#or how he punched the wall in dead apple

[slipery-bastard]

Headcanon that no matter how hard he tries Dazai cannot for the life of him pick up Chuuya

He is simply too twig

Chuuya however, can pick up Dazai with ease and takes it to his full advantage

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the black alley. l Joel Miller

Summary: you didn't expect to see him there

Warnings: +18 smut, angst, swearing, a lot of anger, mention of Sarah, unprotected sex (don't do that), fingering, possesive Joel

A/N: I'll just leave it here. scribbles.

You knew you were in trouble the moment he walked into the place. You recognized him easily, after all, he hadn't changed that much. Maybe there were a few more gray hairs on his temple, maybe he seemed more tired, but he was still the same guy.

One or maybe two years? You weren't sure how much time had passed since your last meeting. Although maybe you shouldn't count this time, after all, you didn't part on very friendly terms.

You decided to evacuate this place before he realized that you were together under one roof. You put on your jacket, finished your coffee and, trying not to be conspicuous, got up from the table.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” Maria walked over to you quickly, taking a plate and a cup. "Maybe you'd like some dessert? I have a great apple pie."

"Maybe next time, thanks." you replied, smiling, "I think I'll go to bed now."

"It's good that you came. There's always a place for you here, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, thank you."

You looked around uncertainly and, seeing him nowhere, breathed a sigh of relief and then headed towards the exit. The place was packed that evening and you could have gotten out unnoticed, but not in this case. Not if the person hunting you was Joel Miller.

When someone grabbed your arm tightly, you knew you were lost.

"You have quite a nerve showing up here."

It was like a punch. Long after you parted ways, you heard his low voice in your head. It was driving you crazy.

"Hi, Joel." you replied, smiling weakly, "What a surprise!"

"What a surprise." he repeated after you.

His dark eyes looked at you as if to make sure you weren't a ghost. You saw that little wrinkle between his eyebrows, you didn't want to know what was going on in his head at that moment.

"Can you let me go?" you spoke first, "It hurts."

He unclenched his hand, but his face didn't change expression. God! You missed him so much. Only in your dreams did his face come back to you, but you were too afraid to meet him in reality. Now everything has changed.

"How long have you been in Jackson?" he asked, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets.

"I arrived in the morning." you replied, "You look good, Joel."

"Mhm." he muttered, nodding his head, probably not all the words reached him. "Did you come with someone?"

"I'm alone. It's better this way."

He nodded again.

It irritated you. You would rather have him scream and blurt out everything you expected to hear. During all this time, you had already created several scenarios of your meeting in your head, and almost each of them involved a gigantic quarrel full of regrets. But he just looked at you.

"Do you have a place to stay overnight?" he asked finally.

"Yes. Marie gave me a room nearby."

"I'll walk you back."

"You don't have to."

But his hand was already on your back as he led you out of the premises and into the cool evening air. It was much quieter outside and there were definitely no people there.

You had walked a dozen or so steps when he spoke again.

"I thought you were dead."

"Maybe that would be better for you." you replied without thinking, "Maybe I'm like cockroaches?"

"Maybe."

You turned into an alley between buildings where it was really dark. It was what you could expect.

A strong hand tightened on your shoulder again and soon your back hit the wall of the building.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Joel growled, glaring at you with fury. “I came back and you were gone! Your stuff is gone. No word on where you are or what happened!”

"I left you a note." you replied, but your words were strangely quiet.

"A note?!" Joel scoffed, "Don't be silly! I thought I probably deserved more than a few words, don't you think?"

"Yes! You deserved more, but I couldn't give it to you, Joel!" you finally faced this unequal fight "I had to do it! You won't understand it."

"Of course! I was a fucking idiot."

Joel pulled away from you and put his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Well, maybe you can finally explain it to me, huh? Maybe after all this time, I'll be able to understand you?"

"It doesn't make sense, Joel. Look, it's over now, okay? We met, fine, but now we're all going our separate ways. Again."

He was like an animal. His hand cupped your face, fingers digging into your cheek, and you gasped as he pressed you against the wall.

"It's not fucking over!" he croaked, "Almost two years! Do you get that? I've buried you so many times. I deserve some kind of answer before you pack your ass and run away again!"

Everything came back to him in an instant as soon as his gaze landed on your figure. He would recognize you anywhere. In Boston, you were the closest person to him, and you just vanished into thin air.

He came home that day and at first your absence didn't alarm him. Only a piece of paper lying on the table caught his attention. A few words - "Sorry, I had to. One day you will understand. Bye." Joel quickly checked the bedroom dresser and the bathroom. You took only the most necessary things and disappeared like a stone into water. He was pissed at you like never before.

The days turned into weeks, and they turned into months, and you kept returning to his head, stabbing him in the heart each time.

He didn't know if he wished you were dead or if he was even happy to see you right in front of him. His emotions were completely bursting him from the inside.

You took his hand away from your face.

"Then leave me in this grave! What do you want to hear? What will satisfy you, Joel? I'll tell you what you want!"

"I want the fucking truth!"

"I left because I protected you! All this... WE went too far."

You remembered that one evening perfectly. His naked, warm body lay next to you. He hugged you from behind, burying his face in your neck, your hands tightly intertwined. He thought you were asleep when he softly murmured in your ear, "I think I might love you...".

But you weren't sleeping. And you didn't sleep for a minute that night. You didn't name what happened between you. Just two people trying to survive the situation they found themselves in. You were partners, and behind the apartment door you gave each other a semblance of normality.

Love wasn't safe. Love meant reckless behavior and too much attachment, and therefore - the pain of loss. You didn't want to experience this and you didn't want it to happen to Joel.

"Bullshit!" he hissed.

"We made a mistake! We were too close!" you finally stood up for yourself, your voice was strong as you blurted out everything that had been inside you for so long. "I couldn't let you go through the same thing again!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I know how you suffered after losing Sarah! I didn't want you to..."

"How dare you hide behind her back?!" Joel roared in fury, pointing his finger at you. “She didn't leave me! They took her away, she had no choice! Unlike you! Fucking coward!”

"Yes! I'm a coward! Because I loved you, idiot! And that scared me more and more!"

He looked at you angrily. His eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw was clenched. You both breathed deeply, feeling all the uncomfortable emotions coursing through your veins. Even though many words were exchanged between you, you weren't happy with this result.

Eventually you came to the conclusion that it was pointless. Jackson was pointless. You shouldn't have come to town at all. Nothing good could happen to you.

"I'm leaving tomorrow." you said, breaking the menacing silence between you. “You won't have to look at me anymore.”

"Nothing new. Y/N, Master of Running-From-Problems." Joel sneered.

"Yeah, whatever you want." resignation was audible in your voice, you slowly started to back away, thinking about getting back to your room. "I hope you find someone who will be a better person than me. You deserve it."

"Maybe, but I want you."

You didn't even have a second to react. His warm large hands cupped your face and your lips collided in a hard kiss. In an instant you broke into a thousand pieces. His tongue slipped between your lips and drew a soft moan from you. Once again you felt a solid wall behind you, but it saved you from falling. His strong body pressed against yours and his thigh slipped between your legs.

You clearly felt the bulge in his jeans, which showed that this wasn't going to end well for you. You could handle it. You wanted to feel him inside you again too much to worry about the consequences at that moment.

“Joel…” you moaned as his lips moved down to your neck, kissing and biting gently, “Joel, please…”

One of his hands squeezed your breast tightly. If Joel Miller set out to destroy you, he was on the right track.

You owe him no debt. Your hand slid between your bodies and touched his bulge, now really hard. The lips came together again.

"Tell me you want me." he murmured, barely removing his lips from you, “Tell me.”

"More than life. I want you, Joel." you gasped.

That was enough. Without hesitation, he unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your buttocks along with your panties. God! You were grateful for the cloudy night and the dark as hell alley. Joel turned you to face the wall, sliding his hand between your thighs. You sucked in a breath as fingers ran over your clit.

"So wet already?" his voice in your ear was as low and sultry as you remembered it, and now it turned you on even more.

He slid two fingers inside you, and your nails almost dug into the side of the building. You were trapped between him and that fucking wall as his fingers moved inside you so shamelessly. And suddenly they just disappeared.

You tried turning your head slightly and saw Joel unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his hard cock. The fingers that were inside you a moment ago slid up his shaft, leaving a mixture of your juices and his precum on it.

You didn't talk. One look from him was enough for you and you knew exactly what he wanted. You knew him so well it was like you lived under his skin.

He entered you from behind in one smooth and powerful movement, and your breath stopped in your lungs. This sudden feeling stopped you both for a moment. You still fit together perfectly, in every way.

His hands on your hips tightened and didn't let go even as Joel began to move slowly.

Another dirty moan escaped your throat.

"Shhh, baby. We don't want anyone to hear us, do we?"

You nodded, but how could you be quiet as he pounded into you harder and faster. All those days without you, all the anger and frustration, was released in the way Joel fucked you and... It was amazing.

You felt him right behind you. Quick breathing right next to your ear. You started clenching around him tighter and tighter. So many days without him and it only took you a moment to cum.

"Come on, baby. I feel you." groaned Joel. “Give it to me. I'm right behind you.”

It was like a lightning strike. The air left your lungs and your muscles tensed in a pleasant shiver. Joel picked up the pace and after a while he pulled out and you felt him spill onto your buttocks.

You both stood still, gasping for breath.

"Wait."

He slipped on his pants and took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped your bottom with it. He helped you get dressed because your hands and legs were still shaking a little.

"It was unexpected." you said hesitantly, "But nice."

"Yeah. Pretty nice." Joel replied, looking at you carefully.

"Just like the good old days."

"Yeah."

You began to hear the sounds of people talking as they left the bar and headed home. Soon someone could be passing through your hideout. Joel seemed to think the same thing.

“Listen, Y/N.” he started, walking closer to you. “Stay. If not for me, then for your own peace of mind. Jackson is a safe place. I'd rather know you're safe.”

"I'll consider it." you replied, smiling slightly. “I might like this place.”

"For sure. What happened..."

"I missed you, Joel." you blurted out without thinking, "I missed you from the first step out the door. Every day I wanted to come back, but I was more and more afraid. I was sure you wouldn't want me back."

"I was mad at you, but it didn't change anything. I still love you, Y/N. And now... It's like we got a second chance. That's rare."

"So I guess we're lucky."

"Fucking lucky bastards."

You laughed softly and Joel smiled. It was his favorite music.

"Stay."

"I will."

And you stayed. Because despite everything, it was easier to go through this mess together than to try to survive alone.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Give Me More | Steve x FemReader

Mr. Harrington's Secretary AU

TW: It's smut. A little licky lick. A little of the old in & out. Lots of cum. Laid-back Reverse Cowgirl. Yee-haw! 18+ NSFW

For @loveshotzz

"John Harrington's office," you speak into the blue-gray phone receiver wedged between your shoulder and ear while shuffling a stack of papers in front of you, ensuring they're neatly aligned before punching a staple through the corner.

"Hi, honey," his deep voice crackles over the line.

"Steve, you know you're not supposed to call me at work," a smile lifts the apples of your cheeks, happy that he insists on breaking the rules.

"I can't help it. I've been thinking about you all day."

"Oh yeah? What have you been thinking?" You spin your chair away from the open door where Mr. Harrington sits behind his desk. 

"I've been thinking about all the things I want to do to you," his voice drops an octave and you can picture his sultry lips forming every word.

"Why don't you tell me?" squeezing your thighs together, you smooth your hands against the rigid corduroy of your skirt. A few words from him, and you're already on edge.

"I'd rather show you. After work, yeah?"

"Yeah," you say, practically melting in your seat.

"I need you to do something for me," the door chime of Family Video sounds in the background, and you can hear a few far-off voices chattering, "Just a minute," he tells you before his voice becomes muffled, "It's your turn, Robin."

"Sorry," his voice comes back clearer.

"It's fine," you say with a little shake of your head, even though he can't see you.

"After we hang up, I want you to go to the bathroom and take off your panties."

Your lungs pull in a sharp breath. "Steve–"

"I'm going to bring you a coffee, and I'm taking them with me."

"Steve–" 

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," with that, the line goes dead. 

As usual, he got his way, charming his way into the office, pulling you out into the hall. Holding out his hand, expecting his prize. Never bet against Steve Harrington. With a kiss and smile and a hand up your skirt, he leaves you wet and wanting with a promise of tonight.

He had you naked and on your hands and knees, eating you from behind before he even said hello.  Mumbling how he was hard all day with your panties in his pocket. Broad wet tongue sliding up and down your center, humming like you're his favorite flavor, swirling around the tight pucker of your ass before thrusting into your pussy. You were still pulsing from your first orgasm when he muttered, "I need you," and the pressure of his cock was at your entrance pushing inside. 

Lifting your ass slowly, you grip the pale skin of his hairy thighs and bring your hips down hard, taking your time grinding your clit, running your hand over his full sac, earning a deep low groan. You've been working him like this since you started. Riding him in reverse cowgirl, teasing him, moving torturously slow on the up strokes.

He can't take his eyes off the view of your swollen folds wrapped around his cock. Sucking him in as he disappears inside you. He's already cum once but stayed hard, even more turned on feeling his cum inside you. It mixes with your slick, rings of it drip down his dick, making a mess. He grips your cheeks and lets go watching them bounce. Gives them a spank before stretching them apart, giving himself a better look at your creamy cunt, but his patience is starting to slip. You're his, and he's going to fuck you like he owns you. 

"Lie back, baby," his hands grip your waist, pulling you against him until your head rests on his shoulder. The soft skin of your back rubs against the bristly hairs of his chest, legs spread open on either side of his hips. The mattress squeaks as he brings his knees up, feet flat on the bed, fucking up into you from below. He thrusts hard but keeps a steady pace, that thick length dragging against your velvety front wall.

"Fuck, Steve," you whine, your hand moving to your clit, rubbing slow circles. 

"You look so pretty like this," his fingertips scrape your skin, running over the jut of your hips, the dip of your flat stomach.

He nudges your temple with his nose until you turn your head, stretching for a kiss, sloppy, wet, all tongue. Your bouncing tits draw his attention, "Look at these," his big hands engulf your breasts, kneading upward until he's rolling your hard nipples. 

A loud moan rips from your throat. 

"I know it feels good, doesn't it?" His lips are brushing the shell of your ear, "You like it when I stuff your pussy full of my cum?"

"Uh-huh," you whine, nodding in agreement. 

"I know you do, baby," his hand slides up your chest to wrap around your neck, "Jesus, I can feel you soaking my balls."

"Give me more, Steve. I need it."

"Keep rubbing your clit," he grabs you under your thigh, lifting you slightly, giving himself room to piston his hips, driving his cock deep, punishing your g-spot. 

"I want you to cum. Wanna feel your tight little cunt milking me dry."

Slick with sweat, and you start to slide. He holds you steady, gripping you tighter, never slowing his frantic pace. The sound of slapping skin, moans, and grunts of his exertion fills the room. 

"I'm close," you cry, "Don't stop," your free hand clutching his arm. The feeling builds slower with more intensity than the first – winding you tighter, ecstasy completely taking over.

"Are you ready for me, baby? Gonna take all I give you?" His nails dig into the curve of your hip somehow quickening his pace, "I'm gonna make you so full, you're gonna feel me all night," his cock starts to swell hitting that spot that has the coil inside you snapping. Your pussy clenches him hard, your body trembling around him. With a deep moan, you feel his warmth spurting inside you. He slows to a stop and rearranges his arms to hold you, pressing small kisses to your temple. 

"Honey, I think you were made for me."

@superblysubpar @boomhauer

Secertary AU Masterlist Here

Thanks for reading. If you've enjoyed this fic, leave a comment and reblog. It makes a big difference in helping others find my work.

[childrenofcain-if]

Say what will happen if MC got kidnapped, and the kidnapper taunts Elias that if he didn't give them a certain amount of money within the given time period they will send one of MC's fingers for every hour that exceeds that time limit.

I'm curious what type of person Elias is when stressed or threatened, can you tell us Author?

elias sat at his desk, the heavy wooden surface cluttered with papers he’d long forgotten about. the blinds were drawn, leaving the room dim, with only a sliver of light cutting through the dust-filled air. the silence was thick, and so damn oppressive that it wrapped around him like a shroud. his phone lay in the center of the desk, an inert thing, but it held his gaze like a viper poised to strike.

when it finally rang, the sound was almost a relief, breaking the tension that had settled in his chest like a stone. he reached for it slowly, the way one might approach a wild animal, carefully, deliberately. the cold metal of the phone was familiar in his hand, but today it felt different, heavy with the weight of what was about to happen.

he didn’t say anything when he answered. he just waited, his breath quiet, controlled, like the air before a storm.

“hello there, sir,” the voice on the other end was too smooth, too calm, like the surface of a dark lake that hid something monstrous below. “i believe we have something you’re missing.”

the words were almost a whisper, but they hit elias like a punch to the gut. he swallowed hard, forcing the rising panic back down where it belonged. he couldn’t afford to lose control, not now.

“what do you want?” his voice was steady, but underneath it was a barely-contained tremor of rage, of fear. he gripped the phone tighter, his knuckles going white.

“money,” the voice replied, as if it were asking for something as trivial as a cup of sugar. “how does 50 million sound? and i think twenty-four hours should be enough time to gather it.”

elias’s mind was already racing, calculating, planning, but there was a part of him that couldn’t move past the icy fear crawling up his spine.

“and if i don’t?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

there was a pause, a soft, deadly silence on the other end of the line, and then the voice came back, even colder than before. “then we’ll start sending pieces. a finger, perhaps. every hour you’re late.”

it was like a knife to the heart, the pain so sharp and sudden that elias almost couldn’t breathe. his vision narrowed, tunneling in on the phone, on the voice that was now laughing softly in his ear. he wanted to throw it, to smash it against the wall, but he forced himself to stay calm, to focus.

“put them on the phone,” he demanded, his voice low, almost a growl. there was no room for negotiation in his tone, no space for argument.

the kidnapper laughed again, a sound that made elias’s skin crawl. “you’re not really in a position to make demands, sir. but since i’m feeling generous…”

there was a rustling sound, muffled voices, and then a new voice came on the line, shaky, scared, so small it made elias’s heart ache.

“dad?”

for a moment, the world stopped. the air in the room grew so thick that it pressed down on him from all sides. he could barely think, barely breathe, but he forced the words out, desperate to hold onto the connection.

“i’m here, little apple,” elias said, his voice cracking just a little. “i’m here, and i’m going to fix this, okay? just—.”

before he could say more, the kidnapper was back, the cruel smirk evident even through the phone. “that’s enough of that,” the voice said, and then, almost as an afterthought, “twenty-four hours. don’t be late.”

the line went dead.

for a long moment, elias just sat there, staring at the phone in his hand. the silence in the room felt heavier now, thick with the weight of everything he hadn’t said, of everything he needed to do.

he stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, and began to pace, his mind racing, turning over every possible scenario, every contingency.

he couldn’t think about the fear, about the trembling voice that still echoed in his ears. he couldn’t think about what would happen if he failed. he just had to move, to act, to find a way to bring the little light of his life back.

as the hours ticked by, elias made call after call, his voice sharp, each word an authoritative command. there was no room for error, no space for hesitation. he needed results, and he needed them now.

the clock on the wall kept ticking, each second dragging him closer to the deadline. each tick echoed like a heartbeat, a reminder that time was running out. but beneath the fear, beneath the anxiety gnawing at him, there was something else—a fire, a cold, burning determination that had gotten him through every single trial before this one.

he would get you back. there was no other option.

as dawn began to break, elias made one final call. it was to the man he always kept as a backup, the last option when nothing else gave him the result he was looking for.

elias’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but there was a steel in it that hadn’t been there before. “make them pay,” he said, each word like a stone dropped into a still pond. “make them dearly regret even being born.”

there was a pause on the other end, a soft intake of breath, and then, “it will be done.”

he hung up the phone, his hand shaking slightly as he placed it back on the desk. the room was still, the only sound the ticking of the clock, marking the seconds until he could inevitably bring you home. and as he stared out at the pale morning light, a single thought blinking in his mind.

he was going to burn the city to find you, and no one would dare to stand in his way.

[ozarkthedog]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

summary: after an argument with Tommy, Joel notices you walking home and sees an opportunity to relieve his anger.

warnings: 18+ only. dark!joel miller x f!reader. dead dove. noncon. assault. threats. mention of stalking. breeding kink. no beta.

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: i’ve been in a dark! mood lately and this was the result. thanks to @ghotifishreads for being a supportive hoe. gifs by @nicolethered

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ♁ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☾

The streets are quiet and it feels so right To be out of line like the shape of my veins For you, for you, for you - Mansionair

“What’d I tell ya about being out this late?” 

You skid on the snow covered payment. The bellowing tone shakes you to the bone making you shiver beneath your winter coat. You know that voice. The one that, at first, made you feel all warm and fuzzy, but now, you did your best to duck out of view whenever you heard his deep timbre while you were out around town. 

You swallow hard and raise a hand to shield your face from the falling snow. “Joel?”

The older man stalks toward you leaving something dark in his wake. Hot air puffs from his nose and mouth like a dragon into the cold night. His jaw is set in a hard line, anger seeping from his skin. “Want to tell me what you’re doing out here?”

You try not to cower as he pins you with an ominous glare. “I was helping stock the shelves at the market.” You meekly reply. “Besides it’s not that late and it’s safe.” You say, waving your hands around showcasing the barren streets.

You’d been living at the compound for the past year and finally felt like you could call this place home. You don’t know why he was so adamant about looking out for you. Ever since he came into your life, he was a thorn in your side. 

“That’s just it. No matter how safe you feel, you never really are.”

White hot pain brands your skin when he lands a rough smack to the apple of your cheek. You stumble back a step and clutch your jaw in shock. Tears prick your eyes as snowflakes melt on your raised, warm cheek.

“See? Look how easily I was able to hurt you.” His eyes flit down your body, growing darker by the second, much darker than you’d ever seen. “It’d be a real shame if something much worse happened.”

Your mouth drops open with a fearful shout but he cuts it off with a vile punch to your belly. Pain ignites in your gut pitching you forward with a sick gag as you clutch your stomach. Nausea crawls up your throat as you clutch your stomach with a fearful gasp.

Joel grabs the scruff of your jacket and roughly yanks you upright. He carelessly drags you into a dark alley making the tendons in your abdomen throb and scream as he man handles you into the shadowy abyss. Your boots slip and slide on the snowy surface not allowing you an ounce of traction. You couldn’t put up a fight, no matter how pitiful it’d be.  

He cages you against the frigid brick wall and smothers your cries with his palm. His leather glove smells of wood and smoke from a day in the barn as he kicks your feet apart. He grinds his half hard girth into your belly and a fresh wave of fear races up your spine.

“Just showing you all the awful things that could happen, Sweetheart. Always gotta be prepared.” He leans his chin on his glove with a smirk. “Be good to me. I don’t wanna have to mess up that pretty face.” A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest when you whimper under his palm. 

Tears spill over your lashes as he uses his free hand to unbuckle his jeans and tugs on his thick length. “If only you’d listened.” He mutters, shaking his head. “Then you’d be at home all curled up in that cute oversized band shirt you always wear.”

Your brain slowly registers his words. He’d been watching you.

He spins you around and slams your body against the hard bricks before a gloved hand wraps around your neck as a warning. Warmth fans your cheek as he husks against your skin. “If you make so much as a peep, I’ll cut your tongue out.”

Your bottom lip quivers and a small gasp escapes the tight confines of your throat.

Joel snickers at your pitiful face. “Good girl. Now stick that ass out.”

When you don’t move fast enough, a brash hand on the back of your neck yanks you from the wall and folds your body in half.  

“Hands where I can see ‘em.” He grits, waiting to move his hold on your neck until you place both hands on the wall in front of you.

With precision, he unbuttons your jeans and slides them down just far enough for him to stake his claim. You hiss when leather bound fingers prod your folds and deftly rub your mound. “Shit- you got a nice puffy pussy.” He comments while tapping the blunt head of his cock against your slit. “Gonna look so good spread open on my cock.”

He sheaths his entire length in your heat in one fluid motion. Pain erupts in your lower half forcing your head to drop between your shoulders. Your nails bend and break as they scrape down the brick while he ruts carelessly into you. He snarls like a beast savagely taking down prey. 

Your elbows bend from the force of each thrust sending you closer to the wall on every drive as his pelvis smacks into your ass. “Takin’ me so good. Shit-” Joel hisses. “Such’a tight cunt.” His hips saw back and forth, gliding his thickness along your swollen channel, hitting spots that make you cringe with pain and pleasure.

Joel adjusts his grip and in the blink of an eye, pulls you into a standing position with one arm locked around your clavicle. His cock feels even more massive. Your body burns and you can barely breathe while he’s inside you. 

It’s too much. He’s too much. 

Mustached lips brush the shell of your ear. “You’re gettin’ wet.” He states with a vile grunt. “Never pegged you for a pain slut but you feel like you’re gonna come.”

Metal floods your mouth as you bite your cheek to keep from screaming into the night. Unwanted pleasure creeps up your spine and you want to vomit as he keeps moving. He cants his hips and directly aims for the spot behind your clit pushing you towards the edge whether you want it or not.

“Love watchin’ you struggle. That dumb brain of yours thinkin’ it can escape this,” Joel sneers and snaps his hips even harder. “but you’re mine, girl. Gonna make sure you fuckin’ understand.”

Teeth gnaw into your skin, marking the sensitive column of your neck, and setting off the immense pressure that steadily builds in your gut. He slams a gloved hand over your lips as you orgasm, cutting off your cries while your cunt swirls around his length as you explode into a million pieces.  

The swell of his cock and his frantic pace registers in the back of your mind. You desperately scream into his gloved palm and struggle to get free despite his vice-lock grip around your frame. “Gonna be a good lil’ wife for me? A good mommy, yeah?”

Your screams are soft rumbles under the butter like leather as he takes his fill and shoves his cock as deep as it can go. His bulbous crown painfully grazes your cervix and nausea creeps up your throat once more. 

A ragged groan vibrates your jaw as he reaches his end and fills you to the brim. Hips slam against your ass one final time before staying glued to you making sure nothing drips out. “Gotta make sure it sticks.” 

Tears spill over his glove as he keeps your cries at bay. He nudges your cheek with his nose in a gross display of affection before slipping from your heat with a hiss. “Now, no funny business. You hear me?” He gives your jaw a rough squeeze before letting his hand fall. 

The freezing winter air burns your lungs and the seed that drips between your legs scalds you. You fall against the wall with a whimper once he lets you go. Wanting to disappear, you curl into the wall and pray for him to leave but he’s at your side, like a moth to the flame.  

You jolt as he tugs your jeans back into place. “S’only me.” He chuckles.  

Joel curls an arm around your neck before walking you out of the alley and in the direction of his house. “Let’s get you home.” He kisses the crown of your head with a sigh. “Safe and sound.”

[whumpwillow]

Hazeshift 14 | villain whump

This is a series! masterlist    

ummmm yeah here ya go

{ Chapter summary: Haze, delirious, shows him images with his powers of what happened to him at Lisle’s hands }

warnings: past torture, unreality, hospital setting, low self worth, imposter syndrome

//

Two Davians. Two Davians.

Haze’s mind spun trying to work out why this was important. He knew somehow that it was, but couldn’t figure out why.

He felt lightheaded. Every part of his body buzzed with pain. That wasn’t unusual. He felt hot and sticky, and it took him a bit to remember that it was blood. He was being beaten. By Davian. Or Davians. Was that why there were two now? Because the first one was tired so the second came to take his place?

His fears seemed to prove true for an instant as he saw one of the Davian’s move closer to him with alarming speed, running toward him. That Davian punched the other one, sending him flying backwards and crashing into the far wall. Haze watched, stunned, as the man who’d been beating him just moments prior became nothing more than a ragdoll on the floor.

This new Davian crouched down at Haze’s side and threaded his fingers through his bloody hair. He didn’t tear or rip or pull, but held him gently, resting Haze’s head in his lap.

Ah, so this was another one of those peaceful visions.

He must have had his fill of pain and his mind had conjured up this image to comfort him, just like Davian giving him the apples. The blankets. Holding him like he was now, stroking his bloody cheeks with his thumbs, caressing him like he was something precious and breakable.

Haze tried to smile, split lips pulling back to reveal bloodied teeth. His eyes became glazed and unfocused and he saw Davian’s own lips moving, saying something but making no sound. Haze couldn’t tell what the words meant, even if the world seemed to play out in slow-motion. Davian’s mouth moved and made words, but all Haze could hear was ringing in his ears. He tried to focus on the shape of Davian’s lips, what they were trying to say, but all he got from that was how he’d never really taken a chance to look at them and realize how beautiful they were.

…

Davian looked down at the villain in his lap, heart thumping so hard against his ribcage he thought it might break. The sting of his fist from punching Lisle was negligible, incomparable to the hot blood that slicked over his fingers as he touched Haze. He reached out slowly at first, disbelieving of the battered figure that lay on the floor in front of him was the man who had lain in his bed with him just yesterday.

The Haze now was practically unrecognizable from that man. He lay near-motionless on the ground, covered in blood, his arms out at his sides and one of them bent at an unnatural angle. His hair was mussed and matted, wet and sticky, and his eyes had glazed over and now stared right through him. What scared him the most was the smile—sharp and bitter, like nothing he’d ever seen before, it was plastered over Haze’s face with blood-stained teeth and malice. So much malice.

Davian would’ve thought the man dead if it weren’t for the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the unstable rhythm of his hitching breaths.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream.

Why did this have to happen? He’d told Haze that he was safe. That he’d be safe here. He was supposed to be safe.

He gathered Haze into his lap, running a hand through his hair. Was horrified when it came away red. He shivered along with the villain he held, who’s expression hadn’t changed.

“Hey, Haze, Haze, wake up. It’s me. It’s me, Davian.”

Not Lisle.

He’d seen Lisle on the ground, straddling his former torturer’s hips, beating him to a pulp. More accurately, he’d seen himself doing it, the shape-shifted form of himself Haze's tormentor wore. He knew who it was without having to think—he knew all of Lisle’s tricks with shapeshifting from the academy.

Or at least, he thought he did.

Lisle had shifted into Davian himself to beat up Haze…he’d taken on the guise of the one person Haze found safe and desecrated it. A pressure built up in Davian’s chest that he couldn’t seem to get rid of.

Why did this have to happen?

He brushed the back of his hand over Haze’s cheek. “Hey, Haze. It’s okay. You’re alright. You’re safe—sa-fe—”

Davian couldn’t even get the words out. He inhaled sharply in the middle of it, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes burned and soon he felt hot tears escape them, only to land on the unchanging face of the villain he held in his lap.

He wasn’t safe. He was hurt. Davian had failed him, he failed to protect him, he lied lied lied—

Fucking useless, you are! There you go, screwing it all up again, a nasty voice in the back of his mind told him.

Davian was used to it by now, always whispering to him during missions what a failure he was. How he didn’t deserve to be known as the city’s greatest hero. That he was a fraud.

But this wasn’t about him.

So why couldn’t he stop crying?

Through the bleary haze of tears, Davian didn’t notice the smoke building up in the room until it was too late. He tried to cover his mouth, but he knew that would do no good, for this was not real smoke, not the kind from fires or those blasted cigarettes Lisle wouldn’t stop buying. This was the kind that didn’t rise or fall and didn’t blow away in the wind. The kind that brought with it not coughing fits but visions of disaster and torment.

This was Haze’s power.

Davian only had a moment to glance down at Haze’s wrist and the broken armband that had been restraining his powers thus far—evidently damaged in the scene Lisle had caused. After that, the smoke wrapped around him, obscuring his vision until it warped into something else entirely.

Haze sat in his cell, his body curled in on itself. Unhealed wounds wept with fresh blood, though he made no move to fix them. A voice came from behind. Haze turned around.

Lisle.

Then came the salt crystals. Rough, gritty, and coarse, Lisle rubbed it into the lashes on Haze’s back, tearing into them with his hands with a bitter callousness Davian never expected to see from his friend. An awful chill had settled over the man as he tortured the villain, a smile cresting on his face.

You broke faster than I did.

Lisle’s words. Teasing, mocking, vindicated.

He wondered for how long this had been happening, how long Davian had let this happen. Davian sucked in a breath, only filling himself up with more of the vision-smoke. Distantly, he figured it didn’t matter. All that really mattered was what the smoke showed him—how clueless he’d been. How blind.

Haze wasn’t the villain here.

Lisle was.

The smoke shifted again. The air grew thicker and Davian struggled to breathe. He pitched forward, trying desperately to get air into his lungs, but it was only visions. Memories.

The smoke settled and Davian could breathe again.

He was in the hospital room. The visions overlayed itself with where Davian presently sat in reality, though the unconscious body of Lisle that Davian had punched was not lying on the floor in the corner as he realistically should be. No, the vision-Lisle stood by Haze’s bedside, while Haze himself looked up with fearful eyes. Cali was there as well, standing on the other side of the bed. She held out her hands and asked Lisle for confirmation, to which he replied with words that sounded so wrong to Davian’s own ears, but seemed to convince Cali of his goals and her assumed purpose.

No.

Davian realized what they were going to do. He knew what Haze had suffered at the hands of the vigilante Sorrowborn, he knew what this would do to him. Lisle knew it all and intended to use Haze’s greatest fear, his greatest pain, against him. For revenge.

Davian tried to move. He made to leap up and stop the scene from happening, but his body wouldn’t obey. He was trapped, motionless, helpless as he could only watch as Haze thrashed under Cali's power as she sent jolts of electricity into his body. Worse than being tazed, worse even than if he were to stick a fork in an electric socket, the shock tore through the man’s body without mercy.

Davian screamed for them to stop, but the vision never wavered. Haze begged in the same voice as Davian was now, and neither of them could do a thing.

The smoke dissipated and Davian sucked in a breath. He was back in the hospital room, the real one this time, with everything where it had been moments prior. Lisle still lay unconscious to the side, but Davian couldn’t even look at him right now. He didn’t even know what to think about his former friend, the same man he’d gone to the academy with, studied together, laughed together, saved innocent lives together with.

And Haze.

The villain. The monster. The lackey for a group of people so evil that it couldn’t be put into words.

The injured boy. The fragile thing. the one who had been wronged so thoroughly and by so many people. Including himself.

next

[quills-of-freedom]

Spooky Season 🎃🍂

& Little announcements.

It is now officially the best time of year.

I am happy, content and excited for the season <3

Also I am back from the shadow Realm. Hello, Hi. Nice to see you again.

Also I am now adding One Punch Man to my writing lists. I don't know why I didn't before to be honest, it is a fave of mine.

But right now I am thirsty as f for this mofo....

Jesus Wept... just look at him...

TAKING REQUESTS FOR HALLOWEEN THEMED / SPOOKY THEMED HEADCANNONS

So, without further ado...

Halloween Festival:

Attack on Titan - One Punch man.

Warnings ⚠️ A little bit of smut. Mixture of cannon and modern au throughout.

Added local translations for things too... you'll see what I mean.

It's Halloween night; the moon is full and the leaves are as crisp as the air is cold. The Halloween fair is here in town and luckily, it's also date night 🌙 ✨️

Eren

Haunted house? Lame.

Good luck getting this grump excited for fake cardboard ghouls and goblins. But... gotta hand it to him, it makes you happy so he'll happily oblige.

Casually sipping his pumpkin spice latte with one hand. He gets the iced one because only Eren is edgey enough to drink ice when it's below zero. (Celsius you monsters) while he wraps his free arm around you.

Doesn't blink an eye during the scripted prologue. Rolls his eyes when one of the actors tries to spook him and single him out.

Allows you to hide into his chest if you're that way inclined. He'll scoff at you to stop being so dumb.

"You've slaughtered fifteen meter beasts but you're scared of a sheet?"

But never the less he's just glad he's getting to spend some alone time with you.

There's a room where it's total darkness and there's little flaps in the walls where actors reach out to grab you - his eyes narrow when he hears your peircing screech. He doesn't flinch.

But his protective instincts are still there - although he knows there's no real danger he knows you feel vulnerable so he's still there as your protector.

"C'mere..." Pulls you into a smooch when you're out the other side.

Reiner

Reiners been just as excited for this as you have. Not only does he adore spending time with you, but he's also a fellow lover of this time of year.

Buys all of the things. Fried snacks, candy apples (we call them toffee apples, even though they're not toffee. Weird, I know.) Churros, Cotton candy (candy floss). And shares them all with you. You'll never ever go hungry when on a date with Reiner Braun.

Then he sees it. The holy grail of festivals. The ferris wheel.

Just something about the lights and being so high alone moves something within him. He feels free up in the sky, looking at the gorgeous view. Not to mention the privacy he has with you.

Romantic view of the fireworks from atop the giant wheel is the cherry on top of yet another perfect date with Reiner. His warmth radiates from him as he holds you close and kisses you, the gorgeous colours exploding around you. But of course, that's how it always feels for Reiner when he kisses you.

Levi

Crowds of people, unsanitary food, loud music? Levi is not a fan of places like this. But, much like Eren, will put up with it for you. You'll just have to make it up to him later...

Wins all of the games. Even the ones that are evidently fixed. The game master is puzzled as he hands you a giant stuffed animal; he was sure he'd glued that pin down...

Levi brings his own food, as well as dead ass laying down a handkerchief upon the wooden picnic bench before placing down his boxed lunch.

He'll hold your hand through the crowd when it gets a bit hectic.

Enjoys looking at the bonfire. Not a fan of the smoke though. And it always seems to blow in his direction. He's fuming.

The pent up tension and stress from the whole evening really comes out later as he fucks you more firmly than usual. Nothing against you, of course, but he releases his tensions through his dick and my god was that a lot of strain on his brain.

Saitama

Depending on what mood he's in, he'll love it or hate it. If he's in a good mood he'll enjoy it a lot more. If he can't be arsed then maybe not so much.

Obliterates the games. Like, breaking them. He pisses off the stall owners beyond belief. To the point of just handing him toys as he approaches. He keeps at least one, you can have the rest.

He'll go on rides with you but the whole time he's like:

Thinks the haunted house is dumb but still enjoys it. Laughs at you getting freaked out.

"Hey, y/n." He'll joke, pointing to the Hall of Mirrors. "The scariest room yet."

He'll enjoy the pumpkin carving... until he starts to struggle with it and gets annoyed.

Garou

Garous interest in the festival is literally only you. He wants to fuck you and keep his person happy. He couldn't really give a shit where it was. Saying that, he's a very "in the moment" person and will make the best of the situation.

Wins all the games. Will start a fight if he spots one that's fixed. Ain't no one conning you. Or him.

Laughs like a maniac in the haunted house; because he's scaring them.

Constantly touching you. Guiding you through crowds, squeezing in a sneaky ass grab, wraps his arms around you from behind and buries his face into the crook of your neck.

Fingers you in a hidden corner of either the maze or haunted house. You drive him insane.

Buys all the food but dislikes most of it after trying them.

He's a softie deep down with a soft spot for kids, so when he knocked out the con artist of the game stall, gave out all the toys to the surrounding children. They all cheered him like he was a hero.

"Know how good 'm gonna fuck you later?" He'll sneer into your ear at the most random times. He's always like this on dates.

Enjoys the pumpkin carving and weirdly good at it too.

[snffbeebee]

Poisoned Apples Chapter 1

A/N - Well here it is Ya'll the first chapter!! Now @ezilyamuzed and I have made a schedule for a new chapter to come out every Sunday...That crazy girl has already written probably the next 2, maybe even 3 chapters, so get ready!!

Warnings - Language and Violence ..... just for now, but in the upcoming chapters PLEASE read the warnings!!!

Word Count - 3,375.

“Yo, we got another one,” you heard a voice state on the other side of your office wall as you were ready to pack up for the night. 

“Great,” you sighed as you took off your jacket. Guess it’s another late friday. You walked out to the EMT who was filling out his clipboard as the nurse was getting your new client registered. 

“What do we have?” you asked as you walked out. 

“Crazy son of a bitch,” he replied. “Fucking insane. Just your type.”

You looked down at the blood that he had on his shirt and pants while he spoke. No cuts on him, so must have been the new client. There was a struggle indeed. Great, one of those nights. 

“Does he need medical first?”

“This isn’t his blood,” he replied. He went on to tell a story of how there were multiple bodies found at the scene brutally murdered and him in the midst of it all; silent. It gave you an eerie chill as he described how the cops had to subdue him with tasers so the EMTs could sedate him for transfer. 

“And why is he here then?” you gave him a harsh reply. “He should live the rest of his life in jail.”

“That’s the thing,” he sighed. “Cops ran his prints. He’s supposedly dead. They figured this would be best for him while they figure out how a dead guy is alive. Keep him sedated and in a nice padded room.”

“This is not a babysitting service,” you rolled your eyes. “This is a hospital for the mentally ill.”

“And killing 4 people with your bare hands isn’t?” He gave you a look that made you want to punch him. Smartass. 

“Still sedated?” 

“Hell yes.”

“Put him in room 13,” you said with a huff. 

You walked back into your office as the nurse crept to the doorway.

“Dr. Y/L/N?”

“Yes?”

“My 3rd shift relief isn’t here yet and I have to get my son…”

“Go home Anne. It’s okay. Security is still here and everyone is asleep. We should be fine until she gets here.”

“But with the new intake…”

“He’s sedated. He will be fine. I’ll do the paperwork,” you gave an assuring smile. “Go tuck in your little one and have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Don’t stay all night,”She gave you a knowing look. Sometimes she was more of a mom than a coworker, but you loved her for it. She knew you would stay until relief came, and even more likely not go home until well after that. This place was practically your home. 

She left with a goodbye as she gathered her things. The EMT was walking back with the guy 4-point cuffed to the stretcher, soaked in blood. He was a mess for sure. You followed him to room 13 and got him in safely, putting on your nitrile gloves first to check for anything in his pockets that could be harmful. 

The EMT didn’t even hesitate to book it out of there after dropping him off. With a ‘good luck’ he was out quickly. Just you and the mystery man. You look at his still face, he looked handsome under all that grime. You reached into his pockets looking for anything and found a car key for some old chevy and a couple of wadded up dollars. You bagged them, ready to just leave him be until more help came but you felt bad leaving him like that. All the blood, more than likely waking up with that still on him was going to do more harm than good if he wasn’t already completely psychotic.  

After retrieving a bucket of water and some cloths, you worked to wipe him down a bit. Starting with his arm you washed off the blood and dirt, moving him down to his hands, careful of the cuffs. You moved over to the next one when a mark caight your eye. You tried to turn his arm over so you could see, but the cuff was making it difficult. You looked at his peaceful face once more and made the decision to take off the cuff to see. It was an odd red mark that looked like a seven with two lines near it. After making a mental note, you moved to his face. The water revealed freckles along his nose and a little scar on his chin. He was very handsome underneath it all as you continued to try and get the blood out of his hair.

 You had gotten distracted in your task that you almost didn’t catch the piercing green eyes snap open to you, stabbing you in your soul. You didn’t even have a chance to breathe in before his hand was around your throat. As he squeezed you felt the sheer panic inside of you overtake your body as he gave you a look that could only be described as murderous as his eyes hit yours like little diggers. He began to blink rapidly, like he was awaking from a dream.

“Where am I?” his grip grew softer for you to choke out ‘St.Stan’s hospital’.

He looked you up and down before he dropped his hand. He undid his cuffs as you bent over trying to catch your breath threw the choking. 

“Why am I here?”

“EMT brought you,” you replied, backing away from him slowly as you rubbed your neck. “You murdered 4 people when they found you.”

“I what?” he furrowed his glare to you.

“That’s what they said,” you replied in defense, not wanting to make him angry. 

“Cops around?”

“Not now, but I’m sure they were.”

“Time to go then,” he replied as he got up from his spot. 

“You can’t just leave,” you blurted out. 

“Who’s going to stop me?” He gave you a hard glare. You didn’t respond, but stood emotionless, hoping that your words didn’t put you into more harm. “That’s what I thought.”

He opened the door and peered out, he shut the door rather quickly and quietly for someone attempting to escape.

“Shit,” he breathed out. 

“What?”

“5-0,” he replied before looking back at you. “You.”

“Me what?”

“You need to go out there and get them away from here.”

“How am I supposed to-“

“Figure it out,” he snapped at you. 

You nodded as you walked out, throwing your gloves away in the garbage can outside the room. As you walked down the hall you wondered what would happen if you did just give him over. He killed four people. Could the police take him down?

“Officer Tony,” you smiled as you got to the reception desk.

“Doctor,” Officer Tony replied firmly. He was a frequent visitor for cases, more often to shamelessly flirt for a while while you turned him down each and every time. Typically he would call you by your real name and then attempt to ask you out. He didn’t this time. He was oddly still and serious.Unlike him. “I’m doing a follow up on a guy they brought in.”

“The resurrected dead guy?” 

“That’s the one.”

“He’s still sedated,” you responded after noticing Tony was all alone which was something else unusual. Where was his partner Jake? 

“So we need 24/7 watch on time while they do their investigation and eventually they will move him to a more secure facility. We need you to check his mental competency for trial, so we won’t get any of that bullshit insanity pleas.”

“Is there even proof he did it?” you found yourself asking. 

“He was found in the middle of it.”

“What if it was self defense?” 

“Unlikely,” he scuffed at you. “Bastard is going to fry.”

“I thought it was innocent until proven guilty ?” you snarked back. He didn’t really flinch at that, but stared you down like he was the boss. Very annoying. 

“Anyways,” he changed the subject, obviously annoyed by you as well. “We need all your reports of course when you start with him.”

“That’s fine,” you replied. “If he signs a release of information.”

“Excuse me?”

“He is a patient in my care now,” you harped back. “Legally I don’t have to tell you shit about him.”

“You’re going to make this hard on me?”

“I’m just doing my job the right way, Officer,” you posed with a fake smile. “At least one of us should.”

“I’ll be back with a warrant,” he replied with a scowl before leaving. You waited a moment before going back to the mysterious man. If he really was a danger, you couldn’t just let him go back out and hurt people. You had no idea what you were doing, but your gut told you there was something more to all of this. 

“Good job,” he stated as you returned. “Pissing off the local boys is always a favorite behavior of mine.”

“Why shouldn’t I call security right now?” you blurted out. “You’ve already attacked and threatened me. Why shouldn’t I even call that cop back in? Give me a reason.”

“Because you and a lot of people here will die if you do,” he responded coldly. 

“Is that another threat?” 

“Prediction,” he stated as he shook his head. “Now I need your help to get me out of here.”

“No.”

“No?” he looked back to you with a smirk. “Oh I wasn’t asking sweetheart.”

He grabbed at your arm and pulled you to follow him. You struggled against him but then felt something pointing into your back. It felt sharp as you tensed up. 

“How did you get a knife?” you asked.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he said as you felt the pressure pushing into you again. “Now I want you to walk like everything is normal, get your stuff, and we are leaving in your vehicle. One wrong move and you will regret it.” 

You did as you were told, walking as calmly as you could back to your office. You grabbed your bag and phone. He took them from you, slipped the phone into his pocket, and pulled out your ID from your wallet in your purse. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he read aloud. “ I now know your name, birthday, and address. If you do something stupid, don’t think I won’t come find you.”

“How do you expect to get pass security?” 

He looked down at himself and noticed the blood soaked clothes. 

“Where’s your property room?” 

“We don’t have-“

“Bullshit,” he spat. “All these places have one to lock up the loonies things. Where is it?” 

“Next to security,” you stated. 

“Well, isn’t that fun?” he smirked. 

He pushed you along the hallway, you attempting to give directions as you approached security. There was one of the three guards on duty in there and he was busy watching videos on his phone. You pointed to the property room and he grabbed the keys from your clip on your waist, putting them in your hands. After unlocking it, you found yourself alone in a dark room with this psychopath until he found the light switch. 

“Jackpot,” he stated as he grabbed jeans and a shirt. He tore off his clothing that he had on, leaving him in just his boxers for you to see as he got himself dressed. You had turned your head away for a moment, but he made made the comment about you being a stuck up prude that caused you to look back. 

“The other guards are doing rounds,” you stated. 

“We better hurry then,” he replied as he grabbed his jacket and tucked it in his arm. “And remember-“

“Yeah yeah,” you scoffed. “Don't try anything.” 

As you walked out the guard, Bob, with his phone playing some comedy skit noticed you.

“Late night Dr. Y/N?” he smiled.

“Yes,” you smiled back as you signed yourself out of the clipboard. 

“And who is this?” he looked over to the mystery man.”

“My intern,” you blurted out and then calmly smiled. “He doesn’t have his badge or keys yet.”

“Well sign out,” Bob said looking at the man with a suspicious look.

You watched as he signed himself out. Name Jonathan Cash. An alias? More than likely. You said your goodbye and went directly outside of the building after he buzzed the two of you out. You knew that if he did his job it would only be within 5 minutes or so that he noticed that Jonathan Cash never signed in. 

“Which car is yours?” you felt the sharp pressure on your back again. 

“The ‘70 camaro,” you replied. 

“Really?” he sounded surprised. “I would have thought a prius or minivan.”

As you approached the car he directed you to get in the driver's seat and drive normally. You did as directed as he started to go through everything he could within your car. 

“Old water bottles, hairbrush, packs of gum,” he said as he started to toss around things. “Change of clothes.”

He stopped when he saw the underpants and picked them up with a smirk and a wink to you, but put them back away. 

“Where am I going?” 

“You’re place,” he responded. “Need to lay low and refocus.” 

“Well Jonathan, if that is your name,” you stated as you looked behind you in the mirror . “I think we’re  being followed.”

He turned his head back and watched a newer Ford Queen Victoria staying far enough back to not be too close, but still close enough to not lose you. 

“How far is this place of yours?” he asked.

“Two more blocks,” you replied. 

“You have salt?” 

“What?” you gave him a funny look. 

“Salt, iron, any type of weapons there?”

“You’re insane,” you continued to furry your brows

to him.

“Probably,” he stated as he adjusted himself back into the seat and started looking through your stuff again. “But just as a quick rundown precaution, demons are after me. They are dicks that are hard to kill without the right weapons, but you can make them hurt a lot. Listen to me and I’ll keep you alive.”

“Demons?” you snarked as you turned into your street. “Are you on something?”

“Sober,” he replied nonchalantly. “Well mostly now.”

You pulled into the driveway of your townhouse. It was simple enough for just you since all your family were all pretty much gone or states away. He looked behind him again and saw the car parked along the side of the road a few houses down with its lights off.

“Inside,” he stated firmly. 

You got out of the car and went inside. He directed you to sit on the couch while he checked around. While he was out of your sight, you stealthily retrieved the glock you had in your desk drawer. When he came back you aimed it right for him.

“Whoa,” he held up his hands. “Don’t shoot me! I’m not the enemy here.”

“Bullshit,” you blurted. “Now get down on the floor.”

“You don’t want to pull that trigger,” he showed you the mark on his arm. “You do that and things will only get worse for you.”

“Toss my phone on the couch and get down,” you commanded again. “I won’t ask twice.”

“Okay, okay,” he replied as he retrieved the phone and tossed it, getting down to the floor with his hands still up. Before he was fully down on the floor all of the sudden your front door was kicked in, Tony the cop now entering with a friend behind. His eyes weren’t his eyes. They were black as night. They charged in towards you, the mystery guy jumping up in return to attack. As Tony attacked your capturer the other one pulled out a long silver, almost dagger like weapon. He was coming right at you. You put two slugs into him and he continued like nothing happened. You emptied the clip

into him but he managed to keep moving, now right in front of you reaching for you. You attempted

to flea, but he grabbed you from behind, pinning your arms down with his as you flayed your legs to escape. He was strong. Too strong. You finally stopped fighting when you felt the cold steel along your throat. 

“Give it up Winchester or she dies,” your aggressor stated. 

You caught a glimpse of the fight between the cop and your patient. It was brutal and bloody as your patient stabbed Tony in the chest with a similar looking blade. He got up with a murderous look. You weren’t sure who to be more scared of in the moment, but your gut told you that this Winchester guy was going to win. 

“Let her go,” he warned. “I won’t ask twice.”

“Crowley wants you. You can come peacefully or her blood can be on your hands,” he pushed the blade closer to your neck, cutting it just enough that you felt blood drip. 

In a swift motion Winchester threw the blade and it went right past your head into the skull of your aggressor. His blade cut a little deeper as he fell down and you stumbled forward as his grip fell. 

You grabbed at your neck and looked at your hand that now had blood on it. Winchester got down on his knees and examined you, asking if you were alright.

“No!” you yelled as you pushed him away and got up. “What the hell were those guys?” 

“Demons,” he replied. “I told you.”

“Demons aren’t real!” you screamed as you went and grabbed a towel from your kitchen to hold against the wound on your neck. 

“They are,” he snapped back in annoyance. “You saw their eyes and the fact that you emptied the chamber in that guy and he didn’t drop dead.”

“This is so fucked up,” you breathed out, not knowing what to think. 

“Welcome to my life,” he laughed. “And more will be coming. We got to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Fine, you explain the dead cop and the guy you shot 15 times to the authorities,” he snapped back. “That is if more demons don’t get here first.”

You took a deep breath as you looked around. Fucker was right. How could you even possibly explain this and the gun had your fingerprints all over it. Not only that, but whatever happened to those guys, demonic possession or not, there was no way you could defend yourself alone. This was one of those no win situations that you had to make a decision about quickly. 

He was already picking up the weapons and rummaging through their pockets, taking out any cash he found. You picked up the gun that was on the floor next to him. He looked over at you with a cocked up brow. 

“Where do we even go?” you asked. 

“Anywhere,” he replied with solemnness to his voice, almost as if he felt bad about the situation that you were now in. “Grab a bunch of clothes and anything you care about. I’m going to grab what I can from your kitchen to get us by for now, but tomorrow, we need you to empty out any accounts you have because you will never be able to go back to this life again.” 

You nodded that you understood as you moved to go upstairs to your bedroom. Once there, the tears rolled out as you grabbed as much of your stuff you could fit into your suitcase and book bag. after changing into non bloody comfy clothes. The only real personal thing that you took with you was a photobook, to at least remember the life you once had. 

“Ready?” he stated as you descended down the stairs. 

You nodded as you looked back at your home that was now a crime scene. Another tear rolled out as you walked a little slower to the door. 

“It’s just stuff,” he said as he opened up the door for you. 

You glared at him hard as you walked past him, hissing ‘fuck you’ as you walked out and towards the car. 

“Well this is going to be fun,” he snakred as he shut the door not only to your house, but your life.

The Angels & Demons - @ezilyamuzed @daughterofthenight117 @redlipstickandthewinchesters @chocolateheart @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog@ain-t-bovvered @ladysparkles78@waywardbaby@nanie5 @ladywinchesterslibrary @candy-coated-misery0731 @stoneyggirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @@leigh70 @deans-baby-momma @akshi8278 @hobby27 @jaylarkson @ladywinchester1967 @sonotalice @krazykelly @drakelover78 @19agbrown @pisces-cutie @aloneanddesperate-blog @midnightsilver @dean-winchesters-bacon @waywardnerd67 @bobasheebaby

[sevlawless]

nothing without you

pairing: m!seven lawless x f!mc (arabella aveiro)

word count: 962

warnings: none just arabella going THROUGH IT

tags: @blainehayes @agentdumortain @valcubust-main

notes: so the @infamous-if brain rot is here and it's very fucking real lmfao- ever since i played i have not been able to stop thinking about it and more specifically, how my mc would cope post break up with seven. something something i still love you i still have to live that but how does ANYONE live with that .. anyway here it is! the song arabella sings is honeysuckle by pom pom squad

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

if i'm nothing without you, am i anything at all?

the chorus rattles around in her head long after she stops singing it. she seems to be frozen in place, her thoughts drowning out the ability to do anything else, although she does notice the faint sound of silence. the rest of dead apple have long stopped playing, but no one says anything. they seem to be doing that a lot lately when it comes to her.

she wasn't even supposed to be at this rehearsal, and she even agreed with her bandmates when they suggested she take some time away to process everything. the music can wait while she figures out how to move forward.

but all she can think about is music, all she could think about while she spent the last two weeks trying to pull herself back together is to write songs.

how do you go through something so traumatic and not write about it?

losing sev- just his name passing through her brain is enough to make her eyes clench shut, gripping the microphone stand in front for her tighter.

losing him is the worst pain she's ever felt in her life. how do you go from talking to someone every single day for the past eleven years to suddenly no contact? how does anyone cope with that? she'd really like to know.

it doesn't help that she was so unbelievably in love with him. she never was one to believe in soulmates but no matter how dumb she thought it was, she considered seven to be her's.

a soulmate who now wants nothing to do with you.

she lets out a ragged breath, which prompts someone reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"arabella-" it's rowan, his voice uncharacteristically timid, and it makes her stomach churn. she shrugs his hand off and turns to face him.

"i'm fine," she snaps, wincing at the tone in her voice. he's staring at her pitifully. if she dared to glance at the others they would share the same look.

they were just as much friends with seven as she was. why are they all so fucking concerned for her in particular? a part of her wants to say that if they were so upset about her, they never would have taken that stupid vote in the first place. the vote that ruined everything.

seeing the look on seven's face, the hurt in his eyes, the betrayal-

she can't think about this right now. she's spent the last two weeks trying to move on and fuck if she's about to cry in front of the band over this.

she turns back around, storming toward the exit. as she yanks the door open and slams it behind her, she wonders if anyone will come after her.

they don't.

she can't even get into the car before she's a sobbing mess, hands shaking as she clambers into her vehicle, resting her head against the steering wheel. her hands are balled into tight fists as she considers if punching something would help the pain subside. it didn't help last time.

last time. that night casts an unbearable weight down on her and makes her shoulders shake as she recalls her and seven screaming at each other in drunken rage, both saying things they can never take back. going to a place they could never come back from. when he left she punched a hole in the wall and her hand flares up as a reminder. her bruised knuckles are starting to heal now, and some part of her wishes they weren't. maybe so she could have one last piece of seven to remember him by. just one last trace of the effect he had on her so it didn't feel like the eleven years she spent with him were for nothing.

they can't just be nothing.

right?

that seems to be what they are now- he hasn't talked to her since that night and every day, every hour it feels like she pulls up his contact info out of reflex to tell him something. a joke, a lyric for a song, a text just to tell him she's thinking of him. she always manages to realize what she's doing before she hits send and she doesn't think that will get any easier.

if i'm nothing without you, am i anything at all?

the lyrics she wrote down one night after getting drunk in an attempt to get him out of her brain dance around in her mind again.

she can't remember the person she was before seven. it's not the one who stares back at her now as she wipes her eyes and looks into the rearview mirror.

would she like that person? would they be friends? she never thought about it until now. she never thought she would have to.

how do you move on from someone that was so inexplicably tethered to you? where there was arabella, seven was right there next to her.

she looks across to the passenger seat that seven used to occupy every day and is met with no one there. she sees the grey headrest where a black mop of hair used to lie. she sees the middle console where his fingers used to drum to the beat of whatever was playing through the speakers. she sees the dash where he used to lay his worn out combat boots on.

emptiness eats away at her until all she can do is let out another sob.

some part of her wonders if he even feels a fraction of what she does. he has to. for her own peace of mind, she hopes this has been as hard on him as it has on her.

but she wouldn't know.

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 120 Relisten

(a-mag-a-day people: I fucked up the tag on yesterday's post T_T If you still want to take a look at it, click here: MAG 119 Relisten)

Activity on my first listen: cutting apples.

There is static as soon as the statement starts.

"Desperate, he tries to throw the apple at his observer, but it is too late." Actually, have you tried throwing something really hard in a dream, or punching very hard? It's frustratingly not possible, it feels like you're moving underwater.

Hm, the static has died down a bit at some time, probably so it can audibly rise again at "It hurts."

Hm, it rises again to well audible background static when he leaves the MAG 65 dream and ventures on to those he cannot access anymore.

"The rain is still there, though it is empty. The long and desolate road, slick with the downpour; a police car’s lights flashing over the unmoving van. The doors are open, and the too-familiar statues stand either side of the well-worn wooden box. He looks around, his eyes scanning this forever road and the clouds of iron gray, looking for her, but she is not there." Daisy's dream is still here. Yet Leitner or Gerry, who are clearly dead, never come up. Daisy alive! (Hm, on second thought, we don’t know if Leitner would have come up at all since one, he died before Jon could go to sleep and two, he had read A Disappearance, maybe he would have never come up at all, even if he lived.)

Okay, so I think the static’s phasing in and out. Almost no static at Daisy's dream, though very strong at "I Am For You".

"There is nowhere in this universe that it would not blot out the sky." Just 40 more episodes!

"More than anything, the Archivist wants to look away, to turn his eye from her gentle sadness, from the disappointment in what she sees in him." Ouch...

ELIAS: "Hello, Inspector. Martin. I’m, uh, sorry to hear about Tim –" MARTIN: "Don’t." ELIAS: "And Daisy, I suppose –" MARTIN: "Don’t. You. Dare." ELIAS: "I suppose it’s some consolation Basira made it out. And John. More or less." I mean, they are vital for the audience to know what happened, but I love this little bits of information casually coming up in a conversation for us to fill in the blanks.

ELIAS: "There was simply too much to keep watching over. I only have two eyes, after all." Can't imagine how much of a problem a truly omniscient villain would have been. Even if here it's what he wanted anyway.

MARTIN: "Just be, be careful with him, all right, he can see things – put thoughts and – stuff into your head –" POLICE OFFICER: "Like I said: I’ve been briefed. And the situation is being monitored –" OMG, I just remembered! I was just thinking, you can be briefed all you want, but how would you keep someone like this out of your mind. Does anyone know Village of the Damned? (1995 by John Carpenter, based on the 1960s movie) Under weird circumstances, children with psychic powers were born in the eponymous village. Those children were not benevolent, they could make other people do stuff, get into their heads etc. The town doctor though found a way to keep them out of his head by imagining a brick wall and all this thoughts well hidden behind this it.

ELIAS: [ow] "Are those really necessary?" [SOUND OF ELIAS BEING APPARENTLY PUNCHED IN THE STOMACH] ELIAS: [gag, wheeze] I may not be one for revenge. But I take delight if someone does occasionally reap the fruit of their labor.

ELIAS: [wheeze] "Goodbye, Martin." [wheeze] "Be seeing you." Ha! Seeing!

PETER: "To be honest with you, Martin, I didn’t expect to be taking over the place so soon, or in quite such a state of disarray. But I’ll do my best to keep the place afloat." Ha! Afloat! Coming from a sea captain!

PETER: "Well, if you could send Melanie and Basira up to see me, I’d like to introduce myself." First time around I assumed Elias would be at the hospital when speaking of Jon's dreams. But I guess he wouldn't need to be physically near Jon and this line makes it quite clear, that they are in Elias' office.

PETER: "After that, I’ll put through a couple of weeks of paid leave for you all – I think giving everyone some space to try and deal with the loss of Tim and Daisy might do everyone some good." As someone who likes to deal with grief in isolation, I thought "Oh, how very nice of him". But that's not exactly what this is, given it's a Lukas.

@a-mag-a-day

[thesandsofelsweyr]

(Whumpy) WIP Wednesday

Here are 3 snippets from some stories I'm working on. If you see this post, consider yourself tagged (and be sure to tag me if you share your WIPs!)

From Chapter 3 of The Climb (ao3):

Jason stops dead, paralyzed by the fear that cuts through him like the Clown’s scalpel. That wasn’t the voice of another ghost. That was real. He’d been so lost in his delusions that he hadn’t heard the makeshift trap door creak open or the heavy boot-steps descending the unfinished concrete staircase, approaching him. The ringing in his ears grows louder, and his head hurts so much that he thinks he’s gonna pass out. Two bright beams of light pierce the darkness, falling on him, illuminating him like a deer in headlights, knocking the wind out of him like a punch to the gut.

“No…” His whimper catches in his throat. Any courage he had regained from facing certain death was sucked out of him and terror bubbled up in its place. How could he have been so careless? This is why I was left here to rot. This is why I was replaced. He should’ve known the Clown would never let him creep through these halls unprotected. He’d never let his prized plaything slip from his grip. You fucking dumbass. His partner would make him suffer for this.

He throws up a scrawny arm over his face to shield his stinging eyes from the flashlights that are pointed at him. His heart is galloping in his chest, racing toward that trap door that is now blocked by the pair of shadowy figures. He tightens his grip on the wall to keep himself from collapsing and begging these flesh-and-blood specters for mercy.

A really rough excerpt from probably the worst / most twisted moment of Jay's torture at the hands of Joker 🤡 (part of my Ruined series):

(cw: torture for the two snippets under the cut)

“Really, Jason. All this fuss over an ice pack?”

“Oh, the hammer? (chuckles) I just wanted to see your face.”

“Now you hold that there. Good. And let’s get these back on.”

“It’s ok, buddy. Your punishment is over. All is forgiven.”

“Calm down, little bird. Deep breaths. (Inhale , exhale.) Good. That’s my good boy.”

Strokes his sweat-soaked hair. 

“Kill me,” Jason begs through tears, through clenched teeth. “Kill me. Please. Sir. Kill me.”

“Nonsense. We still have work to do, partner.”

“Please,” he sobs, defeated. Can barely get the words out thru his clenched broken teeth. “It hurts so much.” (In a tiny voice)

“You’ll feel better soon, I promise. I’ll even let you rest for a few days before we resume our training. You’ll feel as good as new.”

He just sobs. There is nothing he can do or say. 

After the Clown leaves him: (eerie silence, like a tomb. Never felt so alone in his entire life.)

“Why?” He asks the man who he thought was his father. Sobs. “Why? It hurts. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

From a ficlet tentatively titled "An Apple a Day" (another part of my Ruined series):

When the pliers clamp down around his front tooth, Jason shatters.

“Thank you sir! THANK YOU SIR!” he screams, a blood-sputtering scream, his words slurring around the cold, pitiless metal that’s shoved into his pried-open jaws. He prays that’s enough as he shakes like a puppy on the fourth of July. He gave the psycho what he wanted—he called the man “sir,” like some fucked up sex roleplay. 

Joker has been punishing him for running his mouth. Again. For laughing in his pasty white face when the Party City Clown informed him that he’d be calling the man “sir” from now on. “You can take your ‘sir’ and shove it up your fucking ass,” were his exact words. The old Jason may not have regretted those words. That boy probably would’ve thought this agony was worth it. But that boy’s gone now; murdered by a photo. Batman had bitched at him many times for running his mouth while on patrol. Probably yet another reason why Batman picked a new kid for the job, why the old, rejected kid now has eight throbbing holes in his swollen gums.

Warm, coppery blood dribbles from the corners of his mouth, coating his busted lower lip in crimson gore. His breath’s coming in frantic pants, on the edge of hyperventilating. His armored chest full of broken ribs heaves beneath the heavy braided ropes that bind him to the wooden chair, ropes that squeeze his lungs like a giant’s fist. Nailless fingers dig into the material of his gloved palms as he balls his fists behind his back. No more, he silently prays yet another useless prayer as tears roll down his scarred cheeks. Please no more…

He’s a dumbass for holding out so long. Ten teeth—at least—gone from his mouth now. Two from the fucking crowbar, eight from the Clown’s pliers. And for what? To impress the man who’d left him here to rot? The man he considered his father; his partner who picked a new kid rather than bother finding the old one.

The gloved fist twisted into his matted black hair tightens, tearing at his scalp, and wrenches his head back even further. “Be more specific,” Joker says casually, as if they were discussing the weather over a cup of coffee and not the eight bloody teeth scattered on the table in front of him.

“Thank you for…” His mind races in circles, groping through the immense pain for the right words. (through the pain that shattered his thoughts)

“I think the patient needs another extraction, Dr. J.”

Joker sighs. “Excellent diagnosis, Nurse.”

[rockislandadultreads]

Horror Books by Black Authors: a reading list

Pet by Akwaeke Emezi

There are no monsters anymore, or so the children in the city of Lucille are taught. Jam and her best friend, Redemption, have grown up with this lesson all their life. But when Jam meets Pet, a creature made of horns and colors and claws, who emerges from one of her mother's paintings and a drop of Jam's blood, she must reconsider what she's been told. Pet has come to hunt a monster--and the shadow of something grim lurks in Redemption's house. Jam must fight not only to protect her best friend, but also uncover the truth, and the answer to the question How do you save the world from monsters if no one will admit they exist? In their riveting and timely young adult debut, acclaimed novelist Akwaeke Emezi asks difficult questions about what choices you can make when the society around you is in denial.

Lakewood by Megan Giddings

When Lena Johnson’s beloved grandmother dies, and the full extent of the family debt is revealed, the black millennial drops out of college to support her family and takes a job in the mysterious and remote town of Lakewood, Michigan. On paper, her new job is too good to be true. High paying. No out of pocket medical expenses. A free place to live. All Lena has to do is participate in a secret program—and lie to her friends and family about the research being done in Lakewood. An eye drop that makes brown eyes blue, a medication that could be a cure for dementia, golden pills promised to make all bad thoughts go away. The discoveries made in Lakewood, Lena is told, will change the world—but the consequences for the subjects involved could be devastating. As the truths of the program reveal themselves, Lena learns how much she’s willing to sacrifice for the sake of her family.

White Is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi

In a vast, mysterious house on the cliffs near Dover, the Silver family is reeling from the hole punched into its heart. Lily is gone and her twins, Miranda and Eliot, and her husband, the gentle Luc, mourn her absence with unspoken intensity. All is not well with the house, either, which creaks and grumbles and malignly confuses visitors in its mazy rooms, forcing winter apples in the garden when the branches should be bare. Generations of women inhabit its walls. And Miranda, with her new appetite for chalk and her keen sense for spirits, is more attuned to them than she is to her brother and father. She is leaving them slowly - Slipping away from them - And when one dark night she vanishes entirely, the survivors are left to tell her story. "Miri I conjure you " This is a spine-tingling tale that has Gothic roots but an utterly modern sensibility. Told by a quartet of crystalline voices, it is electrifying in its expression of myth and memory, loss and magic, fear and love.

The Undead Truth of Us by Britney S. Lewis

Death was everywhere. They all stared at me, bumping into one another and slowly coming forward. Sixteen-year-old Zharie Young is absolutely certain her mother morphed into a zombie before her untimely death, but she can't seem to figure out why. Why her mother died, why her aunt doesn't want her around, why all her dreams seem suddenly, hopelessly out of reach. And why, ever since that day, she's been seeing zombies everywhere. Then Bo moves into her apartment building―tall, skateboard in hand, freckles like stars, and an undeniable charm. Z wants nothing to do with him, but when he transforms into a half zombie right before her eyes, something feels different. He contradicts everything she thought she knew about monsters, and she can't help but wonder if getting to know him might unlock the answers to her mother's death. As Zharie sifts through what's real and what's magic, she discovers a new truth about the world: Love can literally change you―for good or for dead. In this surrealist journey of grief, fear, and hope, Britney S. Lewis's debut novel explores love, zombies, and everything in between in an intoxicating amalgam of the real and the fantastic.

[shuaestheist]

gift

characters: snow white summary: a gruesome reimagining of an old fairytale. word count: 526 genre: horror content warning: death and murder.

I was born a princess, with skin as white as snow, hair as black as the windowsill of the palace and lips as red as blood — the outcome of a wish whispered into the wind one winter. I grew up happy in the palace walls, unaware of my mother's jealousy. She had a huntsman lure me into the forest to carve out my heart for her to consume. As my mother's child, I was willing to do what my mother told me — even if it cost me my own life. And yet, he let me run free. The dwarves living deep within the mountain took me in as I escaped, in the condition that I cooked and cleaned for them. Oh, how I wish it were that simple. Night after night, their little, calloused hands touched me in places that shouldn't be touched. I was confused, conflicted and I cried myself to sleep every night. I may be safe from my mother, but I am not safe from the predatory touches of the dwarves.

As fate would have it, Mother found me again, in the guise of an old woman. She came back day after day to offer me gifts of combs and beautiful little trinkets — trinkets that made me fall ill. The dwarves took care of me and told me to refuse all of the gifts the woman gave me. But the last gift she gave me was too luscious to resist. It was an apple, perfectly smooth and deliciously red. She offered me one and I bite into it, the sweet juice trickling into my mouth. Little did I know, I played right into her trap. I fell dead at her feet, just like she wanted.

The dwarves put my body in a glass coffin and I laid dead for years — until my uncle took me home. He was a duke, brother of my estranged father. He took me away from the kingdom and right into his house, where he hid my body in one of the rooms. As years flew by, I witnessed his household grow as he married a beautiful woman. It was then that the solace that I should feel with my family slowly grew into hate. My uncle's new wife found my body. Thinking that I was a mistress, she tugged my body from my glass case and punched me senseless, up to the point that I was unrecognizable. My uncle didn't have an inkling of worry as she brought me in the house under the guise of a slave gifted to her.

To be tossed from a murderous mother to indecent dwarves to an abusive aunt, it can cripple your mind in more ways than one. Now, here I am, rocking back and forth on the floor of the kitchen, a bloodied knife in my hands. Aimlessly, I etched lines along the mahogany floors, mumbling and giggling to myself. The bodies of my aunt and uncle laid not too far off, disemboweled and lifeless.

A manic smile is imprinted on my lips as I gaze at their cold figures— they have created an insatiable monster in the form of a young girl, poisoned by malice and murder.

Mirror, mirror, who's the fairest of them all? It is the maiden who has lost her mind — it is you. You are still the fairest of them all.

[punk-in-docs]

Hi love! I’m not sure if I requested this here or not (so if I did please ignore this and know I’m terribly sorry for asking again, I have a garbage memory) but if I didn’t, can I request an Eddie x reader fic where they’ve been in an established relationship (maybe like a year or 2). How do you think they would celebrate their anniversary? Like how do you think Eddie would be in particular, cuz I can see that lovable goofball being an anxious mess because he wants to do so much. But I’m interested to see what you think would happen in this sort of scenario, cuz you write Eddie so damn good ;)

Ok ok hear me out on this one cause I can so picture something: and it goes a little like this-

🍁love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you🍁

Eddie yowled in front of you like a startled cat. You’d swear if he could, he’d raise his spiky hackles on end.

Does that thing with his arms, where he goes all shrivelled and squirrely. Mouth wide and shaped like a kidney bean as he shrieks.

Bravely though, batting the stuffed clowns cackling head, that just sprang out the shredded walls at you.

You’re lost wandering deep within the twisted seedy belly of the haunted house maze.

He punched his fist into the soft squish of the dummies head. Tufts of coarse blueberry coloured hair. Bulging chilli red eyes popping out at the pair of you. Grin all macabre on its stupid rubbery painted face.

He hates clowns. Doesn’t even like the one in that Bowie video.

“Fucker.” He hissed as he swiped at it again. Heart racing hummingbird fast in his throat.

Crushed his metal rings into it again, just because. Grits his teeth. He’s on edge.

Why did he agree to this scare jumping, spine chilling fuckery again-

Cause it’s stupid and fun. Get in the Halloween spirit. You’d said.

Then gave him a deep, beautiful kiss that was all toffee apple and pink pink cotton candy. Your tongue furred with sugar and, damn, how he suddenly forgot why he was ever mad. Haunted what? Scared, who?

“I do not like this.” He tells you.

Kept telling you, actually. His eyes go darting around corners. Gaze scanning ahead like you were tiptoeing enemies in a live war-zone.

“You’ve said that already.”

“And you apparently didn’t want to listen. So I’ll say it, once more, with feeling- I DON’T like this.” He repeats. Voice rising to a pitchy squeak.

He jiggles on the spot. Cagey. Jesus H Christ.

“Never again. I promise.” You smooth a hand to his chest and pat him on his Judas Priest shirt. Leaves warmth where you touch him that he’s too scared to enjoy right now.

“I mean what’s so wrong with the fucking bumper cars, honey? They don’t have dead fake mangled things everywhere with stuff popping out the walls- shit.”

He backs away sidewards, whimpers, edges away sudden, the wall next to him is broken wood slats and nails, with stubby zombie hands now poking through. Black rotting nails all split, half eaten flesh all green, yellow dirty bones exposed. Grunts of the undead leak through from the other side. Searching for your living juicy meat.

“I ain’t got any brains for you to eat. Morons. Go swivel.” He defends. It makes you smile.

“You like horror movies, Eddie, I thought you’d find it cool.” You try to offer in your own defence for getting you both in here.

His hand squeezes yours. Tight. Clammy with sweat.

“You can turn a movie off. Princess. You can press pause or take the video out, leave the room. It’s a small screen you can manage. I didn’t say ‘yeah sure, honey, drop me onto the fucking set of Night of the living dead. I don’t mind’.” He snaps quickly in parody. He doesn’t mean it nastily.

Despite everything, you can’t help it. You chuckle. He looks at you with a very specific look in his eyes.

You feel his hands grip for your hips in your pretty dress. He comes up right close behind you. You feel his hair brushing dry at the back of your neck. His lips skate against the crown of your head.

“Oh you’re so in for it if we make it out of here alive.”

“Theres optimism.” You rib at him. Reaching back to cup your hand over his cheekbone.

“Vamonos.” He encourages. Sneaking down and patting your ass softly.

You pass along a section of hallway where the lights blink, maniacal Vincent Price-esque laughs bubble up all around you. Rolling through the maze and snatching at your running heels.

Ghosts in jangling dragging chains with arms outstretched. Apple green eyes glowing under the white sheet. Groans and wails. The lilac purple gothic room full of creepy eyeless dolls, a chirpy lullaby from a demented music box tinkling away.

‘Help’ crudely scrawled on the walls in sticky fingertip blood, hand smears too, in the mouldy white tiles of the crazy surgeons dungeon. Screams pierce. Fake amputated limbs scattered across the operating table. Blood tinged saws and knives.

Now. He goes into his famous Munson defence mode. Scurrying along and keeping you pulled behind him. Arms braced out with you bracketed between them. Pulling you into his back and offering his own front as your shield.

The Dio vested Knight he was, all chivalry and manners, putting himself at risk for love of you. His maiden. His one. Maid Marian to his Robin Hood. Or more likely, as he liked to think of it, Marianne Faithfull to his Mick Jagger. Much cooler.

You looped your fingers through his. Pulling him back to your side.

“Don’t worry. I’ll always protect you, big boy.” You wink at him. Makes his heart squeeze and flash faster when you do that. You lean in and nuzzle a kiss onto his jaw.

He pulls you in closer. Your chest brushing into his. A twitchy sort of frenzy on his face.

“I just want you to know. If we weren’t in this hellscape. I would be making out with you so hard right now.”

“Noted.” You beam. Pulling him along again, shadows roll and flick over a movement down the corridor in your peripheral. You strong arm him away before the chain saw guy with the peeling rubber face and “human skin” mask could catch you.

That split cherry soft of your grin. He’s so soft for it. Lips pink from that watermelon balm you use that he never lets linger for too long. He would be lying if he said he didn’t like the silky taste.

You laugh and shriek when a guy in a skeleton costume, comes bursting cunningly out the slanted shadows of a corner.

“Leaving so soon?” He snarls.

“Eat shit, bonehead.” Eddie fairly screeches, and tugs you along with him. Body blocking you. Reeling you along to, hopefully, the fucking exit of this creepy hell hole.

Halle-fucking-lujah. It’s up ahead on the right. The lovely big green arrows pointing to the exit. Salvation. Freedom.

He yanks on your wrist and you run full speed towards it. Ghoul hands painted blue make one last attempt to rip at your clothes. Eddie bats them away.

Not today fuckers. Me and my lady getting out of here-

It’s definitely a relief when you come to the cooling wash of night air outside. It was stuffy inside. The cramped space choking with the smell of warm tacky plastic, and stale air lining the horror laden walls. The night air is so thick and blue out here you could drink it. Sticky opium of a bruising fall night.

The air is throbbing deep with autumnal scents. Warm bubbling cider. Fried funnel cakes. Buttery caramel popcorn and soft pretzels studded with salt. That definable gooey orange scent that comes gouged out the insides of pumpkins, pitted with seeds.

The wind isn’t threaded with a biting cold yet, but it promises too, as the treacly night drags on. Leaves, the colour of gold and apricot, crunch and snap under your feet.

Your favourite time of year. The best. The slice of the cold that has you reaching for chunky sweaters. Cold knifing rain on grey dour windows and gloomy days. Splashing your boots into autumn puddles mucked with leaves.

Horror movies, carving pumpkins, and baking orange and black sprinkle cookies with Eddie in the trailer.

He always went full tilt overkill and added way way too many sprinkles. More sprinkles than cookie, really. Lacing the place with the scents of sugar and vanilla dough. And home. Sitting out on the porch with a warm cider in your hands chatting to Wayne as he smokes. Laughing at Eddie whining about washing the dishes- getting excited that the cookies were rising too.

Eddie takes a deep breath. Scanning up at the haunted house maze you’d just stumbled through. His hand still very much clutched on yours. He meant what he said. He’d never let go. Eddie keeps his word.

Although the truth be told, he made you promise you wouldn’t let his hand go the second you stepped inside that maze.

You hadn’t let go of this hand for two years. You weren’t planning to start now.

And yes, the full fact of being here again is crashing into your gut. Making you all mushy swooning and sentimental. It was your tradition after all-

“Come on. Handsome. Let’s go. I’ll buy you a corn dog as a reward for being so tough back in there. Protecting me.” You nudge his arm to bring him in.

He steps towards you and curls you into them. Rubbing his arms along your sides. Looping hands around the back of your waist. He doesn’t say anything but he’s definitely smiling down at you. His belly pressed to you. Tilts his head. Pensive look on his face.

You’re touching in so many places. All tangled and wrapped up in leather and denim like you usually are around him.

“What is it?” You ask him. Scanning that maniacal face and those deep puddles of oozing chocolate eyes for an answer.

“It’s been two years. To the exact day.” He says softly. His thumbs smoothing over the backs of your hips.

You smile at his recounting it. “Believe me. Munson. I remember.”

“We were arguing. On top of that very Ferris wheel. Two years ago. When I first asked you out.” He points behind your hip with his finger.

Up towards the huge circular ride studded with yellow and red bulbs all the way around. A huge golden eye of dragging slow metal brushed against the navy sky.

“I was winning the argument by the way.”

“You always do. Cause I’m such a peach. I let you.” He winks. Grins all big. Shiny teeth.

Mainly he loses cause he just skips up to you like a jester, spins you around, and kisses you until you’re smiling again.

“…And it was the fourth time you asked me out. To which I finally relented, and said yes. Only if I can pick the movie and we can get cotton candy afterwards.” You beamed.

“You didn’t tell me you very vehemently hated heights.” He teased.

“I went on that ride for the excuse of being sat next to you for ten minutes, you dope.” You tell him.

It rips a chuckle out that pillowy lovely mouth. You slip your arms around the back of his neck. Sway into him. Narrow your eyes when he laughed.

“It worked. I got to kiss you and I got a date. Even if you did break all the bones in my hand you squeezed it so hard.” He recalled. He had blue knuckles for three weeks. Swollen sore. He couldn’t play guitar for a month.

He drags one curled knuckle over your cheek. Those eyes of yours he loves - the eyes he’s a servant too - are brimming golden, bursting with the fairground lights glimmering all around you. Threaded chilli red in your hair too.

“And you bought me the most huge pink cotton candy I’d ever seen.”

“Shaped like a fucking heart.” He smiled.“You feral little thing. Ate it all in ten minutes.”

“You helped.” You pointed out.

He leaned in and brushed his nose across your cheek. Into the nest of your hair. Kisses your jaw. You chuckled and slipped your arm up his back.

“Kissed most of it off your lips.” He remembers in a soft mumble, with a waggle of those brows. Lips planted against your cheek. Tone dipping naughtily into flirt.

Kissed and kissed until the sugar made him feel sick. Now he knew what the term lovesick meant. His metal and thorn wrapped rocker heart you had cupped safely in your hands. He’d never have it any other way.

You yank your hand into the back of his wild hair. Hold him still as you devour his lips with yours. Taste the Marlboro smoke that lived at a permanent address on his tongue. Pipped with the sweet toffee from the apple you’d both pecked at earlier. He’d kissed and bitten his pieces of apple right out your offered mouth.

Tasty as fuck, he’d said. He hadn’t even meant the apple.

He moans and you feel it shoot and slice to your belly. Gut punch love. His moans- they are better than music.

He cups you and keeps you yanked firm against his front as he kisses you back. Sneaks his tongue into your mouth, and the way it brushes yours makes your knees whirl all useless.

Damn his tongue should be criminal to be that good-

You don’t care that crowds of people are cutting around where you’re making out with your boyfriend. It was a carnival. High schoolers were dating and kissing horny all over the damn place.

What was one more star studded couple with hearts lodged in their eyes?

You cross your arms around the back of his neck. He tips into you. Skims his big warm hands up the backs of your smooth thighs. Resists cupping your ass in public- he should really get a medal for that. C’mon-

When you pull back, he chases after your mouth. Greedy and always so. Not ready for it to be over yet. He’s never ready to stop kissing you.

“Kettle corn. A pink lemonade. And a corn dog. Final offer.” You smile at him. An effective bargaining chip you kept in your pocket. Plying him with food as persuasion.

The way into Eddie Munson’s heart was occasionally via a funky reroute to his stomach.

You’re shameless and it works.

“Sold.” He grins. Enjoying the hell out of the way your tits are crushed to his chest right now.

“…Then the Ferris Wheel, honey.” He smirks with a pure maniacal grin of evil. “You can break my fingers again. I’ll let you.”

“This is you getting your own back for the haunted maze isn’t it.” You wilfully decide. That stubborn jut of your chin. Unimpressed eyes scratching daggers at him.

“My hand hasn’t left yours for two years. Sweet cheeks. Not gonna start now.” He beams.

He loops an arm over your shoulder. Steers you towards the corn dog stand. You tangle your steps alongside his. Slide your arm across his trim waist. His leather arm cold around your shoulder.

“Then after the food and the Ferris wheel. I’m gonna take you back to the van. And do filthy filthy things to you, whilst the firework show bursts across the sky.” The way his lips brush the shell of your ear makes your thighs wobble and shoot with sensation.

“Filthy you say?” You ask with hot blood gathering up in your cheeks. Gold lights bloom in his dark eyes like round petals. Dazzling.

“Yep.” He pops the p.

“Gonna lick you real slow. Make you yelp. Then just gonna slide my tongue right in, far as I can, I’m not gonna be stopping until you melt. Right into my mouth.” He decides with a playful little kiss to your jaw.

Goddamn it this boy knows how to make your pussy throb and clench.

“Is this all part of your grand revenge plan?” You seek.

“No. Baby. Just a damn good way to spend a Friday night with my favourite chick.”

Your heart is all melty. Slipping down the insides of your butter soft ribs. You do so love this man with every single tiny atom of your being.

“I thought your guitar was your favourite chick?” You play.

He grins. Chucked all sweet. “Nah. You feed me. You win hands down babe.”

~

Tagging some Munson babes; @indouloureux @youaremyfamiliar @fujiihime @groupie-love-71 @stiegasaw @thelyingpierrot @munsonquinns @captain-tch @ramona-thorns @starbxcks @morganamoonstone

[white-poppie]

𝐖𝐞 could’ve had it 🅰🅻🅻

Part 1:  S♡ul-mate

Characters: Dabi x Gn! reader  

Genre: ANGST, Soulmate-au

Warnings: blood, death, family issue, gore, violence, vomiting

Writer: @ white-poppie  

A/N: Reader is a civilian, more specifically a medical student with a Claw-quirk. They have retractable claws like lion.

My Hero Academia (僕のヒーローアカデミア)  

They say even hell forgives those who turned due to  pain, but heaven doesn’t let them become the patron saint of someone’s demise. 

So they just linger, hauntingly, between the crevices and cracks of the earth. In places where the freaks rule, in places where people who never truly received love roam.

Dabi shared an uncanny appearance with his mother, he carried her tenderness and her insanity too. They both had the same eyes; exhausted, tired. But his rage, his mother never wore rage--it is something that he got from the wretched old man of his.

The anger that turned him into a monster, a walking morgue.

“Y/n,” he repeated the name like it was a chant. Skin burning where they had touched in the dream; his hands. Those scabbard and blood clad hands. Dream was a different thing, to see an abomination like him in real life? They would run away.

‘I don’t mind Dabi at all, he is just a product of this gangrenous society who failed to protect Touya.’

“Fuck,” he breathed out shakily, hands shivering from the burden of being so vulnerable with someone. 

He walked up to the lavatory, splashing water on his face, he stared at his dull reflection, tired and sleepless, for he was too scared to sleep and face you again, he would rather be awake. But now his body was begging him to rest, limbs straining under the weight of his misery.

He let out a growl and smashed his fist into the mirror. The shimmering shards fell down like cosmic dust in the dark, abandoned motel: his home.

Crimson blood stained his knuckles. He shook his hand and dried it with his towel and climbed in his bed. What is a little blood anyway? The last thing he heard was the sound of his heart palpating against his ribs as he fell into a deep slumber.

“Touya,” he heard his name being whispered like the most tender thing in the world. He could almost feel how their lips parted as they spoke the syllables.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the scene, the marbled background over his head. He was laying down. A presence was beside him, they sat next to him, a watery-smile etched on their face. A little melancholic, a little forced, a little painful.

He sat upright and looked at them, savoring the contour of their face. He wanted to remember all of it like it was something he would see everyday.

“Y/N,” he said, but a faint rasp, his hand automatically cupped their face, thumb rubbing circles on the apple of their cheek.

“You are killing me,” you choked out, “does it bring you joy to see me tormented?”

“No. No, never,” he gulped and shook his head, chest heaving up and down, ”I’m just scared y’know, not used to being so close to someone. To let my walls down.”

“You don’t have to act strong around me,” you pressed your forehead against his, “let your guard down for once, I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you--ever again.”

“Pretty big words coming from a doctor with a villain as a soulmate,” he laughed, his breath hitting your face like the warmth of cocoa on a winter day.

“Villains aren’t born Touya, they are made, and I won’t forgive anyone who did this to you,” you pulled away, but your touch lingered. Your eyes fell on his bloody hand and a gasp left your throat.

You cradled his much larger palm in yours, examining the bruise, “did you hit someone before falling asleep?”

“Something,” he corrected, “punched the mirror.”

You huffed and flicked his forehead, “Idiot, I told you that I would take care of you when others hurt you. Now I have to take care of you when you hurt yourself too.”

His cerulean eyes suddenly fell dead serious. Like gentle lapping of tides against the land, “Y/N..may I...kiss you?” The words felt bitter on his tongue. He was sure you would decline, it had been barely two days you had known him.

“Touya,” you laughed, “why’d you even ask?” His eyes widened in surprised.

“Even though we have known each other for the least time; our souls are entangled, we can never be unloved by each other,” you whispered.

It was euphoric how your lips interlocked perfectly, drawled and soft lingers like a whispered-curse echoing in your mind, making you crave for more. It was like all the circuits in your brain had fused and you were becoming putty under Dabi's gentle caresses.

When he pulled away you didn't feel breathless, it felt so natural that the kiss was supposedly like a gentle gust of air.

You felt the realm fading away, an indicator that your time was up

“I want to meet you in real life,” you answered, “when, Touya?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, “4 PM, near the twilight motel.” Were the last words you heard as you were forced into awareness.

You checked your outfit in the mirror for what seemed like the nth time, heart pulsing in your chest; you were beyond nervous or happy--you were petrified yet elated. Locking the door of your house behind you, you checked the time on your phone-- 3:35 PM, you had enough time to reach.

The abandoned building of twilight motel was a walking distance from your house, you just had to cross through the city centre. 

It was eerie how awfully quiet the area was. You could hear your breath echo from within the surrounding buildings. Where was everyone?

Before you could even let out a scream, you felt yourself being pushed into the glass of one of the buildings, a strangled gasp left your throat and eyes blurred while you tried to focus on what was in front of you.

A hero, oh no. You were caught up in a conflict with no escape. “Run!” the hero shouted just as he suffered another hit from the villain who payed no mind to you. 

Your legs were awfully numb as you tried crawling way from the fight. A little more, towards the main road, then you would be safe. You stood up and picked your pace, ears ringing in fear and desperation. You couldn’t hear the car honk that came towards you, flashing lights that danced in your vision as your eyes widened...

and

then

it 

felt

awfully

warm

Touya was beyond scared when you didn’t come even when it was around 5 PM. His mind revolted yet his legs were carrying him out at this point. This area was clad with lowly scums who would pounce on any docile prey such as yourself.

He checked around the alleys, to find nothing but rats. He went back to his room to get a jacket and covered himself up till his neck, he ran towards the city centre. Eyes meeting with a crowd of unruly passers, all gathered up whispering around something. His heart dropped to his stomach, sweat formed in his hands and yet he walked towards the people, shuffling a bit inside, apologizing for bumping into people.

As he reached the centre of the hoard, bile rose to his stomach and he felt like vomiting. He kept a hand on his mouth to avoid barfing, tremors ran throughout his body and his knees were close to buckling. 

To think the first time Dabi would have seen in you in real life would be the last time too.

People like him don’t deserve a soft epilogue. People like him drag everyone around them, down. Burn to dust. It was his fault, all his fault. He was going to make the heroes pay.

He walked away from the people and saw you being carried into a ambulance. Entering one of the alleys he puked into one of the dumpsters, eyes burning with rage and tears that streamed down. He slid down a wall, sobs echoing from between the walks, hands shivering and throat hoarse from screaming.

Guess some people are just born with tragedy in their blood.

My Hero Academia (僕のヒーローアカデミア)  

Tags:  @rintaroubby​ @nanaseishiro​ @idowritingandstuff, @bakaface​ @denkis111​, @jazzylove​, @maybeleftoverjourneys​, @lordmypantsaresocool​, @futuristicallykawaiiturtle​, @kristaline2dmensimp​, @oikawatoorupdf​, @thegrayladyislookingforyou​ @katsukichu​

People who requested a part 2: @lunatsunachan, @darlingely​

Kind people who reblogged part 1: @justforfangirlingmoment​, @hailstorm888​,  @mirayasimpinghard,  @idunnomaname , @faaabs

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[linesfromzaun]

Monsters of the Past

Silco x Gen!Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: PTSD episode, mentions of traumatic memories

A/N: I feel like the scenes where he says “do you remember?” There’s a haunted little boy behind those eyes, stuck in the mines. I just want to hold him and tell him he’s seen.

Summary: you comfort Silco

The world stands still as he stares into the abyss, memories haunt him as he stands frozen. The cold, damp air of the abandoned mine causes his body to feel cornered.

Silco’s hands grip onto the rusted metal of the railings, the groans of protest echo against the carved walls. His shoulders unconsciously shake as his vision is haunted, the day he arrived was still as grim as he remembered.

His head lowers, his body feeling as if it’s caving in, shudders of his anxious breath ring in his ears.

One eye hidden in darkness by an eyelid, he remembers every dead child he helped carry out of these mines, the accidents, his own injuries. A choked gasp leaves him, and Silco feels helpless.

“Sil?” A soft voice pulls him back up from the dark ambiguity of his flashbacks.

You couldn’t see him like this, you can’t.

“Who informed you I was here?” You flinch at his rough tone for a moment, before giving a cautious step forward.

“Sevika, but I don’t blame her. Silco… I worry about you, let me help you.”

Guilt punches him in the gut and makes him nauseous, he shakes his head subtlety as he tries to regain composure.

“I’ll be fine, you must not worry about me,” defeat is evident in the inflection of his words. He needs you, but he doesn’t want you to see him weak.

He was a leader, he couldn’t afford to be weak.

“You don’t have to be alone, I’m bound to you by vows to be here when you need me most. I’m fulfilling my duty not just by my title of spouse, but as by promise.”

Silco’s shoulders relax at your words, reminding him of your loyalty. He needed that in this moment, after how many times he’s been betrayed and abandoned: you were his constant.

He hesitantly turns towards you, sea-foam eye full of emotion.

Holding your hand out, his dexterous, shaky hands rests in your comforting palm. You join him at the railing, only looking down for a brief moment. Your eyes flick up to Silco’s, and he lets out a nervous breath.

“I was only a boy when I was left here. I do not remember my parents, but they day they abandoned me will forever haunt my mind. I remember begging, pleading to go back home. I was held back by large hands around my arms, I had bruises there for days after,” He stands at full height and looks at the entrance of the mine.

“Children were abandoned at the mines in exchange for a heavy payment. I find myself wondering if my parents left me here for a better life, more meals, shelter.” He looks down at your conjoined hands, swallowing against the lump building in his throat.

“Now that I have taken in Jinx, raised her as my own…. I realized that no matter how desperate I would have been: I would never put my own child through that horror.”

He avoids your gaze as long as he can, rubbing circles into the skin of your knuckles.

You place a gentle caress of your free hand to his unscarred face, your thumb tracing at the apple of his cheekbone.

“And look at you now. A leader, a beacon of hope, a loving father, a loving husband.” His eyes switch between the both of yours, searching for any lie in your words.

He hears the honesty in your voice, and presses his own hand against yours.

“Silco, that little boy who feels trapped in these mines would be proud of the man you’ve become. I am proud of you, no matter what the world throws at you, you rise and you prove that you deserve to be here.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, a hand resting at the base of his skull. He leans into your embrace, his face pressed against the pulse of the crook of your neck. Your scent calming him, comforting him further as your words sing in his mind.

A chaste kiss is pressed to your exposed skin, and your fingernails gently rake against his scalp.

He pulls away and looks into your bright eyes, lighting up the darkness of the dim-lit tunnel.

“Come home with me, my love. Take the rest of the day off and we can do whatever your heart desires.” A small upward quirk of his lips causes his features to gain more life.

You lead him out of the tunnel with your hand in his, guiding him away from the monsters of the past.