayed longer then most, willing to try since Prowl was so obviously doing his best, interfacing to please his partner and give him what Prowl himself disliked. In the end, though, it hadn't worked. 'You don't like me touching you, you don't like the mess, you don't even like the overload, and half the time I swear you're running economic simulations in your CPU you look that bored. I don't want that. I don't want you miserable, and I don't want me miserable, either.' So why can't Prowl stop wishing?

༺♡❦♡❦♡❦♡ -ˋˏ ♫ ♡ 𓆩𓆪 ˎˊ- ♡❦♡❦♡❦♡༻

That's all, folks.

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ω-)✧ ~Happy reading!

and for the shit tumblr search/tag system, i offer: #jazzprowl #jazzprowl recs #jazz x prowl #jazzprowl fic recs #jazzprowl fanfic recs #tansformers fic recs #tf jazzprowl #tf fic recs

[morallygreyintrovert]

Been having a hard time lately and I’ve had no inspiration to write but a few days ago I’ve started writing a post despair one shot where the empty returns Cas after only four hours because he’s so annoying and the last line of my fic has me kicking my legs and squealing like a teenage girl.

[konigsblog]

MDNI. photo credit @ave661 — warnings: tentacle fucking, breeding kink, eldritch horror könig. 🐙

eldritch!könig who's very overprotective and easily jealous. he see's you talking to other sea god's, one's he'd forbid you from seeing in fear they'd flirt with you — or worse, take you with them.

so when he see's you over there, sitting by the shore, the sand beneath your toes and speaking to an ancient, powerful sea god, he feels his blood boiling. he drags you back from them, chanting out something incoherent and pushing you down against the sand in a cave.

sliding his thick, wet tentacles into you and forcing you to maintain eye contact and mutter his name through breathless moans. his eyes don't leave you; they're filled with red, an angry red as he continues to bury a thick, hard tentacle into your poor hole. he lives for your whines and mewls and how you beg him to cum, how you're under his control, under his gaze.

eldritch!könig who, oh so desperately, wishes to fill you with his babies. he's so possessive of you; his prized possession. putting a child in your stomach would scare off any other sea god's and creatures who got too close for his liking.

it takes a lot of convincing, but he has you breathless and panting for hours as he continues to slide each of his eight tentacles into you. he slides he first inside, letting it thrust in and out of your used pussy till he's satisfied and his suckers are drooling out potent, murky fluids. a substance staining your inner walls.

then, he pulls out, bringing it to your mouth to suck on and stiffle your needy sounds as he rubs another tentacle against your sensitive, overstimulated clit. his sweetheart beneath him just begging to cum. you're making yourself a mess, those glistening tears and puffy lips...

he eases one inside before pulling away, your eldritch using your body for his own pleasure until the sun rises over the horizon. that golden glow over your body, and those precious tits. he couldn't help himself from toying and playing with them, preparing you to take his cock instead this time.

and, he's so ruthless with you. yet, his words are so loving that you're a babbling mess by the time he's finished. slapping his thick, heavy shaft against your stomach and kissing your lips softly before easing the tip inside, fully pushing himself in and groaning out a string of german curses as you tighten around him.

there's no stopping till he's completely satisfied and laying beside you wth his seed still oozing out your sloppy pussy. he'll push a tentacle inside and plug you, keep you safe and full beside him.

...

reblogs and comments appreciated.

[farcito]

An alternative ending to chapter 3 of a different path by @fatherramiro

Oh I’m sorry, you haven’t read the hot blockbuster fic of the season, a different path by @fatherramiro ??

[dykedvonte]

The second fic idea is a what-if scenerio where Jimmy dies in the crash due to and altercation with Curly and how Curly would navigate being Captain once he has to notice the little things and how he and Anya's relationship develop as he adopts an identical view point to hers rather than just keeping the peace.

And maybe i will write it but only time will tell tbh but it's stuck in my brain dome for the time being.

[merakiui]

Okay speaking of magical girls.... Evil villain tako that has a crush on the cute magical girl at NRC but he doesnt know shes the magical girl that's trying to thwart his evil plan of taking over sage's island mwhaha

YES YES YES. And every week he gets his ass handed to him. You're determined to keep Sage's Island safe!!!! He's trying to get to know you through the fights. The (one-sided) sexual/romantic tension is too much. Tako who flirts at every chance during your fights... you genuinely want to take him out (defeat him), but he wants to take you out (on a date). And it's so obvious he's down bad for you, but you have no idea he's Azul Ashengrotto (your fellow classmate) and he has no idea of your identity either. Azul's trying to balance his love for the magical girl he fights on weekends and his darling classmate who he sees during the week hehe. How fortuitous that they are the same person.

Please imagine that trope where the villain ensnares the hero in tentacles, but it ends up looking more erotic than threatening....... orz evil villain tako whose tentacle is holding you upside down by the ankle and he's monologuing about how he'll take over the island and you'll get to watch, powerless against him. But then he looks at you and your skirt has flipped up and he's granted a gratuitous panty shot!!!!!!! Tako who gets a nosebleed on the spot. He's such a loser pervert. <3

Omg omg or you're squirming in the tentacles and ranting about how you'll get him for this, but Azul's trying so hard not to give into the horny thoughts because the way the tentacles are looped around you and squeezing is so attractive to him.

Like that one scene where Stocking's fighting the octopus ghost LOL.

[hanzajesthanza]

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Regis’ eyes are jet-black. Onyx-black, dark as the darkest night, the purest night.

Because he is a vampire.

The eyes are the windows to the soul, and there is darkness and nothingness in there, a pleasant black void of murmurs and whispers that tickle the back of the head and make the eyelids heavy, that calms instantly, that evaporates fear, hate, love, pain. Makes one fall into…

Nothingness.

The soul lives on after the body has disintegrated into dust. The soul persists after death. What is death? What is a soul? And to a vampire? What can they be?

Dandelion witnessed the ghosts, visions of his friends, Geralt’s company, pushing the boat off upon Loch Eskalott. He saw three. Three, where there should have stood four. Alongside Milva’s braid, Cahir’s strength, Angoulême’s small hands, there should have been another. But there was only…

Nothingness.

This has happened before. This happened when they crossed the Jaruga, before Milva cut her braid. When their company was scoped out, felt out long-range magic—through the psyche of a dear friend. But where five stood, only four were seen. Because from such a magical scan, a vampire will not show up. Four humans, and where a vampire stands…

Nothingness.

[rafeysbby]

i just rewatched that one clip of rafe snorting a line up close and OH MY GOD PLS DADDY SNORT A LINE UP MY INNER THIGHS AND PRESS UR FACE IN MY PUSSY I BEG OF U