#seeing its done more or less in the moment where fear could be at its highest

[berniecranes]

xxxi. thing you carry everywhere

Wrote this on the day of the prompt, but was a little hesitant to post it here. But I still really like it and feel like sharing it. Especially since I'm not writing much right now, as not being the biggest fan of February's prompts

It was weird to actually be in his room again. In his genuine house. Not anything trying to act as it, he was actually stateside. He couldn't quite say it felt as if he never left; but he certainly tried to force that feeling. Hoping it would come genuinely and naturally soon. John laid in bed, his arm cradling his head. It had to be his left, as he can't leave his right hand scrunched up for so long. It'll begin to feel heavy, and feel hard to move, cramping up. His hand doesn't fully stop on him anymore, but he'll always have to adjust how he does things all because of that goddamn hand. He slipped his lit cigarette into his mouth so he could run his fingers across his clothed chest. He didn't need to see the scar under his t-shirt to know it's there. He knows right where it begins and where it ends. He's at least somewhat thankful this one doesn't bother him nearly as bad as his hand. This one only brings anger and hints of shame when he's shirtless, looking down at himself. He feels like a fool for trusting someone as much as he trusted Aldridge. He told himself to not do that again, to never put more faith in someone than you put in yourself. But there he went. Only took a couple years and he became that fool all over again.

But this time it was different. He knew that's easier said, but he truly believed it this time. Aldridge left him with wounds that will never heal. Left him with pain that will never heal; whether that's when his hand twitched at the heat or when holding a gun. When the part of his scar that is still rose for some reason becomes angry and it feels like thorns across his hand. Or when it's nights like this. He can't sleep because too many thoughts are circling. But Lincoln, he couldn't have been anymore different. John sat up from his bed, resting his cigarette in his ashtray after taking a long drag. He pulled open the bottom drawer of his night stand, where he shoved some stuff away when he got home. Gently, he picked up the chain with two tags dangling from it. He looked at the first one. It had his name and number on it. This one was all his, but then he put his focus on the lower one, hanging on by the smaller chain. This one wasn't his, it was Lincoln's. He still remembers the night they exchanged them.

It was the night before they were going to make an aggressive move. One that left you a little jittery about what could go wrong. It was just the two of them. Lincoln for once seemed a little nervous of what was to come. This was unlike him. John had his reservations as well, but he showed them more frequently; never too scared, as it was shown more through caution and over compensation, a sort of cockiness. But he felt just as vulnerable as Lincoln was in the moment. Lincoln slowly brought his hand up to his dogtags and undid the lower hanging one, John watched in silence, his chest moving up and down with every breath and exhale. Lincoln clipped it onto John's tags. John began to do the same. John never knew what military shit he didn't know about, as that wasn't necessarily his field. But at this moment, it all made sense.

'At least we'll both make it out.' Lincoln said tenderly. His voice having a sense of airiness John only rarely heard.

'I've never seen you like this. You're starting to scare me now.' John exhaled. 'We'll both make it out, walking right next to each other. Not whatever this is.'

'I know.'

John swallowed hard, and put his hand on top of Lincoln's. Lincoln twisted his hand to be palm up, and let his thumb gently caress John's skin.

John ran his own thumb over Lincoln's tag. It was late, and he had no light on. He couldn't read what it said but he could feel the indent of the words. He hopes he's adjusting nicely to being home. Lincoln deserved to get a break for once. He actually was a man with code and carried his own honor. John truly wasn't sure if their paths would ever cross again in the real world, but he knew Lincoln wasn't leaving his thoughts anytime soon.

[sanarsi]

Kinktober Day 5

Edgeplay

dark!Din Djarin x f!Reader

Gif credits @trashcora

Summary: Din learns to control the new power that has been given to him. However, the Darksaber has an influence on its owner and you will be the first to know about it. Warnings: +18, MDNI, violence, insults (slut, bitch), NON-CON, edge play, DARK!Din, choking, unprotected PIV, creampie, rough sex Wordcount: 1,6k An: Good morning on day 5! As the name suggests - EDGEPLAY, so please read the warnings because this shot is one of the darker ones. It contains a scene where the reader fears for her life during intercourse so keep that in mind before you start reading xx

Masterlist and Kinktober Masterlist

Another training session was starting to get out of control. You felt like Din was starting to fight you for real and not just to learn how to use a new weapon.

The Darksaber cut through the darkness again, colliding with your spear. 

“Din, slow down,” you finally said as the force of his blow once again forced you back. 

“Speed ​​up,” he growled through clenched teeth and didn’t change his pace for a moment, continuing to push forward.

Your hands began to shake from exhaustion, making you an easy target, if you could call yourself that after almost an hour of constant fighting. 

“Din, stop.” Your tone changed to one of pleading.

You groaned, wincing in pain as another wave of tremors passed from the weapon, which almost falling from your hands, to you.

No words seemed to reach him as he swung his sword again. You barely shielded yourself from the attack and dodged, taking a few steps away from him. Tiredness was getting to you, but not to him. 

"We’ll done when I say so," he snapped, closing the distance between you and the light of the blade pierced the space between you again, this time effectively knocking you off balance.

The spear slipped from your hands and clattered to the ground. You stood unmoved as the burning blade stopped right next to your neck. Din froze in place, showing no signs of fatigue as you breathed heavily through your nose.

You stared at him with your chin raised proudly and he still didn't move. "So we're done," you said coldly.

His behavior was starting to tire you out, he was becoming more and more stubborn, greedy. Your training was getting more and more aggressive, and even though he was making progress with the Darksaber, he didn't seem to see it. He wanted to be better, and he was, but because of that, you saw less and less of the old Din in him.

He slowly moved the blade away from your neck and only then did you breathe a sigh of relief.

You were furious, all you wanted to do was go to sleep and not talk to him for the next 24 hours. There was no point in even getting into a discussion with him about his behavior because he seemed to be deaf to any comments about his new side. 

With a quiet growl, you reached for your weapon and as you went to move towards the ship, his hand tightened on your arm. You stopped, glaring at him. 

“We’re not done yet,” he said in a calm voice. But that tone was not something anyone wanted to hear in the middle of the night in the wasteland.

His voice was filled with something dark.

Before you could react, however, you felt a jolt and then the hard ground as you fell with a gasp of shock. You winced at the pain in the back of your head and squeezed your eyes shut as the stars swirled above you.

The searing waves of pain muffled the fact that Din was between your legs in the blink of an eye. You felt only a squeeze on your waist and then nothing as your belt fell to the sides, clearly showing the cut mark. Cool air blew across your stomach as each layer of clothing were ripped off of you. You felt dizzy from too much stimuli that reached you with a delay.

"What the—" 

"Shut up," he growled, silencing you.

You turned your head, noticing the gleaming blade lying next to your face. Panic began to beat with adrenaline in your veins from the position you found yourself in. You twitched uncomfortably when nothing covered your hips anymore. 

"I told you we're not done yet. Why do you always have to give me reasons to remind you where your place is?" His words echoed in your head and the sight of him hovering over you made you nauseous.

You tried to clench your thighs but his hand prevented you from doing so, aggressively pushing them away from his hips. You howled at the sudden movement and gripped his arms tightly, trying to push him away. This time his patience ran out and the Darksaber was once again in his hand and at your throat.

Your eyes widened in panic and your breath caught in your lungs, fearing that the slightest movement would expose you to the deadly energy. 

“If you don’t have the strength to fight me, then don’t.”

You shivered as you felt the head of his cock at your entrance and whimpered as he slowly entered you.

A sigh of relief echoed through his modulator and you merely pressed your lips together tightly at the painful feeling of being stretched. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, even though you were clearly not prepared for his length.

A small whine escaped you as the blade came dangerously close to your skin and he didn’t seem to notice, too fascinated by the feeling of your clenching cunt.

“Now,” he began with a sigh, “you’re goin’ to fuckin’ take it.” His words sounded like a threat, and that's exactly how you felt when he pulled out only to go painfully deep inside you again, all with his weapon at your throat.

He began to fuck you, hard, as if he didn't see the tears in your eyes.

Sex with him had never been one of the most gentle experiences of your life, but lately he had been outdoing himself, violating every possible boundary of sanity. 

He was panting heavily, while you barely let the quiet groans die in your mouth.

“Din,” you hissed, “it hurts.”

A dry snort answered your pleas. “Yeah?” he huffed in amusement before tossing the Darksaber aside and replacing it with his hand. “Too fuckin’ bad.” 

His grip immediately tightened, holding you in place as he sped up his thrusts. You grabbed his wrist, letting the first moans escape your lips. Muscle memory reacted to his every movement, sending hot waves pulsing towards your clit.

Your body was out of sync with your mind; with the sense of danger that was sharpening your senses to the point where you stopped feeling pain.

The wet sounds became more pronounced with each thrust, which only confirmed to him that you were starting to give in. 

"Look at you, taking me like a good little slut.”

You clenched your jaw tighter and in response, you tightened against him hard enough to make him hiss in pain. His fingers pressed into your throat, cutting off your air supply.

“Gentle,” he hissed, leaning in a little closer. You immediately submitted to his will, relaxing, making him enter you smoothly.

That didn’t mean he was gentler though; he continued to thrust as if you were resisting him, hitting your cervix with a growl of satisfaction. Your pussy was throbbing dangerously, you tried to fight the oncoming pleasure so he couldn't see how much you were enjoying what was happening.

His quiet snort only confirmed that it was too late. "You will come on my cock?" he asked, as if your shaking legs weren't enough of an answer to his question. "Yes, you will," he nodded with satisfaction, "like a good bitch should."

You didn't know if it was the way he rolled his hips, his words, or his hand that controlled your breathing, but you knew the orgasm that hit your body made you dizzy. A loud growl vibrated in your throat as your clit tensed, sending waves of pleasure to the far corners of your body.

Din began to laugh quietly as he fought against your throbbing cunt that was creaming his cock.

You dug your nails into his wrist and tensed as you accepted each wave of fulfillment that didn't go away, only grew with each subsequent thrust. 

"Your gaze could kill me and your cunt could strangle me, what an irony," he said, only getting on your nerves more.

His amusement was starting to fade and instead came more desperate moans. Each thrust brought him closer to his desired orgasm.

You shivered as the cold beskar of his helmet suddenly made contact with your forehead. You could clearly hear every little sound of pleasure as he fought against his increasingly sloppy movements.

"Gonna fill that sweet little pussy of yours,” he gasped, "and you'll let me ‘cause that's what you were fuckin’ made for.”

You didn't deny it because you could barely breathe as he growled and tried to push himself deeper into you. 

"Din..." you whispered, starting to see black spots before your eyes. 

"Oh fuck," he groaned before he stopped, his cock slicking deep inside you. He started to tremble as waves of cum flowed out of him, bringing him a feeling of bliss he longed for.

His moans of relief sent shivers down your body and between your legs, making you clench your walls around him again. He hissed at his oversensitivity and slowly pulled out of you.

He stood at your feet and, looking at you, tucked his cock into his pants and reached for his weapon. The blade disappeared at his touch, leaving you under the light of the night sky. 

“Now we’re done,” he said, turned around and walked away.

Tags: @mattmurdocksdumpy @milly-louise @rosi3ba3z @candlelover @gothcsz @tateypots @chloe302225 @natalieispunk @amyispxnk @mandoloriancookie @libre-sol @alex-does-art-things @xxchumanixx @ch3rryyyyyyyyyy @bbyanarchist @puddles221b

[yan-lorkai]

God I just read your soft yandere Leona executing the people who tried to kill his s/o and I LOOOVE it! Could I have this scenario in the same format (ie long drabble) for Malleus? Where the council/high nobles don't approve him marrying a human and try to assassinate them and Malleus catches them. I need soft yandere Malleus enjoying a nice dinner with his love after he just finished publically torturing/executing the hell out of those nobles

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: That fic was a favorite of mine too. The softness, the death, it was a masterpiece imo. So I hope you like this too, darling! (^-^)

The grand hall was silent, save for the soft clatter of cutlery against fine china. Malleus watched you from across the table, his emerald eyes alight with a contentment that was almost unsettling in its intensity. The air was still heavy with the remnants of the afternoon's events and though you tried to focus on the delicate meal before you, it was impossible to forget the horrors that had transpired just hours earlier.

It had started when the council, with all their arrogance and pride, had dared to question Malleus’s choice.

“A human?” They had sneered, contempt dripping from their words, as you felt their eyes on you, hudging you for every single little thing. “Surely, the Crown Prince could do better.” Their words had been harsh, cruel and you could still feel the sting of their disapproval like a fresh wound.

But Malleus’s reaction had been instant and absolute.

“I see,” He had said, voice deceptively calm. “You believe yourselves fit to judge my decisions?”

His smile had been cold, empty of its usual warmth, and it was in that moment you saw the depths of his fury. “Very well. Then allow me to demonstrate the consequences of defying your future king.”

Now, as you sat across from him at dinner, he was all smiles and warmth, as if the day’s events had been nothing more than a distant dream. “You’ve barely touched your food,” Malleus noted, tilting his head. “Are you not hungry, my love? Or perhaps you want something else?”

You hadn’t been allowed to witness the executions; Malleus had ensured that much as he demanded Silver and Sebek to not let you in. But you had heard the screams, echoing through the castle walls, each one more desperate than the last. The very air had vibrated with his magic, raw and unrestrained, as he had dealt with each council member in turn, their cries a symphony of suffering that left no doubt of his power.

When it was over, the silence that followed had been deafening.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look up at him. “It’s just… It’s been a long day,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m still… processing.”

You shivered, but whether it was from fear or something else, you couldn’t say. “But… did it have to be so… brutal?” you whispered, unable to shake the image of their twisted, broken bodies from your mind.

Malleus’s expression softened and he reached across the table to take your hand in his. His touch was gentle, the same hand that had so recently been drenched in blood now cradling yours with the utmost care. “I did what needed to be done, my love.”

His tone was so calm, so assured, as if he were discussing something as mundane as the weather. “They dared to hurt you, to question your worth. Such disrespect cannot be tolerated, for an offense upon you is an offense upon me.”

“Yes,” Malleus answered without hesitation, his gaze never wavering from yours. “Because they needed to understand. You are my chosen consort, my beloved, and anyone who dares to threaten that will face the consequences.” He squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You deserve nothing less than absolute devotion and protection.”

He released your hand only to rise from his seat, moving around the table to stand behind you. Bending down, Malleus pressed a tender kiss to the crown of your head, his breath warm against your skin. “You are mine,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “And I will not allow anyone to take you from me.”

The words were a promise, one laced with both love and a dangerous, possessive edge. As he returned to his seat, Malleus gestured to your untouched plate with a gentle smile. “Now, my dear, please eat. I had this meal prepared especially for you.”

You nodded numbly, picking up your fork and taking a bite. It was delicious, as always, but the taste was overshadowed by the weight of Malleus’s gaze, watching you with an intensity that made it clear he would do anything —absolutely anything — to keep you by his side.

And as you sat there, sharing a meal with him, you realized that this was your reality now: a life bound to a dragon who would burn the world to ashes if it meant keeping you safe.

[cheesus-doodles]

How does Ran view Rindo’s best friend reader? And what’s his opinion on their relationship? I really like your work on Rindo and reader!

thank you for your kind words anon!

Masterlist | Rindo Tags

ㅤ‎

Ran thinks that the two of you together are adorable.

Yes sure, he knows damn well that both the both of them are delinquents who ruthlessly rule the back alleys of Roppongi with an iron fist, and that they are indeed supposed to be feared. But how was he supposed to think any other way when he sees Rindo with you?

Even though you clearly are the more easygoing and naive of your little pair with a tendency to go along with whatever it was that Rindo wanted, in Ran's eyes, its still his younger brother who comes off as the lost puppy trailing you looking for affection and attention, happy to let you lead him around by the nose. Yes, both of the Haitanis have both been in and out of juvie for various reasons, and Ran is perfectly aware of how Rindo is actually like during fights, having no qualm with breaking bones and putting faces through cement. Yet Ran still finds it hard to find any good reason to fear Rindo whenever you are arm-in-arm with him, chattering away with a complete lack of awareness to your surroundings. Ran, in fact, finds it rather amusing to occasionally poke his younger brother by linking arms with you just to get a reaction out of him and see him growl and threaten.

There was no way that Ran could possibly hate you, not with what you had done for Rindo. As the older of the two (not by much but still), Ran takes it upon himself to learn about and keep an eye out for Rindo, even if the younger Haitani dislikes his older brother's intrusions into his life.

And from what Ran can tell, Rindo has only changed for the better - as much as a delinquent can, at least. He knew that the day you picked Rindo over him was the day that something within Rindo had sparked (or snapped), and the younger Haitani had never let go of you since then, which you didn't seem to mind. Good thing either way, since with you came a sense of responsibility for Rindo that he never had, and Ran do so appreciate Rindo caring about something outside of picking fights for a change. Maybe you could get him to care about bills as well soon.

You did bring a breath of fresh air into both their lives, which the older of the brothers appreciates. With you came normal afternoons, calm evenings, and even peaceful nights; being a regular civilian with no ties to the gang life, you usually were the one to drag the two Haitani brothers around to your favourite cafes or the newest shops. Normal activities. Of course, the the only caveat to peace and normality being that you were within arm's length of Rindo, but that was easy enough to achieve.

‎

Ran does however wish from time to time that you were the slightest bit more self aware and less air-headed. The amount of stress you cause his younger brother on a day-to-day basis simply can't be healthy, but more importantly, it affects Ran as well. Don't get him wrong, this older delinquent was content to watch his younger brother run around like a headless chicken from time to time, but when it spills over into his life and causes Ran to lose his precious sleep is where he draws the line. Maybe with a few more brain cells, you would be able to learn which action would result in a explosive reaction from your best friend, but it has already been years and Ran isn't hopeful.

Rindo always anxiously checking in on you whenever he could as if you would vanish off the face of the earth the moment he wasn't looking (being lured into a van and kidnapped with candy was what Rindo swears would be enough to work on you, and Ran didn't doubt as much). And when he couldn't, Ran would have the chance to be amused by his younger brother compulsively opening and closing his phone every second just to make sure he wasn't missing any messages that you were sending him, before giving in after five minutes and simply calling you. This would quickly turn into a full blown cursing and swearing session when you fail to pick up within half a minute, followed by a panicked Rindo dropping everything to take off and hunt you down.

This usually happens during school time, when the younger of the Haitanis reluctantly let you attend class, only to storm your classroom later on, though meltdowns also tend to happen at night when you aren't sleeping over at their place. And the latter is when Ran gets awoken by all the scrambling, sometimes getting dragged up as well to look for you when Rindo happens to barge into your room on the rare occasion you wandered out for a midnight snack.

Despite Ran knowing that whatever Rindo has going on with you isn't quite normal, with Rindo being a tad too obsessed with knowing where you were and what you were doing at all times, the older delinquent doesn't care. As long as his younger brother was happy, Ran was content with playing along. And alas, until Ran can knock some common sense into that empty head of yours, he'll settle for tying you to a chair and hauling your ass back to Rindo.

Ah the woes of being an older brother.

[velvet4510]

Y’all, I love Samwise Gamgee. He is loyalty incarnate, stout-heartedness incarnate, purity incarnate, love incarnate. I would die for Sam. I would do anything for Sam. Just as any of you would. Please bear this in mind before you read on.

Y’all need to stop claiming that Sam is “immune to the Ring.” He’s not. Besides Tom Bombadil (who is an entirely different kind of being), NOBODY is immune to the Ring. Not even the purest of heart are immune.

Gollum and Boromir are the most obvious examples of this, but it applies to everyone.

Gandalf isn’t immune to it. That’s why he refuses to take it from Frodo; he knows what it would do to him.

Galadriel isn’t immune to it. She gives the same reason.

Faramir isn’t immune to it. He gives the same reason.

Yes, some people are able to resist it better than others can.

Look at Bilbo managing to give it up.

Look at Frodo, one of the most pure-hearted characters in the book, winning the battle against it until the LAST possible moment, holding out ALL the way to Mordor until he reaches the one place where he has no chance, where the Ring’s victory over his exhausted mortal will is inevitable.

But they’re not immune.

And Tolkien makes it quite clear that Sam isn’t immune either.

He devotes whole passages to Sam’s temptation by the Ring, his visions of power and glory, of turning Mordor into a garden. But it’s not just that.

Between Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam, it’s quite clear that the Ring’s first course of action in preying on its bearer is making them want to put it on. Reaching into their mind so that their first direct course of action to handle a situation is to put it on. This is what Sam does not once, but twice. The second time is after the Orcs have already gone, and nobody can see him anyway. He has no need to put the Ring back on, but he does.

Then, multiple times, he offers to carry it for Frodo. Yes, this is born from concern for Frodo’s burden, but this is exactly what the Ring is using. The Ring is whispering to him, “save him from the burden, save him from the burden, take me for yourself, take me for yourself.” And Sam falls for it. The Ring uses the bearer’s greatest fears and desires to carve a path in their mind that leads them toward the thought of claiming it. It uses the same tactic on Frodo. By the time they’re in Mordor, Frodo is fully aware of what the Ring is doing to him and doesn’t want it to destroy Sam like it’s destroying him. This is his heart’s reason for demanding the Ring back from Sam and refusing to give it up again. Then the Ring twists this in Frodo’s mind to make him think it’s because he wants it for himself. This is exactly what it would’ve ultimately done to Sam if their roles were reversed.

I do think the fact that Sam’s time as Ring-bearer is so brief does cause it to have a lesser impact on him overall, especially compared to Frodo. But, my dear friends, he’s not immune. And there’s nothing wrong with admitting that. Loving Sam as a character should not be equivalent to putting him on a pedestal and thinking he’s somehow above the canonically-indomitable will of the Ring. Tolkien wrote a lore and created stakes that are quite unique in that there’s no “exception” among our mortal protagonists. None of them are immune to the power of a Dark Lord. That doesn’t make Sam any less pure, or Frodo any less pure. It’s just a canon fact.

And it makes me love both of them even more. They both are vulnerable to its power, but both resist it as far as anyone possibly could because of the power of their love.

[voltronisanobsession]

Stuck in a Loop | Teen Wolf x Reader

A little story I had while listening to Emily Jeffri teehee😁 a little less focused on romance but whateva👼

If the end feels a little rushed, shhhh ignore it

A soft bump on the road awoke you, causing you to slowly open your eyes. Clearing your throat, you lean away from the window of the car and reach for the nearly empty water bottle next to you, drinking the last of it, yet still wanting more.

“Do you have any more water?” You ask, voice still scratchy from your nap. Stiles looks away from the road for a second and seems to think before answering.

“Uh yeah I think. Check in the pocket behind the seat.”

You twist your body as much as you could to reach the back of your seat, barely reaching it before you feel the familiar shape of a bottle. Cracking it open, you take two full gulps before pulling it away, asking if Stiles wanted any and covering it back up when he declined.

You look up just in time to see you guys passed a speed limit sign, the bold 40 MPH making it hard to miss.

“Why does Scott want us to meet him again? I feel like it’s too late to be calling us for help.” You yawned.

“I don’t know, he didn’t really say anything, just told me where to go.” Stiles shrugged while rubbing his eyes with one hand and steering with his other. You grabbed his hand before he could place it back on the wheel, wanting to just hold his hand.

The boy looked at you once again with a smile, slightly squeezing your hand which made you smile in turn. You both were so caught up with each other that none of you saw the deer that suddenly appear on the road until it was too late.

A quick glance in front you had you shouting in fear.

“DEER! STILES DEER!”

It all happened so quickly. Stiles swerved to the left trying to avoid the deer yet served back to the right too quickly. The car was off the road for a second, touching the natural ground for a moment before the tire started giving out. Had they popped the tire?

Stiles tried his best to steer the car back but it was done. The front right tire caused the entire car to lean towards the right, flipping the car over and down the hill it once drove on.

Neither of you could yell or scream by the amount of flips the car made going down the hill. You hit your head against the window of the door, your head pounding against it the entire way down.

After what felt like an eternity, the jeep finally made one more flip before landing on its side at the bottom. The silence was deafening after everything was done

Glass was scattered everywhere. You were littered with cuts all over your body. Opening your eyes with as much strength as you could muster, you tired your head to look at Stiles.

He sat there motionless and full of cuts and blood, arms hanging limp by his sides. As much as you tried, you couldn’t move your hand to hold his, tears slowly falling down your bloodied cheek. Somewhere inside you knew he was no longer with you

You felt yourself slowly fading into darkness. Your eyes struggled to stay open, your body struggled to not lose consciousness.

Yet you let it all go.

You closed your eyes and let death take away into the night, just like it did with Stiles.

═══

You slowly opened your eyes as a small bump in the road awoke you. Twisting your necklace, you stretched before glancing around in confusion.

You grabbed the nearly empty water bottle that sat next to you, staring at it with confusion as you held it in your hand.

“You good?” Stiles’ voice snapped you out of your trance, confusion and worry etched upon his face as he glanced at you

“Uh yeah, yeah. I just had a really weird dream. That’s it.” You say as you place down the bottle back in the cup holder.

You reach for the back of the seat, twisting your body enough for you to feel the shape of a bottle in the pocket hidden in the dark. Hm.

“I forgot that was there! I thought we were out.” Stiles said while gesturing to the bottle between you, still focused on the road yet continuously glancing at your silent frame.

“What?” You whisper in confusion, eyeing the yellow speed limit sign as you passed it. 40 MPH.

“You wanna, I don’t know, talk about your dream? You look like you've seen a ghost.” The boy said, a hint of humor in his voice. You glanced at him with a grimace. He immediately saw your apprehension and turned serious.

“I had a dream where everything that’s happening now, happened. Don’t look at me stiles, keep an eye on the road. After we passed the speed limit sign though, we were busy looking at each other to see a deer on the road.” Just as you said that, you saw a figure in the distance, the moonlight barely outlining it in the dark.

“There! Be careful!” Stiles had enough time to move to the left lane and carefully maneuvered the car back to the right lane. You look in the rear view mirror in shock as you stared at the deer, shrinking in the distance.

“How did you know it was there?” Stiles eyebrows furrowed. Your hand traveled to the necklace sitting on your neck, twisting it with anxiousness.

This had to be a dream, right? There was no way everything was repeating itself.

“What’s going on?” Whispering to yourself, you didn’t even see the car speeding towards you guys. And just like that, again, everything happened too quickly.

===

"STILES!" You gasp loudly, scaring the life out of the boy driving next to you.

"WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED?!" The brunette hit his brakes a little too hard causing you both to slam forward as the car makes a halting stop.

You take deep breathes as you take in your surroundings, hands fiddling with your necklace in anxiousness. You're still in the car, next to your boyfriend, alive. You were alive. He was alive.

You reach to grab the water bottle from the back of the seat, staring at it in horror. Something was not right.

"Y/N! What's going on? You can't just go screaming my name while I'm driving!" Stiles turns to you, trying to make sense why you look close to crying.

His heart clenches at the sight of tears trailing down your face.

"I-I don't know! I don't know what's going on! We keep dying and restarting this entire situation over again but something is always happening! First it w-was the deer and hill, then it was the random car! Stiles I don't know what to do!" You could only sob into your hands as Stiles tries his best to comfort you.

"What do you mean we keep dying? Hey, hey, calm down. You're ok, I'm right here." Stiles rubs your back as he twists his body to hug you over the car console. It's a bit awkward for him and you can't help the watery laugh you let out as he continues to hug you.

"Um yeah. I know it's not a dream because I r-remember everything. Every time we've had an accident, I wake up in the same spot and everything. It starts all over again everytime." You rub your eyes in exhaustion. Is this a supernatural problem you're facing right now? After everything you've been through, the signs are pointing to yes.

"Ok so like a time loop? If you're the only one who remembers what's happened before, then it's probably gonna keep happening until you break it." The boy says thoughtfully out loud. He seems to think for a moment and you can't help but feel thankful for him.

He didn't question what you were saying and fully believed you. Even though he doesn't remember the previous events, he was making an effort to help you. Stiles looks back to you and gives you a reassuring smile. You return it with a small smile of your own.

"If we're actually stuck in a time loop than we gotta figure what's trapping us in it. I'm guessing the same things are gonna happen no matter what until one of us figures out how to get out. Man this is so cool, I only read about these kinds of things in books!" You give him a dark glare as he says that last part. Everything about this has not been cool whatsoever.

"I genuinely don't know. Everything has been the same until we drive past the speed sign. After that, the deer came in, and then the random car." Stiles hums as you say this. Then he claps.

"Ok that's something! You said it happens after we pass the sign right? What if we just don't pass it?" You give him a look of confusion as he changes gears and starts driving in reverse.

"Ohh that's smart! It could be the sign that's keeping the loop going!" You give his arm a pat as you smile.

"That's what I was thinking! We'll just head to the gas station like this and see if that changes anything." You both sit in silence as he continues reversing. 10 minutes pass before either of you talks.

In this time, you should have reached the station but it's as if it was a never ending road. Stiles seems to notice this as well and huffs in annoyance. Putting his car in park, he sighs and looks ahead into the night.

"I don't think we've moved from the spot we're in. We're definitely in a loop." Stiles groans after wasting 10 minutes of driving backwards. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, once again grabbing onto your necklace for emotional support.

"I think we only have one choice. We go forwards since we can't go backwards. Just... Just try to be alert and be ready to drive like a mad man. I don't want to lose you again." Stiles glances at you before taking your hand and kissing it.

"I promise we'll get out of this. You're not losing me again." He said it was such conviction that you finally felt a sliver of hope blossom in you. You nodded and kissed his hand.

"Ok, let's get it." Feeling pumped up, Stiles shifted gears and began driving forwards. You saw the sign in the dark distance, chills running down your spine as you read 40 MPH.

"Get ready. A deer's gonna be on the road, so drive to the left when you see it." As you finished, the deer came into view, it's head turning towards you as it watched the car grow closer. Stiles carefully maneuvered around it and settled back into the road.

"Ok now a car is gonna be speeding towards us! I think it's a drunk driver? Please be careful." You say as you shake in fear. This is what got you both last time.

"Got it." He murmured, gripping the wheel as he noticed a shadowy figure growing closer. From the way it was driving erratically, he kept his senses on alert. Soon the car was near them. Stiles swiftly moved to avoid the car that was driving straight towards them. You let out a yelp as the car bumped into the side of his jeep, but nothing else happened.

"Oh thank god! Keep driving, we never got pass that car. I don't know what happens now." Your boyfriend nods and continues driving. It wasn't long until something else happened. This was much more terrifying for you though.

Suddenly loud noises from all over sounded throughout the night. From howling to growls, the noise was deafening to say the least. You let out a scream as something hit your side of the car. Not only were the animalistic sounds carving its way into your brains, now the entire car was getting assaulted from all angles.

"What the hell is happening?! What's hitting us?!" Stiles yelled out, flinching as something hit his window.

"I don't know but I have a feeling we need to figure out how to break the loop now or something bad's gonna happen!" You yelled back, covering your ears and letting out a scream of terror as a black figure rammed its body into your window.

"You have to figure out what's keeping us in the loop Y/N! Think! Was something different when you woke up last time?! Or was it all the same?! There has to be something!" Stiles swerved to avoid hitting a shadowy figure on the road. Whatever was attacking you didn't plan on letting either of you go.

You sat thinking quickly as the hits on the car grew more aggressive. The first time you woke up, you drank your water and then saw the sign. The the deer showed up and that ended! Then you entered the loop! You drank your water, passed the sign, then warned Stiles about the deer. You survived that but then a car came into the picture!

And now in this loop!

"SHIT!" A hit on your side caused the car to skid to the left side of the road which caused him to lose control of the car for a second.

"NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME TO SAVE US!" You shut your eyes and tried to focus on your thoughts.

You woke up, the water bottle was the same, you passed the yellow sign and passed the deer. Then you passed the car! So whatever caused this loop had to have been something from the very start! After the deer situation, nothing could have caused the loop. What was different about the beginning?!

You pulled on your necklace and froze. Your necklace. Your necklace? You realized you never had a necklace to begin with. This wasn't even yours!

You furrowed your eyebrows as you yanked the necklace from your neck. It hurt a bit but you didn't care.

"What are you doing?! You just broke the chain!" Stiles looked at you with wide eyes as the animal sounds suddenly grew louder than before. You lifted the object and looked it. It was made from a black metal with a red stone in the center.

"When have you ever seen me wear this?! It's not mine!" Quickly, you rolled down the window and threw the damned thing out and rolled it back up. As you threw it out, an energy force boomed from the car and you watched with fascination as the energy wave flowed through the air. The sheer force of it had you sitting flush against the seat and forced Stiles to stop the car as well.

The banging, the screaming and howling had abruptly stopped. It was quiet, save from the huffs coming from the two of you. You felt your body go lax against the car seat as you closed your eyes.

Finally, it was over.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes, too scared to move in fear something else will pop out in the dead of night. After a moment, Stiles spoke.

"You did it. I thought we were gonna die." His body sagged against the steering wheel, head turned towards you, sweat falling from his hair.

"Me too." You sighed as you dragged your hands down your face. You were never going to drive this late at night ever again.

"I'm proud of you Y/N. You got yourself out of the loop." He let out a laugh and sat against his seat again.

"Well I literally couldn't have done it without you. I'd probably be on my, like, 6th loop if it weren't for you." You smiled and looked into the night. The moon's light touched your hand. It gave you an ethereal glow. How long has it been watching you for?

"I'm going to kill Scott. It was his fault for making us come out this late." Stiles dove for his phone and called Scott. After three rings, the werewolf finally answered.

"Hello?" A groggy voice called into the phone, obviously heavy with sleep. You furrowed your eyebrows.

"What is WRONG with you?! We almost died trying to get to you man!" Stiles yelled into the speaker, causing Scott to wince at the sound.

"What are you talking about? Where are you guys?" Scott suddenly seemed more awake, his voice scratchy from being woken up.

"You sent me a text saying to meet you and to take Y/N with me. Stop trying to act all innocent." You sat in silence as the pieces started clicking together.

"I never sent you anything. I've been asleep the entire time dude." Stiles made a face before searching through his for the message.

"Ok don't play with me. You literally sent me-" He paused midsentence when he pulled up his messages with Scott, only to see the most recent message was sent more than 5 hours ago.

"What the hell? I had a message right here telling us to go to this sketchy place. Where'd it go?" Stiles muttered in confusion.

"I think this thing, whatever it was, was trying to lure us away from the others. We fell right into it's trap." You stated. "Real question is why us two, and why target me specifically?"

All three of you sat in silence before Scott spoke up.

"Come to my house guys. This might be a new monster and I wanna hear what happened with you two. Now I'm actually saying this, not some copy version of me." You both agreed and hung up the phone.

"Wanna go back through there or take the long way?"

You let out a short laugh. "After all that, I'm never driving through here again. Long way all the way."

"I agree. Long way it is."

[lovequartz]

where our fingers meet.

✵ pairing: town doctor!wonwoo x fiancee!reader

✵ genre: fluff!

✵ warnings: none

✵ word count: 701

✵ crush me in your arms give me a lovelier kiss, lover

✵ notes: yeah i am back with more of this couple <3 i literally cannot stop writing for them

the week before the wedding is stressful, and not for you but for your mother and sister. you are still trapped in somewhat of a daze, you can’t believe you’re getting married let alone who you’re getting married to. your sweet sweet wonwoo, you’re sure you must’ve dreamed him up for it is madness that a man so perfect exists. in thinking of your wonderful fiance you’re awash with a sense of longing that sits heavy in your chest. 

it’s been a little less than a week since you’ve seen him, due to all the planning madness your mother and sister have swept you up into. not to mention the fact that wonwoo had left town for a stretch to visit his parents and travel back with them so they could attend the ceremony. you wish you could’ve gone with him, to have a bit of privacy between the two of you before you were to become spouses. 

silas has been lovely as he usually is, but you suspect that he’s coming to understand that you won’t always be with him so he has been making sure to take up as much of your attention as he can. which is why he currently lays sprawled across your lap while he doodles on the edges of his math notebook, and the accompanying math textbook sits abandoned across the room near your bed. 

you run your fingers through his hair for a few passes, “i thought you promised your mother that you would have a page done by bedtime?” 

silas hums, you feel it against your thighs where his upper body is positioned, and he puts his pencil down and lays his head against his open notebook, “too sleepy,” he murmurs.

your hand moves from his hair to rub his back gently, it was just about his bedtime so the sleepiness was understandable. you leave him be and when you’re certain he’s asleep is when you tuck him into your futon, making sure the blanket covers him. gathering his things, you stack them neatly into a pile and set them near the door. 

as your nephew sleeps you busy yourself with getting ready for bed yourself, changing your day dress with your sleep gown, and running a comb through your hair. 

a few minutes into brushing you hear a faint knocking at your window, its seems too quiet to be actual knocking but doesn’t quite sound like the branches that sometimes scratch at it. you slowly make your way over, and try to peer out the spaces in the slats. after not really seeing anything, you carefully slide the window open just a crack and the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. 

“wonwoo?” you say in disbelief, staring wide eyed at your fiance that stands just outside. 

he gives you a shy smile, and rubs his hands together nervously, “sorry for the abrupt and unannounced visit.” 

you shake your head, still dizzy with disbelief. “what are you doing here?” 

“i wanted to,” he pauses as if embarrassed by his actions, and you notice how red his ears are, “see you.” 

your face heats up at his admission, and you stare silently at him for a few moments before telling him to stay put. assuring him that you would be right there.

you grab a shawl from your closet and throw it over your shoulders before quietly making your way out of your bedroom and out of the house. your slippers kick up loose rocks as you hurriedly round the corner to where your fiance waits. 

he smiles when he sees you, holding out a hand that you take as soon as you’re close enough. both your fingers weaving together seamlessly. 

“is everything okay?” you ask breathlessly, still a bit worried over this unannounced middle of the night appearance. 

his free hand comes up to cradle your cheek, and you melt as his thumb brushes across your skin. “everything is fine,” he replies, “i fear that a week without you is far too long for me to bear.” 

“wonwoo…” you mumbled, flustered over his words, “you could’ve called.”

he shakes his head with a grin, “and miss this lovely sight before me? never.”

notes: okay my lovelies thank you as always for reading and there will most likely be more of this couple from me! let me know what you thought <3

[a-simple-imagine]

mean girls mob au

A/N - forever thinking about my mean girls mob au. where everyone is some sort of career criminal but regina george is the worst one around so here’s some 2am thoughts .

characters - regina, gretchen, karen, cady, janis, damian and reader

WARNINGS - mention of violence, murder, and general illegal activity. weapons mentioned including knives and guns. toxic relationships. mutual obsession. dark themes idk

Regina George. she/her. leader -

she was born into this life. maybe directly her parents. maybe a close relative but either way she has known nothing but riches her entire life. her family is loaded. massive houses. expensive cars. she doesn’t know the meaning of the word struggle because life has just been so easy for her. until it’s not. maybe her father gets arrested for something. or someone close enough for it to have an impact dies. but soon enough reality hits regina that it’s not all pretty dresses and fancy parties. there’s a darker side to it all. her father tried to keep her out of it all but regina is stubborn. and eventually her father realises he needs someone to take over one day. so she’s taught the ropes slowly but surely until mean girl regina george who bullies kids in school and gets everything she wants becomes one of the most lethal women in the country. she’s involved in almost every shady deal that does on around her. drugs. murder. fraud. she’s done it all. it’s the only way to live. she’s very good with a gun but much prefers knives. pretty ones with engraved blades and sleek handles. they’re much more personal. you have to be up close to do any real damage. she likes to see the fear in people. the way their body reacts in their last moments. its a rarity that she deals with things herself but when she does she likes the play with her prey. draw it all out. she loves it. she’s obsessed with the hold she has over other people. some people are desperate to be loved but she couldn’t care less about that. it’s all about control. she wants people to fear her. not a bad word is uttered against regina george. but she’s not alone. she has a crew. and if nothing else, regina george is insanely loyal and pays very very well.

Gretchen weiners. she/her. right hand. -

gretchen is regina’s right hand man. they probably grew up together. her father probably worked alongside regina’s which is how this relationship formed in the first place. they often played together at family barbecues or whatever. through school gretchen knew it was better to stick with regina than be bullied by regina. she knew how ruthless the george family could be. so she’d support regina however she wanted. so from bullying kids to intimidating strangers, gretchen weiners has and always will be right by regina’s side. she would do anything for that woman. all regina has to do is snap her fingers and gretchen would come running. but that doesn’t mean gretchen isn’t ruthless in her own way. she’s the one doing the dirty work. she’s the one making sure everything runs smoothly whether it’s making people disappear or making sure deals go through. gretchen has probably seen much more action than regina. probably killed more people too. she prefers a gun. it puts more distance between what she’s doing but she’ll do anything. although it is all in service of regina. you’ll often find her at the bar in the main club the george family owns. an office upstairs where regina does most of her work. she enjoys getting cheeky cocktails when it’s quiet.

karen shetty. she/her. driver -

now karen met the girls a little later. maybe in high school or maybe a little after. regina probably tried to intimidate her but it never really worked on her. not in the same way it did for others and that was something that caught regina’s eye. now karen is the nicest person around. she is someone who says hi to everyone when she comes in every day. is making cute little friendship bracelets for the bouncers at the club. but her main role is driving. not just a general driver, regina pays boring white men for that, no karen is only for important jobs. she’s absolutely insane behind the wheel. can outrun anyone on the road like it’s child’s play because for her it basically is. she loves playing games. and driving can often feel like a game of cat and mouse. she’s also really handy with a weapon. maybe guns. maybe pretty knives. has a bad habit of causing… accidents but nobody ever stays mad at her. she loves dancing at the club and chatting with gretchen at the bar.

cady heron. she/her. new kid. -

now cady is the new girl in town and therefore has a lot to prove. maybe she gets mixed up with the wrong kinds of people. but she doesn’t stay at the bottom long, no she aimed straight for the top. maybe she had some help along the way. maybe there was a moment where she tried to make deals with regina but they never really worked out. regina never played particularly nice with others. that’s okay though because cady somehow found her way. she leads her own team. but she rules through mutual respect rather than fear at least within her own ranks. she finds a little place to set up shop, her own bar. it’s probably really small but it’ll do for now. but if she wants to stay alive she’ll have to either make nice or beat the competition. and unlucky for her regina is the competition. but she figures the easiest way to destroy regina is to go after the most precious thing in regina’s world.

damien hubert. he/him. bartender -

less important to the world than the others but still plays a role. he’s a bartender. just doing regular bartender work. maybe he has multiple jobs in both regina’s and cady’s places or maybe he’s just in regina’s but either way that’s his primary job. he loves interacting with people can usually tell when people are there for business or pleasure. both clubs work as normal clubs too that regular civilians can attend. he loves a good gossip but more so when it comes from the right kinds of people. he is known for having his ear to the ground. knows everything about everyone and is willing to share any information… for the right price. his side gig is in intel. he sells valuable crime secrets for massive amounts of money. runs a weekly poker night for the scariest/richest people in town. it usually puts all kinds of criminals against each other.

janis imi’iki’. she/her/they/them. artist/art dealer. -

a loner. makes art. probably spends a lot of time in the studio working on original pieces. they’re really talented. maybe they sell under a fake name, maybe they don’t. but they get invited to all kinds of fancy parties for the rich and famous. you can find her works in mansions and town houses but only the mindless drivel that she doesn’t care about. anything important to them is reserved for the people she actually cares about or shared for free through donations or exhibitions. she’s also a renowned art trader. big in the trade of illegal or forged art work. they probably paint a lot of the forgeries. it’s easy work and money. plus scamming rich people is fun. they have a bad relationship with regina. probably started when they were younger. now they just avoid each other or more so janis avoids regina. regina loves to try and provoke them especially if she sees them in her club. they’re probably there to see damien who helps facilitate buyers for their business.

BONUS: reader -

the reader is whoever. maybe this whole world is new to them, maybe it’s not. maybe this runs in their blood but they’ve just never been very good. but the most important thing is that regina is obsessed with you. utterly enthralled. does that mean she’s nice to you?? well, yes and no. she can be really cruel. she probably calls you weak an pathetic. sees you as some whose way out of their depth. likes to make a show of you. humiliate you. she’s probably held a knife to your neck once or twice just to see the look in your eye. she’s in complete control. can do whatever she wants and there’s nothing you can say or do about it. not if you valued your life anyway. she loves to shower you with expensive gifts though. especially clothes and jewellery. likes to see you dressed exactly how she wants. just a little doll to dress up and parade around. but as cruel as she can be regina would also move heaven and earth to make sure you’re okay. everyone knows your off limits. so much as bad word about you from anyone else and she’ll have their tongue cut out. and you go absolutely crazy for it. the dynamic is intoxicating. you love just how far she’ll go. it gives you a level of power that nobody else has. you’re untouchable. everyone is forced to respect you or face regina’s wrath. it takes a while for you to get used to being a part of her world. it was fancy and expensive but also dark and gritty. she tries to keep you out of it. but it’s hard not to notice the little things. splatters of blood. disappearances. you’re not stupid. but you just let it happen because just like everyone else you want to please regina. you want her to like you. to be interested in you. you’re not sure you could go back to before you were the centre of her world. regina teaches you some things like how to defend yourself. maybe how to shoot a gun and it’s exciting. when she’s so close and focused. pressed up against you. guiding your shot. it’s sweet. but you know to some extent that this can’t last forever. something will happen one day. she’ll get killed or arrested or whatever. maybe she’ll have to do something she’ll regret because of you. because while you are her greatest possession you’re also her biggest weakness.

[ofswordsandpens]

"There's no fear in you is there" Perfect little setup hee hee

and then it's followed up with no spiders what's even the point!

I don't understand why they're trying to make Annabeth invincible?? It's so strange to me, why is her only flaw that she's like.. kinda rude? give her back her dimensions!

I think the show was trying to play into her fears of abandonment a bit, or perhaps, Percy sacrificing himself for her was to remind her of Thalia sacrificing herself for her?

Leah and Walker played the scene so well I almost (almost) didn't mind the switch up. It was the first time their dynamic rang sincerely true to me, and we've gotten to see some very needed vulnerability from the both of them. But on the other hand... so much of their dialogue in that scene (where Percy is sacrificing himself) could have played out later when they have pearls in the underworld and the two of them + Grover are all trying to sacrifice themselves for each other. (Unless they're changing that scene as well? I dont even know at this point. We dont know if Percy got the pearls or not.)

Its just the spider moment in the book is so iconic, so Annabeth, I'm having a hard time parting with it, despite how heartfelt I think the show scene admittedly was. I think we could have kept the spider fear in the show, have Percy and Annabeth bond and get closer because of it, and then have the sacrificial dialogue moments and surrounding convo for later in the underworld. Then that dialogue would've felt more earned to me.

We are finally getting some more dimension to show Annabeth. More vulnerability. But she's still less dimensional and well-rounded compared to her book self by now. (Again not on Leah at all! In fact I think her acting was amazing in this episode). I just don't like how the writers or RR have seemingly taken out every trait that might make her seem less composed or perfectly mature: her crush on Luke, her spider phobia, her justification for going to the arch being sight seeing, her being tricked by medusa.... It would be one thing if they had done just one or even two of these changes, but all of these changes together just chip away from her overall personality and that's where my issues lie with her characterization. Her show self seems way less fallible, when she shouldn't be.

[rotyoursoul]

Can you write about Illumi's wife comforting their daughter after a brutal training session, and the daughter is questioning why her father and grandparents do what they do....with Illumi listening in

(I hope you like it!)

You hadn’t entirely adopted your husbands stoicism and your intuition nagged that your daughter would be the same.

In infancy she was her most finicky, Illumi placing her back in your arms then leaving the room.

Toddler years to early childhood proved the same, except now her father’s stare - devoid of emotion yet somehow disapproving - would set her straight.

As the years crept by she began to adjust accordingly, as did you.

She knew not to cry infront of him.

That was saved for later in the sacred space that you had created. It would only last for as long as it took you to tend to her wounds after training, but it was appreciated nonetheless.

As she sobbed in your arms after a particularly rough day, you could feel the remaining fragments of your heart shatter.

You wanted desperately to express to her that you felt her pain, but you couldn’t piece the sentences together even if you tried.

This lifestyle has taken its toll on you as well, gradually losing the ability to articulate emotion with each passing season.

She finally pulls away, her long black hair falling on either side of her face.

“Your father says that you’re excelling in your training.” You say at an attempt in reassurance

“I don’t care.” Her voice is calm as though she hadn’t just been in hysterics. You wipe the remaining tears from her cheeks. “Why do I have to train?”

“It’s very important to our entire family. We have to keep our line of work alive. ” She rolls her eyes upon hearing that automated response.

“Robotic just like father. I’m clearly not meant for the family business. I keep getting hurt.”

“That is apart of the process.” Illumi’s impassive voice interjects , causing you both to jump at the sudden annunciation of his presence. “You possess the potential to become one of our strongest assassins.”

“But I don’t want to be.” She expresses.

“I understand your hesitation.” He responds calmly before changing the subject. “I see your injury from earlier is dressed. Why don’t you visit grandfather and tell him how well you’ve done today? I would like to speak with your mother alone.”

Less of a request, more of an order your daughter leaves you both. You wait until you’re sure she’s far gone.

“How long were you there, Illumi?”

“Only a moment.” You open your mouth to speak, only to shut it again. “I’ve been aware of these private emotional outbursts for quite some time.”

“…. And what of them?” You say coming off more defensive than you would like.

He eyes you carefully before speaking again.

“I fear your coddling will interfere with her progress. It will have to end soon.”

Your body tenses at the thought of the wedge this would tear between you and your only girl, at the severe personality change this would bring out in her.

She’d already begun to pick up some of her fathers traits, voice becoming monotone and gaze becoming more distant.

The last thing you wanted to do was add to this deconstruction.

Illumi notices, his eyes trailing down to your hands where your nails now dug into the skin, then back up to your pained expression.

“Please, do not make this difficult.” He closes the distance between you two, bending down to place a half-hearted kiss atop your head before leaving you alone.

[s0lar-ch3ri]

LOOK AT MY FREAK WEEK FIC BOY (CANNIBALISM) (INVOLVES MENTIONS OF GUTS, BLOOD, AND OTHER SHIT LIKE THAT) ("a mouth to bite with; wouldnt your corpse just look so nice?")

It’s bad. Very bad. Vyncent halfway is understanding the words here. He’s found little to nothing to eat, and most has been purged only minutes after consumption. His throat is clawing its way out. It needs something it can process. Something like home. Something that he can survive and live with, because the gods know even their place in the terrain was due long ago.

His eyes, hurting from just how different the light here was, lock onto someone. A random passerby. His head hurts. His stomach hurts. His teeth are itching for something. They’re just right there. He didn’t know them. It’d cause him no harm. It’d be fine.

He remembers this feeling too well. It’s not his first time. Vyncent remembers many a time the hunger would hit him, never just was this needed for survival. He knew what skin could taste like. He’s wrapped his tongue around things that were just too humanoid for comfort. He knows how blood is meant to taste. It felt wrong on those rare occasions he indulged, washing his mouth from the tastes. It was never wrong, it wasn’t right, it was just more food. Just more food.

He wiped his watering mouth.

He was not the worst at stealth. He however was not aware how loud he could be, his ears feeling filled with water. They turned around just as Vyncent wrapped his fingers around them. They were a bit shorter than him, a struggle at it too. Rounded ears that barely jut out from the face, and shrunken eyes with rounder pupils. They were smaller then what he knew them to be, he figured it was a fear response. He normally had a half mask as to block out the strange air, but he dragged it down, accidentally catching a lick of his carnivorous teeth, sharpened and ready for this moment, hungry.

In the small area between the tall and strangely constructed figures, the dark surrounded them, one where he felt most comfortable, the light shining at him better with the setting sun. It felt earlier than what he was used to, but everything here is not what he’s used to. The person struggles in his arms. He finds it may be best to start with a blade. Might have protection or be poisonous.

He bites in.

It is not the flesh he knows. The taste difference is minimal, but there. The path to the bone feels less blocked. The meat inside is less thick. Feels like the arm is thinner. Of course, his path starts at the shoulders, sinking in his jaws. The fabric is minimal bother for him, he tears through easily as he pulls back, flesh coming with. As he spits out the fabric, he sees the blood spurt out like a fountain. He wipes his mouth, he knows he’s not done yet.

They do what Vyncent can only assume is yelling. As they try to flee, he grips their arm, flipping them over his head and onto the floor. He hears the faintest crack as their legs hit stone. Tears stream their face, looking behind Vyncent at the world there he never understood. Holding this arm and on a knee, he bites into the wrist, hitting bone quickly. He manages to almost tear off the hand, yanking off the little bits left attached. They’re stuck in fear as they watch him use his teeth to hold onto bone and remove them out, eating what’s left. He feels weak pushes and loud screams as he goes for the motherload. Wielding his dagger, he plunges it into the chest and cuts up, getting the full thing. He rips the cut wide open with his hands. He pulls out guts that seem different than regular ones and rips off flesh bits from the opened wound. He can taste the blood. It had a more distinct metallic taste. It wasn’t too horrid. The meat held good value in its texture for sure. He couldn’t help but to dig in, he was hungry, and you don’t waste good food.

As they scream, its words that bounce off his ears, cries that are left to unknowing ears. One may say it felt wrong, the way his teeth could so easily pierce the flesh as he tore out chunks and pieces. Maybe a bit of a shiver went down his back as he looked in eyes that lost shine, chewing down scraps of skin to satiate something. It couldn’t have been any rewarding, as he heard drowned what he could figure were concerns through ringing ears, loud sounds behind that he thinks were attached to the strange metal beasts. He had to go. It felt strange to hold someone once more, even if they felt slightly off and were not breathing anymore. He knew he couldn’t just leave it here. He’d get hungry again.

He’d need to carve a way to survive again.

[ficandkaboodle]

Vaginismus: Secondo x Fem!Reader

Author's Note: So . . . I'm already really bad at these types of things. But I think writing one of these on this type of subject matter is still important. Fanfiction is kind of a very rough place when it comes to acknowledging or writing for sexual disorders. On one hand, I am to assume this is because fanfic, by its very nature, is meant to be like wish fulfillment. Reader inserts are often meant to be the representations of the best versions of ourselves. But . . . I dunno, I feel like that can only go so far when you see representations of all kinds of disorders or issues or even complete non-issues. And yet virtually nothing is ever made with people who have conditions like vaginismus or whatever in mind. I love a good smut but sometimes, reading stuff makes me flinch inward and all I can focus on is the pain I would be in from even a pinky tip trying anything. I just think it's important to try and remind people that PiV isn't the only way to "get stuff done" and that it should be okay if that's a struggle for you. Some people can work their way out of the condition, and some people never do. And I think it should be okay to write about it because all too often it's easy to forget that or feel like you've lost out on being loved or understood over something that, in the grand scheme, is so silly. And since I have the condition and there's a chance I may never get out of it thanks to my fucked up noggin, I think this should be an opportunity to write about it. Hope I did okay. There might be more to follow . . .

Word Count: 2394 CW: Vaginismus and all the lovely self-loathing it entails, reader has a vagina, references to aspects of BDSM ig, MDNI

In your defense, you didn't think it would go this far. Certainly, one could argue that Secondo was a serious man: He wasn't prone to playing with food that wasn't absolutely his to consume. But you supposed you had forgotten that, or maybe you were just high on the the arrogant assumption that you might be a special case. Or maybe it just slipped your mind to intervene when the teasing glances, subtle and overt flirtations, and little talks between you kept going and going and going until --

Now look where it had gotten you: Sat in the office of the most intimidating Emeritus brother, a packet of documents lying on the desk before you, along with an elaborate green and silver fountain pen.

Secondo preferred to use contracts when it came to his potential bedmates he had a particular eye for. Ones he had an especial intention of keeping closer. Longer.

To many, this was an absolute honor. You knew plenty of siblings that would probably kill to be in your place. And as you sat wordlessly before both Papa and his documents, you contemplated throwing yourself onto those swords.

It would certainly be quicker and less painful than ducking out after coming this far.

You could picture it: St. Andrew's crosses, leather, hot wax searing deliciously into your skin, his sharp voice directing wicked degradation before salving you with praises. All the scrumptious things Papa II had gained a notoriety for indulging. You would gladly eat it all up and beg for seconds and thirds.

But you couldn't stop it there; it had to go further. Nobody just. Stops there. Nobody normal, anyway.

The problem was that you didn't consider yourself normal. Which was what made imagining him getting into position all the more mortifying even if in concept. You could picture yourself trying to convert the anticipation you were meant to feel from one of nerves into one of bliss but it doesn't matter. You try so hard to relax and be in the moment but it's a terrible moment!

You'd heard Secondo was blessed. The idea sat in your stomach while its surroundings shriveled in fear and constricted to an uncomfortable degree. Hell, it wouldn't even matter if he were the opposite of blessed: It would all hurt the same. It would still feel as though a needle were shanking its way into your most intimate parts, piercing onward until it struck your lungs and took the oxygen right out of you. And that would only be the beginning of it.

And just thinking that was enough to make the mask slip.

You prayed to Lucifer that the sound of you wordlessly nudging the papers and pen closer to Secondo would somehow be enough to disguise the whimper paining your throat. Unfortunately, it was not.

Your already throbbing stomach somehow made enough room to swallow your heart when you saw the older man's brow quirk.

"Something the matter, Sorella?" His voice, the one you'd grown to swoon into after all these passing weeks, made you want to flinch now. Fuck. You could feel your resolve slipping through your fingers like sand and creating further mess. You just needed to keep it together --

"N-no," you forced out. You tried not to dwell on how tight your voice sounded or how it even hurt just to utter that. A complete opposite to how smooth and natural it had been when you answered his invitation to his office earlier. You weren't even sure why you hadn't expected this to be the reason for such a request. You were so naive then . . .

You tried to push through the pain, tried add on, "I'm just --" but stopped almost immediately. You had no idea what to continue with. Fuck, you were fucking this up so badly! You seriously began to contemplate just standing up and leaving, but then where would that get you?

You still lived here, in the Abbey. Avoiding a Papa was virtually impossible at the end of the day. There was no way you two could carry on as though nothing had ever happened -- the flirting, the gazes, all that junk . . . Oh, Satanas, would you need to relocate? Uproot the life you'd finally managed to create for yourself here, sent off somewhere else just to hide the humiliation of what you were and what you had or hadn't done?

Satan, why did it feel so hot in here? Was that why the air suddenly feel like it was only oozing into your lungs with difficulty?

Clearly, Secondo did not take the silence well. His lips pressed into a thin line. "If I have insulted you, Sorella, I deeply apologize." No . . . "I thought you were aware of my practices." No!! He reached a large, ringed hand out to pull the items back towards him. And somehow, that was the final straw, the final snap before the dam collapsed.

It was like watching your last chance for something being taken away from you, even of your own accord! In fact, it was exactly that: Something you knew was necessary but it didn't have to be that way but fuck, your body and mind were at odds with each other and making it your problem and --

You hadn't even noticed that you'd turned into a crying, hiccuping mess, much less one that talked. It was only when you could see through your tears an actually surprised-looking Secondo (he was capable of shock?!) that you comprehended just what sort of state you were in.

And if it was enough to make the most emotionally constipated man in the Church look disquieted, then you must've been in a sorry state. The room only felt more hot as the burn of embarrassment enveloped you. You hoped it might even consume you in a full-throttle case of spontaneous human combustion as you struggled to swallow back up everything you'd just done.

"I-I-" you hiccuped wetly. It was so hard to formulate words underneath his gaze, which he never took off of you even as he reached for a box of tissues to offer you. You knew it was one of concern, searching for traces that maybe you needed help he couldn't offer you. But for the state your mind was currently in, it twisted it into one of disgust; like maybe all those affections he might've held for you an hour ago were being replaced with ones where all he saw was a madwoman.

It was almost too much. But it was also too late to go back now, wasn't it?

"I . . . My body doesn't work right," you finally admitted in a croaked murmur. Your eyes flew down to your lap in shame, watching your hands twist and tear at the wet tissues you'd just used. "It's a condition. Like my body clenches up down there at the mere thought of penetration. So . . . So sex is off the table, basically. I'm s-sorry . . ."

God, it sounded all so lame when you said it like that. But what else could you really do? How could you communicate to him the physical and mental pain it all caused you? How could you get across to him the embarrassment that came with pap smears, the shame you felt when recognizing how behind your peers you were? Would he sympathize or pity you if he learned that on a good day, you could get the very tip of a well-lubricated q-tip in and have to consider that a victory?

You weren't able to even formulate such thoughts, let alone predict how he might feel besides, perhaps, disappointment. Maybe even disgust.

Secondo liked the finer things in life, after all: How must he feel, knowing he'd wasted so much time and energy on something that was actually broken the whole time?

"I . . . I'm so sorry." At this, your fidgeting froze, your mind beckoning for you to glance up even the slightest. In doing so, even from such an awkward angle, you could see your Papa's expression remain nearly unchanged from before. It was still worried for you, though now with a touch of something more. "I can't imagine how difficult a spot you must've felt you were in . . . And for that, I apologize."

You gave a wobbly expression born of appreciation but also acknowledging the silliness of the sentiment. You gently huffed at the absurdity, "Don't apologize, you couldn't have known." A soft shrug allowed you to upright your position better. "If anything, I'm the one that should apologize. I should've said something in the beginning . . ."

At this, the older man shrugged back. "Perhaps, but I also can understand how uncomfortable that might've made you feel. Telling someone something so intimate can be difficult. Especially if it is like . . . Well." He gestured between the both of you.

You gave the smallest of chuckles (albeit, out of a desperate need to tenderize the mood) as you twisted the shredded pieces of napkin in your lap once more. Yet again, your eyes diverted from their connection with his. "Yeah, well, at least you would've known whether or not to waste time on me."

At that, the mood seemed to slightly change. You didn't feel threatened, but you knew that the breed of seriousness had shifted somewhat. Almost reprimanding. The eyes of Papa Emeritus II were just as intimidating out of the papal paints as they were in them, it seemed.

"I can assure you, Sorella," his normal nature of calmness returned, all traces of hesitancy from moments ago completely evaporated. "I don't see any of the time or what we've done together as a waste. If you have had any partners in the past that might've felt the opposite, then I sympathize greatly with you. But I also know that means you have no experience with anyone worth your time. That is, perhaps, the most disappointing thing of all here."

Damn. What do you even say to something like that? What could you say to something like that? Under normal circumstances, you might've argued in unfortunate defense of past failed connections, pinning the blame on you. After all, that's what made the most sense. or at least, it had. Until now, with the metaphorical mirror being propped up before you by one insistent Papa.

The room fell into silence as you searched for a response -- if you even needed to make one.

"Do you still want me?"

You almost jolted. You hadn't been expecting that to be what broke the silence.

"I . . . Well, yes. Of course I do, Papa." And you did. But . . . "But I don't know if --"

"I didn't ask for specifics, piccolina. I asked you: Do you still want to be with me?"

You struggled with a punctuated inhale. "Yes."

He hummed single low note before taking back the documents and pen. You watched curiously (and perplexedly) as he began to scribble and draw lines at seemingly random places. After what had felt like an eternity, he finally slid the packet back to you.

"Take a look. It's the roughest of drafts, of course, but we can properly revitalize it as needed. If you wish to make further retractions or additions, I give you the freedom to apply them."

Your brow furrowed as you picked up the papers for inspection. Of course, your eyes were immediately drawn to the instances of green ink that now freckled the paragraphs but you took especial time dialing it back and reading in full what these adjustments were meant to even mean.

Acts concerning penetration had been removed or adjusted as necessary, acts concerning outercourse or fondling had been either emphasized or added and asterisked.

"But . . . But Papa, I can't ask you to take away from your own pleasure," you objected. It was bad enough you'd strung him along, even if he argued that you hadn't. This was still quite a lot to grapple with in under ten minutes.

At this, Secondo cracked the first hint of amusement he'd had this entire session. He smirked as he reclined back in his hair. "And what, pray tell, makes you think I wouldn't derive pleasure from doing any of these things, piccolina?"

Porn, smut, the stories kiss-and-tell Siblings would often share in the cafeteria or in the hallways or the quad. Reddit posts.

"Well, I mean," you tried to argue. "They were there for a reason, weren't they? You enjoy those things." You ignored how the smirk on his face only seemed to grow. Hm. Maybe your words didn't have as much umph to them as you'd thought? Still, you continued. "A-and besides: I can't imagine you'd get off as easily from --" You glanced down at a word he'd scribbled in. " -- thigh jobs."

The low chuckle that rumbled from his chest settled your failure of a one-sided debated.

"Oh, Sorellina: You have much to learn about my proclivities," he sighed. "I understand that what the others might talk about may paint a certain picture of me. But I can assure you, any lover worth his salt should know that just shoving their dick into something is far from the end all, be all."

"And besides." The chair squeaked as he leaned in, hands folded on the dark wood of the desk. "It takes a true lover to relish in pleasure's many forms. I am more than happy to show you this, if you will let me."

It didn't matter that you had heard him say and gesture far cruder things: Just the words coming from his lips -- lips you had craved the taste of ever since your first sampling mere days ago -- coupled with the sincerity of his unbreaking eye contact. Your face was once again awash with a heat, a pleasant one born from blush.

You wanted to let him. You'd let him do whatever he could with you. You just needed to . . . let him.

Your body made picking up the pen feel weightier than it could've possibly been. But in a way, you were used to it: You were used to fighting your body and mind, always losing the battle so that they and their anxieties could be pacified while the other parts of you remained barren. Unsatisfied, with the conviction that it was only your burden to bear.

You didn't want a story to tell or even a milestone to complete so that you could better fit in with your peers: You just wanted to be understood. Or at least, like you wouldn't get left behind, chained by your own body and mind's complications.

As you stared at the green ink that formed your name on the pristine white paper, you felt a tightness in your throat. Never before had you felt so liberated . . .

[hystixia]

OXYTOCIN.

SUMMARY 、YOU’RE THE LAST PERSON DR. WILSON COULD TURN TO IN HOPES OF GETTING JEFF TO TALK, BUT YOU WERE NEVER QUITE PREPARED FOR THE MONSTER THAT IS JEFFREY MASON.

FEATURING 、JEFF MASON X F!READER

WARNINGS 、MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF KILLING, GORE, DEATH, NONCON, THREATS, MANHANDLING, HAIR PULLING, DEGRADATION, SPANKING, PUSSY SLAPPING, DACRYPHILIA, CHOKING, FORCED ORGASM, CREAMPIE, PERV!JEFF

NOTES 、his chuckles during the sessions >>>

The sight of Clarence’s exhausted face tugs at your heartstrings as you approach him and he sighs tiredly. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Dr. Wilson?” You ask quietly, you knew how taxing this job can be on the mind.

He hums, surprised for a moment before turning and looking at you and his face instantly softens as his eyes crinkle in a small smile. “Please, no need to be so formal with me.” You seem to relax a bit at that before he continues, “I’m having trouble getting one of our patients to talk. I’ve tried everything I could possibly think of, he’s just… not very cooperative.”

“Is it the same one?” You ask with curiosity and Dr. Wilson nods with a small hum, glancing at the folder in his hand.

“Yes, he’s proving to be difficult for even me to handle, I will admit.” He gives you a small look as if he’s contemplating on something before finally speaking up in a rather hesitant tone, “Pardon me for asking you such a thing but, you wouldn’t oppose trying to take a crack at him would you?”

You blink a few times, surprised he was actually asking you to take a shot at getting the patient to open up. Your lips curl up in a smile as your eyes sparkle. “Do you really mean it?”

He shrugs, returning your smile with a tired one of his own. “I don’t see why not. You’re exceptionally well at your job and I don’t doubt you could get at least something from him.” He opens the file but stops halfway and looks back at you again. “I should warn you though, he’s awfully crude and violent. During my sessions with him I learned early on that he enjoys trying to get under your skin.” You nod at his words, listening carefully and remembering each thing he said before he opened the file and placed it on the desk, showing you the profile of the patient and your eyes widen a bit at the two photos clipped to the paper that held information and details on the man.

Jeffrey Mason. The name instilled fear in a large majority of people in Forest Lawn, especially those that lost loved ones the night he took so many innocent lives. It pained you, the grief they had to bear after receiving terrible news that following morning and you consider yourself lucky you nor your friends and family were ever in his harmful way. You’re relieved to know he’s here, where he can’t hurt anyone and is restrained all the time.

The two photos, one of him before the accident and one after when he had been arrested. Despite him being held here for two years now, you’d never known anything about him besides what terrible things he had done. He looked rather normal in the before photo, but there was a dark look in his eye that made you think otherwise. The second photo was a horrific sight of its own. His burned face, the carved smile that nearly reached his ears and that animalistic look in his eyes that made your skin crawl. He looked much more like a monster in that photo and you consider he thinks he is one himself.

You give Dr. Wilson a glance as you straighten your posture. “When is the next session, Dr. Wilson?”

He chuckles quietly. “I’ve been spending less and less time on him since I have other patients to attend to, but you can start as early as next week I’d suppose.”

You give him a determined look and puff out your chest a little as you grab your things and prepare to leave for the day much like he was himself. “I will get words out of him, Doctor. I can promise you that.”

He laughs a bit at your determination as he grabs his own things and prepares to leave soon. “I have no doubt that you will.”

The next week comes surprisingly quick but maybe that’s because you were itching to try and attempt to get something out of the patient. If Dr. Wilson was struggling that surely meant you’d have a lot of trial and error yourself but you have the patience to handle any patient that’s been given to you. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard right?

“You can bring him in now.” You call out and soon after the large door squeaks and groans as it’s opened and the sound of chains jingling and clinking meets your ears as the noise bounces off the walls of the small room.

Your head turns immediately at the sudden sounds as a guard brings the patient in and Jesus he was so much scarier in person. You swallow the lump beginning to form in your throat and as hard as you tried to listen to Dr. Wilson’s words, the guy definitely intimidated you by just his presence alone.

His heavy breathing leaves uncomfortable goosebumps along your skin as you watch him practically be dragged into the room and sat in the chair. The guard clicks something on the cuffs around his hands and you realize he’s locked him to the table. At least he isn’t able to move around thankfully. His feet are chained together, leaving him very little room to move one foot in front of the other and you try to keep your gaze off him as he stares at you with those sickening eyes of his.

You clear your throat and look up at the guard, straightening your posture to appear more confident. “You can go, it’s fine.” You say and he nods before eyeing the patient chained up who’s carved smile seems to widen as he stares over and back up at the man before he’s walking out of the room and closing the loud door behind himself.

You look down at the file before you and then glance at the record player currently spinning as it records. You sigh through your nose and slowly lift your eyes up to look at his face only to see him staring back with an animalistic hunger.

“Jeffrey Mas—“ “It’s just. Jeff.” He emphasizes with a hint of aggression to his voice. You’d never heard him speak before, and you certainly hadn’t expected his voice to sound so raspy and deep.

You correct yourself, ignoring the way your heart jumped up in your throat for a moment. “Right. Jeff, we’re going to talk about you for a little while.” You sit up straight again and look down at the file to distract yourself from his eerie stare.

He breathes out a chuckle, “Heh, what do you want to know about me then?” He’s mocking you and his heavy breaths like some wild animal are starting to get to you. Now you’re realizing why Dr. Wilson had such difficulties with this guy.

You rest your forearms on the table, leaning in a bit as you stare at him and try to get over your nerves. You needed to be professional, why was it proving so difficult to do suddenly? “What were you like growing up?” You’ll start off simple, ask basic questions any other doctor or therapist would ask.

He scoffs and you swear you saw his tongue peak out the side of his carved cheek. “Angry. Really fuckin’ angry.” His eyes are casted downward no longer looking at your face and you frown a bit, you tap your finger against the table to get his attention and his eyes immediately flick up to yours.

“I need you to focus, Jeff. This is serious.” “Is that why your tits are on display?” You’re stunned, blinking a few times to process his words before staring down at your shirt. It’s merely one button that hasn’t been buttoned up with the rest, you can barely even see the line of your cleavage and he had the nerve to say such an inappropriate thing to you?!

“That is highly inappropriate, Jeff.” You suddenly snap, becoming defensive but all he does is laugh, the sound reaching your ears and reverberating off the walls.

“Oh, c’mon, doctor.” He mocks. “They were beggin’ for some attention.” He speaks in a low voice that sends shivers down your spine, his tone is sinister before he breaks out in another manic laugh, giggling to himself.

“I need you to cooperate with me.” You sigh, sitting back in your chair and he rolls his eyes as he huffs. The chains jingle as he leans in over the table.

“What if I don’t want to cooperate with you?” He spats out, suddenly hostile and it’s like a game of hot potato for you only you never know when he’s going to switch up on you.

“I’m here to help you, Jeff.” You say in a calm and soft tone, trying to not let his refusal at cooperating get under your skin.

He scoffs, an airy chuckle ringing out. “Heh, you can help me out by undoing these cuffs.” He cackles, throwing his head back as he tugs on the handcuffs circled around his wrists and attached to the restraints keeping him in the chair.

You press your lips in a thin line before responding curtly, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Oh, well that’s too bad isn’t it, doll?” He tilts his head, that crazed look in his eyes that makes you feel small and naked under his stare. It makes your skin crawl but you’re determined to help him, if there’s any chance he’s even salvageable.

You hum quietly to yourself, looking over at the recorder before sighing through your nose and attempting again. “Jeff, I need you to be open with me and answer my questions, please.”

He chuckles again. “Beg me again and maybe I will.” God if you could punch him in his disgusting face you would right now. You don’t dwell on it for too long, you know he’s just trying to get reactions from you.

“Will you please cooperate with me?” It’s silent save for his breathing. You try again, “Please, Jeff?”

“Ooh, I like it with you beg.” He grins, breathing out creepily as he watches you. He moves a bit in his seat and the restraints clink loudly with his movements. “You wanna know something fun?”

“I’m not quite sure I know what your definition of fun is.” You watch him carefully, looking for any signs he might try something but he seems relaxed for the most part as he leans back against the chair.

“I’ve pictured all the ways I’m going to rip you limb from limb, and then watch you bleed out.” He smiles, mangled scars twisted up as he does so. “It’ll be a sight to behold, seein’ you lying in a pool of your own blood.”

You try to not let it affect it. You clear your throat and give him an uninterested look. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere, Jeff Mason.” He continues to laugh like a crazed man, eventually coming down as he sighs. “When did the ringing and visions start?”

“What visions?” He nearly spats out, leaning back in the chair as the restraints jingled loudly again.

“You’ve mentioned in previous sessions with Dr. Wilson that you, saw what’s coming. When did this start?” You ask, noting his behavior on the clipboard momentarily as you gave him time to think of an answer.

He sighs dramatically. “What do you think?” He snarls and you give him an unbothered look back.

“It doesn’t matter what I think, Jeff.” You reply in a soft voice like before, he seemed to be more keen to a certain extent when you talked gently but maybe you were just desperate to get this over with now and were trying everything multiple times.

“Well, aren’t you just a doll, huh?” He grins, eyes glued to your face and the way he’s looking at you makes you want to gag.

“Jeff,” You have to get him back on track whether he wants to or not. You sigh deeply through your nose and look down at the clipboard where you’re written various notes. “We aren’t getting anywhere unless you cooperate with me.”

“Oh, but we are.” He chuckles, tilting his head as he leans over the table but there’s suddenly something different about him this time and you tense up as if he’s got you at knife point. He breathes out forcefully through his nose like he’s calming himself from falling into a fit of rage. “You wanna know somethin’ else, doctor?”

You’re hesitant, giving him an unsure look as you shrink back in your chair just the slightest. “And what’s that, Jeff?”

He lets his head turn down as he laughs, turning into a full blown manic cackle as his shoulders shake like he heard the best joke ever. He raises his head again but this time the room is heavy with an unknown aura as his eyes lock onto yours. “That guard, is real lousy about checkin’ the restraints.” His smile widens, an evil glint in his eyes as a loud metal shriek rings out and you hear something clink against the ground. He’s already reached you before you can react and you try to scream out but his hand slaps over your mouth to muffle your noises as his breath is hot against the shell of your ear and he tugs you out of the chair roughly.

“Screamin’ like an animal caught in a trap, heh.” He slams you into the metal table and it feels like you’re spinning. Pain blooms in your head, throbbing your entire skull until he lifts your head up by your hair and slams your face back into a table a few more forceful times. You cough out and wheeze a breath, wincing in pain as it clouds your entire system and you’re unable to truly focus your eyes on anything.

“S-stop—“ You gasp out, hands gripping into the edge of the table as tears flood your vision and you fight back a sniffle.

He hums happily from behind you, grabbing your waist tight as he gets a feel of you before letting his hands slide down to the curve of your ass and he groans.

“Y’know,” He starts, hooking his fingers in your belt loops but you’re in too much of a daze to comprehend his actions as he starts to pull your pants down. “I think you might just be mine now, doll.”

You whine in protest, unable to form words properly and you try to push yourself up off the table but he shoves you into it with his arm against your back making you grimace in discomfort.

“Fuck, what a nice ass.” He groans with a hissed breath, already having pulled your pants down to bunch up at your knees that are practically limp as he forces his way between them. He rubs a hand over your ass before slapping it hard, the sound reverberating off the walls as you cry out in shock and pain. He chuckles behind you and does it again and again, and again.

“Stop i-it!” You cry out, biting your lip hard to distract from the raw pain tingling in your rear as you lie pathetically on the table.

“Why should I?” He jabs a finger against your clothed cunt, it’s uncomfortable as hell and clumsily pushed against your heat. “You’re fuckin’ wet from this? Dirty bitch.” He grins before giving your pussy a loud slap that sends a bolt of electricity through your body that made you squeak.

“Oh you like that, huh? Just a filthy bitch waitin’ to get her cunt fucked?” He mocks with a sneer, tugging your panties to the side and groaning at the shiny slick your pussy drools. “You are gettin’ off to this, doctor. Isn’t that unprofessional?” You wanted to scream at him, to kick him off you so you could run to the door before he ever did anything more vile to your body but it’s as if your limbs have gone numb and you’re no longer able to move them. You’re trapped and as the realization nestles itself into your heart and mind, you feel hopeless in the moment as tears start to fall and you cry silently against the table.

He spreads your pussy, forcing your legs to move further apart so he could get a good look before he’s fumbling with the orange slacks he wore and tugging his aching cock from its confinements. He groans as he pumps it a few times, mushroom tip leaking beads of precum before he’s nudging it against your cunt and pushing in without warning. You nearly shriek but he wraps a hand around your throat cutting off your airway completely as he forces his thick girth into you with a low groan.

“So fuckin’ tight, relax will ya?” He grunts out, jaw clenched tight as he bottoms out and your pussy pulses and constricts around his intruding length. It burned achingly so, and it felt like you were being ripped apart. It was agonizing and you cry as he loosens his hold on your neck and you finally get an intake of air, inhaling like a greedy and starved woman as you pant against the table.

He pulls you up and back by your hair and your arms instinctively push on the table to keep yourself upright and to dull the pain in your scalp from his tugging. He doesn’t release the grip he has on your hair though as he pulls back and then slams forward into you brutally and knocking the air from your lungs. You nearly fall forward, arms shaky and your feet barely reaching the ground as he uses you.

“Shit, are you cryin’?” He tugs your head to the side and you unfortunately get a glimpse of his face as he groans at the tears falling down your face before making you look forward again. “Fuckk, keep crying like that, you fuckin’ slut.”

You sob but not because he wants you to, no you wish you could stop the hiccuping breaths and warm tears but the pain in your entire body is too much to handle and along with the rough thrusts he’s doing, you feel like your head is gonna pop any second.

His hips snap loudly into your ass and he tugs your underwear down enough to see the handprints he left behind on the swell of your ass as he smiles and tugs on your hair again to hear a pained whimper fall from your lips.

“What a slutty fuckin’ cunt, huh? Sucking me in, you wanted this.” He grunts, your soft walls squeezing him so perfectly were starting to get to him and he could feel his cock twitch inside of you. He lets go of your hair and grabs you by your neck once again and squeezes it, feeling your pulse thump at a fast rate against his digits.

“Filthy whore, ‘m gonna dump my load into ya. Heh, you’re gonna take it like a good bitch aren’t ya?” He chuckles, voice strained as he digs his fingers into your neck and his other hand that was gripping your hip slides down your stomach and rubbing at your clit. Your hands instantly go to stop him and he holds you up by your neck and you’re forced to take short and shallow breaths as your hands try to pry his hand away from your sensitive bundle of nerves but the warmth and addictive pleasure that twists and churns in your gut makes your eyes roll back.

“Yeah, that’s it. Just give in, let me— ngh, fuckin’ use you, you dumb rapeslut.” His face tenses up as your walls flutter around him and he laughs. “Gonna cum from rape? Try to stop it then, c’mon. You can do it, doll.” He mocks with a grin but your body betrays you and your walls contract around him as you cream around his cock but he keeps thrusting, unrelenting and unstoppable as he groans at the feeling and chases his high.

“Good fuckin’ rapedoll, huh?” He’s just humiliating you even more now and you sob out as you beg and babble.

“S-stop it, Jeff!— haah, d-don’t do it, please!” You cry pathetically, trying to pull away from him but you’re pinned and it’s useless to try and stop him. He was a fucking monster. “Pull o-out, ngh— oooh!”

He snarls, squeezing your throat so tight you can’t breathe again as he ruts into you like an animal, each brutal thrust bumping your cervix painfully. “I’m cum where I fuckin’ want to, bitch.” He spats, slapping your ass hard but you can’t gasp for breath, you couldn’t fucking breathe.

You open your mouth pathetically as your hands grab at his wrist to pry off his hold on your throat but it’s pointless. He groans behind you and shortly after his thrusts grow sloppy and warmth floods your cunt. Your eyes widen in fear and you try to scream out but no sound leaves you as tears flood your vision, blurring it once more. He laughs like a maniac behind you as he stills his hips and grinds purposefully into your sensitive walls before pulling out and letting your panties keep his cum from spilling out and making a mess.

He pulls away from you, lets you gasp like a fish out of water for a few moments and with what little dignity you had left you manage to tug your pants back up right before he forces that door open and lunges at the guard with a crazed chuckle.

You don’t remember much of what happened after that. You remember seeing him bash the guard’s head into the wall and then violently punching another one to death. Your eyes grow heavy and your body lies weakly against the table as you watch him disappear down a hall, covered in blood before your consciousness slipped away.

[angelicglib]

‧₊✩ Christmas Comfort ✩₊‧

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 (REPOSTED: 28/12/23)

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3,252

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: This is my first story here, please be kind I beg <3 also very sorry for this but I had the idea and thought it would be quite a bittersweet story for the holiday season !!

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot) so, if you would like more stories from me, my new blog is @manicrouge !!

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve. 

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

When you were talking on the phone earlier, sometime during the middle of November, he had made a comment that he wasn’t going to come back home until he had made sure he had the pleasure of declaring that the enemy that had murdered his best friend was officially gone for good. While your chest tightened at his comment, you had nodded along and assured him that they would catch Makarov eventually; there were only so many places one man could hide before he’d revert back to familiar ground. 

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.  

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

Despite his capability in combat, however, you often find yourself awake at night wondering just how capable he was when it came to processing and dealing with loss. Had he done what you assume he has done, he was most likely going to run from it instead of addressing it. Problems will build up and up until they came tumbling down. It’s a simple thought to construct during the late nights you have been spending alone since the news of what had happened to Johnny had found its way to you. Just as such a thought is easy to construct, you find that another one comes to you quicker than the former: where would Simon be when the building he’d constructed over the years fell to pieces? 

There were only so many places he man could hide before he’d refer back to familiar ground. Even if said ground was crumbling around him. Maybe in his misery, he would find solace in falling to his doom with the chunks of shattered earth surrounding him.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

You have very little to go off of concerning with how he dealt with loss, the occasional comment about his mum was enough for you to know that he wasn’t the type to completely forget about a loved one. 

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better. 

‘You keep pawing an’ clawing at my brain like a damn puppy,’ he said, trailing his hands through your hair. You were guilty, for sure you were. Curiosity was sure to be the death of you in that regard. He’d let small facts slip on occasion, although, you knew his accidental slip ups were most definitely intention. 

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

’Just tell me something,’ you begged, ‘like… I don’t know, what was your favourite food to eat at Christmas when you were younger? Ooo, I bet it was something like liquorice. You’d so make your nan pissed by robbing all the good shit out of the sweet tin.’ You laughed at the thought of a tiny Simon Riley climbing on top of a chair, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to snatch the sweet, sweet treat of liquorice. 

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’ 

‘No,’ he reverted back to the same Simon you had seen when Johnny had been talking his ear off during the rare nights out you had had with 141. ’Now go t’ sleep, gonna be tired in the morning if you keep rambling on. My ears are burning with ya, doll,’ he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. 

Despite everything telling you to pull away from him, you maintained your closeness, the warmth of him far too appetising to refuse. Exhaling deeply, you rested your head against the pillow, staring straight at the wall in front of you. Your heart hurt at the very thought that he cared so little about his past that he fought to keep everything from his earlier life away from you. Even the smallest things. Of course, you would never had pried him, only the few passing comments in hopes for him to slip up as he had done a few times before. 

Another hard sigh escaped you as you close your eyes. He shifted behind you, resting his head against your shoulder. You thought nothing of his sudden movement; it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so while you were sharing a bed together. Only, he turned his head, his breath ghosting your ear. Inhaling, he swallowed hard. ‘Mum used to make us roast dinners,’ he whispered, ‘used to always slap my hand away whenever she was cooking cause I used to always rob the pigs-in-blankets while she was still getting dinner ready.’

A small laugh passed your lips as you turned in his hold, placing your hand against his cheek with a cheeky grin. He stares back, blue gaze gutting through the darkness, slicing your soul to pieces.  ‘Now, will y’ stop huffin’ and puffing and just go to sleep?’ He asked, placing his hand over yours. 

‘Soundly, Lt.’

Even behind the mask, you could sense the sadness, the loss. A flurry of emotions hits you when you first see him after what has happened. What can you say to him? Anything other than I’m sorry seems to be an insult to him and to the memory of the man that is sure to haunt him.

The mask hides his face, but it never hid his eyes, his tired and war-weary eyes. It's a brutal sight to see the man who had put the fear of God through you when you had first met reduced to this crushed soul. 

‘Simon,’ you say after a while of the pair of you just standing there, staring at each other. For a brief moment, it felt as though you had opened the door to a stranger instead of your boyfriend. Lifting his head, his Adams apple bobs beneath his balaclava as he steps forward. You take a step back, letting go of the edge of the door. Still, he doesn't speak, only standing there, observing you. ‘I thought you said you weren’t coming home until—‘

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

His clothes are branded with the stench of war, and you take note of his bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? You thought it impossible for such to be the case, he’d do no such thing. But, when he shakily inhales, grabbing the edge of his balaclava, your stomach dropped.

‘Place looks nice,’ he says, though his eyes don't leave you, ripping his mask from off of his face, shoving it into of his cargo pants. His words were shaky despite the stoic expression on his face. ‘You been alright?’

You look at him with wide eyes. ‘I- uh- yeah, yeah, just sorting out last minute things for Christmas,’ you answer, ‘how about you go and get a shower, get changed into some fresh clothes? I’ll make you something to eat—‘

‘Not hungry,’ he answers frankly, ‘appreciate the offer, doll, but I think I’m just gonna go straight to bed,’ he says. All the moisture in your mouth disappears and you’re forced to swallow a dry mouthful of air as you look up at him. 

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer you after that, dropping his duffle bag down on the ground by the front door as he traipses up the wooden steps of your home. The garland wrapped around the bannister winks at you as you watch Simon walk up the stairs, almost mocking you for ever think it was a good idea to decorate.

The entirety of your house is wrapped like a Christmas present, reds, greens, colourful lights- everything. Whether it was the right thing to decorate or not, you choose not to focus on it too much as you rush around the house, switching off the decorations and the lights, leaving the washing you had been doing on the counter in the kitchen. 

All of it can wait. But he can’t. 

So, with such a thought in mind, you busy yourself with your plan. What is included in that plan can be decided as you’re walking through the house, back to the staircase you have just seen your poor boyfriend walking up.

Jogging up each step, you decide that ultimately, everything that has happened in the past few months with be something he will not be willing to discuss with you; he made it clear when he walked through the door. Don’t push him on it.

When your foot hits the last step, you nod to yourself as you consider what you would do if he did want to talk to you about it. If he wants to talk to you about it, then you rejoice in his openness. But it isn’t necessary for him to have your undying support. No matter what he decides, ultimately, your heart is never going to fail on him. 

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips. 

Mum &lt;3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

Begrudgingly, you stare down at the message before looking at the bedroom door. From beyond it, you can hear the running water in the shower and all you can think about is him. So, with a deep breath, you look back down at your phone and begin to type. 

From ‘me’: Slight change of plans but I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it there tomorrow. Simon’s just got home and he’s not good. Don’t think socialising is what he needs right now. Sorry, I love you xx

Choosing has never been easy, yet, when you pushed open the bedroom door and saw his clothes sitting on the bed the pair of you share, you decide that that choice was the easiest one you have ever made in your life. It isn’t a sacrifice when it is necessary. At least, not when it comes to Simon at least. 

--

‘I’m not going home tomorrow,’ you tell him when he walks out of the bathroom. Part of you feels bad for bombarding him with something as soon as he walks out, but the affirming text from your mother causes your heart to swell, and when you see him again, it bursts. His hair is damp and he pulls his face out of the towel with a surprised look. His scarred cheeks are branded with a subtle red tinge from the heat exuding from the bathroom. The heat works well to melt his features just enough for him to mould them into a dissatisfied sneer. ‘I don’t wanna fight you on this, Si.’

‘You can’t cancel on your family,’ he says, approaching his dresser. ‘Not right. I don’t want you to do that for me,’ he continues, grabbing a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. ‘Go spend time with them, am fine here.’ 

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Oddly, you request of not fighting on it seemingly works as he looks over his shoulder at you. There is simply no fight left in Simon Riley anymore, you conclude it from the way he shrinks as he exhales, padding up to the bed. It was as though he had left the house as a grenade left the hands of a soldier. Upon his return, the body of what made him him: his danger, his determination, and his strength had all been lost and you find he has been reduced to the pin pulled from the grenade. 

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

Pulling the edge of the duvet, you pat the side of the mattress, ‘c’mon,’ you say gently. He doesn’t wait to climb into bed beside you, resting his weary head against the pillow. It’s as though someone is pressing down on his chest as he heaves a sound unlike anything you have ever heard. Exhaustion was clear, but grief was easier to identify in his eyes. Leaning over, you turn the lamp on your beside off, trying your attention to him, lying on his side. 

There’s nothing to say. Not to him, not for him, not for yourself. You just lay there and stare at him hoping something will come to you. Anything said will be a bittersweet lullaby, you’re convinced. Nothing is going to put him to sleep. ‘Your minds running; faster than mine, sweetheart,’ he says. His eyes are closed when you look at his face. ‘Don’t want you doin’ stupid things ‘cause of me.’

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

At this point, you heart is racing, your tongue tangled as you contemplate every single word on the edge of your tongue. ‘Mum said she’ll bring us dinner tomorrow,’ you say with a weak smile, debating on whether or not you should spoil the surprise. ‘We can eat it and watch something… if you want to.’

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

He’s quiet for a while, almost as though he doesn’t even want to think about what day it is. December 24th. Christmas Eve. You’re unsure how exactly the holidays work in 141, only noting that he had been away a few times during Christmas. Oddly, this is one of the first ones he’s home with you. His second Christmas since knowing Johnny that he isn’t with him. Your heart weakens at the realisation, your brain cursing you with the knowledge of something so agonising.

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

Your eyes well with tears and you close them. Your heart hurts for the man lying in front of you, and when you hear him clear his throat, you find it difficult to contain your own sorrow. ‘Doesn’t feel like Christmas,’ he tells you, his voice trembling as he does. ‘Haven’t slept at all since ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about him just… lyin’ there,’ his throat tightens and his tone grows pitchy as he inhales deeply, swallowing hard. ‘I shoulda done something, I should’ve been there f’r him.’ 

He’s crying at that point, but not sobbing. In fact, you only know he's crying because, when you place your hand against his cheek and the pad of your thumb wiped away a tear that falls past his eye. ‘You were,’ you choke out, ‘even in death, you were loyal to him, Si’, don’t you dare go cursing your own name for something you were not responsible for,’ you demand. ‘You’ll get him.’

‘We’re fallin’ apart without him,’ Simon sniffles, ‘bet he’s sitting up there pissin’ himself seeing me like this,’ he utters. The pair of you share a laugh at the thought and you move close to him. ‘I just… I told myself after everything that happened to mum and Tommy, I wouldn’t feel anything ‘cause that fucked me up, but then I met Johnny a- and I met you.’

You hold your breath. 

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

You press your thumb against his cheek, ‘doubt is a killer, and it’s not me who you’re not gonna be able to protect if you keep thinking the way you are, it’s yourself,’ you continue, licking your dry lips, ‘and… and if you die, then who’s gonna steal the pigs-and-blankets on Christmas Day?’ 

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows. 

Two goldfish are in a tank… 

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you. 

‘Always,’ you respond, ‘mums got them with the dinner tomorrow ‘cause I asked her too… said she got extra incase you planned on robbing any of them.’ You feel bad telling him such information knowing that you had chosen to cancel the holiday. If anything, you’re worried about the guilt you’re causing him by rambling on about the stupid fucking pigs-in-blankets. ‘My point is Si’,’ you take a deep breath, ‘I need you here with me so you can fulfil your duty.’

He shifts and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. Your hand brushes through his hair, melting in his arms as his hot breath fans against your neck. ‘Wanna see your family tomorrow,’ he says, ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘Are you sure—‘

‘’Ave been stuck in my mind for nearly two months,’ he confesses, pulling away from your neck. ‘Fighting with myself over everything, I’ve hardly spoken to Price or Gaz,' he says. You press your lips together, the thought of him being alone nauseating. ‘Be a waste of money as well if I didn’t try pinching the food your mums made, wouldn’t it?’ 

You feel him smile as he presses his face back against your neck, his grip on you so tight its almost painful. But you relent, allowing him to have the comfort he so deserves. Resting your head above his, you close your. Whatever awaited you in the future can wait, you conclude.

‘I proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

With that, the pair of you fall into silence. You don't sleep, not until you feel his breathing steady against you skin, the subtle rise of his chest as he keeps his arms around you. You keep running you fingers through his hair before eventually, you find your eyes growing heavy and you drift off.

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

[envysparkler]

“Do you really know Wonder Woman?” Jason asked, peering at the trophies that were spread throughout the Cave.  There were rows and rows of costumes, Batman and Robin both, and Jason was reminded all over again that Bruce had been doing this for years.  Jason didn’t remember a time before Batman, he’d seemed as ubiquitous as the smog that choked the streets right up until he’d slammed a tire iron into the mass of shadows and learned about the human underneath.  “I mean, personally?  Outside of crime fighting?”

He might’ve believed Batman knew Wonder Woman, but Bruce Wayne had always seemed like a bit of an idiot, and watching him attempt to blearily cut pancakes with a fork and spoon this morning had only confirmed it.

“Yes, Jason,” Bruce sounded amused from all the way over by the Batcomputer.  “I know Diana.  This is the fifth time you’ve asked me that question, by the way.”

Jason rolled his eyes.  So maybe it was, but he wasn’t convinced!  “I don’t know, B,” Jason said, wrinkling his nose up at a brilliantly colored peacock of a costume with a high, flared collar and a deep neckline.  “I’m still waiting on some proof.”

“Mh-hmm,” Bruce said.  “Is that what you came down here for?  To pester me into letting you meet Wonder Woman?”

“No!” Jason whirled on him in a tone of deep outrage.  That was a secondary goal, he just didn’t want to miss an opportunity.  “Alfred said you wanted to see me.”

Bruce blinked, before his face light up with comprehension.  “Oh, yes, I nearly forgot!  I have something for you.”  Jason trotted over to the Batcomputer to watch Bruce rummage through a stack of files.  He darted a quick glance at the computer, but whatever Bruce had been working on was closed.

The man hadn’t forbade him from entering the Cave after Jason had Figured Out the Secret—read: caught Bruce dressing the massive bruise across his stomach, which on its own wasn’t suspicious, but with Bruce’s wide-eyed look of guilt and surprise, assembled the pieces together—but Jason didn’t want to test the limits.  So far, he only wandered where Bruce let him, even though he was itching to get his hands on those bat-shaped throwing stars.

“Here,” Bruce emerged with an envelope, which Jason took with a healthy degree of wariness.  It was Gotham, where ordinary packages meant fear toxin or laughing gas or a hundred other deadly gags.  “Go on, open it!”

Jason considered it for another long moment, but decided that Bruce hadn’t rigged it to explode.  He opened the envelope and peeked inside.

“This is money,” Jason stated, staring at the cash.  The bills all looked like twenties, and there was at least twenty of them in there.  Probably closer to five hundred dollars.  He looked up at Bruce, who was smiling tentatively at him, and carefully didn’t touch any of the bills.  “Uh, what’s this for?”

“It’s an allowance.”

“An allowance?” Jason stared, puzzled at the envelope.  He’d heard of allowances—Sandra from next-door-before-he-lived-on-the-streets had gotten ten bucks each week for watching her baby siblings and Ty from the-first-foster-home had gotten some spending cash if he did his chores, but Mom never had the money to spare to pay Jason to help around the house.

Not a problem for a guy as rich as Bruce, but Jason hadn’t done any chores here.  Much less five hundred dollars’ worth of chores.

“Is it enough?” Bruce asked, looking concerned.  Enough?  Enough for what?

Before Jason could open his mouth to respond, the Batcomputer emitted a shrill alert and Bruce’s countenance changed completely, going from an open, soft smile, to something harder and focused.

“I’m sorry, Jason, I have to get this,” Bruce said, not looking away from the screen.  “Why don’t you head up for bed?  And let me know if you need more.”

Jason knew better than to interrupt him and he headed up the stairs as Bruce began speaking in a low voice to someone who sounded like Commissioner Gordon.  He didn’t realize he’d taken the envelope with him until he reached his room.

He set it down on his dresser.  Bruce hadn’t told him what he had to do to earn his allowance, and Jason didn’t want to touch it until he confirmed it wasn’t like, shoveling shit or something.  He’d ask him tomorrow.

But part of him was still warmed by the gesture.  Bruce was treating him like he was his real kid, not like a foster kid only around for a stipend or to look charitable in the eyes of other people.  Jason flopped down on his bed and considered, not for the first time, how lucky he was.

He had a huge mansion to live in, and he got to go to a fancy school starting Monday, and he apparently got five hundred dollars just for doing his chores.

[the-devils-girl94]

Reaction To Hearing That MC Has Been Injured Or Wounded: Dateables + Luke

((I finished up the version for the Dateables and added Luke as a bonus! Hope you guys enjoy!))

Diavolo:

• His reaction is less than princely. He can't believe you've been hurt in his realm, his kingdom. He spares no mercy in whoever is to blame for your injuries.

• He's so furious, so angry, that Barbatos has a hard time calming him down, even with reassurance that you're okay. The Prince's ire isn't something that can be easily quelled.

• He's swift to make changes to ensure nothing like this ever happens again. You're much to precious to lose, having stolen his heart along with the others.

• Even when his anger has subsided, he's filled with guilt and grief that he doesn't even think he could face you. He does with a push and shove from his butler and right hand man.

• When he sees you covered in bandages, his heart shatters at how fragile and vulnerable you look. He wants nothing more than to protect you.

• He takes charge in visiting you almost everyday, not even Barbatos can really stop him. (But he also understands and allows it.)

• He brings flowers, gifts, chocolates, and more to your bedside. Your room is filled to the brim with his presents that they overshadow the brothers.

• He vows that when you're all better, he'll take you on grand trip where it's just the two of you.

Barbatos:

• He knows that he saw it coming, but he still couldn't prevent you from getting injured.

• Though he's not one to show much emotion, he's beside himself with guilt and shame at failing to protect you.

• He almost can't bare to see you lying unconscious in your bed, heavily bandaged and the faint scent of your blood still staining your skin.

• From the moment you're injured, he's there by your side, taking care of your wounds by dressing and repressing them.

• He even asks for a bit of time off from the Young Master to see about you. Its the only way he can atone for his sin of not protecting you.

• As he dresses your wounds, he always leaves a kiss after the dressing is done. He's super affectionate when he's caring for you.

• Even before he leaves you for the day, he kisses your forehead and always reassures you that he'll be back tomorrow though he wears a pained expression as he says so because he doesn't want to leave in the first place.

Simeon:

• Hearing the news, he doesn't want to believe it. He rushed to where you are to confirm that it's not true and that you're fine, but when he's met by the silent brothers crowding around you and finally sees your unconscious body, he's overcome with an overwhelming emotion of grief.

• He silently cries by your bedside, holding your hand as he waits for you to wake up and smile again.

• He visits you everyday til you wake up and even volunteers to care for you until you can move and depend on yourself again. He'll even have majority of your stuff moved to Purgatory Hall, if possible, and have you stay in his room. It'd be much easier to look after you that way.

• He makes you meals, feeds you, and bathes you (though you are embarrassed about that last part).

• Plus he gets to see you smile as you recover and Luke gets to visit you everyday which is a plus.

Solomon:

• As soon as he hears the news, he rushes to go see you. To have lived for over a thousand years and still fear the loss of those close to him, he just wouldn't bear it if he lost you too. You're the only human he's gotten close to, knowing that human lives are fragile and fleeting.

• To see your injured body wrapped up in so many bandages and gauze, he's angry, crestfallen, and wondering if he can bare to still be around you, knowing that he'll live longer than you.

• It's only when you're awake that he perishes that thought and knows it would be foolish to distant himself when he has so many memories with you. But the fear of losing you in the blink of the eye has him rattled. (He might threaten Death to leave your soul alone so you can be immortal like him.)

• He also visits you everyday, much to the displeasure of the brothers.

• He often comes bearing gifts and stays well past midnight, leaving through your window once you fall asleep.

• He doesnt even tell you that he doesn't fall asleep when he leaves. Instead hes staying up in his room to make a potion that will heal all your wounds and scars.

• He succeeds but gets heavily scolded by you when you notice the bags under his eyes. He hugs you, saying that he'd do it all over again if it's for you.

Luke:

• He couldn't believe it. The tears would not stop until he knew you were okay, but even when you regained consciousness, he still couldn't stop crying.

• He never knew there would come a day where he would see just how fragile a human life can truly be. To see you in bandages and your skin marred with more scratches and deep cuts, he had never felt such fear and sadness grip him the way it did when he saw you that day.

• In his fear, he didn't visit you for a while because he thought that if he touched you, you would break and he would never see you again.

• He would have nightmares where he'd wake up and go to Simeon's room to cry. Its only when Simeon convinces him to go see you because you're sad that your favorite angel hasn't come to see you. And he decides to be strong for you.

• He doesn't stay strong for long because as soon as he saw you, the tears bubbled up again and he rushed to your side as soon as you opened your arms to him.

• He promised to never leave your side again and that he'll stay with you until you're all better.