#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.

[aeyumicore]

misty invasion - lost oasis

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: sylus x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some/little plot, porn with feelings, angst

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 4.5k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, spoilers AND alterations to ‘lost oasis’ (sylus’s misty invasion card), slight predator and prey, dom!sylus for the most part (though he shows vulnerability), use of Y/N, sub!reader but she teases doe, unprotected sex, cumming in coochie, against the wall sex, shower sex, hand play/kink, belly bulge, finger sucking, fingering, biting, slight angst, lots of hickeys (m! And f!receiving), allusions and predictions to sylus’s lore 

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | twitter art | xav's version | raf's version | zayne's version

━ ✧.˖ A/N: hiii second part of the misty invasion series is here <3 this time our very own birb – sylus! Next will be Xavier but I don't have a timeline for it! Could be 3 days could be a week :’) will try and keep you guys updated

Small Sylus rant, feel free to skip this and read the fic!

I have huge problems with the hypersexualization of Sylus, from the devs not from fans. I feel like the devs sometimes use him as fan service. I felt that was especially true in this card, the shower scene felt out of place and didn’t feel intimate because they’ve done far too little mc/sylus building and sylus lore. I wished the ending scene in the hammock was the cut scene, even if there was no spice. For that reason, I’ve SLIGHTLY altered the dialogue and memory, especially at the end. I added in some of my own angst, heavily influenced by predictions to Sylus’s lore I’ve seen on Twitter, especially the twitter art i linked above.

Don’t get me wrong I love Sylus. I just wish we got to see MORE of his lore and backstory, because you just KNOW it's tragic. His myth cards were nothing like the other 3 boys, and I feel like they have a lot of opportunities to help Sylus “catch up” to the other 3 LIs (could’ve done a event similar to Rafayel’s bday event, waited until they could release more main story, etc), but they haven’t utilized it well. I’m sure there’s a reason why (rushed timeline, leak threats. End of the day I understand it’s a business), but as a reader/user/fan it kinda sucks. And again, I KNOW it’s coming and it will be great. But because we haven’t seen enough yet, it makes his spicy scenes seem less intimate and more fan service-y. So I wanted to add just a sprinkle of Sylus angst and story here <3 It made me cry, I hope you guys love it as much as I loved writing it. 

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ .

There are moments in life where it really hits you.

That you’re in danger. 

Where your hair stands up on its ends and your legs itch with the need to bolt away. This felt like one of those moments. The way Sylus’s voice, throaty and deep, growled with evident hunger, his eyes watching you like a predator eyeing its prey. 

Only…this time, the goosebumps that painted your skin were from excitement, and the throbbing in your thighs was from desire and not fear. This time, the tight grip on your thighs, the imposing body against yours, holding you so possessively, only leaves you wanting more. 

Sylus’s arm is pushed against the wall behind your head, caging you in with his hard soapy body. His skin shines with water and the leftover suds of his shower, before the water had run out, leaving you with a wet and mischievous Sylus.

Your fingers languidly follow soapy suds that trail down his chest, not really actually wiping anything away. Sylus remains self-assured, smirking down at your shaking body as you touch him. You can feel goosebumps form where you touch him and it’s the only indication that the silver-haired man is close to losing it. 

His voice comes out deep and breathy, “Aren’t you going to do something about my hair?”

His smile is maddening, taunting you to touch him more. So you wrap your hands behind his shoulders, yanking him down to you. 

For a brief second, Sylus is taken aback, his lips parting with a surprised breath. But as quickly as it had come, Sylus composes himself. He lets himself be pulled to you, chuckling breathily. 

“Is that it, sweetheart?” 

Before you can respond, his arm releases the wall behind you. In an instant, his large hand is gripping the underside of your thighs, hoisting you up with one arm so that both your legs dangle off his strong arm, pressed against his hip. 

You yelp at the feeling of his large hands holding you against his wet and hard body, “What are you doing?! My clothes!” You can feel your deep red satin nightdress soaking up the sudsy water on his skin.

Sylus only laughs, sarcastic and deep, “Oh no. They’re wet. Now what?” 

You try to push him away, “Well you need to let me down first.” 

But Sylus doesn’t budge, shifting you so he can lean his free arm against the wall behind you, caging you in once more. Like a lost bird. 

“Doesn’t this mean you also need to learn how to humble yourself?” His cerise eyes are frustratingly playful, his eyebrows crinkled in amusement. 

You don’t respond, instead trailing your hand down his bare chest again. Your feather-like touch ghosts his collarbone, down to his thick pecs, that tremble deliciously under your fingers. From the strain of holding you up with one arm, or your touch alone, you’re unsure. 

You speak softly, trying to tease him into losing control, “I did, and this is what I see…” 

Your touch and suggestive words have Sylus breathing heavier. His pants come out raspily, sounding vaguely close to a moan. He nearly shivers at your touch, so absolutely enamored by the way your fingers claim him, barely able to withstand his primal urges to claim you.

His reaction fuels you with confidence, and you grin cheekily, “Oh? I guess I’ll have to be more gentle.” You let your hands explore more, stroking his down his marbled chest. 

Sylus grunts, his face turning away from you, contorted in tortured pleasure. His breath comes out in rapid desperate gasps. It’s so utterly rare for you to see Sylus in such a needy state, and you can’t help but tease him further. 

Your fingers touch his neck, enjoying the way Sylus is crumbling under your fingertips when normally it’s you coming undone for him, “How cute.” 

When your fingernail grazes his nipple, Sylus tenses up, a growl ripping from his throat.

He turns to you, squirming under your fleeting touch. “Hey,” he croaks. His voice is uncharacteristically hoarse, tense with desire.

“The soundproofing for this shower isn’t great. People might get the wrong idea if they hear us. At this rate, we could end up in a lose-lose situation.” 

But you continue, pinching his ear softly, grinning, “Tell me, who pinned you down and hit you?” 

Sylus’s smile falters. He knows you’re referring to the little boy from earlier, whom you’d been teaching how to fight against Wanderers, but he can’t help but think about the first time he’d been here at the desert oasis. Only that time, he was powerless. That time, he couldn’t protect you.

He quickly masks his brief moment of melancholy, smirking at you once more, “Oh, so class isn’t over yet.” You want to prod at his sudden shift in demeanor, but you can tell now's not the time. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Sylus holds your wrist gently, bringing your fist to his lips. His mouth pressing fleeting kisses to your knuckles, “Then can I trouble you some more…Miss?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, hoisting you back up onto his forearm, forcing you to wrap your arms around the back of his neck for balance. He carries you in one arm to the bathroom door, before he falters, hearing the patter of footsteps outside.

“On second thought, I’ll take my lesson in here.” He walks you back to the shower, shifting your legs so that they wrap around his hips. Your back is pressed against the wet wall, Sylus’s strong arms holding you in place. 

“What should you do…if a wanderer has you pinned down like this?” His voice is sultry and suggestive, darkened eyes daring you to teach him. 

You lift your chin proudly at his taunting challenge. Your fingers trace inexplicable shapes into his chest, your nails gently and purposefully grazing his nipples. At his sharp inhale you make your next move.

“I would…go for the neck, since that’s where they’re most vulnerable.”

Sylus’s adam’s apple bobs with the anticipation of your double-edged words, “Is that so, little bird?”

You nod with confidence, “Let me show you…” You kiss up his collarbone until you read his pulsing neck, brushing chaste kisses along his jugular. Sylus’s chest heaves, and you smile against his neck in satisfaction. 

“I can’t imagine this would be…effective against wanderers,” Sylus masks the unsteadiness of his wavering voice with a layer of arrogant amusement. 

Sylus’s chest heaves, and you smile against his neck in satisfaction. Enjoying having the upperhand, “No…just you.” You softly sink your teeth into the thick muscles of his neck.

Sylus lets out a string of harsh expletives, slamming you further into the wall, his grip on the underside of your thighs digging in harshly. You shiver at the feeling of the cold wet wall tiles pressing into your satin nightdress.

Sylus lets you have your way a little while longer, enjoying the way your rapid heartbeat pounds against his wet chest, your tongue lapping circles where your teeth had sunken in. His hands shift to grope your rear under your crimson red nightdress, squeezing the plush skin there as if you were his personal stress ball. His demanding fingers find their way to your bare pussy, spreading them apart with his index finger and thumb.

“What a bold hunter you are…taunting the enemy with no…protection.” 

His words are vaguely threatening and it makes you squirm. As his fingers toy with you, you sink your teeth deeper into him to hide your pathetically lewd whimpers. Sylus hisses at your teeth nearly breaking skin, a mix of pain and pleasure he is all-too familiar with.

“You’d better watch yourself, my little hunter,” Sylus coos in your ear, fingers finding your clit and pressing down harshly, “You never know what a beast stranded in the desert might do to you.”

His words remind you of the reason he’d invited you out to this desert oasis to begin with, the woman who’d found him, and why he was returning now. Before you can ask him, Sylus is bullying his index finger into you, sliding in so embarrassingly  effortlessly.

“What now, little dove? What would you do now?” Sylus nips at the crook of your neck, where your shoulder and throat meet. His words are hot and dangerous at the shell of your ear, his finger curling inside you to reach the spongy corners of your g-spot.

You force your words out with all the strength you have, not wanting to give Sylus the satisfaction of rendering you speechless, “I w-would never – nnghh – be in this s-situation.” 

Sylus chuckles, inserting another finger, “And yet…here you are. About to be devoured.”

The imminent threat in his words makes you clench, hard. How it was possible for the tables to turn this quickly, you’d never understand. Sylus grins when he feels your gummy walls pressing down on just two of his fingers, the quivers typically indicative of how close you are. 

He pushes you harder into the wall, lips finding your earlobes as he huffs out his words, “Look at you, my dear little hunter. So beautiful when you’re helpless.”

You whine indignantly at his condescending words, wanting to retaliate. With his lips at your ear, his neck is exposed before you and you take full advantage of his vulnerability. You sink your teeth back into his pulsing neck, knowing just how much pressure is enough to have him writhing for you. 

Sylus jolts, his fingers slipping out of you and his knee buckling slightly. His grip on your thighs tightening as he hisses out in surprise. He composes himself just as quickly, straightening up and bouncing you up to readjust his possessive grip on you. 

He pushes you back against the wall, his hard abdomen pressing into your pussy. You groan when you feel your wet lips spreading against his chiseled muscles, his body pressing so forcefully into yours, your arousal smearing against him.

His thumb and index finger take your chin into his grip, still wet with your slick, pulling your face towards his. His arrogant grin is as alluring as it is infuriating, his ruby eyes swirling with a dark amusement. 

“No more mercy, little bird.”

Sylus presses his lips to yours, his fingers tightening around your chin. His kiss is demanding, nearly suffocating, in a way that makes you reel with excitement and anticipation. It’s so torrid and feverish that you almost don’t notice his Evol unraveling your arms from around his neck, bringing them to his chest. He holds you steady with his one arm, and with the other he releases your chin, taking the two of your wrists into his single free hand. His hands are so large that even just one of his hands can envelope both your wrists. 

As his tongue probes the parting of your lips, he holds your wrists, bringing them up above your head and pinning them against the wall. His fingers play with your trembling ones, tracing the lines in your palm and grazing all the way up to your fingertips. 

You feel a brief shuffle and hear the faint thud of Sylus’s towel dropping to the floor, the scorching head of his cock prodding at your entrance. You gasp into his mouth when you feel him taking the base of his erection, stroking it against your clit. You screw your eyes shut at the deliriously delicious friction, moaning into Sylus’s mouth, his tongue claiming every corner of yours. 

Sylus pulls away, his breath coming out in short rapid gasps. He leans his forehead against yours, his fingers still enclosing yours, binding your wrists together against the cold shower wall. His proximity makes it so his warm breath fans across your swollen lips, the taste of him still on your tongue. 

He looks down at you, his crimson eyes smoldering against the heat he’s so desperately trying to keep at bay for you. If it were up to him, he’d have you splayed across his lap, screaming until the whole small town in the oasis could hear you. Unfortunately, pressed up against the wall whimpering for more would have to do.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

You stare at him, arms restrained above your head, chest heaving in anticipation, lips swollen and parted. Sylus smiles at you. It’s that signature Sylus smirk, heart-stoppingly tender and predatory all at once. But when his glowing cerise eyes meet yours, that’s what has your breath catching in your throat. 

The tumultuous sea of red conveyed every ounce of emotion that his words couldn’t. What it meant to have you here in the desert with him, a place that once reminded him of hell. What it meant to have you here, wrapped up in his embrace, ready to do anything to make him happy, whole. With you here, it truly did feel like an oasis. 

So you murmur boldly, cheeks warming, “M’yours, Sy. Of course I’m ready.” 

Sylus’s smile falters for a second, before he growls, slamming you back into the wall, palm cupping the back of your head with one hand, and your lower back with the other, to protect you against the impact. 

“That’s my girl.” 

With those words, his swollen cock head at your entrance finally surges forward, nudging its way into your tight embrace. You cry out as Sylus curses, the both of you never getting used to how impossibly snug the fit was, almost to the point of not fitting at all. 

Sylus takes it surprisingly slow, watching your face carefully as he sinks into you inch by inch. His hand strokes your cheek, in an overwhelming show of tender affection. Something about this desert oasis had him unusually vulnerable and it was intoxicating. 

You squirm as he bottoms out, his cockhead nestled sinfully against your cervix, practically demanding entrance into your womb. His fist is pressed into the tiled wall behind your head, his knuckles white with desperation. His entire body twitches, his breath coming out in short desperate pants. You hold his face with your hands, forcing him to level with you, stroking his sharp jaw with your fingertips.

“Sylus?”

His carmine eyes dart to yours, the vast storm of his irises looking faraway and distant. But when he looks at you, his eyes soften, the sight of you grounding him to the moment, pulling him away from the agony he once endured here. 

You kiss his furrowed eyebrow, “I’m here, Sy.” 

Sylus groans, his facial features softening at your touch, your raw words making him heave with desire. 

“You are. And you’re mine,” he growls, finally moving inside you, pulling out until just his leaking tip is nestled in your warm waiting cunt. Giving you just a second to adjust, your pussy pulsing with the need to be filled once more, he slams back into you. The impact of his thrust knocks the air from your lungs, your body sliding up the wet walls of the shower.

“Sylus!” you squeal, trying to control  your voice. Sylus grunts, reveling in the sound of your pleasure, pulling out of you and rutting back into your poor quivering cunt at a rabid vigor. 

Your bodies are pressed so tightly together, that every minute movement Sylus makes causes your clit to brush against the trail of silver hair that paints his pelvis. His hot breath is in your ear, whispering the filthiest things to you.

“You like it rough, don’t you sweetheart?” he nips your neck, savoring the taste of your clean showered skin against his insistent tongue. Your bare shoulders are already littered in his claiming marks, beautiful red bruises forming where his lips raze like wildfire. Sylus’s eyes glimmer with satisfaction at the sight of it. 

“C-can’t take it,” you whine, fingernails digging into his shoulders. His passionate thrusts are demanding, almost mean, as they try to pull moan after moan out from your lips. Your pussy quivers, already shivering from the amount of pleasure Sylus is able to force on you, so much that it spills over. 

“Yes you can, hm?”

He hisses when your nails dig further into his skin, leaving beautiful little red crescents on his muscled shoulders. Sylus always thought it was utterly insane how you knew just how much pain to mix with his pleasure to have him unhinged, just enough to want to devour you. 

You find your wrists being bound above your head again, his hand pushing them against the wall. His forehead pushes against yours as his lips desperately seek yours, capturing you in a breathtaking and fiery kiss of unspoken feelings. A torrid storm of the way he’d missed you desperately on his trip away, so much so that he had to use the little boy wanting to learn to fight wanderers as an excuse to fly you out to him. 

He pulls away, leaving you both panting for air. As he continues his feverish ruts into you, he huffs into your ear, “You can take it. You’re my good little dove, right?”

The look of complete and utter desperation in his eyes makes you want to give into every wish and whim of the silver-haired man before you. So you nod obediently, closing your eyes in satisfaction when his fingers rub soothing circling into your palms. It’s a jarring contrast, the way his hand caresses you affectionately while his cock ravages you relentlessly. It makes you delirious with ecstasy, and your body is no different.

Your cunt throbs with the need to come undone, the coil tightening so tightly that your abdomen threatens to burst. From the pleasure of his touch or from his massive cock seemingly trying to find its way into your throat, you’re unsure. 

“S-so deep,” you cry, digging your nails into his hand as it holds yours in place. Your back slides up the wall at every one of his deliberate pointed thrusts, a mere ragdoll to his ravenous hunger against the cold dripping wall.

Sylus, groans. You feel a slight shift in energy, and Sylus moving beneath you. But your position against the wall doesn’t change. Sylus’s Evol gently grips your thighs, keeping you suspended as his arm that held you up is now free to press down on your tummy. 

“I know, doll. Can you feel me all the way here?” he draws his words out seductively, pressing down on where your walls bulge against your pulsing naval. 

You squeal at the overstimulation of him physically pressing your cunt down onto his cock that still spears in and out of you wildly. Sylus removes his hand to press it against your lips, his index and middle fingers slipping into your lips that are still parted mid-scream. 

His digits press down on your tongue, faintly tasting like his expensive body wash, “Shhh, Y/N. We wouldn’t want anyone to hear, hm?”

You whine. Truth be told, the imminent danger behind his words only gets you more and more excited, closer to the edge. His forceful fingers toying with your tongue only fueled your filthy desires more, and your body reacts just as eagerly. 

Sylus bits the inside of his cheek, swearing as your tight walls convulse tightly onto him. Your pussy unknowingly constricts the thick throbbing veins that press of his erection, pressed snugly into your sweetest spots. 

“Ah, my sweet girl is so filthy. Did you like that? Like the idea of someone watching me fuck you dumb?”

His condescending words have you shaking your head, still hanging on to your slim shred of dignity. Sylus chuckles, nuzzling into your neck.

“You can’t lie to me, little bird. I can feel the truth.”

“F-feels s-ooo good,” you admit, throwing all embarrassment to the wind. Sylus swears at how adorably muffled your words are against his fingers, how your eyes are hooded with pleasure as they watch him dreamily. The adoration in your stare was so palpable, hearts nearly reflected in your eyes. His knees buckle as he admires your beautiful face, so angelically fucked out that it ruined him. 

Sylus shifts you into his single arm once more. He could easily keep you secured in the air with his Evol for hours yet, but at this moment he wants nothing more than to be as close to you as possible. He wraps one of your arms around his neck, intertwining his fingers with your other hand.

“Hold on tight, my love,” he rasps against your collar, bringing your intertwined fingers above your hand and against the wall for leverage. His thrusts take on an unprecedented intensity, the globes of your ass slapping against the wall in loud, filthy, and wet paps. His vigor makes it easy for him to hammer into your g-spot at every thrust, having you reaching the summit of your orgasm all too quickly. 

“Sy-Sylus! I-I’m so close,” you wail, fingers desperately clutching his, other hand digging into the back of his neck.

Sylus is close too, weeks of pent up emotion and need brimming to the point of boiling over. The only thing keeping him sane is the grip he has on your hand.

“Need to cum in you,” he hisses, driving into you harder as he nears his peak, “Need to breed you so full of my cum, hm?” 

You nod eagerly at his filthy words, clutching onto him for dear life, “I’m c-cum—“ 

Sylus cuts you off, smashing his lips into yours. It must’ve been a sight to behold, the way Sylus had you locked in a passionate kiss, his hand holding yours above your head, his body pushing you up against the wall, pelvis wet from your arousal as his silver hair brushes repeatedly against your clit.

It was all enough to have you finally releasing all over his defined abdomen. You squirt against his stomach, eyes squeezing shut as his tongue claims your very breath. Your climax is powerful, mind-numbing, and utterly explosive. 

Sylus huffs in pleasure as he feels your dripping thighs slapping against him, his own orgasm imminent. Your cunt continues to throb in the afterglow of your climax, wringing tightly against his violent ruts.

Finally, he climaxes inside you, moaning wildly into your mouth as he continues to devour you,  thrusting through the intense waves of pleasure. His abdomen trembles, involuntary quivers wracking his body as rope after rope of his thick seed pours into you.  

His lips pull away and he leans his forehead against yours, his entire body still quivering with waves of the intense overstimulation. His chest heaves violently with the pounding of his rapid heartbeat, his fingers still tied to yours, tracing gentle shapes in your tingling skin. 

Sylus chuckles, the sound gentle and warm and the vibrations reverberating onto your own body as he clings to you still. 

His eyes glimmer with amusement, his fingers capturing your chin again and pulling it downward to where your bodies remain connected. His voice is tender and mischievous, “It’s just like you to make such a mess when you’ve already used up all the water.”

You blush furiously when met with the image of your bodies, fit against each other together like puzzle pieces, glimmering with a wet sheen that was definitely not water. Your red satin nightdress had ridden up, the lace embroidering of the hem soaked. The argent dusting of hair on Sylus’s pelvis was matted in both your arousals. It was an absolutely sinful sight. 

“P-put me down!” you hiss, tapping his chest, “We have to find a way to clean this up.” 

Sylus raises his eyebrow at you, “Sweetheart, the only thing keeping the mess inside is my co–” 

Your hands come together to cover his mouth, “Don’t say another word.”

Sylus chuckles into your hand, his breath warm and tickling You feel a sharp, but gentle, nip.

“Hey! Don’t bite m–OW!”

—--

The night air is brisk, sounds of ancient handbells ringing out softly as the dark sky twinkles with distant stars. A nearby bonfire rages, the sound of crackling of wood mixing with the distant chime of bells. And yet, it’s Sylus’s large body holding yours that keeps you warm against the gentle night breeze of the desert. 

The hammock the two of you cuddle in swings lazily, Sylus’s fingers languidly stroking your hair as he tells you myths of the Gods and humans that once resided in this very valley. 

“What about your world? What was your life like as a kid?”

Sylus is still as his body cradles your own, his fingers crushing the blossoms that had fallen into his palm. He hesitates for a second before saying, “Nothing special. I struggled to survive.”

Your heart clenches painfully at his words. His voice is nonchalant, yet something about his words is melancholic. Eerily wistful. 

“I never imagined that one day, we’d be sitting in a place like this. Having discussions about the world,” you whisper.

You look up to catch Sylus staring at you. For a brief second, you catch the emotions in his eyes. They’re desperate, pleading with yours. For what, you’re unsure. He quickly blinks, the cerise orbs returning to their natural state.

“Do you think we’re talking about the same world?” His voice is unbearably gentle, his words confusingly cryptic, as if edged with a double meaning that you can’t quite grasp.

“I’m not sure,” you confess softly.

There’s a brief moment of silence. You continue, “Today is when people give flowers to each other in Linkon, but…”  Your voice trails off. You gently dust off the fallen petals that’d landed on his shoulder, hand reaching to brush over his heart as you pick up a branch of the delicate flowers off his abdomen.. 

“Could those flowers bloom in this kind of soil?” You ponder aloud, holding the cluster of fallen and wilting blossoms, so different from the vibrant and thriving ones you’re familiar with in Linkon.

You glance up at Sylus again. The shadows of the palm trees above you obscure one side of his face, the other half haloed by the soft glow of the moonlight. He looks threateningly ethereal. The pools of carmine in his eyes glow as they search yours. Like earlier, they glimmer with inexplicable emotions that seem to plead with yours. Begging you for…something.

But he doesn’t speak, instead taking the cluster of wilted blossoms from your fingers. He twirls them in his fingertips, inspecting them carefully. He strokes the browning petals, a strange look of nostalgia flickering across his face. 

You don’t understand, but you reach out for his hand, squeezing his fingers in yours. He squeezes you back, still looking mournfully at the flowers in his fingertips, almost as if remembering a painful memory. 

Finally, Sylus turns to you. His smile is devastatingly beautiful and tragic all at once, his finger moving to tuck the loose strands of hair behind your ear.  His piercing red eyes bore straight into your soul, the faint luminosity of his Aether core beating behind them.

“I’ve seen far more beautiful flowers bloom in this desert.”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[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.

[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

[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."

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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 !!

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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.

[in-memoriam-tgwk]

The last thing Almondlight remembered was the burning feeling of his chin colliding with mud-slicked earth, right as his legs finally gave out beneath him.

It’s a rather stark contrast to the harsh medicinal smell that floods his nose as his consciousness slowly pulls him back from the depths.

It’s not an unfamiliar scent; in fact, it’s something he feared he’d never know again. It brings a wave of sadness, of happiness, of overwhelming relief as he realizes his days of walking are finally behind him. He made it home. He finally made it home.

Another smell, one that laces fear through Almondlight’s jumbled thoughts, catches his attention. It’s not the bitter tang of marigold he knows to belong to Ferretpaw, nor is it Emma’s sweet honeysuckle or Oaktrail’s damp clay.

Deep forest pine, tinged with salty mineral and poppy. The smell of fur that he used to burrow into as a kit, not that long ago. He manages to crack open his eyes.

He is where he expects himself to be, within the shallow cave that the Colony’s trio of medicine cats call their work space. At first groggy glance, he appears to be the only soul in there. There’s no movement apart from a small insect scuttling across the dusty floor. The light filtering in suggests a high sun, at its zenith and possibly on its descent. His eyes scan to the right, to the left, slightly more left, and that’s when he spots who he’s searching for.

Long, brown tabby fur, surrounding a muzzle tinged with silver.

Glowstar. His father. The cat he is equal parts relieved and terrified to see.

He’s going to be upset, he thinks. He’s going to berate me. ‘What a foolish thing you’ve done’, he’ll say. ‘Who would be so stupid as to believe they could outsmart a Twoleg and its dog? No son of mine would even entertain the thought!’ He’s not sure he can handle a reprimand in his state.

And what a state he is in; breaking his leg on his first escape attempt was not an ideal situation to find himself in. He was affixed with a splint by a Twoleg to keep it immobile, and it’s certainly done its job, as he’s fairly certain they wrapped it that way in order to deter another exit. His second attempt got him out of the Twoleg’s nest, and from there he started his slow trek home. Unfortunately, the bulbous mass of brightly-colored cotton holding his limb hostage made his travels all the harder to manage; hunting for food was incredibly difficult and he could only clumsily traipse his way through the forest, as the blasted thing got caught on every branch and thorn he came across. If tearing it off was an option, he would have done it in a heartbeat.

The shape of his father stirs, and another sting of fear stabs Almondlight in the chest. He looks around wildly for options. A quiet exit is impossible, but maybe he can manage a quick one—

“Almondlight.”

Sage eyes meet a kaleidoscope of blue, green, yellow. He’s only been gone less than a couple of moons, but his father looks to have aged considerably since then. He swallows audibly.

Glowstar regards him for a moment; they regard each other, the lost son and his equally lost father, in a den that stinks of herbs and smells of home. And then, the father crumples.

“My son… My son, please, come here—“

Forepaws wrap around Almondlight’s shoulders, and a face tinged in silver buries into his neck fur. Glowstar shudders against his frame, emotions wracking his body that Almondlight has only ever witnessed one time before this, and a strained sob claws its way out of the older cat’s throat, like the act alone is nearly impossible for him to do. To say Almondlight is shocked into silence is an understatement.

“I-I thought— I was so certain— Oh, my child, you do not know the weight lifted from my shoulders…” His voice is heavy with tears.

Almondlight’s tongue catches up to his mind. “You aren’t upset…?”

“Upset? Why would I ever be? You live and breathe before me now; I can’t possibly believe my fortune!”

He frowns deeply. “But I… I failed, Father. I made an incredible error in judgement. I was ignorant to believe I could take on that beast and his hound…”

Glowstar’s face leaves his pelt, expression soft and wet. He shakes his head insistently.

“No, my boy. I cannot blame you for the choice you made; a warrior looks after his own, and you were looking out for Needlemaw, yes?”

Almondlight inhales sharply, casting his eyes to the den’s entrance. “I-I was. Did he…?” Glowstar nods.

“He’s just fine. It was your quick thinking that prevented two lost warriors. And it seems you’ve returned to us after all. I can’t imagine a better outcome than that, can you?”

He wishes that he could. Like with most things, his father is right; both he and Needlemaw made it out alive. There is no better outcome indeed.

A memory surfaces, hazy and recent. He scores his claws against the silty sandstone beneath as he struggles to stand up.

“Father, we have to— It’s Foggythorn, Father! She might still be down there!”

A heavy paw lands between his shoulders, gentle yet unmoving, pushing him back down onto his belly. “Son, please stay here,”Glowstar warns. “We have Foggythorn handled. She is in the right paws.”

He looks at Glowstar in confusion, before flicking his gaze around the den once more. They continue to be the only two cats within its interior. Why is she not recovering in the medicine den?

“Why is she not with us? She couldn’t even stand on her own when I found her… I had to carry her. I was carrying her…”

His eyes find Glowstar’s, and nothing more needs to be said. They are narrowed with pity. Something in Almondlight’s heart plucks, and snaps sharply.

“She was… She must have only slipped, there’s no way… Father, how can that be? How can that be?!”

It’s his turn to collapse against Glowstar, clinging to him as grief attempts to swallow him whole. He was certain that they’d both make it home. He knows she was still with him, step for step. Why was that still not enough?

A tongue rasps gently behind Almondlight’s ear. “Do not blame yourself, boy. You did more than enough for her.”

“But I should have been faster… I could have helped her. M-Maybe she wouldn’t have fallen, maybe she wouldn’t have been in the river at all—“

“Almondlight. You did more than enough for her. Fate is wicked, and she does not pick whom she takes from this life with reason in mind. To try to find reason at all will drive you mad… And all the reasoning I’ve done has made me an insane old man.”

Almondlight has sensed this change within Glowstar for moons at this point, but to hear him so blatantly disapproving of Her will feels like a needle in his side. Perhaps he was not as completely aware of Glowstar’s bleeding heart as he once thought. He tightens his grip on his father’s fur and sheds his tears in silence. Tears for Foggythorn, and tears for Bonekit and Marshkit. He has walked the path they now face, alone and without direction. He hopes Hollyspeckle is a better cat than his father is.

[wolfpawzjakey]

Jason is protecting Percy.

One stupid son of Ares looks at Percy with lust and one day behaves too brazenly with him and Jason turned out to be next to him.

And thanks to the bitter experience of this fool, everyone remembers that Jason is the son of Jupiter, raised by Lupa.

Jason’s not typically the jealous type, Percy might be a naturally charming guy, but Jason has no problem with how Percy acts with his peers and their friends.

He however cannot stand the son of Ares getting in Percy’s space. The air of arrogance surrounding his would tick him off on any normal day, but the aggressive and uncomfortable closeness he keeps trying to apply to Percy is what really gets him started up. He’s not right next to Percy when the guy first approaches him, he’s talking with some kids, but he sees the situation beginning to unfold.

Percy has the strength, mentally and physically, to send the dude running in terror, but knowing Percy too, he’s more than likely to try to let this issue come and pass with no issues. He’s not violent but the entire opposite. He’s not really one to start a fight unless necessary, he’s extremely careful post Tartarus. Jason knows it well that Percy can handle himself, he knows and yet he still worries, how could he not. So, he keeps his senses split, focusing on the kids with him and Percy at the same time, a little slower in his response time, but doing it all the same.

The teaching moment stops though when this dude first lays a hand on Percy, it’s sleazy and Percy’s face is laced with discomfort. Percy quickly removes the others hand from where it’s tried to grip onto his waist, but the guy just pushes more, eyes swirling with lust and Jason has almost never felt more enraged in his life. He tensely excuses himself before setting toward the two in pure determination. The whole time, Percy pulling away, frustration heavily evident on his own face while this idiotic man keeps forcing his hands all over Percy. No matter how much or in what way Percy signals or says to this guy, he won’t back off.. This Ares camper, Jason just doesn’t know how he hasn’t been kicked from the camp, he’s done things like this before but has always fucked off right in time, but he’s holding on tight, dripping a sickening emotion into the areas vicinity, Jason can feel the thick tension of Percy’s anxiety and anger, he can also feel the buzzing lust off the areas councilor.

“Come on baby,” Jason hears from the offender, “I can be everything your boyfriend can’t be.” His hand reaches again to touch Percy, but never makes it that far, hand freezing as a sharp golden blade touches just under his chin. The air around the three begins to crackle with energy, intensifying when the councilors eyes shakily meet Jason’s stormy eyes. “Jason,” Percy says, voice stern but Jason won’t back off, blade resting comfortably against the offenders sensitive skin, not heavy enough to draw blood, but enough that it could with just a touch more pressure.

“Hey man, back off, I was just messing with him, i swear.” Jason said nothing, electricity buzzing louder around them. The air smelt metallic, and in his peripherals, he could see other campers reacting to it as well, either watching in anticipatory fear or scuttling away from the scene. Percy tugged at his arm, gently as to not jostle him too much with the blade still in its position. “Jace, enough.”

Jason released a harsh, shaking breath, dropping his sword from the others neck, looking down at him. The electricity hadn’t faded from the air yet when the ares councilor moved to strike, eyes filled with anger now that he wasn’t quivering in cowardice, but without even flinching Jason knocked him back with a strong but not totally ridiculous gust of wind. Enough to leave him on the ground and groaning for a while at least. It’s less than he wishes he could do.

When he turns his attention entirely back to Percy he’s met with a look of both amusement and exasperation. He also looks relieved and like his emotions are still buzzing under his skin. Jason huffs softly and pulls Percy into a tight hug, feeling tension melt from Percy and himself. “Kick their ass next time anyone tries that shit on you. I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.” Jason mumbles into Percy’s hair. He can imagine the eye roll in full detail, but Percy nods anyway.

-

I’m a 100% believer that Percy can and will fight his own battles, but I also feel like he struggles with the thought of hurting other campers and councilors since he’s got a decently high kill count of them. I also hc that he really struggles with fighting post the stuff in Tartarus because post blood control he’s grown fearful of himself and can really only fight on a clear mind when danger is the only thing he has time to think about. He’s still an incredible and untouchable fighter, but he’s much more adamant about solving things without fighting or just kind of pushing his emotions aside so he doesn’t actually cause any accidents.

Jason knows these things about Percy too, so despite Percy being able to help himself, when he really struggles with doing so, even if it’s just removing himself entirely from a situation, Jason steps in. Usually, it’s simple as actually removing Percy from said situations, but he does fight Percy���s fights from time to time. Percy doesn’t argue with him on it.

-

Thank you for your ask anon :3 I had fun with this one

[libraryofneith]

Out of Mind - Chapter 11 (Joel Miller x Female Reader)

@hiroikegawa @evyiione @orcasoul

Guess who just graduated and got into grad school! And how am I celebrating? By abandoning my academic endeavours for my fics.

I know it's been a slow burn but we are so close I promise!

If you want to be the first to know when this fic is updated let me know and I'll add you to the taglist.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Summary: Joel shelters you from the storm

Tags/Warnings: [whole fic is 18+, minors DNI], it puts its age in the bio or it gets the block button, nearly freezing to death, survival, nudity, just for body heat honest

It was funny. Moments ago, all he'd wanted was sleep and now he'd done all that he could do, now that he finally could sleep, he was wide awake.

Joel

The door wouldn't budge. The hinges creaked and groaned with protest and refused to give way. Joel cursed. He would have to put her down.

She gave a muffled cry of protest as he lay her gently in the snow but it couldn't be helped. He was going to have to put his full weight behind this next push and he couldn't do that while carrying her.

She'd collapsed a while back. She'd lasted longer than he'd feared she would but a combination of the cold, the climb and the lack of sleep eventually drained the last of her energy and she'd curled up in the snow, letting the blizzard cover her, refusing to budge.

"We have to keep going."

"Can't."

"C'mon, we're nearly there."

"You said that an hour ago." Had it been an hour? Time didn't seem to mean anything anymore. There was too much snow to see the sky and he didn't have the strength to look up. Just ahead. He had to keep looking ahead.

"You can't stay here."

"Just let me rest a bit. Just a bit. I'll be fine in a minute." Joel had heard that before. Before, he had pressed on regardless, leaving it to the other person to get back up or lie there and let the snow take them. Perhaps she'd get back up if he left her. Perhaps not. He was not taking that chance.

With her in his arms he couldn't shield his face from the snowstorm and he got turned around four times. Five times he thought he spied the cabin but it turned out to be a large tree, if anything at all. So when he finally saw it, he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him again and he nearly sobbed with relief when the house stayed where it was as he walked on. Now he was there and they couldn't get in.

He took a few steps back then rushed forward covering his head as he bulldozed the door open and fell through. It took the rest of his willpower to get back up.

She barely said or did anything as he dragged her in and that chilled him more than any snow or wind. So he got to work quickly. He taped the door shut to keep out the wind, and any other unwelcome elements. Mercifully there was the remains of a fire in the fireplace and some scraps of paper and twigs. Not enough for a huge fire but it would have to do, any wood out there would be soaked. He got the flames going then took out his flask and cursed as he realised the whisky was frozen into slush. He put it by the fire to warm up then turned to her.

"Ciara"

"Mmmph"

"We're inside but we're gonna freeze in these clothes, you understand?"

"Ciara wake up." Her eyes were open but she seemed dazed.

"OK?"

"Ciara we both need to strip naked, can you do that?" She closed her eyes and groaned.

"Do you need me to help?" A nod. Thank god. He hoped she didn't give him hell later. He stripped himself first. It felt weird taking her clothes off while he still had all of his on. Maybe that made no sense but it was how he felt.

He felt no less cold naked than he had fully clothed, but she shivered as each layer of wet clothing was peeled off and when he exposed her skin, it was so icy that he hissed through his teeth like he'd been burned. But he had to keep going or they were both goners. There was still a bed with a duvet so they wouldn't have to use their wet sleeping bags. He grabbed the duvet and blanket and covered them both and they each took a swig of the semi warm whiskey. Joel shuddered at the cold slush but the burning taste helped a lot. He had to help her, tilting her head back so she could drink. She gagged at the taste but kept it down.

It was funny. Moments ago, all he'd wanted to do was sleep but now that he'd done all that he could do, now that he finally could sleep, he was wide awake. Adrenaline was coursing through his body. He couldn't believe they'd actually made it. And now they were lying here. Like two icicles stuck together.

As much as he hated to admit it, he'd imagined being pressed to her naked form so many times but not like this, not with the two of them barely holding on to consciousness. He'd made sure to look as little as possible but the glimpses - the bare shoulders, the curve where her neck met her body, the divot between her shoulder blades… it was the sweetest form of torture. How was a man meant to sleep just inches away from that? Still, he felt his eyes growing heavy as we watched her, her hair cascading down her back, moving with each breath. He found himself fighting sleep but as he gazed at the hair on the nape of her neck, he was pulled into the smell, the feel and the sweet sweet warmth of her.