#that worked well in 8 hours of terror

[benetnvsch]

*burger king foot lettuce voice* that dog is looking awfully like my coworker- someone turned my coworker into a dog

(he gets good pats anyway-)

Does Kunikida even like dogs? for a show with the word dog in the title I feel like there's a fair amount of ppl who just hate dogs in it- anyway drew this during work so it's shit quality apologies KFJHK

[drabblesbyjubs]

Just Need Time

Astarion x gn! Tav Reader, Astarion is pent up but also wants to please the reader, he makes himself want to have sex with reader but reader stops him and helps him figure out what he really wants. Fluff, smut, a little bit of angst. Minors DNI

Tws// mentions of sexual trauma, Astarion’s backstory stuff, mild disassociation for a few minutes, trauma, mild spoilers for non ascended Astarion’s ending, sexual content and smut

.

I want everyone to know that I got stuck working an 8 hour shift as a cashier on my last day of work so I wrote this between customers, enjoy and here’s to my new job

Time with Astarion is sacred.

After nearly losing him multiple times throughout your journey to rid yourselves of the mind flayer parasite, you’d come to appreciate every second you spent with him. Every moment during the day, snuggling and spending time with one another, and spending the nights running through Faerûn and enjoying the adrenaline of exploration, it was all beyond precious to you both.

But especially to Astarion. For the first time in two centuries, he belonged to himself; he could go where he wanted, do what he wanted, be what he wanted. He was free.

That didn’t mean he was alright, though.

Being with you had helped. You’d shown him freedom, devotion, and everything he’d ever wished he could have had in a partner. But part of his mind was still stuck in that dark, dank crypt, the smell of mildew festering in his lungs, the fear at the sound of every footstep lurking in his heart. The nights he was let out, but not to be free, only to use his body to gain some innocent soul’s trust and bring them back for him to take out his most wretched fantasies on.

Astarion was usually the victim of these fantasies, but if Cazador truly did what he wished with Astarion, well, there would be no more Astarion to take out those fantasies on.

Those memories plagued his mind nearly every night. He often woke from the nightmares feeling utterly emotionless, numb to the world. Fear aches low in his heart, and he would roll over and scoot up to you. You took him in to your arms with no question; you already knew.

Sometimes he would jolt out of bed, too enveloped by the memories to realize it was you next to him. He would become defensive, either scared of you or insisting you leave before he came back. When he snapped back to reality, he was utterly humiliated, but you never shamed him, always made him feel like everything would be okay, and he would forget about the terrors of the night before by the time you two set out for adventure after sunset.

He wanted more than anything to be like a normal person; completely comfortable in his relationship, never a fear that things would go awry, blindly trusting and accepting of everything you did. You understood why he couldn’t be like that, and did your best to make him feel as close to normal as he ever could. And gods, did he love you for that. You were utterly hypnotizing, he would tear out his heart with a stake if you asked him; hell, he would carve the stake himself. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

And even if you assured him he owed you nothing at all, not even a passing glance, he wanted to give you something to make you happy.

He often gave you wildflowers, knowing you always liked the bright colors and soft petals, or smooth, shiny rocks he found down by the creek, or little rings and necklaces he bought with his dwindling gold supply when the two of you went in to town. But he still often felt like the only thing he could do right enough to truly make others happy was sex.

It was practiced, it was routine. Use his body to make someone feel good, make a few pretty faces, and it was done. There was something safe in the familiarity of it, though the sheer gut wrenching disgust that followed after never sit right with him.

You hadn’t hesitated to agree when Astarion had asked if you two could stop having sex for a while. Your sexual activity had dwindled anyways; you’d often told him you were just tired, or wanted to make sure you had plenty of energy for the coming day. Part of him knew you could tell he didn’t really want it, but he chose to believe you just wanted a break, and it was relieving to not have to perform. It was a weight off of his shoulders.

But more recently, he’d been pent up. He found himself craving release; of course he thought of coming to you for help, but the thought of having to perform, to make you feel good and owe you that pleasure after he takes his own, it sent a writhing sensation under his skin. As much as he liked the thought of seeing your eyes filled with arousal, he didn’t want that feeling of perform. Continue. No choice. Earn your life, bring him someone.

But he wanted to make you happy. He had done this so many times before; why not once more, just to see you satisfied? You must be pent up as well after so long of dealing with his unwillingness to give you something so simple. It was the least he could do. He would achieve the release he’d began to crave, you would be happy, and he would know you would stay with him and know he cared for you.

..

Astarion rolled above you, that mischievous smirk on his face as he looked down at you. You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “Someone’s in a playful mood tonight,” you teased, to which Astarion hummed.

“Whoever could that be?” He muttered, leaning down and capturing you in a kiss. You felt his tongue swipe across your lower lip, but before you could grant him entrance, he pulled away, before moving to mouth softly at your neck. You hummed, your chest fluttering as you inhaled. You could feel his lips move against you, his tongue swiping over the scars of old bites, his canines brush dangerously over the delicate skin of your neck.

You put your hands on his chest and muttered, “Mmh, Astarion, what’s going on?”

“Hmm?” He hummed in a questioning tone.

“You don’t normally act like this,” you breathed. “Is everything okay?”

“So sweet for asking,” he murmured. “Just pent up. I want you, if you’ll have me.”

You scanned over his face; nothing seemed off. He seemed genuine. You weren’t sure why he was offering though; this wasn’t like him. Maybe he was actually just pent up?

“You promise you’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much?”

“Of course, love,” he breathed against your neck, softly nipping at the skin there, threatening to break skin.

You nod, hands running up his sides. “Okay. As long as you promise.”

Astarion gave a pleased sound, his hands snaking under your shirt. Calloused fingertips brushed against your skin, before pulling your shirt up above your head and leaning down to kiss at your shoulders, mouth at your collarbones, and nip at your chest.

You gave a shaky sigh, your hand running over his back, savoring the way he arched against the touch. He was good at this, no doubt, but it always hurt you to think of *why.*

Astarion leaned back, staring down at you almost hungrily. He pulled his own shirt over his head, and you leaned up to run your hands over his chest and his stomach, before leaning in to kiss at the little dimple between his collarbones. He was always finicky about kissing his neck, especially on the side Cazador bit him on, and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, so you stuck to his shoulders and chest for now.

His hands found your waist, and as you pulled away from him, you saw the slightest flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he pushed you down to the bedroll and pulled your hips up against his, softly grinding against the curve of your ass.

You weren’t worried about that, though; you saw the way his eyes had slowly grown foggy and distant, the loss of expression, and the way his touches became almost rhythmic, nearly robotic; practiced and routine.

“Stop,” you said.

Astarion snapped out of it in an instant, present here and now once more. “Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?”

“Hun,” you leaned up, scooting your hips apart from his and gently cupping his cheek. “You don’t want this. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I do!” Astarion insisted, “Gods, I want this, please, I’m sorry, just let me-“ he hurriedly began grabbing at your hips, trying to pull you closer,

“Darling, stop.” You said, more assertively this time. His shoulders slumped and the look in his eyes broke your heart; he looked desperate, but not for sex. He looked so disappointed in himself.

“Come here,” you whispered, pulling him in for a hug. “Do you remember when I told you you don’t owe me anything?” He didn’t hug you back, but his forehead rested against your shoulder, and he gave a brisk little nod.

“But I do want it,” he said. “I just… I don’t want to have to give back, or be touched, or just… I don’t know, but I want something, and I-“

You hushed him, sensing his growing stress, running your fingers through his hair. You turned to kiss his temple, and he gave a happy little sound.

“I think I get it. You want to keep your control of your body, but don’t want to have to feel like you owe me pleasure either?” You questioned. He gave a brisk little nod.

“That’s alright. Astarion, we don’t have to do anything like this, I never want your to feel pressured, and-“

“But I do want… something like this.” He rebutted. “I just… want a little. I don’t know. I really am pent up. I’ve tried handling it myself, time and time again… I’ll sneak off into the woods and… and try and rid myself of these desires. But it… just… never works. I cant… I just cant. Not alone.”

You furrowed your brow, feeling just how embarrassed he was with the way he shuffled and squirmed against you, clutching at your sides.

“You mean… you can’t touch yourself, or..?”

“I can’t finish,” he corrected, his words rushed and jumbled.

“Oh,” you said. You kept running your fingers through his hair, taking a moment to think. You could tell how much this embarrassed him, just by how he was acting. “That’s alright, Astarion. What do you want me to do to help?”

“I… don’t know,” he breathed. “I just… I’m frustrated, i need something..”

“Would it be too much for me to touch you like that right now?” You asked him.

He nodded his head, and you pulled back, looking at him as you gently cupped his cheek in your hand. “Use your words, baby boy.”

Red eyes looked up to meet your own, and you couldn’t help but smile at him, if only to comfort him. “Yes, i think that would be too much right now. Maybe… maybe I could… i could touch myself and you can just… be here?”

You flushed a little with his words, but you nodded and kissed the tip of his nose, savoring the way he smiled.

“That sounds wonderful,” you said. “Here,” you began shifting him and yourself.

You moved so he was laying on his side, you laying behind him. Your chest was pressed to his, and you felt the full body shudder that went through him. “This okay?” You asked, and he nodded. You cuddled up to his back, and hummed to him, “Then go ahead, my love. Do what you want.”

Astarion shuddered and you could feel him moving to slip a hand under the hem of his pants. You gently rested a hand on his hip, not sensing anything saying he disliked the touch. His breathing slowly started to pick up, and you could feel him palming himself softly before slipping his cock from his trousers. You hummed your approval, whispering to him, “That’s a good boy.” He whined low in his throat, and you felt his arm start to move as he began stroking himself. You couldn’t see at this angle, but you felt the way his body would slowly start tensing, his chest rising, could see the way he tried to bury his face in the pillow, knowing you were right behind him as he touched himself.

You muttered soft coos of approval to him as he chased his pleasure, each of your words making his breath hitch just a little more.

You hummed, “So good for me, my love, making yourself feel good. Love watching you like this.”

You could so easily ignore your own arousal if it meant you got to witness his. He was beautiful.

Astarion gasped, “D-darling, gods… the way you talk to me, hah, makes me… fuck, I need it…” he trembled and began stroking himself faster, throwing his head back against your shoulder. You smiled against his neck and kissed the pale skin softly, feeling the way it made his entire body shudder. His breathing slowly turned in to whines, desperate and strained.

Your hand ran up to his chest, brushing over the soft skin, savoring the little twitch he gave when your hand ran over his nipples, moving to feel over his rib cage as you whispered how beautiful he was, making himself feel good like this.

You kissed his temple, the saltiness of his sweat clinging to your lips. You caught a glimpse of that beautiful face when he tilted it back to arch himself; brow furrowed, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. “Gods,” you breathed, his red eyes fluttering open. You leaned up to kiss him, not even attempting to look down and see him desperately chasing his release, knowing that catching a glimpse may be too much for him.

You buried your face back in his neck, and he gave a high pitched whine, gasping, “C-can’t… fuck, love, ah, please, I can’t do it, please, help me,” the last words came out as a mere whisper, and you could feel how frantically he was moving in attempting to chase his release. Worried he would hurt himself, you whispered to him, your hand slowly trailing down his hips to rest on his upper thigh.

“May I touch you?” You asked.

“Please,” he nearly sobbed, letting himself go and grabbing your wrist to guide you to his cock. You wrapped your hand around him, heavy and hot in your palm. He was so hard, gods it must have hurt.

You stroked him softly, your thumb swiping over his tip and smearing his precum over himself. He whimpered, still holding your wrist, and you could feel the way his entire body trembled. “Please,” he whispered.

You kissed the back of his neck, mouthing at the flesh there softly as you set your pace, stroking him and smearing his pre over the head, making your hand much slicker to give him a feeling that, if his whimpers and trembles said anything, must be quite lovely.

He jolted and whined, his cock twitching in your hand. You could tell he was close, losing himself to the pleasure, one hand having a death grip on your wrist and the other tangled in the furs of the bedroll. You’d never seen him so lost to himself.

He gasped, “I’m gonna-!” Not even able to get out his warning before your felt his release coating your hand. You stroked him through his orgasm, savoring his gasps, catching the slightest glimpse of a furrowed brow and open mouth, eyes squeezed shut, tears threatening to spill from the corners.

“That’s it, hun,” you breathed to him. “That’s a good boy. Let go for me.”

You kept stroking him until he gave a particularly harsh jolt, with which you withdrew your hand and wiped it on some miscellaneous clothing tossed near your bedroll. You kissed the back of his neck, savoring the silence for a moment.

Astarion was the first to speak. “Thank you,” he said.

“I hope it was to your liking. It wasn’t too much?”

“No, it was wonderful. I… needed that. Do… you want me to take care of you?” He rolled over to face you, glancing down to your trousers. You could see the unease stirring in his eyes at the thought alone

You shook your head. “Tonight was about you. I’m just happy I got to see that pretty face when you came,” you teased, fighting a laugh at Astarion’s shocked and embarrassed expression.

“Gods, you’re truly insufferable sometimes.”

“Same to you, my love,” you teased, kissing the tip of his nose and pulling him in close. You pulled a blanket up over his waist to give him some cover, to which he hummed his appreciation and nuzzled in to your chest, sleep catching the both of you and luring you into its embrace.

[wandascrush]

Bruised, bandaged, kissed

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Part 2 of my DIWK series

Summary: Natasha comes to you, and only you, for help. Wanda finds out about one of your little secrets. You were surrounded by blue all around you, limbs moving in slow motion...until you saw her. Dark brown hair danced in the water, a harsh contrast to the terror on her face. Eyes big as the moon, she stared directly at you. You tried to swim to her, kicking your tired arms as fast as possible, but you were too late. Wide and unblinking, she sunk down, down, down...lost to the sea forever.

You gasped as soon as you woke up, sweat covering your chest and neck. At HYDRA, Agents practically slept in dark, dusty cells with one huge bed in the middle and a desk off to the side. You were free to come and go as you pleased as long as you kept getting more info from the team and your burner phone was on you at all times. Of course you knew that with this privilege, some way somehow, they had somebody watching you 24/7. When you finally rubbed all the sleep out of your eyes, glancing at your phone, it was half past 6. Back at the Avengers compound, everyone woke up at around 8, latest, to start training, breakfast, paperwork, or meetings. It would take you at least an hour to get back to the compound, you hauled ass as you quickly threw your belongings into your black leather bag.

You tried to keep quiet along the corridors to not wake the other, less than pleasant, agents…they didn't particularly like you. It came to your surprise one day during training that one of the AIT'S, or agents in training, tried to suffocate you on the mat until you tazed them. Hydra had four levels of leaders: Captain, Commander, Supreme Hydra, and Imperial Hydra. Imperial Hydra, the leaders of everything, are four guys that no one has access to. The commander of the HYDRA branch you collected “intel” for took a particular liking to you, assigning you to the Avengers initiative that everyone wanted to work on. Your task: hack into the registry that contained personal information about all powered individuals. HYDRAS task: build a different type of super. Your morning luck ran out before you got to the security check, running into one of the most annoying coworkers you'd ever had.

"Samantha."

"Y/N. You're looking particularly awful today."

"Right. Well- it's always a pleasure," you gave her a sarcastic smile before pushing past her to the security check.

Finally you were out of there.

Back at the much more vibrant, and lively Avengers compound you quickly threw your bag into the embarrassingly large walk in closet that Tony had supplied you with. He was Marie Kondo at this point, decorating everyones room in the compound with the joy of a little girl in a toy store. It was funny to watch.

As soon as you walked out of your bedroom, you were met with the sight of a brunette, looking you up and down with a slightly tilted head. Something gave you the feeling that this Wanda Maximoff girl wasn't your biggest fan at all.

You nervously tucked your hair behind your ear before you spoke, "Hey Wanda-what uh- what's up?"

She didn't respond.

You cleared your throat expectantly. Her eyes narrowed, “Where were you off to so early this morning?"

Shit, she saw you come in.

"Nowhere, just had to grab a few groceries. I hate crowds so I thought I'd get there a little early," you let out a nervous chuckle and fiddled with your keys.

“You put your groceries in a leather duffel bag?”

“Hate to waste plastic, what can I say,” you shrugged. What a shitty excuse.

It seemed to suffice her, however, as she gave you a one up and walked away. It was hard not to notice her beautiful silky hair bounce off her back, but it didn't change the fact that you still didn't like her very much.

By 12 pm you had finished your weekly report to Fury about how you're adjusting to the Avengers initiative and how your last mission  went.

You liked Nick a lot to say the least.  He was stern but caring, and he would check anyone that pissed him off. He remind you a lot of Natasha, the girl that took a liking to you.

Her knock is what pushed you out of your dazed thoughts. She pushed open your door with her head down, trying to hide one side of her face but failing miserably. The first thing that caught your attention was the cut adorning her lips. The second was the large, blood stained bandage on her shoulder.

You knew better than to visibly show your concern, it would only make her upset. You posed a casual question instead, "How's the other guy look?"

You saw a glimpse of her secret smile, "Not too hot himself, actually."

As a double agent, you weren't supposed to catch feelings for anyone on either side, but there was something about that raspy voiced, careful Avenger that made you smile. You figured out how to help her without getting pushed away. Just ask.

You casually walked over to her and lazily motioned your head to your bathroom door, "Mind if I help you with that lip cut?"

"Tryna tell me I look bad Y/N?," she gave you her most judgemental one over that she could muster. 

"Not in my wildest dreams, Romanoff."

Sitting on her lap, you had to steady yourself with one hand on the counter to clean out her lip wound, dabbing hydrogen peroxide on it with a q-tip. Her jaw clenched each time, stinging her a little more.

As you shared a quiet moment with Natasha in the bathroom, you didn't even imagine that a certain witch was using her abilities to keep your bathroom door locked and search your room.

Nimble hands quickly explored every drawer within your wardrobe and finding nothing but a charger, melatonin, water, and a...special toy. Then she saw the black bag tucked into the corner of your closet. Her heart rate sped up a little as she approached the bag and grabbed the first file she saw, hidden under a jacket.

Later that night, as you thought about the way Natasha kissed you while you were on her lap and ran off, Wanda Maximoff would be in her bed, turning and tossing until she finally opened up the manila folder sitting in front of her.

Her eyes widened.

"I knew there was something off about you."

[aloesarchives]

Can You Not? (JJK Oneshot)

Warnings: 18+ (jic), Suggestive adult content, Swearing, Female pronouns, Sexual touches but nothing too explicit, Toji being frisky and hella horny, Megumi cockblocks Toji, slight ooc Megumi, Megumi being a menace, the word ass being mentioned like 3 times.

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Megumi Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1943 words

Pronouns: She/Her

Au: Reader is Megumi’s mom, is alive and well, Toji is alive and good too lol, reader is also a sorcerer but doesn’t go on many missions since she had Megumi but helps around Jujutsu Tech.

(A/N: Lastest oneshot to post in a while. I have another work that will be releasd later, hopefully. This is my first work for Jujitsu Kaisen. I apologize for any mischaracterizations with the characters!)

[Has been edited and proofread as 11/18/23 8:43pm. Banner credit: @cafekitsune]

As always, please enjoy!

It wasn’t unusual to have the house to yourself. With Toji going out on missions, and Megumi being in school for most of the day, you often found yourself always being at home by yourself. During this time, you would run some errands, some chores, or even go out for a bit to get some fresh air. Though you loved your husband and son, you also loved some alone time and it wouldn’t hurt to have it once in a while. 

Today was a little different. Toji was on a solo mission to wipe out a few curses in a town that was far from the city. The estimated completion of the mission would take about two days because of the distance and how the curses terrorized the town individually instead of in groups. But Toji being Toji, he got the mission done within six hours. For a regular grade sorcerer, it would take at least twelve hours to deal with two of these curses as these would any normal sorcerer a difficult time. But Toji doesn’t play games when it means getting a hefty paycheck for the job. With Toji's lack of a curse technique, he seemingly made himself an easy target for the curses. So he was able to draw them one by one from the specific areas of their known sightings.

Once the fifth curse dropped dead, Toji’s paycheck was secured. After receiving it from a wealthy business owner, the one who called about the town’s situation, all Toji could think about was getting home to you. He did his best to clean himself up from the stains and fluids of the now deceased curses. But there was some remaining residue and a small pungent odor that he couldn’t get rid of. Toji knew he would have to shower at home but he didn’t care because he only really thought of coming home to you. After getting dropped off home, it was around 4:30pm and he just went inside. He hears your humming in the kitchen and sees you chopping away at some vegetables, which he assumes is for dinner. As you cut away and put them in the pot, Toji can’t help but admire you. The precision in your cuts and the focus on your face as you slide the vegetables into the pot. Ugh, to him, you looked so good. Just like how he met you all those years ago when he saw you fight, you still were as beautiful as when he first laid eyes on you. And frankly, Toji thought you looked delicious as well.

After a few moments, you suddenly felt eyes on you and swiftly turned your head to meet Toji as he started walking towards you. 

“Toji! You’re home! Earlier then I was told. I thought you wouldn’t be home for at least a day or so.”

“That’s what I thought too, but the curses weren’t bad. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Toji says nonchalant as he twists his head up to crack it.

“Oh okay, Mr. big shot. We get it, not all of us have superhuman strength and heightened senses.” You joked which caused Toji to smirk. But your laughter died down and was replaced by a warm smile. You looked at him as you placed a hand on his right cheek and caressed his lip scar with your thumb gently.

“But I’m glad you came home in one piece. Well, that’s what it at least looks like on the surface. You’re not hurt anywhere, are you? I know how you are when you hide your injuries from me, Toji.” Looking at him apprehensively. 

“No, trust me. I’m not hurt. The red stains on my clothes are not my blood anyway, Hon.” He says with sight sincerity as he leans into your hand and holds it in his own. He looks at you before suddenly wrapping his strong arms around you, causing you to suck in your breath in a little bit. 

“I just wanna come home to you. That’s all I ever wanted after today. The mission wasn’t hard but I’m tired and I only wanna come back to you and this life we have together.” Leaning his head on yours softly and he slowly rubs your sides up and down.

You hum at his actions and let him relish in this state. You’re no stranger to Toji’s cocky and somewhat condescending personality. It’s something you couldn’t forget about him ever since your first encounter with this man. But you grew fond of it over time, especially when he got vulnerable around you when he told you everything about him. Now, you couldn’t imagine your husband without his cocky smirk.

The both of you stayed like this for a bit before Toji decided he wanted to dip his toes in the water. As he slowly stops rubbing your sides, he wraps his arms around you again. This time, however, you felt his right hand behind your right shoulder and his left being placed on your lower lumbar region. He was caressing the areas, his left hand getting dangerously close to your ass. 

You knew where this was going.

“Um, Toji… can’t you wait a little bit longer until nighttime? I need to watch dinner cook before it gets late.” You said hesitantly. Your face starts to warm up as that all too familiar fuzzy feeling starts to emerge itself from its depths within.

“I don’t know, Honey. It’s only for a bit, I swear. It’s just you and me in the house right now. No one will know. None of Megumi’s dogs or shadows. Hell, not even Megumi will be here for another hour or so. Just for a bit, please.”

Oh yeah, today’s the day Megumi is coming home from school. He said he’s bringing his two classmates over, Nobara and Yuuji, for dinner and to hangout. You asked him why out of curious and as he said over the phone with you, " (*deep sigh*) Mom, it’s only because they have begged me for so long. I just said I would bring them to see you once I come home on Friday. They really want to see the house and you."

“Toji please, n-not now…”

“Baby please. Just a few minutes of your time, a quickie. I promise you.”

Promise, your ass. You know your husband, and you know him well. Once you let him loose, he’s going all in until done and satisfied. He won’t stop until he gets his fill, trying more than his own damn missions. Oh, you knew because you were 110% sure that was how Megumi was conceived and born in the first place. All because of Toji’s horny primal urges, and it got worse once he was married to you.

You tried pushing Toji but knew it wouldn’t do anything given that the man was built like a concrete dam. Toji chuckles at your efforts as his right slides lower to rest comfortably on your ass. The way it rubbed and played with your flesh, your breathing was getting labored and grows heavier by the second the more he continued to play with you. You were slowly starting to become putty in his hands, literally. Toji was having too much fun enjoying putting you in such a state. He always did, the sadistic prick he is. 

“Come on, baby~~ Is that the best you can do? You’re a lot stronger than that, where did it all go? Did you need me that badly, (Y/N)?” He condescendingly says to you as you slowly start to give in to him.

He was seducing you, tempting you just to give in. While it was harmless and consensual, the hazy feeling that came with it was starting to take effect. Slowly blocking off your senses as you fail to hear the front door opening and closing. Before the two of you would go from the point of no return, in this case Toji getting a squeeze out of your ass, you heard a loud grunt at the entrance of the kitchen. Snapping out of your trance, you escape from your husband’s embrace and face where the grunt came from.

“God, can you not do that when I come home every time? I can’t believe you, Old man.”

There, you were faced with your 15 year old son, Megumi, who had a deadpan look at his face as he stared at the two of you. More so at you then Toji. Toji looked as irritated as ever while Megumi looked completely done with him.

“Megumi, Sweetie! I thought you were coming at 6:30 pm? It’s only 5:45 pm right now!” Walking over to Megumi to greet him. You were trying to calm yourself from your flustered state and welcome your son home. It always made you embarrassed when Megumi had to encounter these types of situations with you two. And to be honest, you wished your son never had to witness any of them. Meanwhile, Toji was death glaring at his own son for literally cock blocking him. 

“Yeah, but we just got done with the mission early and Gojo-Sensei said we can leave since that’s all he did for us today. Plus, Yuuji and Nobara are here with me. They're taking off their shoes and are still at the front entrance.” Megumi rubs the back of his head and pocketing his hands as he was telling you. By the way he talked and the look on his face, you knew your son was exhausted from the day. Assuming his two friends are tired as well. 

“Well Megumi, you can go upstairs and freshen up for a bit. Take your friends up to your room as well. Dinner will be ready in 45 minutes or so, I’ll come get you and friends. If you or your friends need anything, please let me know, dear. And for you, Toji, go upstairs, shower, and change into some new clean clothes. Your curse stains are starting to smell. I don’t want the house to smell like it, now go upstairs please.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Megumi gives you a small kiss on your cheek before he goes to gather his friends and head upstairs to his room. As you smile at how much your son has grown, Toji couldn’t help get more grumpy and irritated. Especially when he saw Megumi flash him a shit-eating grin before leaving the kitchen. You didn’t see it but boy, Toji did. He knew that grin from anywhere because when Megumi grins like that, he always looks like Toji no matter the nature of the shit-eating grin.

As Toji leaves you in the kitchen to let you continue making dinner, he freshens up in your shared bedroom. When he was done, he came out and was gonna join you. His hair is a little damp as he walks down the hall. Funny enough, Megumi just left his room and ran into him before Megumi could go down stairs and get some drinks.

“Oi, Megumi.”

Megumi looks up from his phone and blankly stares at his dad.

“What?”

“Listen Megumi, you didn’t have to straight up fucking cock block me like that to your mother.”

Megumi just hums and stares at him.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have if you have been successful. You didn’t have to do that to Mom. Plus, who’s fault was it that you continuously get caught? It’s definitely not me. Nor is it my problem. That’s a skill issue, Dad. Now excuse me, I need to get some drinks.” 

Megumi walks past Toji like he didn’t just scorch the hell out of his father. Toji’s mouth was agape as he stared at his son in disbelief. He sees Megumi’s figure disappear going down the stairs. Clicking his tongue, Toji mumbled under his breath.

“Little shit,” He says before he heads in the same direction.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(A/N: Bro, I know the ending is rushed and short but I didn't really know how to end it. I like this work but I could make the ending a but better. I might edit this work later on when I get ideas.)

Thank you for you and hope you have a good day!

[genshin-obsessed]

Hii! Hope you're having an amazing day! Can I request scaramouche, baizhu and dottore with a reader that can't sleep at night because of nightmares? They can only sleep 2-3 hours max before waking up because of another nightmare. I've been having night terrors recently out of blue so maybe some comfort might help with the issue ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

✧ Hiya! Super cute, thanks for the request! I believe this is my first time writing for Baizhu which is suprising bc he's one of my faves. Sorry this took so long btw! ✧ Also, I genuinely feel for anyone who suffers with night terrors, I couldn't imagine what that would be like.

✧ Characters: Baizhu, Dottore, Scaramouche

✧ Baizhu

Being a doctor, he did have some experience with night terrors before. He is wary of medication, as he knows that’s not a permanent solution.

Not only that, but night terrors have underlying conditions, which are easier to treat than the terrors, themselves. So, he'll try to work with that.

Of course, he's beside you every single night when you sleep. So, if you're thrashing or screaming, he can calm you and bring you back to reality. 2-3 hours a night isn’t enough sleep, so he’ll usually ease your stress and help you rest some more.

Getting better is going to take a long time, that's something you'll need to come to terms with but it is possible. One thing is for sure, Baizhu will never give up.

✧ Dottore

He’s certainly seen cases before. Both mild night terrors and severe ones. He does have a few ideas to help them.

The last resort is medication for him, since it’s not the best thing to use to treat night terrors. The lack of sleep is the most worrisome for him, 2-3 is detrimental to the body.

Night terrors are frightening for both parties to deal with, so he takes it extremely seriously. It’s pretty much top priority for him. As mentioned earlier, he works on your sleeping the most. You need to sleep at least 7 hours a night.

You can expect him to be beside you every single night when you try to sleep. He’ll bring his research with him or a book, or even if he’s sleeping with you. He’ll hold your hand and even talk to you until you fall asleep. Dottore asmr.

✧ Scaramouche

He understands as he probably has a minor case himself. Unfortunately, he’s no doctor so he doesn’t actually know how to treat it. But that doesn’t mean he won’t look for ways.

He knows doctors and so he’s quick to try and get any of them to help. When you had your visit, he paid attention to every single word spoken by the doctor.

Scaramouche takes it extremely seriously. Not only that, he understands how detrimental it could be both psychologically and physically. He tries his best to find ways to soothe you back into sleeping.

Scara will try to make sure you get at least 7-8 hours of sleep in a day. It’s ok if it’s not in one night. As long as you rest. He keeps a close eye on your diet as well to make sure you have enough energy and sugars in a day and not go overboard.

[jasntodds]

Penance [8]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 5,400

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, tiny bit of angst, fluff, mentions of death

Summary:❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I honestly just needed a little bit of a break from writing lol Anyway this has one of my favorite scenes in it and it's because it's cute and not angst for once lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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You wake up with your alarm a few hours later. You're still drowsy in your eyes but your mind is wide awake, knowing you're going to see Jason today. And unlike the last week, this makes you smile from ear to ear with excitement and nerves. You aren’t under any obligation this time. Tim is gone and it’s just you and him. You aren’t training or patrolling. You're going shopping and working on his home. It feels normal.

You change three times before deciding on jeans and a Wayne Enterprises shirt, mostly because you expect to get dirty and you don’t want to ruin one of the shirts you actually like. Though, you hate admitting the WE shirt fits nicely and it’s a good color.

When you walk into the kitchen, Molly is seated with a sandwich on a plate and her laptop open. Molly's eyes glance up to you before she goes back to her work. You start kicking on a pair of Converse before you break the silence.

“I had sex with Jason last night.” You blurt out.

Molly shoots her attention back to you and blinks a few times. “You what?” Molly asks, unsure if she heard that right.

“I had sex with Jason.” You repeat as you get your second shoe on.

“Of course, you did.” Molly lets out a sigh and that's when she sees the hint of bruises that are very clearly hickies sticking out from the collar of your shirt.

You finally look back to Molly, brows tugging together. “Fuck you?” You question.

Molly leans back to stretch, as if preparing herself for the story you'll have. “You two can’t control yourselves.” Molly rolls her shoulders.

“Well—“ You suck in a breath. “Yeah…” You let out a sigh with a small grin. “Just thought I’d tell you.”

Molly sucks in a deep breath, pushing her laptop an inch away from her. “How did you manage to sleep with him?”

“Well, okay so Dick had this whole thing where we had to spar with blindfolds on, right?” You start and Molly gives you a nod. “Well, we took it up a notch at the Manor and we’d shut all the lights off and we’d have to spar and disarm each other but we’d also have to find each other using anything but our sight. Good practice. Well, we did that last night and then…”

“Something about you two hunting each other in the dark does it for the two of you?” Molly quips.

You offer Molly a quick glare before you cross your arms. “At this point, would it shock you?”

“No.” Molly sighs honestly.

“Exactly but no.” You scoff. “We were joking like we always do, yelling at each other through the dark, ya know? And then he fucking hid before a window so I had to step into the light and we sparred there and then…I don’t know.” You shrug before you lean on the wall beside you, shifting your weight to your left foot. “I just…kissed him.”

Molly nods her head. “And then?”

“He kissed me back and one thing led to another and we said it was a one-time thing.” You gesture a hand out haphazardly.

Molly lets out a groan and while she adores the both of you, she has to wonder how two people can be so stubborn in their ways. If you want to fall into something again, that's fine but Molly can't wrap her head around the logic the two of you are using to justify your silence around each other. The two of you like to overcomplicate your own feelings when it doesn't have to be that complicated.

"What?" You question, pulling out your phone to see a text from Jason saying he's on his way.

“Do you honestly believe this is a one-time thing?” Molly asks with a bite in her voice.

“No.” You say quietly.

“Do you want it to be a one-time thing?”

“No.”

“So fucking tell him.” Molly urges.

“I-I can’t.” You shake your head. "Not yet." Your eyes go to the floor before they find their way back to Molly. “What if he leaves again?” You ask quietly, your voice falling small.

Molly's shoulders slouch forward. "Just because of what you guys do, doesn't mean it has to end that way." Molly states softly and she does believe it. She knows what you do is dangerous and maybe one of you won't come home, but that isn't guaranteed.

"That's not what I mean." You shake your head quickly. "He died, yeah and that's a whole..." You suck in a breath. "That's a thing but then...he came back and he still left me standing on a rooftop. I begged him to not leave and then he did." You let out a sigh as you look back to the floor. "So, maybe things get too hard and he leaves again. On purpose. At least...at least if he dies it's because it's part of the job, greater good."

"He left to protect you." Molly states. "I know there's more to it because he never had to work with Crane, he could have talked to Dick, there were things he could've done. But, bottom line is that he left to protect you, not because he wanted to."

"Right, yeah, but Jason Todd tends to believe he's the worst person to walk the face of the earth." You push off of the wall with a breath. "I don't know. It's like...I want to tell him and then I think of another reason not to." You shake your head, checking the time on your phone before you pocket it again. "Want it to be right, don't want to scare him off, I don't wanna leave him." You chew the inside of your cheek. "I just want it to be right next time."

Molly nods with understanding and if she were being honest, she can't imagine your point of view of standing on the roof with Jason. You don't ask people to stay. You don't stay too often. For you to beg him and him to leave anyway, Molly can only imagine the devastation that ripped through you.

"So...what do you want to do then?" Molly asks.

You let out a soft laugh. "Honestly, I don't know but as long I'm with him...I think I'm okay with whatever it is. I'll get over it, ya know?" You nod. "Uh...Jason is getting me an appointment with Leslie so...maybe I'll just ask her and maybe...maybe I'll take some advice."

"Even if she tells you to talk to him?"

You let out a groan as a smile pulls at your lips. "It would be the right thing to do."

"It would." Molly agrees with a laugh. "For what it's worth, you've looked happier the last week than you have in over a month."

You feel heat rush over your cheeks. "He still makes me very happy." You scrunch your nose. "So, anyway, I will have a conversation with him soon but for now, just know last night was fun and I'm going to Home Depot to help him fix up his place."

Molly lets out a laugh. “Oh? You moving out?”

“Shut up, no.” You laugh softly. “Just helping him.”

Molly rolls her eyes with a smile, mentally making a note of the date because she's willing to bet you'll be back living with Jason within a few months of his place being finished.

"If you say so." Molly quips as she pulls the laptop back to her.

"Are you kicking me out?" You offer a fake pout as you make your way to the door.

"No." Molly chortles. "I just know you two."

"That's fair." You laugh back. "Okay, I'll be back later." You wave quickly before heading out of the door, locking it behind you.

By the time you exit the apartment building, Jason is already there. A black sports car is parked against the curb while Jason is leaning against the passenger door, looking at his phone with one hand in his pocket. A smile tugs at your lips seeing him. Jason catches a glimpse of the doors opening and you walking out from the tops of his eyes.

“Wayne Enterprises?” Jason chortles as he looks your way.

“Fuck off.” You threaten as you close the distance between you. “Figured we’d get dirty and I don’t wanna ruin a shirt I like...unlike you.” You look him up and down. He's wearing a black leather jacket, one you always said looked good on him and a pair of black jeans.

"I'm gonna change when we get back." Jason quips back.

You point to the car. “Bruce?”

“Yeah.” Jason looks to the car and back to you. “He’s back in town today, said I could borrow it long as I didn’t do anything stupid.” Jason lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “You could talk to him.” He suggests, trying to play it casual.

Jason knows Bruce is not exactly your favorite person but he would like for you to talk to him. Jason forgives him for everything and a lot of your anger towards Bruce is because of Jason. Bruce means a lot to him and you mean a lot to him. He just wants you to get along and Bruce said he's willing to talk with you and try to smooth things over. Jason won't say it, but it would mean a lot if the two of you could get along and get to a good place.

You quirk a brow at him, almost a look of disgusted confusion plastering itself across your features. “What?”

“Could talk to him.” Jason repeats himself.

“No.” You scoff. “Why would I do that?”

The way you see it, you have nothing to say to him. You warned him about Jason and the Joker and then Jason died because Bruce wouldn't listen. All Bruce had to do was listen to Jason, listen to you, or anyone and he didn't. Then after his death, he was still referring to it like it was some sort of war and Jason was a soldier, a sacrifice for a good cause as if he wasn't his son. Your fists ball at your sides the argument replaying in your head.

Jason shakes his head. “I did.”

“Because he’s your dad.” You state. “He’s always been…” You trail off trying to find the right way to phrase it because you want to say something about Bruce weaponizing two of the most important people to you and something about him getting Jason killed which spiraled into the effect of Dick and Tim getting killed. You want to tell him details of your arguments after he died but that would be cruel. “Not that to me.”

“He’s trying.” Jason states and he knows that if he wants to be with you, which he does, it would be a whole lot easier if you and Bruce got along. “Not fucking perfect or some shit, but…trying.”

“I’m glad he’s trying, Jay. Honest.” You nod as your eyes go soft. “I just don’t have anything to say to him.” You pull in a breath.

Jason knows getting you to sit down and have a conversation with Bruce is not going to be easy. You can hold a grudge better than anyone Jason has ever met. But, he knows it's all still a little fresh for you. He hopes after a little more time you can talk to him. Jason thinks you'd actually get along if you would give him a real chance but he also knows that's a lot easier said than done. If roles were reversed, Jason wouldn't be so forgiving either.

“You’re still using his credit card.” Jason chuckles.

“I’m mad at him, not stupid.” You let out a laugh.

“Just get in the car.” Jason states as he opens the passenger side for you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You smile softly at him. “Thank you.”

The two of you head to Home Depot, Jason having made a list for supplies on his phone. You mostly get things like tools and drywall. You grab some outlet covers and plywood for some of the floors. Most of the house really isn’t in too bad of shape. It mostly needs a good clean and some paint. It’s only a handful of spots that need actual work done but it is nice you get to do this together.

After you get back, you get right to work working on the spare room. The drywall in that room needs to be replaced so you work on that before Jason moves onto some of the plumbing in one of the bathrooms, you taking it upon yourself to get to cleaning some of the upstairs. Jason plays a mixed playlist through the speakers, one he still has on his Spotify from when you were dating. It contains all of both of your favorite songs.

A few hours into it, Jason places an order for some food and once it’s delivered, the two of you take your seats in the main hallway downstairs, sitting on the floor. Jason sits with one leg tugged to his chest, eating his burger while you're seated cross-legged, eating the same as his just without the onion.

“Are you gonna paint?” You ask, looking around at the white walls.

“Walls are grimy as fuck.” Jason says with a mouth full of food. “Probably.”

You give him a grin. “You should paint one wall r—“

“I’m not painting the walls fucking red.” Jason lets out a booming laugh as he tilts his head back.

“But! It’s your color!” You cheer, the smile vibrant and happy. “Come on, it’ll look good! Just one wall.” Your eyes are wide and soft, cheerful and playful. Jason thinks he’s going to melt into the floor. He’d do anything to have you look at him like that all the time.

“Fine.” Jason agrees before stuffing a fry into his mouth. “One wall but I pick the shade.”

“Okay.” You beam, looking down at your food with a warm chest. You look back up to him before eating one of his fries, Jason blinking at you. That’s why he ordered a large instead of a medium. “And you should paint one wall blue.” You chime with a cheeky grin. “My blue, not Dick’s.” You laugh softly.

Jason bursts into a fit of laughter. “That’s a bit far, huh?” Jason questions.

“No! You have a wall and I have a wall! I’m helping so I think that’s only fair.” You bat your eyelashes at him with a toothy smile.

“So you think you get a whole damn wall cause you’re helping me fucking clean?”

“And because I’m your favorite vigilante!” You laugh and Jason thinks you're even cuter than you've ever been.

Happy looks good on you.

“Right.” Jason nods his head, resting his arm over his knee to lean in a bit. “And what makes you think that?”

“Well, it’s not Batman.” You chortle. “It’s not Dick because even if it were, you’d rather have a lobotomy than ever admit it. It’s not Conner because you don’t really know him well. It’s not Rachel. It’s not Superman just because he’s friends Bruce so on principle alone, it can’t be him.” You explain as Jason laughs.

Sam thinks he's laughed more in the last few minutes than he ever has. She'd do anything to keep him this happy.

Happy looks good on him.

“How many times have you thought about this?” Jason questions as he furrows his brows, a teasing grin pulling at his lips.

“Clearly, too many.” You suck in a breath. “I don’t really have a good reason for any other vigilante that I don’t know but I know it’s not them. So, really, I think my only competition is Kory and Gar because Kory is a badass and I mean…Gar.” You explain as you furrow your brows before your eyes soften at him with a gentle smile. “I still think I’m your favorite.”

Of course you are.

“All good points but you haven’t explained how you’re my favorite.” Jason teases you.

“Well, I let you sleep with me.” You fire back as Jason bursts into more laughter.

“That doesn’t fucking count.” Jason argues.

“Fine fine fine.” You shake your head. “Um…you trained me which you hold a lot of pride in.” You state. “You like my suit, clearly cause we both have hoods now. Half my damn name is literally yours.” You widen your eyes at him as you tilt your head side to side. “Because I’m your favorite.” You state with pride.

Jason shakes his head, his heart turning into a puddle of mush. He’s so in love with you. “Fine, you’ll be my favorite when I’m yours.” Jason teases back.

“Who says you’re not my favorite?” You argue.

“Krypto.” Jason answers without skipping a beat.

You tilt your head, laughing and it takes everything in him not to kiss you. “Yeah…he’s such a good boy!” You shake your head, taking another one of Jason’s fries. “You’re my second favorite though.”

Jason shakes his head. “Why?” He asks.

“Trying to get me to fill your ego?”

Jason gives you a cheeky smirk. “Can’t help myself.”

“Because you’re Jason Todd.” You answer simply. “That’s why you’re my favorite, not counting Krypto.”

Jason’s brows furrow. “What’s that mean?”

You shrug a shoulder. “Too many reasons list. You’re my favorite because you’re you.” You know it sounds a little like a copout but it's true. Jason Todd is your favorite person no matter the suit or lack thereof. It's always that simple to you.

Jason looks down, pushing the container of fries so it’s more in the middle of you. “One wall.” Jason looks back to you with a soft smile.

“Really?” You ask with hope in your eyes and Jason thinks he’d let you paint the whole place any color you wanted at this point.

“Gonna be here all the damn time anyway, right?” Jason asks.

It hasn't felt so lonely with you being around and it's not just because he's not alone physically. He never feels lonely when you're around. He feels at ease with you around and happy. He hopes you keep coming around even after you finish the house.

“Probably.” You nod quickly. “Yeah.” Your cheeks burn knowing it's true. Even if you won't intend to be around all the time, it is bound to happen if the pattern continues. Though, by the grin on his lips and the airiness of his voice, you don't think he minds. It always feels more like home when you're with him.

“Guess I could spare a few walls for you.” Jason offers a soft smile.

“Awfully nice of you, Jay.”

“I can be nice.” Jason finishes off his burger.

"You have your moments." You smile softly at him before scrunching your nose and taking another fry.

Over the next few days, the two of you continue cleaning and getting the home ready. It feels normal and happy. For once, it feels like the two of you don't have to have a care in the world as you work. And you don't even wonder what it would be like if you were actually together because you both know it would be just like this.

You're picking out an overall shade of the house and helping him pick out furniture, something he thinks would have happened anyway. Jason stocks shared food and drinks for the two of you and he says it's just because you've been helping him and you'll be by a lot anyway. It's not a big deal. You share the space without ever slapping a label on it and it feels comfortable.

Jason has also had his appointment with Leslie, asking her about you. She called you after Jason's appointment and now you have an appointment for the following week. You aren't too thrilled about it but if Jason is saying it's helping, the least you can do is try. Asking Jason to try all those months ago but not doing it yourself, makes you a hypocrite. You owe it to yourself.

The last few days have been nice and pretty easy but you're getting ready to leave your apartment now and Molly is standing in your doorway, watching you.

"Where are you going? You just got back and you don't patrol this early." Molly states as she watches you shove your backpack onto your back.

"Just out." You shrug your shoulders. "I'll be back in time for patrol." You go to walk past her but Molly blocks you.

"Where do you go when do this? Jason found you in an alley—"

"Is it a crime to go on a walk?" You question.

"It is for you, yes." Molly answers back. "You also always do it whenever something is wrong. Did something happen with Jason today?" Molly asks as you watch her face fall.

You put your hands on Molly's shoulders. "Nothing happened with Jason. We did what we usually do, worked on the house. I just have something I have to do." You close your eyes, knowing Molly isn't going to get off your back. "It just has to do with the case we're working. It's nothing, okay? I'm almost done anyway." You gesture for Molly to move.

Molly would never approve of what you're doing. Molly would tell Jason and then you'd tell Gar and Dick, next thing you would know you'd be sat in an intervention about your own self-destruction. They'd lecture about how unsafe it is and you're just punishing yourself, there are other ways. You're nearly rolling your eyes at the very thought of hearing the lecture. Even when you would defend yourself, they wouldn't believe it were just for the case. It just seems like a giant headache and a waste of time so you keep your mouth shut to Molly.

Molly moves slowly out of the way. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Nothing." You groan, not turning around to face her. "I'll be back after patrol." You state before you slide your shoes on.

"Are you in trouble?" Molly's voice grows small and quiet.

You look back to her. "No." You answer simply. "It's fine." You let out a sigh. "I'll be back." You open the door and leave without another word.

Molly watches the door close and she knows she shouldn't, but she reaches for her phone anyway. You've been better about not keeping secrets ever since you looped Molly into the vigilante world. You keeping this secret while offering next to nothing, has rubbed Molly the wrong way. Maybe if you kept your phone on, Molly wouldn't worry as much but considering you have a real fear of being kidnapped, Molly knows it's taking a lot for you to shut your phone off. It means you're up to something no one will approve of. So, she calls Jason.

"Wanna do me another favor?" Molly asks as soon as Jason picks up.

"I'm not hunting her down again, Molly." Jason says, knowing immediately what Molly was gonna ask.

Molly lets out a groan as she plops down at the kitchen table. "Look, I think she got herself into some trouble."

Jason closes his eyes but he knows you're someone who wants to handle your own trouble on your own and will, inevitably get in over your head. "What do you mean?" Jason caves.

Molly pauses for a few seconds trying to figure out how she can explain this to Jason without sounding paranoid. She's hoping his care for you will work in her favor.

"She goes out randomly, won't tell me, shuts off her phone, and today she did say it had to do with the case she's working." Molly explains.

The only weird thing in that entire sentence is your phone but Jason doesn't think that's enough of a reason. He's been doing this whole thing longer than both of you and sometimes, getting intel means it's gotta be kept quiet to everyone. If it has to do with the case, Jason's betting that's what you're doing, maybe don't want Molly involved to protect her. From where Jason is sitting, it actually seems pretty normal.

Jason lets out a sigh. "That's not a fucking reason to hunt her down." Jason states. "I'm not going. We're in a good place and I don't wanna fuck that up. I can't go stalking her around Gotham cause you're fucking worried she might be doing something weird."

"I know." Molly sighs in defeat. "I worry about you guys." Molly confesses. "Last time, please?" Molly pleads with him.

Jason gets up from his spot at the computers with a sigh. "You gotta get used to it, Molly." Jason states, keeping his voice level. "Worrying and shit, that's just part of it."

"I know." Molly nods her head. "Can't you just see where she's going?" Molly looks to the floor and lets out a breath. "I won't ask again unless I have a better reason."

Jason looks at his gear before he looks to the ceiling, knowing you're going to rip him a new one. "When did she leave?"

"Ten minutes ago."

"If she goes all Acid Fingers on me, I'm sending her to you." Jason states.

Molly smiles on the other end. "I can handle her."

Jason gets ready in his Red Hood gear, feeling a little guilty for agreeing to do this again. But, this will be the last time and he figures he'll just let you know about Molly's worrying so you can loop her in. Jason knows you're probably fine. You're smart and resourceful, if you get into trouble with whatever you're doing, you probably have some sort of backup plan for help. He's just doing this for Molly even if her worrying is rubbing off on him as he exits his building.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to find you. It's like he told Molly, you're a creature of habit. He found you near the alley you were in last time. Jason takes a roof of a nearby building and maybe this is wrong. You're perfectly fine, clearly, you're having a conversation with some man in a suit but the conversation doesn't look to be going sideways. You're fine but Jason decides to sit up on the roof and wait it out anyway. He doesn't listen in, he just watches a bit. At the end of the day, you're still meeting up with a random guy in an alley. You're paranoid on a good day, so that's weird. That's what Jason tells himself to justify his spying on you.

Once the man walks out of the alley, Jason uses his grappling hook to make his way down to you. The movement gathers attention and you immediately grab a knife from your pocket as you look up. Instead of something horrible, you see Jason. Your grip loosens as you roll your eyes. The annoyance isn't directed at him because Jason doesn't stalk you unless he's given a reason. The reason seems always to be Molly.

"What're you doing?" You question once Jason is standing with his feet on the ground.

"Who was that?" Jason asks, nodding his head towards the end of the alley where the man walked off.

"Jealous?" You quip as you cross your arms over your chest.

You can't see it, but Jason deadpans behind the helmet. "Of that fuck?" Jason scoffs. "Fuck no." Jason scans you over and you look fine, other than mildly annoyed.

Despite the annoyance, there is a part of you that does appreciate him checking in on you. You know Molly sent him and even if Jason was certain you were fine, he did it to put Molly at ease which is nice. If you were in Jason's shoes, you'd be doing the same thing so you can't get too mad at him. If you were being honest, you can't get too mad at Molly either.

"So?" You raise your brows and gesture a hand out to him, waiting for him to give you an explanation.

"Don't shoot the messenger." Jason puts his hands up in defense.

You roll your eyes. "Molly, really?"

"She's worried about you." Jason states, the voice modulator hiding a tint of worry in his own voice.

"I'm fine, Red." You gesture a hand over yourself. "See?"

You make a mental note to have a sit down with Molly because you can't be asking Jason to track you down whenever she's worried. What Molly doesn't understand is that you and Jason are both prepared for when something goes wrong. Molly knows you have your failsafes but that doesn't seem to put her mind at ease very much. The more you're thinking about it, knowing Jason has one doesn't put you at much ease either.

Jason nods his head but he's not willing to let it rest. "Can't fucking blame her when you're the one being ominous as fuck about what you're doing."

"I'm just getting some intel." You state casually. "It's really not a big deal."

If it weren't a big deal, you would tell Molly. Jason knows there has to be more to it. You're being too secretive about it but it's not exactly his place to badger you about it. It's your case, not his even if you agreed you'd kind of work your cases together. It's still yours and you were trained the same way he was. He's just worried about you and now he knows how you felt when he was Robin. It's not fun worrying about the person you care about all the time.

"You sure that's all it is?" Jason questions and receives a nod from you. "Why not tell Molly?"

You shrug softly and you really don't have an answer outside of the truth. "Um...it's not...the same case I've been working." You confess and Jason's stomach starts to twist.

"What the hell did you get into?" Jason nearly demands as worry starts to tug at his bones.

You close some of the distance between you, lightly grabbing his forearms in your hands. "Nothing, I swear. It's not anything bad or dangerous." You urge as your eyes meet the whites of his helmet. "I know that sounds like bullshit but I promise, it's not."

Jason's eyes are scanning over your features and you're not lying to him but somehow that doesn't reassure him. You not being in danger should rid the anxiety wanting to melt from his flesh but all he does is grow more confused.

"Not very reassuring." Jason quips.

You chew the inside of your cheek as you drop your hands. "Can you trust me, please?" You plead with him and you can't see it, but his features soften under the helmet.

"You get into any shit, you'll tell me, right?" Jason asks.

You nod and offer him a soft smile. "Yeah, of course but it's not that kind of case. I'll tell you when I can, promise." You nod again and your smile seems to turn sad.

"Alright." Jason sighs.

"I always have my knives and if I'm ever in a bad enough situation, I will burn someone. I got it."

Jason nods and he rests a hand on your hip lightly. "Sorry for stalking you." A chuckle leaves his lips.

"Yeah, you weirdo." You snicker. "It's okay. I'd do the same." You beam up at him, getting you a laugh from Jason.

"You would." Jason quips back. Jason swallows thickly. "Hey, are you sure you couldn't talk to the Bat?"

You shake your head as if doing a double take. "Why do you want me to talk to him so bad?"

Jason shrugs trying his best to play it off as something that doesn't matter too much. "You two not getting along is bound to cause a problem, rather not deal with it."

"I don't have anything to say to him, Red." You urge once more and the very thought of talking to Bruce makes you want to scream.

"Is it because of what happened?" Jason asks.

"No." You answer honestly. "There's more. I don't wanna get into it." You pull in a breath and you wish you could see his face. "I'm sorry but...I can't."

You can't see it, but Jason's face falls into something between disappointment and defeat.

"It's alright, worth a shot." Jason clears his throat and you feel the guilt bubbling into your throat. "Meet up for food later?" Jason changes subject.

"Always." You nod quickly, offering a small smile that never reaches your eyes. "Two?"

"Meet you at Excellent Gotham? I'll pick something up."

"Sounds good." You beam up at him. "Be careful, Red." Your eyes narrow slightly before you scrunch your nose. "I'm gonna go home to get read and I'll be out."

"Want an escort?" Jason offers with a subtle squeeze to your hip.

"I'm okay, but thank you." You smile softly at him before you pull away. "Okay, I'll meet you at two. I'll text you." You grin back at him before you spin on your heels and head down the end of the alley.

prev. chapter

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Tag List: @kimjaebo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai //

@makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out //

@velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmesss // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 //

@stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao //  @somehow-lovable-trash  // 

@xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased //

@scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @ginger24880 // @urmomsgayforme5 //

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@bbiaa420 // @todorokiskitten // @krishavania

[taznovembercelebration]

UHHH okay nobody panic but november happened to us

which means!!! however!! that it is time for the TAZ November Celebration to ride again! but i don't know about you, but things have been crazy for me. so we're going to keep it easy breezy this month while having some fun, and we're gonna enjoy the B.I.T.S.

BOOST, INDULGE, TREASURE, SURVIVE here's the drill! you will have a BITS board! copy this one. then, every day, or alternately set time you spend fully focused, and then have a break before doing something else, you can give yourself a pin in the section you were working towards!

Boost: support another creator by commenting, making a recommendation post about, or doing something else to show another person some love for their excellent work! Indulge: indulge in creativity with something you really, really enjoy. don't worry about a thing, just lose yourself in the joy that got you into fandom creation in the first place. maybe go back to a very favorite trope, or a contrived but delicious au, make a gift for someone you love to pieces, or only do the parts you like, but enjoy it!

Treasure: Spend time appreciating a work you already love. reread a fic that delights you, or reblog all of the art you can find of your favorite character, or something else that makes you feel like a dragon sitting on a pile of favorites. you can even just go back to your favorite episodes of the podcast! Survive: sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. this time there are points for that! Every November i've done for this, something insane has happened, and it's always hard to take time to take care of yourself and not do the fun thing. but no more! if you take an evening to do nothing but eat cheese balls in your bathrobe (or something less fun and more vital to your continuing to live good) because that's where you're at mentally or otherwise, give yourself a pin for surviving! FAQ: q: How many pins can I get? a: As many as you like/can fit/care to! q: What do I use for "pins"? a: any transparent image will work, or you can use something like the editing markup on your phone and add emojis, or draw something... if you need some pngs, check out @treasuregamble! q: how will you know to reblog our posts? a: tag this blog please! @taznovembercelebration q: why this and not just rewards for making things every day of november? a: because it's time to spread the love without terrorizing ourselves in the name of competition! q: do we have to get all the BITS or can i focus all on one area? a: try to get at least one set of BITS if you're going to participate, but it's fully up to you. i'm not your dad! q: can i really have more than one pin in a day? a: yes, but you have to take a proper break between switching gears. If you spend 8 hours in a fugue state writing a fic where a mermaid and a marine biologist go on a roadtrip to defeat a king and sleep in the same bed on the way, it only counts for one pin if you don't take a real break. cause i do care about your well being.

more questions? ask here

otherwise, see you on the dance floor! i can't wait to see all the pins you pick and great things you boost and make and enjoy!

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

AI-Less Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for hosting the event! All of this year's prompts can be found here.

This year is a collaboration with @ohtobeleah so we will be splitting the prompts between us. Links to her fics will be included below as well, and I highly encourage everyone to check them out too! 💞 Her's will be listed in orange while mine will be listed in purple.

October 1 - public torture/public use, stress position, “If you cry, we’ll go easy on you.”

My Lover, My Hero After a nasty break-up with your Ex, Rhett, he comes to your rescue when two burley patrons don’t take no for an answer. {Rhett Abbott}

October 2 - Unfortunate fall, car accident, “Don’t move. You’ll be okay.”

An Angels Discretion When Bradley gets a call to say you’ve been involved in a major car accident, his whole world is turned upside down. {Alternate Ending to An Angels Discretion}

October 3 - Shared trauma, survivor’s guilt, “It’s not your fault.”

Protect Thy Saviour When Jake and Hollywood are enjoying a fire in the comfort and silence of Jake’s courtyard, Hollywood reminds Jake that nothing was ever his fault. {From the Bruises Series}

October 4 - Painful transformation, non-consensual body modifications, “You’re a monster.”

For What You've Done Five months ago, the love of your life was killed in a car accident. In the aftermath of Jake's death, you and Rooster lean on each other to deal with your grief and soon become a couple. So when you suggest a camping trip together, Rooster agrees. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

October 5 - Overstimulation, migraines, “I can’t take this anymore.”

Breathe For Me The love of Jake’s life is plagued with chronic migraines after an unfortunate work place accident. But when a migraine feels wrong? Does Jakes initial response cost him his most priceless wife?

October 6 - Multiple whumpees, self sacrifice, “I’m the only one who can do this.”

Drink With Me (Part 2) Two years after Jake was forced to watch you ripped apart by the creatures that now terrorize the world, he is a shell of the man he once was. However, a familiar voice calling to him in the dark may give him a second chance.

October 7 - Field medicine, running out of supplies, “Hold on, we’re going to have to improvise.”

The Hills Have Eyes Jakes mind plagues him with haunting memories at your funeral. Bradley is forced to come to terms with the fact he'll be Jake Seresins metaphorical punching bag for the rest of his life. {From the Bruises Series}

October 8 - Rope burns, gagged, “You’re so much prettier this way.”

Lethal Weapon During an intense interrogation, your existence is made obsolete when half the population is turned to dust. What felt like a mere five minutes was in fact— five years. With the knowledge that Hydra was once again rising with intentions more sinister then the last, you do the job you were originally sent out to do. Protect Sargent James Buchanan Barnes at whatever means necessary.

October 9 - Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.”

Frozen Jake is so intoxicated he forgets he played a life-threatening prank on you. Leaving you to freeze, for hours.

October 10 - Self worth issues, pushing away a loved one, “You don't need to earn this.”

The Secrets We Keep You have a patient booked in for an early ultrasound….What you don't expect is for it to be the new partner of your Ex-husband. Bradley Bradshaw.

October 11 - Hallucinations, truth serum, “Why would you even say that?”

This Moment Waking up with you in his bed should be a dream come true. But as you get ready for the day, Logan wishes things could be different.

October 12 - Isolation, sensory deprivation, “Can you feel me? I’m right here, whumpee.”

Blood Runs Thicker Than Water Charles and Logan, already in a Days of Future Past quests, take a detour when Charles feels another mutant in the Pentagon.

October 13 - Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”

The Guys Next Door When your son shows up on Jakes door scared and all alone, he soon realises that something might be wrong at his neighbours home.

October 14 - Seizures, concussion, “See if you can follow my finger with your eyes.”

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 10 Just as you begin to think your life is perfect, a traumatic event occurs that changes everything.

October 15 - Waterboarding, removing body parts, “Don’t break down on me yet.”

The Middle Of Nowhere: First Steal There were many other girls before Little Fox. Jake has a reputation for getting carried away and letting his prey escape. This is the first time Bradley stole the win out from under his nose.

October 16 - Drowning, hostile environment, “I don’t know how anybody could survive that.”

Happy Together From the moment Tyler met you in your karaoke bar, he was smitten. However, he's terrified to tell you how he feels even as you start a friends-with-benefits situation. Will he find the courage before it's too late?

October 17 - Abandonment, misunderstanding, “Why did I even think you cared?”

Where Were You? You were planning a future with Rhett. That is until he disappeared without a trace. Now, four years later, a familiar figure shows up at your house after you are in an accident. But will you accept his explanation for where he's been?

October 18 - Mind control, possession, “Everybody will end up despising you.”

I Love You, Always When an unknown man comes into the cafe looking for who he calls “The Mutant” Logan’s world is once again turned upside down when you make the ultimate sacrifice.

October 19 - Disassociation, losing a sense, “I wish I could get you back.”

Addicted To You Kidnapped and locked in a room for months, your life has become nothing but Hood, the drug he gives you, and the pleasure you receive from both. But this time when it is time for your next dose, Hood is nowhere to be found...

October 20 - Enemy/Stranger to caretaker, accidental de-aging, “I’m absolutely not qualified for this shit.”

Nobody Can When a killer clown guts you like a fish, Bob is the one who stumbles upon you. Only to never come face to face who the person who did this to you.

October 21 - Drugged, ambulance ride, “This will make you feel better, okay?”

Animal Instinct When Rhett goes out hunting the wolf that has been killing the Abbott's livestock, he discovers more than he bargained for.

October 22 - Forced (to kneel/watch/hurt somebody else), whipped, “Do not look away.”

Do Not Look Away After the events of Bruises, Bradley comes face to face with his new reality. You’re experiencing a physical manifestation of PTSD and Jake’s still in a coma.

October 23 - Fever, passing out, “Hey?! Stay with me, okay?!”

Stay (Part 1) Once again, Bob finds himself dragged along to the club with the rest of his friends. Miserable, and unable to find the only person he really wants to spend time with, he decides to head home. But he's about to discover where Jake has been all night...

October 24 - Deconditioning, relapse, “It’s normal that you need more time.”

Seeing Clear Now that you are back from the dead, you wonder how Clark is handling what happened. However, when Dick tells you no one knows where he is, you decide to track him down and show him you have returned.

October 25 - Humiliation, betrayal, “How could you?!”

I Got You A night at The Hard Deck takes a dire turn when you realize someone has slipped something into your drink. As the drugs begin kicking in, you turn to your pilot for help.

October 26 - Electrocution, burning, “This is going to sting.”

Burning Love When you and Bucky are captured, HYDRA scientists try to force you to use your powers to kill him. But you refuse to hurt the man you love, regardless of how much pain it may cause you...

October 27 - Before vs after, Alternate universe, “Well, there’s a first for everything.”

October 28 - Internal bleeding, needles and stitches, “I didn’t think the wound was that bad…”

Dangerously in Love (Part 2) After witnessing your murder on a video call, Frank's only focus is on revenge. But he's about to learn that things are not always as they seem...

October 29 - Ownership, branding, “Everybody will know that you’re mine.”

October 30 - Poison, delirium, “You’re not making sense.”

Stay (Part 2) Jake thought he died in that alley after he was mugged. But thanks to a special someone, he pulled through. And when Bob brings him a gift more precious than his own life, Jake does what he should have done a long time ago.

October 31 - Panic attack, facing a phobia, “You need to get out of here!”

Sweeter Than Revenge Epilogue As you begin to head home after your traumatic night, you discover Tyler's concerns were valid. But can you learn to overcome your fears when your greatest fear might still come true? Are things truly over between you and Tyler?

[raineandsky]

The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

The villain returns home as the sun is just starting to stain the sky orange. They dump their bag and coat at the door—the hero can pick them up later—and make their way through the hallway. The house is silent, and a quick peek into the living room finds their new maid asleep on the sofa. The maid outfit is dumped on the floor, and the villain tries not to think too much about what that means is under the blanket draped over the hero.

Satisfied with the sight, if not a little flustered at their own thoughts, the villain traipses up the stairs. They check the offending bookshelf on their way past; it’s certainly been tidied. Then it’s to the bedroom, to flop down in bed and try to sleep the night off.

The villain closes their eyes and dreams of bloodshed.

Villains all over the city have been panicking. Heroes are closing in on all of them. The supervillain has sent people out to handle the problem, and only a few have come back. All it took was for the supervillain to lose confidence, and it was chaos.

The villain is awoken by the sound of the coffee machine whirring in the kitchen below. They want nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep, but their mind is focused on the clacking downstairs, the cupboard slamming, ceramics clinking, followed by heavy footsteps tramping up the stairs.

What are the chances that a hero would fall into the villain’s hands like this? Hurt, afraid, willing to do anything to hide. It’s almost too good to be true.

The hinges on the villain’s bedroom door creak horrendously as the hero nudges it open, a mug of coffee in their hand and the maid outfit beautifully in place.

So what happened to you?

The hero makes an attempt at a smile, and it comes out entirely too forced. “It’s almost two in the afternoon,” they comment when it becomes clear that the villain isn’t about to speak. “I thought it’d do you some good to at least wake up.”

Being awake saves them from the nightmares about their inevitable future. They take the mug from the hero when they hold it out to them.

“Thanks,” they say, the word stilted like it doesn’t want to be said. “Did you sleep alright?” And when they realise that sounds too much like they care, they add: “I need you in good condition to work well.”

“You said that last night, too,” the hero says flatly, “but yes, I did. Full eight hours, as promised.”

The villain nods before taking a sip of the coffee—just how they like it. The hero’s already nailed that part of the job. “Can you hoover? The hall was looking kind of gross when I came in last night.”

The hero’s face settles into that scowl again. “Sure.”

“Don’t forget what terms you’re here on, [Hero],” the villain calls after them as they turn to leave. “You have a lot resting on that hoover.”

The scowl dips into uncomfortable disgust as they glance back at the villain. “Like I could forget.”

And then they’re gone, the door clicking shut behind them. The villain sets the mug on the side after one last sip, lugging themself out of bed and to the wardrobe. Might as well do something productive before the supervillain’s terror inevitably forces them to face the end.

-

The hero turns the hoover off, and the room falls into blissful silence. They take a moment to enjoy how not loud it suddenly is.

“That looks better,” the villain says brightly from the kitchen table. The hero’s face pulls into a familiar-feeling frown; of course they had to go and break the silence. They’ve joined the hero downstairs to watch them work, like many days before now, thankfully changed out of yesterday’s clothes.

“You’re welcome,” the hero spits as they round on the villain. They’re staring, not even subtly, at the work the stupid maid outfit is doing for their physique. “For everything.”

“You sure know how to deliver.” The villain smiles, unbothered. “There’s something missing, though—when’re you gonna tell me about this freak showdown with your agency?”

The hero jams the hoover back in its place to avoid having to answer for a moment. They need to collect their thoughts, tell the villain the bare minimum, enough to sate their curiosity. Just enough to stop them goddamn asking.

“I found out some classified information, by accident,” they start slowly. The hoover whines loudly as they start coiling up the cable. “I told someone I trusted about it, and they turned out to be doing an inside job. The classified information got to the wrong people, and [Superhero] blamed me for it. He thought I was in on their little operation.”

The villain frowns. “All of that literally sounds like a bunch of bad coincidences.”

The hero shrugs nonchalantly, though it doesn’t feel nonchalant in the slightest. “I’m not known for being lucky.”

The villain’s gaze dips to the mug in their hands. They brought it down from their bedroom, though it’s probably cold by now. “That’s probably why you’re here” — they gesture rather vaguely at the hero — “like this.”

The maid outfit is easily the worst bout of luck in all of this. “Better than being tortured by my ex-boss, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” the villain echoes weakly, and their face dips into a frown that the hero almost misreads as regret.

Next part

Taglist: @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall

[bullet-prooflove]

Is it too soon to request something from your Thursday dance party prompt list? If not can you please do either 4,7 or 8 with Tim Bradford whatever one you think will fit the story better thank you so much Donna 😊

Monster!Series:

Part One: Monster - Tim learns the reason you've been keeping your relationship a secret.

Part Two: The Gaslight (NSFW) - Tim tracks you down a month into your leave of absence.

Part Three: Stalemate - Captain Ashmore discovers your relationship with Tim.

Part Four: Foul Play - Ashmore employs another tactic in his hunt for you.

Part Five: Prayer - Tim comes face to face with his worst fear.

Part Six: Control - Ashmore reflects on what happened.

You slip away in the early hours of the morning.

A stroke they tell Tim, from the brain injury.

It’s a crushing blow because for a minute Tim actually thought you were going to make it, that the two of you would get a happy ending.

He puts it together in the aftermath after he hears about the video. He remembers that last night, the one the two of you were together. You’d been tangled up in bed, your bare skin brushing over his.

“I’m tired of this Tim.” You had whispered, your nose trailing along the length of his. “I’m tired of running, of living in fear.”

“Just a little while longer.” He’d promised you, his lips brushing over yours. “Promise me you’ll wait.”

That had been a month ago before Ashmore had found out about your relationship. It only occurs to him now that he never heard you make that promise, that he’d got distracted by other things because your hands had started wandering, your lips following suit.

He realises in his absence that it had gotten too much, and he doesn’t blame you. Ashmore had victimised you all over again and there is only so far you can only push another person before they snap. You had no evidence of his past abuse, except the scars that you wore beneath your clothes.

They’d found the cameras above the front door and in the living room, they were well concealed, not something you’d notice on first glance. By returning to the house last night, you’d been sending up a flare for Ashmore to come and get you, knowing he would drive by the same way he did every night.

The problem was you’d underestimated his rage. You hadn’t seen the look in his eyes when he’d seen the photographs of you and Tim, the vitriol, the violence.

He tells your story at the trial, the shit that Ashmore did to you. The beatings, the threats, the violence. He discusses the scars on your body, the ones he’d traced over in the depths of the night. When he talks about you, it’s with a heavy heart and a monotone voice because he’s been numb since the day you passed away, he doesn’t feel a God damn thing anymore.

He takes a leave of absence after Ashmore is convicted for murder, driving your ashes up the coast to Seattle. The two of you had talked about taking a trip before Ashmore had come back into your life. He still has the handwritten list of the sights you wanted to see tucked away in his wallet.

The Space Needle.

Kubota Garden.

Bainbridge Island.

He tours them all.

He takes the Night Ferry back to the city, sprinkling your ashes into the water as the lights glow in the background. You would have loved this view, he thinks.

He hasn’t shed a tear since that night in the hospital, but he bawls like a baby in his hotel room that evening, pressing his face into the pillow to stifle the noise. There’s emptiness deep inside of him because now you’re gone, and he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to live with that.

He returns to LA three days later to the news that Ashmore was shanked in prison. Your ex-husband barely survives and Tim finds himself glad that he did because he wants the other man to suffer for what he did to you. He wants him to live in terror every single day, to experience the same torture that you did, knowing there’s no way to escape it.

He goes back to work, immersing himself in the shifts, taking on extra ones. Angela takes pity on him, forcing him to come to dinner with Angela, Wes and Jack. When he holds the baby, his chest feels tight and his eyes sting because he wanted this with you, a family, a child.

He drinks himself to sleep that night.

When he wakes up, he reaches for you, his hand smoothing across the cool sheets, gripping them in his fist so hard that his knuckles turn white. He calls in sick that morning because he can’t face the day.

It’s Chen that snaps him out of it.  She needs help rehoming her dog and the truth is Tim’s needs the company. Things change when Kojo comes to live with him. He starts to develop a routine. His days get a little brighter, his heart a little lighter.

You’d want him to live, he thinks as he sits on the beach with Kojo. And that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

Love Tim Bradford? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@malindacath @anime-weeb-4-life @burningpeachpuppy @viridianphtalo @vermillionwinter @redpool

[matan4il]

Update post:

Yesterday, the identification of two bodies brought back to Israel from Gaza by IDF soldiers to Israel was completed.

The victims were identified as 36 years old Ziv Dado, who was murdered on Oct 7, and his body was kidnapped to Gaza by Hamas, and 27 years old Eden Zecharia, who according to one Israeli journalist, was kidnapped alive. If this is true, it means Eden was murdered in captivity.

After the identification of the bodies was completed, the IDF was able to confirm that Israeli soldiers Gal Meir Eizenkott and Eyal Meir Berkovich were killed by a detonated IED while clearing the perimeter for this operation.

IDF soldiers are reporting that the number of terror tunnels and shafts is much bigger than expected, as well as that there is almost no house they enter in Gaza, which doesn't have some weapons stashed. In some houses, they also found orders and plans for the Oct 7 massacre. Kept in residential homes. In one house, the soldiers found, side by side, weapons like an RPG, and documentation of the chemotherapy treatment that an 8 years old boy was receiving in Israel, mere weeks prior to the Hamas massacre.

The desecration of Jewish religious sites under Palestinian rule is not a new phenomenon, despite the fact that the Palestinian Authority is supposed to be legally committed to the preservation of the Jewish holy sites Israel agreed in the Oslo accords that the PA would control. Today, we got another example.

The prevalence of antisemitic and anti-Israel content and messages on social media is not new, either. After Jewish celebrities and content creators had confronted Tiktok on its antisemitin and anti-Israeli bias, there are now Jewish employees of Tiktok, who are speaking out about the fact that this is happening by the design of the many antisemitic, anti-Israel moderates of the company, and not by blind chance. They also talk about how they are discriminated against, in comparison with anti-Israel employees.

Several residential homes in the north of Israel were directly hit by Hezbollah, one in the town of Metulah was completely destroyed. The only reasons there are no casualties, is because Israel evacuated the northern towns, just as it did the southern ones.

On the day when the UN is celebrating 75 years anniversary of the human rights declaration, the families of Israeli hostages are demonstrating outside the ceremony, to remind everyone that those who had been kidnapped on Oct 7, have been robbed of all of their human rights for over two months now, and that international organizations such as the UN and Red Cross have barely even commented on this.

The IDF's spokesman in Arabic has tweeted this morning, that aid trucks have been waiting for an hour and a half to enter Gaza, because they had to wait for someone on the Gazan side of the border (meaning, Hamas) to open the checkpoint.

The BBC is reporting that Human Rights Watch has denounced the Iran-funded Houthis' attacks on merchant ships in the Red Sea, and declared these attacks to be war crimes. It's nice to see that when the ships targeted are no longer supposedly Israeli ones, HRW is capable of doing its work.

The other day, soldiers who were a part of an operation to clear the neighborhood of Shujayiah, entered a terrorist ambush. During the fight, there was suspicion that one of the soldiers was kidnapped by Hamas through a terror tunnel. The highest ranking officers on the ground personally joined the battle, to help the fighting, and also to coordinate the different forces, in order to minimize the possibility of a friendly fire incident. 10 soldiers were killed in this battle, among them two of those high ranking officers, Colonel Yitzhak Ben Basat and Lieutenant Colonel Tomer Greenberg (meanwhile, the highest ranking commanders of Hamas are sending their terrorists to die, while they themselves hide in terror tunnels, behind the human shields of Gazan civilians and Israeli hostages). These are the fallen soldiers from this battle (Greenberg top right, Ben Basat top left):

This is 38 years old Lilia Gurevich-Vasilkovsky.

She was murdered at the Nova music festival on Oct 7. She was a molecular biologist, who was hailed for her ability to think outside the box. She was working on developing a sweet protein, that would replace sugar. If she had been successful, this could have improved the health and lives of countless people around the world suffering from diabetes. I'm one of them. Reading about her made me stop and think about the fact that, especially when considering the many young victims, we will never fully understand how much the world has lost on Oct 7.

This is 36 years old Itay Perry.

In the photo, he's holding up the note that his 6 years old son sent him. The note says, "I love you, I miss you, Dad. I hope you won't get injured." Itay carried the folded note on him since he got it, including when he was killed in Gaza. Itay's dad mourned his son, saying that no parent could have a kinder child, and that Itay was also an amazing father and husband.

May the memories of all of the fallen be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 8/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012

2013 – Bradley

                When he gets the invitation to Top Gun he almost vibrates out of his seat in excitement. He keeps telling himself it’s excitement and not terror. He’s already going to be turning thirty this year, and while he might be a bit older than some of the other attendees he knows he’s unlikely to be the oldest. However he is older than his father was when he attended. He’s already older than his father was when he died and the idea that his father was married and had had a kid is mind boggling to him, because he doesn’t feel anywhere old enough to have either of those responsibilities, even if he’s coming around to the first one whenever he thinks about a potential future with Jas.

>>I got invited to a thing. An elite training thing. It’s sort of a big deal.

>>I’ll probably be busier than usual.

>>Like what?

>>Wait. Rangers? Delta Force? Pararescue?

>>Yeah. Something like that.

>>Fine. Keep your secrets.

>>You’re the one that said you want to keep some stuff for when we meet.

>>Can I change my mind?

>>Ask me again in 24 hours.

>>You’re pretty impulsive.

>>You like me being impulsive.

>>That’s true. I do.

>>Don’t want you to regret it though.

>>End of May isn’t that far away.

>>Assuming nothing happens again.

>>Yeah well. Fingers crossed.

>>Thinking about finally meeting you is the only gets me through some of my worst days.

>>No pressure.

                Bradley squeezes his lips between his teeth, wonders if he should apologize.

>>There is no pressure. I’m just… being honest with you.

>>I’ve had to lie about do much for so long, that even now it’s…

>>Well. I’ll never lie to you. Even if I think it’ll scare you.

>>This is where I get to be myself.

>>But you don’t need to worry about me not liking you.

>>I already love you.

>>Okay.

>>Well.

>>In the interests of being honest, do you want to know a secret?

>>Of course.

>>I’m scared of meeting you.

>>Why?

>>What if you’re not as perfect in person as you are through my phone?

>>Well, I’m not perfect.

>>At all.

>>Do you want me to share some of my gross habits with you?

>>I can do that if you think it would help.

>>Yeah. Go on.

>>Well, a recent one which drives my roommate absolutely batshit crazy, is I leave my moustache hair clippings all over the sink.

>>You have a moustache?

>>Yep. A new one. That long leave period I had last year when we were meant to meet up the second time? I started growing it.

>>Keeps my upper lip warm.

>>Do you look good?

>>I look like my dad.

>>Makes me feel closer to him.

>>I broke down and cried when I caught my reflection because I thought it was him.

>>I think mine is better, but I just wish he was here to joke with me about it.

>>Teach me how to take care of it.

>>All I’ve had are YouTube tutorials and it’s not quite the same.

>>If you’re watching online tutorials it definitely looks good.

>>Vain motherfucker.

                Bradley laughs but doesn’t bother disputing the fact, he likes to look good, and taking pride in his appearance is something that is necessary because it reflects on the Navy. He can’t say that specifically though.

>>What about you? Annoying habit?

>>I leave empty bottles and cups everywhere.

>>Not in the mess hall obviously, but everywhere else.

>>My friends despair of me.

>>I try and remember when I’m elsewhere, but I just keep forgetting.

>>Awful Southern manners.

…            …            …

                His seventeen-week stint at the Navy Fighter Weapons School begins and he doesn’t think he’s ever worked so hard in his life. He studies every waking moment, spends time with the ground crew asking questions about particular aspects of their jobs and their experiences, uses them to piece together a better understanding of the planes, although he’s already got an excellent understanding of most things, his obsession and upbringing in his youth meaning he’s knowledgeable about odd things, which sometimes get a raised eyebrow from one or two of the instructors. He does his best to ignore them.

                He and Jas have discovered SnapChat and started using that, not for conversations, just for staying connected and sending tiny little snippets of their day to each other, letting him know he’s thinking of him. Shots of morning coffee, books where he carefully covers the titles when it’s related to flying, the sky when it’s particularly pretty, his empty bed with the simple caption wish you were here.

                The seventeen weeks come to an end, he comes out on the top and he feels so much. He survived for a start, which is something he can admit now that he was worried about. God, he wants to ring Mav and Ice, and not just to brag, but to hear them be happy for him, although a part of him accepts he definitely wants to rub Pete’s face in it, that he is good enough. Of course it throws everything else into sharp relief and he wishes more than anything he could talk to his dad. He’s sitting in the lounge, just staring at the photos of previous Top Gun classes and 1986 is right there, an image that conjures so many mixed emotions.

                “Lieutenant Bradshaw. Thought you’d be out celebrating the win.”

                “Sir.”

                “Seriously. I’m surprised to see you here and not with the others.”

                “I will celebrate. Just. Having some mixed emotions sir,” he admits.

                “You don’t think you earnt the win?”

                Bradley blinks, because he’s not sure there’s a way to answer that question the right way, without sounding like he’s

                “I think it was an honor to be invited here and challenged by fellow aviators who are excellent in every respect. I worked hard and flew well. Just. Did you know my father died at Top Gun? During a hop?”

                “Bradshaw. I did wonder. Thought it was in bad taste to ask.”

                “No-one asked, but I suspect some are aware. No-one brought it up, sir.”

                “No, they’d probably take your lead on that. Well, I’ll leave you to it Lieutenant. Have a good evening.”

                “Thank you sir.”

…            …            …

>>How did you go?

>>Well, I didn’t wash out and I completed it.

>>That’s a pretty low bar.

>>Didn’t wash out? Pretty sure you smashed it.

>>I love your faith in me.

>>I love you.

>>Of course I have faith in you.

>>What I don’t have faith in is the universe and its apparent desire to fuck us over.

>>I’ve been invited to my own elite training thing.

>>Like, I can’t turn it down, it’s pretty much an order to go. And it’s an honor to be selected, but the timing could not be fucking worse.

>>I’m so sorry.

                Bradley is so disappointed he’s close to tears, but he also knows that when these type of opportunities are offered to you, you cannot turn them down. Ever. Not directly. Except he sort of just did, and his mind is

>>I understand. I totally understand.

>>Doesn’t stop me being disappointed though.

>>I was really looking forward to finally meeting you.

>>You and me both. Waited this long though right?

>>I am getting really sick of us having to say that.

>>I’m starting to get very sick of waiting.

>>I feel like we’ve waited long enough.

>>But I was offered something, I might see if I can backtrack my decline.

>>Shit. Did you turn something down because of me?

>>Well, I asked if I could think about it for a day or two. I was intending to turn them down, but I think I’ll accept it now.

>>Not if I don’t have meeting you in May to look forward to.

>>Nick. I don’t want you turning down things which could help your career just to meet with me.

>>I’m not going anywhere.

>>This goes both ways. I don’t want you turning things down either.

>>I’m sorry – did you just miss the bit where I said I can’t meet up because I’m taking up a training opportunity?

>>Yeah, but you thought about turning it down.

>>Next time don’t think about it, just accept.

>>I’ll always understand your desire to put your career first.

>>What about when I don’t want to anymore?

>>Also this applies to actual guys you sleep with and could have a relationship with.

>>Don’t you dare use me as an excuse to not pursue something if you think it’d be worth it.

>>Then the same applies for you.

>>Fine. Although the guys I’ve been sleeping with have yet to impress me with anything worth writing home about. Or well…

>>Sharing with you. My fantasies are definitely far more interesting.

>>Still think it’s your useless superpower, ability to hook-up with the worst possible guys and just have bad sex.

>>It’s okay. We’ll practice plenty in person when we meet.

…            …            …

                The offer to stay on as an instructor is there, and he’d said he’d think about it. However he really doesn’t want to stop flying, but he also doesn’t feel like he has the necessary skills to train other aviators yet, which is why he’s seriously considering staying to learn from the Top Gun instructors. When he raises his concerns about wanting to keep up his flying while also wanting to build up his experience with teaching and training to a set syllabus he gets a considered look for his troubles.

                “You’re not very much like your father or godfather are you Lieutenant.”

                “Excuse me sir?”

                “I know who you are Lieutenant. I flew with both your father, and Maverick. You remind my far more of Iceman. Cool and collected, little bit detached from emotion when you’re flying.”

                “Sir,” Bradley states, because he’s not sure if he’s asking a question or not. Whether it’s simply an observation or a compliment.

                “I’ll see what we can figure out.”

                The experienced tutors seem to take his interest in training with enthusiasm, recommending readings and setting homework. He learns that some of them have gone on to do Masters degrees in learning or development. He hadn’t expected quite a thorough background as he’s getting, but it’s good. He’s permitted to take flights early in the morning as long as he clears his flight plans with his commanding officer and also has at least three others awake and at least one willing to act as ground crew. He makes decent deals with several of the instructors, some who just prefer being on base that early to prepare for the day and doing it while he flies around is acceptable to them, especially when he agrees to try out any particular maneuvers and tactics in different planes. He loves it and it’s his routine for three weeks before the next Top Gun intake arrive. He shaves off his moustache and then regrets it almost immediately, but he can grow it back the next time he has a decent amount of leave to go unshaved.

…            …            …

                There are twelve naval aviators and Bradley has read all their files. He’s flown with a few of them before, one of them being Bambi and another Coyote. Then he knows Slipper, Knocks, Frank and Truffle. It leaves the other six as unknowns, although he does recognize the names. He has to admit it’s almost more intimidating than going through Top Gun himself, being expected to command the attention of other aviators for lessons, people known for challenging the status quo. The fact that he already knows half of them actually makes it worse, because he knows they won’t hold back. Not that he expects any of them to hold back, but he’s read their files and they’re all good and more than deserve to be here.

                It’s a little awkward, he’s not sure whether he is meant to be hanging out with the instructors, or whether he’s somehow part of this Top Gun class as well. So he finds a weird middle ground, friendly and professional with the instructors, happy to act for them, following their instructions and carrying out flight moves as an example or acting the part of bogey for tactical training. He is even more professional with the Top Gun class, slightly cooler but still friendly enough that he doesn’t think it pisses any of them off, although Bambi does roll her eyes at him more than once and Coyote gives him a quirked eyebrow.

                He and Jas continue to exchange snaps every day, although they both poke fun at the seemingly endless monotony of their current day-to-day lives. Bradley’s same mug of coffee everyday wishing him good morning, and it hasn’t escaped his notice that Jas seems to be in his time zone for the first time ever. Or at least for the first time since he really started paying attention and using Snapchat. They haven’t made any long-term plans to meet-up, not until next year and that’s too far away for Bradley to even know where in the world he’ll be let alone what weeks of the year he will have free which makes him feel a little more irritated than usual.

                “So, your score is the score I have to beat huh?” Jake Seresin says, and Bradley can’t help the immediate spike of annoyance at the words. He shouldn’t, because they’re Navy, competition between them all is something that is drilled into them from the beginning. More so for the USNA, but Bradley’s been around Naval Aviators his entire life and knows how they are, for the most part. Bunch of egotistical adrenaline junkies. Himself included, although he likes to try and temper his own ego by being as friendly and hopefully genuinely likeable as possible. Of course, being professional and maintaining some sense of distance can be difficult when he just wants to roll his eyes and tell the guy to grow up.

                “Just concentrate on your own flying and don’t worry about beating me.”

                They’re all good pilots. Of course they are. But Jake Seresin just seems to take the cast of egotistical and break the mold. He’s just so full of himself and the most annoying part of it is that it’s completely justified. He is that good, but he also gives off waves that he doesn’t feel like he has anything left to learn and Bradley knows he can’t be the only one feeling a little frustrated with his attitude sometimes. He asks the other instructors, in a round-about way, and he gets amused looks and told that he’ll learn to manage that with experience.

                Then there is how Seresin looks. He’s very nice to look at, Bradley isn’t going to lie to himself about it, and he wouldn’t kick him out of bed, however he’d have to like his personality enough first to invite him there, and that isn’t happening anytime soon. Definitely not while they’re at Top Gun, even if he thinks he could ask and get accepted, he doesn’t want to get a reputation for sleeping with students, that would be disastrous. It doesn’t stop him jerking off and thinking about Jake Seresin’s lips around his cock and he sends a couple of pictures to Jas during and after, telling him he misses him.

…            …            …

                Seventeen weeks feels like the blink of an eye and also, somehow, the longest drawn-out torture ever. He’s glad he has flying everyday, because somedays it’s the only thing that keeps him sane. Seresin seems to ask endless questions, some just bordering on disrespectful and he knows the other instructors find his frustration amusing, because he catches their poorly hidden smiles when he privately expresses his frustration to them, so he starts ignoring it as best he can.

                He doesn’t think he enjoys training and teaching enough to want to make this his career, not if every class is going to have people like Jake Seresin in it. He can’t bring himself to whine about it to Jas, not when he knows he’s so busy with his own specialty training, so he does the next best thing and rings Natasha, exchanging pleasantries before just launching into the complaining when she asks how the training aspects are going.

                “I just can’t seem to teach him anything! He just rubs me the wrong way.”

                “Well, you definitely want to be rubbing something…”

                “Jesus Natasha!”

                “What? It’s not going to get you kicked out or anything anymore…”

                “I’m not going to sleep with him!”

                “Would you? If that were an option? Is he hot?”

                “I don’t know. Have you met Jake Seresin?”

                “Oh. Definitely hot. He’s also Javy’s best friend.”

                “Javy huh?” Bradley asks, wanting to steer their conversation away from his inconvenient attraction to the most annoying person he’s ever met.

                “Shut up. At least I know what the guy I’m interested in looks like…”

                “Yeah yeah, whatever. I had noticed they were pretty tight.”

                “Yeah. Tight as brothers. Academy and flight school buddies. Hopefully Javy’s actual brothers are nicer.”

                “Well, they aren’t currently here driving me fucking insane, so that’s already a point in their favor.”

                “How is Javy doing?”

                “He’s good. Everyone here is good. You should be here.”

                “I’ll get my turn.”

                “Yeah you will.”

…            …            …

                “You know, the other instructors, they call you a rooster, because you get up so early so you can get up and fly before class.”

                Bradley grunts, because if he ignores him, maybe he’ll go away. He knows the other instructors call him that, and he doesn’t mind it, because there are far worse nicknames he could have landed himself with. This one has been an almost affectionate one, given to him with a ruffle to his hair and a wink.

                “I wanted to see if you’d be interested in getting a drink.”

                “With you?”

                “Yes.”

                “No, that wouldn’t be appropriate.”

                “We’re the same rank,” Seresin states, but Bradley is shaking his head.

                “I’m still an instructor.”

                Seresin’s lip curls, and it’s not in a nice way, but he’s stepping back, hands out in a no harm no foul gesture and Bradley hates that he looks good even when he’s looking pissed off.

                “Your loss.”

                “I think I’ll live.”

…            …            …

                When the seventeen weeks come to an end, he finally allows himself to socialize with Bambi, taking her out for dinner as an apology for being so formal and professional for the last four months. Allows, for a given definition of allow, for her to sweep the floor with him at both darts and pool. Then he takes her back to his place where they make a video call to Natasha and have a proper catch-up. Of course the first thing Natasha asks is if he’s slept with Seresin yet which has Bambi cackling and telling her all about the times Seresin seemed to be an ass solely to try and get Bradley’s attention.

…            …            …

>>You ever wonder what would happen if you did something different?

>>Only every fucking day.

2014 - Jake

[ornii]

If its not too much to ask...

A Wednesday Addams x Male!Reader, where the latter wakes up after being involved in an accident, and witnesses Wednesday crying for the first time...all the while she tries to deny it.

Denial

It was an accident, it truly was. She never meant to hurt him like she did. But I suppose intentions never truly matter in cases like this. It was around 8 PM in Nevermore and (Y/n) was in his Girlfriends room, trying to convince her to go out with him. Wednesday was too busy focusing on her novel instead of him, which he didn’t mind as she always said an hour, but it’s been at least three.

“Cmon, not even the crypt? Im sure there’s bones for you to analyze in there.” He says, trying to convince her to come. While Wednesday would enjoy that, her focus was on the story she’s crafting.

“My work overtakes my probable enjoyment of that.”

She said, and you couldn’t help but get a bit frustrated, she never wanted to genuinely spend time with (Y/n), which was were the two struck a conflict. While he enjoyed her presence it was always with what she wanted, never his, and she was constantly pressured to partake in things she despised like Holding hands.

“…Really? You can’t take your mind off your novel just to spend some time with me?” He asks, almost a bit loss for words at her scrutiny. She stops and turns to him.

“As Ive Said, My priority is the completion of the novel, you know this.”

“Well I didn’t know parchment was more interesting then I was.”

“Well it doesn’t open its mouth so it has its benefits.” She replies coldly. (Y/n) squints a bit, obviously getting upset, and decides to twist his own knife.

“Fine, I’ll go hang out with Yoko and Enid, they’re probably available. More than my girlfriend.” He says, which ticks an insecurity Wednesday never had before and didn’t know how to accurately process it, jealousy. He walks over to her to give her one last goodbye.

“If you don’t want to hang out or do anything, fine by me, but I don’t have to sit here.” He says, he was suddenly face to face with Wednesday, well one would not consider it face to face since she’d a foot and a half shorter, but her terrifying demeanor spoke for her. She approached him and he began to back away.

“If you wish to fraternize with some other woman be my guest, I should have expected something from someone like you, you rope me into these feelings I can’t comprehend and force me into loving you. Well, I don’t!” She says as (Y/n) reaches the balcony being pushed back by her fearsome tone. With one slip of the foot he tumbled off, and rolled off the roof. Wednesday turns and folds her arms, fuming.

“You can stop with the attempts of humor (Y/n), get back up here.” She says, when he had no response, she slowly turns back to the edge and quickly walks over and sees (Y/n), lying on the ground in the most uncomfortable position, and a look of terror and worry washes over Wednesday. (Y/n) only watched from the ground, as a ringing in his year deafened everything out, he lied on the ground before it all went black.

It was around a Week he spent in the hospital, lying in a coma as the impact of his head hitting the ground must have done a number, every day Wednesday was there. Guilt Strickens her, as the cause of his condition was her definitely. She couldn’t use her deadpanned emotions to divert blame, this was her coffin she built, it’s only appropriate to lie in it.

“(Y/n)..” she began, “I made sure to water your plants, and.. I’m sorry. All you wanted was to spend time with me, and I let my selfish nature pollute my feelings and, put you in this predicament.. If I had just gone with your ridiculous plan we’d be there, together, you bothering me with your foolish jokes and, while I acted like I hated them, i missed you..” Wednesday says, her lip quivers just slightly and for the first time in years, she felt a tear run down her cheek. This time rather wiping it, she just let it down, and let out a shaky sigh. She closes her eyes and grips his hand.

And he squeezes it.

Her eyes open and she looks up as his Were open finally, he blinks a few times and sits up, Wednesday looks at him like she’s actually seen a ghost.

“What happened?” He asks, and Wednesday didnt know what to say, and he notes the small beads running down her cheek.

“We’re you.. crying over me?” He says, his grin widening and Wednesday quickly wipes her tears.

“No, I had found out you were going to survive.” She says, trying to be tough.

“Sure Sweetheart..” he says and pulls her hand in and kisses it. Leaving her at a loss for words, he smiles and relaxes as she was still a bit, at a loss.

“So, you feel any better after almost killing me?” He asks smugly and she frowns, “it was an accident.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for throwing Yoko and Enid in your face, that wasn’t fair of me.” He says. And Wednesday just sighs as well.

“I understand I may not be the; easiest to be in a relationship with, and you have been more than patient, I apologize as well..”

“So is there cameras here? I want to get a recoding of you crying—“

“(Y/n) I will put you back in a coma.” She sharply said and he just chuckles and kissed her cheek.

“I’ve missed hearing your voice..” he said and she smiles just slightly.

“I missed you too..”

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 4 - Post #8: Baby, You're the Best

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

GIF by djo

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 4K (eighth post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

_______________________________

VIII. Once the tin siding of your clapboard hut is within view, you break into a run despite your legs trembling beneath you. The wash of anxiety from riding the speeder bike shudders through your body in receding waves of nausea and panic, tilting the world on its axis until you have to pause to clutch at your stomach. 

Before you can steady yourself—you sink to your knees, gag, and heave bile onto the dirt path. 

The thrill is undeniable, but so is the terror. The illusion of control is just that, an illusion. Gone in an instant with one wrong sightline or shift of your shoulders. There’d been a moment when your life had flashed before your eyes, when you nearly crashed the bike into a retaining wall making a sharp left turn. And then again, dodging the pylons under a water tank. 

But you did it. Not long ago, you would have been stuck, trapped inside the TaggeCo compound with no way out, but today you got on the fucking bike, shifted into gear, and rode that bitch to freedom.

You’d happily thank the Mandalorian for his exasperated yet efficient tutelage—but seeing as he couldn’t care less about being here, this victory is entirely yours. Should it come up in conversation, you will definitely leave out the part where you got tossed over the front of the speeder, braking too hard. 

Fortunately, you didn’t crash in view of the guards. They were more than happy to nod you through the exit wearing a Tagge Corporation uniform stolen from the medical offices, along with someone’s very well-tailored flight jacket. 

Your heart had been racing so hard you could barely hear them over the pounding of your pulse against your eardrums, fearing they would recognize you as Kessen’s…escort, who had passed through the gatehouse hours earlier. But apparently, they hadn’t noticed anything higher than your tits and didn’t realize the ‘doctor’ waving at them as she left work for the day, was actually the same person. 

How would the bodyguard react when he returned to the clinic looking for you? Or when he discovers that you’d taken his speeder? It’s parked outside the same public hall where you both play Sabacc. Hopefully, he’d spot it the next time he visited the tables. 

But for now, you feel safe. However much Kessen ingratiated himself with the locals, drinking at the cantinas and playing cards, he was aligned with the Tagge family. None of your neighbors would tell him where to find you. 

Although, anything is possible with enough money…

No. No! You’re being paranoid. Johar Kessen is expecting to see you at the bonfire. You’ve got at least three or four hours before you have to worry about anything more complicated than crumpling into a ball of blankets and staring up at the ceiling. 

You wipe your mouth clean with the back of your hand and haul yourself upright.

Lakarani huts were all constructed in a circular design, with thick oilskin tarps stretched over their vaulted wooden beams to form a domed roof at the top. Inside, the interior walls, about shoulder height, divided the space into segments like the spokes of a wheel. It created sleeping stalls that afforded some measure of privacy once you’d draped a few curtains overhead. You pull them aside, ready to crawl under the covers and collapse into unconsciousness.

But for the second time that day, you find someone has left a gift on top of your bedroll. 

Humia—it couldn’t have been anyone else—had laid out a dress for you, presumably, to wear to the bonfire that night. 

It’s a silvery-blue color that hugs your body to the waist, then widens into a soft, flowing skirt. Obviously, one of her own, given the size, but you have to admit that it looks gorgeous on you, clinging to your breasts and curves. The tension in the fabric pulls tight across your wide hips, creating this little swell between your thighs where—

You tear the dress off, ripping the bodice in your frantic efforts to get it over your head. 

What had, seconds ago, seemed like a simple gesture of friendship suddenly feels vulgar and manipulative. Was she hoping to offer you up to Kessen in a pretty little package? She’d been so eager about the idea of you meeting him there.

What had she said…it’s not much of a heavy lift, surely?

With both hands, you grip the soft fabric between your fists and begin tearing the dress to shreds. It’s petty vengeance, but it feels so fucking good. 

The rage building in your chest is pure and honest. You let it guide every wrenching pull until your heart is racing. Hair swings about your face, tendrils sticking to your sweaty, flushed cheeks. You’re breathing so shallow and fast now that you start to get dizzy again and have to brace yourself against the pillows.

That’s when your fingers brush against the stiff and silky ridges of embroidery. Under your scattered pillows is a thin leather sheath decorated with crescent moons and stars and night blossoms—flowers that only opened under moonlight. The color of the embroidered thread matches the dress perfectly. Too perfect to be a coincidence. The dress and sheath are a set, and—you make a concerted search of blankets and discover—yes, a sash to wear over both. It’s Lakarani festival attire. 

Oh, you are such an asshole.

The sob that rises from your chest takes you by surprise. But as soon as it passes your lips, there’s no point in trying to hold back. You sob and howl like an animal caught in a hunter’s trap. And why not? You’re just as helpless. 

Humia, Nito, Johar, Mando…you don’t know how to fix any of it.

Alright, just breathe. Breathe, dammit. 

The origin of the dress did not, in and of itself, change Humia’s intentions. Honey is the word she used this morning, because using you as a honey pot is exactly what she has planned. However—that crude intent did not change the generosity of her gesture. Between the Hutts and the Tagge family, the Lakarani struggled to preserve their cultural traditions. Honatoka is supposed to be a week-long festival celebration, and it had been reduced to twelve hours of leave from work, granted by the people who thought of their sacred holiday as a sex party. 

Your anger at Humia might be justified, but nothing can justify your reaction. You have to make this right.  

Osram, the Echani who ran the wash house, also did some tailoring. Maybe he could repair—you glance down at the strips of frayed and puckered fabric—okay, remake the dress? In fact, that might be an ideal cover to approach him. 

You don’t have all the details worked out yet, but you’re percolating on a plan that would involve Osram combing a few of the uniforms you stole to accommodate Nito’s four arms. There aren’t any Ardennians currently working for the Tagge family on Lakaran, as far as you know, but that was the magic of a uniform and lab coat. As long as it was freshly laundered, crisp, and pristine, no one saw past it. You could even coach Nito to recite some incomprehensible monologue about creatinine clearance if he was questioned.   

Because Nito’s right. You need him to pull this off. It went against every instinct, but having him and the kid by your side might be the best way to keep them safe.

Nito is a child—they are both children—and yet he probably knew more about survival than you did. Sure, you had suffered, been ripped away from the loving arms of your family. But you had never gone hungry, never worried about where you would sleep at night. You had people who cared for you, if not about you. Love did not keep a child from starving or being murdered in an alley for the coins in their pocket. 

Nito had survived the streets of Coronet City, navigated street wars, and negotiated his way out of all of it. Mando had little patience for the Ardennian’s sardonic immaturity, but he respected Nito’s expertise. So should you.     

But getting him inside the Tower…ugh?!

Kriffing hell, what are you going to do about Kessen? There’s just no denying that crossing the skybridge on level seven of the residential tower is made infinitely easier with Johar’s help. Without him, you’ll need to come up with some compelling cover story, like maybe Nito was a specialist who had traveled to Lakaran to consult with you on a medical issue…or the Child is Ephram Tagge’s newest pet and you were both very legit veterinary professionals delivering him…

Or you could just waltz through the front door with Johar Kessen, no questions asked. 

And then what? Do you involve him in the entire plan to take over the Tagge refinery? 

Deep down you know that’s not your call to make. Not alone anyway. But you are loath to tell Humia about this. She will be ecstatic, of course. 

And then there’s telling Mando, who will be…who the fuck knows what the Mandalorian’s reaction will be.

Is there some way you can get Kessen’s help without resorting to seduction? Right now, that seems naive, bordering on delusional. Especially after he’s made his desires clear. Back at the clinic, he had been seconds away from placing your hand over his cock before the guard on patrol barged in. And you still don’t have an answer for what would’ve happened next. 

Would you have passively let it happen? Let him pull you into his arms, onto his lap. Let him take you on the exam table?

That’s what scares you most. The thought that you might recede inside yourself so he could use the body you left behind. If it meant that he would help you? If it meant you could defeat the Tagges? You were willing to sacrifice your life for this cause. Why is this any different?

Maybe you could pretend it was your choice. Maybe you could try to enjoy it.

But it wasn’t something you would choose. Not when your head is so confused with thoughts about Mando.

Perhaps the Mandalorian wouldn’t care? If he’s putting this distance between you…

Blessed mother, if you tell Mando about Johar Kessen and he encourages you to sleep with him, it might actually destroy you. 

No. The solution, as it stands, is to avoid crossing paths with the bodyguard ever again. Kessen would find some enthusiastic partner at the bonfire tonight, very eager to have sex with him in a moonlit field, and that would be the end of it. He would lose interest in you. His newfound love for the Lakarani would turn him against the Tagge family. He'd join the revolution, and it would have absolutely nothing to do with you. 

Erenada, you really are delusional. 

As you sob into the crook of your arm, you tell yourself to let it go. But it’s too much to let go of in one night. The weight of the cause, the guilt, your anger, and most of all, Mando and everything you might have been—it’s more than you can lay aside in a single bout of tears.

You do your best, though. It’s difficult to reach for your powers—particularly to wield them on your own body—when your mind is scattered to pieces. But you manage to reduce your hormone levels and blood pressure. Just enough to stop the racing thoughts. It’s not something you’d ordinarily do. To turn off your capacity for pain and anguish is to risk losing your empathy. It’s what had turned Tigran into a monster. You just need enough peace to find sleep. 

When you’re all out of tears, you lift your head from the damp pillow to crawl under your blankets. By then, your head aches from sobbing, and exhaustion drags you down within seconds, too deep for dreams.

*****

Halfway into your troubled sleep, a muffled but insistent beeping noise wakes you. You’ve never quite shaken that soldier’s battle readiness—a quick jolt of unease, and you’re immediately alert. You start patting down your rucksack when you realize the sound is coming from your communicator.

A glance toward the window tells you there must be another hour or so before sunset. The sky is still alight with the dusky haze of twilight. And yet, the usual noisy chorus of neighbors is missing.

Apart from the soft creak of the laundry line outside, it’s surprisingly quiet. You can’t sense Davik or Serenio’s presence either. Everyone must be down at the river already, awaiting the totality of sunset next to the bonfire, celebrating with music and dancing along the spiraling jetty.  

Vigilance costs nothing, so you double-check that you are indeed alone before pulling out the communicator. Holding it inches from your face, head cocked in disbelief, you see that someone has sent you their location coordinates. The signal originates from...inside the hut?

No. That can’t be right. Unless—no, you drop your gaze from the cloth tarps overhead. They’re under the hut, right below you.

Panicked at the implications, you try to focus and regain your bearings. Where are your boots? The signal remains motionless, waiting for you. It must be an emergency for Nito to risk coming here. You pray nothing has happened to the kid. You throw on the first thing you pull out of your rucksack and rush towards the door.

Remembering that security drones could be anywhere, you step onto your clapboard porch as if you’re making a routine trip to the privy, your new robe cinched around your waist. Admittedly you wouldn’t normally wear something this nice to take a shit in a compostable toilet, but that hardly seems like the most pressing concern at the moment. 

Swallowing a lump the size of your fist, you turn onto the rocky path sloping downhill between the houses with performative calm. When you step into the shadows between the cantilever beams underneath your hut, you release all the breath you’ve been holding. 

“Nito?” you whisper, directing your question into the darkness.

But it’s Mando who emerges into the dappled light, his Beskar reflecting the soft twilight haze like a halo.

“Thulani,” the low, gruffness in his voice as he says your name makes your skin flush with heat, from your cheeks to your chest, to between your thighs.

You want to go to him. You want to wrap your arms around him. You want to shove him against a wall and demand to know where he’s been. You want to kiss him or simply run back to the hut and slam the door in his face. You have no idea what you want, so you stand there with your arms crossed anxiously over your stomach until you hear yourself ask, “What are you doing here?”

There’s clearly no emergency. The Mandalorian saunters toward you with that slow, rolling stride you love to watch so much. 

Now you want to scream at him. This is such a stupid risk to take! He’s wearing his cloak draped over him, and sure, it helped to obscure the winking gleam of Beskar. But if he’s spotted by a drone or, hell, another living soul…

There’s no good reason for a Mandalorian bounty hunter to be on your doorstep. The sight of him would set off gossip and speculation that could put the entire operation in peril.

If he had just waited for you at the Razor Crest…But, look at him! Dammit, that saunter?! 

Mando shakes his head, leaning a shoulder against one of the support beams, “I came for you…” his voice trails off. “I wanted to check on you.” 

How strange, to hear someone as sure and stoic as Mando sounding uncertain.

Your brain throws up warning bells. Is this the part where he launches into an explanation about why it would never work between you? Gods, if he says something about valuing your friendship, you will run down to the river and throw yourself into the current. 

“How are you holding up?”

What are you supposed to say? That’s a bad habit you’ve slipped into—trying to think of what people want to hear instead of just telling them the truth.

But you have no idea what Mando wants to hear right now.

He seems so cool and collected. While you, on the other hand, can already feel yourself getting wet from his just… standing there, existing. He hasn’t even touched you yet.

“It’s been rough,” you say, your polite, passionless mask settling into place. If he’s going to play it cool, so can you. “But…we’ve made a lot of progress.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he says firmly.

When you don’t say anything more, you both fall into silence. Yet he doesn’t grow impatient or frustrated.

When Mando finally speaks, he sounds steady again. Strong. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

It’s clear he has no idea what “it” is. Still, he wants to protect you from the pain of it. And gods be damned, you need that steadiness and strength. More than that, you need him. 

How do you tell him that your silence feels like the best protection? Because if you don’t say another word, you might just save yourself from the humiliation of begging him to touch you. 

“I’ll be alright,” is all you intend to say. But suddenly, you can’t seem to stop yourself from talking.

“It’s just…a challenge to ground myself in what’s real when I’m constantly weighing what I say and do to get the correct response from people.” Gods, it felt good to say that out loud. “I’ve begun thinking about everyone in terms of their usefulness to me. Cold calculation isn’t something in my nature, but it’s really important for the success of this mission—” You hold up a hand before he can correct you, “Job.”

But he doesn’t interrupt. Mando stays quiet, giving you the chance to let it all out. 

“I worry that I’ve made a terrible mistake thinking I could do this. It’s so hard to keep track of who knows what. Which lies I’ve told to whom. What should I share about myself to earn their trust versus how much to withhold,” you sigh, throwing up your hands, fingers catching in the tangled waves of your dyed brown hair. “I don’t even look like myself anymore.”       

He cocks his head, studying you intently. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Your gaze snaps up. Oh? And your insides melt hearing the tenderness in his voice. It’s the same soft, gentle tone he used when you were lying naked in his arms. You look at him with a sudden glimmer of hope in your eyes.

The thrill of possibility spurs you forward, and you take a step closer to him. “I was worried you might not recognize me.” 

Mando also steps forward. With one hand, he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head back as he leans closer. He’s so tall that he looms over you. All the ambient noise around you seems to fade away. You’re completely caught in the spell he’s weaving.

Goddess, how you miss the feel of his skin pressed against yours. Please soften his heart and make him mine.

“You still have the same fiercely intelligent eyes,” he says. “Always thinking. And these lines around your mouth,” Mando’s thumb brushes over your lower lip. “From when you smile.” 

Laughter bubbles up in your chest. You never have to worry about false flattery from the Mandalorian. 

“See?” His hand slides along your jaw, caressing your cheek. “Same dimples.”

Oh! Oh, so you’ve just completely misread the entire situation. This whole time, you’ve been thinking that he wanted to distance himself…but there was no deeper significance to his actions. It was nothing calculated or intentionally hurtful. No message he was sending you.

He needed to see Yarella to ensure the safety of his crew, and so he did. 

“Is that really what’s bothering you? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Oh, you could fill a book with the things you are not telling him. The pain and anger. All the shit with Kessen. You aren’t going to tell him any of it.

Rationally, you understand that he can’t know he’s done something to hurt you unless you tell him. He’s never had a romantic partner before—shit, just getting him to acknowledge that his choices impact the people around him was a months-long learning process. These miscommunications will continue to happen if you don’t actually tell him when he fails to communicate. 

But getting into a long conversation about feelings is the last thing you want to do right now. Talking about talking? You can’t imagine anything less sexy.

You don't want to break the spell. It’s easier to forget the hurt and pretend everything is fine. 

And as for the situation with Johar Kessen? Let’s just cross that bridge when you come to it.

You wind an arm around his neck and sag against him. “I just missed you.”

Mando’s other hand palms your waist, and the part of your heart you’d been trying to bury all day leaps for joy. “Good,” he says from somewhere above your head, a smile audible in his voice. 

Despite your angry panic, the desire welling up inside of you at the feel of his hands is a living thing trying to burst through your chest. It’s not easy to press yourself against all that armor—but that doesn’t stop you from trying. All the hurt and nagging concerns are meaningless. You’re fucked. Just incapable of suppressing how much you want him.

The Mandalorian bends his head to get a better look at you. “Sounds like I don’t have to worry about your new job.”

“Worry? That I’m going to hand in my resignation so I can mop floors for TaggeCo? Absolutely not,” you scoff. "Though there is something deeply gratifying about using a pressure washer."

“I didn’t think princesses knew how to mop,” he teases.

And this...this is what you missed. These tiny moments when he made you laugh or placed a comforting hand on your back. When he made you feel like there was no world outside the circle of his arms.

“Well, I wouldn’t know—what with not being a princess,” you roll your eyes. “But I was a novice at the palace temple, and novices learn to mop. And wash dishes. And do laundry.”

Fourteen-year-old Thulani would've refused to believe it, but all that drudgery has served you well. When you arrived on Lakaran, Humia deeply resented your addition to her team. “I don’t need you, and I don’t trust you, so stay out of my way,” were the first words she’d spoken to you.  Then, she watched you get down on your hands and knees to scrub for ten hours without complaint, come home, and carry two heavy jugs of potable water uphill, one in each hand, from the tanker at the center of camp. She’s been considerably nicer to you ever since. 

“You’re lucky I’m not the Hapan princess, by the way,” you grin, looking up into his viewplate. “The real princess would absolutely hate you. She’d never tolerate such a snarky bastard like—”

The Mandalorian moves impossibly fast. He grips your arms tightly, then pushes you away by the shoulders, pinning you against the steel support beam. Mando slams his hands on either side of you, so that you’re imprisoned by his arms. His muscular body presses against you. You swallow hard, stunned by the speed, awakening something inside you that feels a little bit like fear and a lot like lust.

“Shhh,” he says, as two of his leather fingers slide up to cover your lips.

That’s when you hear the crunch of rocks.

*************

Continue reading - Volume 4 - Post #9: Lucid Dreams!

Back to all posts for Volume 4

[aaabsinthe]

Night Routines of Talon’s Femme Fatales

I have literally no idea where this idea came from but honestly this is all my personal headcanon. These are night routines for Talon’s femme fatales while living with their gn s/o. 

Widow 

Sleep is a little bit touchy with Widow.

It’s unlikely for her to really feel comfortable sleeping around you until she knows you and trusts you... well... with her life, considering what she did to her husband (despite the fact that she knows she herself cannot die, it’s a trauma and trust issue related thing - trust me on this).

In the beginning of your relationship, Widow would lay with you while you fell asleep but she would never fall asleep herself in the same bed or even the same room. 

She has her own private room which she would sleep in with the door locked tightly. 

It kind of hurt your feelings in the beginning since she was the trained assassin with the massive sniper rifle and honestly you are nowhere near skilled enough or brave enough to murder her of all people. You should’ve been the one afraid to fall asleep around her, not vice versa. 

It wasn’t only to protect herself, she still hadn’t quite wrapped her head around this whole ‘falling in love despite being genetically modified to be a heartless assassin’ thing and honestly she didn’t trust herself with you laying there with your guard down. She needed time to build that trust within herself. 

Eventually it was time to realise that Widow had her own shit to work through and she did get there after a few weeks. 

Once she felt comfortable sleeping around you, you began to get an idea of how her sleep schedule and routine seemed to work. 

Sleeps between 5-8 hours depending on a whole bunch of environmental factors including room temperature, her mood, your mood - you name it really. Her sleep is really finicky. 

Very light sleeper who will wake up if you even shift out of bed to get something to drink or to pee. She doesn’t even say a word, you just feel a freezing cold hand grip your arm as you’re halfway off the bed. 

Scares the shit out of you every time. 

Has the coldest feet known to man. Loves to put them on your bare legs and laughs at your pain. 

Honestly, I think Widow would have her own skincare routine with all her products stored in a little fridge and organised to a tee. 

Would definitely enjoy sharing with you so you could do skincare together. 

Widow surprisingly loves cuddles, especially when she can hold you, stroke your hair and massage your scalp while you fall asleep, humming French lullabies. 

If you do the same for her on nights where she’s particularly unsettled and struggling to sleep, you will have her heart forever. 

Sombra

Honestly, it’s a surprise she even sleeps at all.

Snores like a bear. 

Only gets between 3-4 hours of sleep (by choice). 

Light sleeper with occasional night terrors. 

Needs background noise to sleep, big fan of white and brown noise.

Doesn’t have a night time routine per se, however she is more than happy to be included in your routine just for the sake of spending some time with you since it’s likely to be scarce with her line of work.

Weirdly enjoys skincare. 

If you have a super intense skincare routine, she definitely won’t pick up a full routine for herself but she’ll secretly smell and trial your products when you’re not looking. She also loves facemasks and melts if you do one with her looking all goofy covered in bubbles or a sheet mask. 

Those little crystal rollers? Heaven. 

When you’re out for the night, Sombra forgets to care for herself at all and mostly just conks out whenever she can’t fight sleep anymore. 

When you’re home however, she follows you along as you get ready for bed and as soon as you climb in to bed she’s right behind you. 

Cuddle bug. Loves anything she can get but especially when you lay on her chest or she lays on yours. 

More often than not, you fall asleep before her and she finds herself so relaxed just laying there listening to your heartbeat. 

She’s totally creepy enough to watch you sleep silently.

She has the right intentions but damn it’s creepy waking up to her staring from her desk in the middle of the night. 

Moira

Definitely has her own relaxing night routine.

I can see Moira having a night time shower or bath, brewing tea and laying in bed with the covers over her legs reading a book for a good hour or two before bed. 

Needs absolute silence to sleep. Will make an exception for river or rain sounds if you need them to sleep, but it takes her some getting used to.

Anything other than those two options and she will lay there grumbling and rolling around until you eventually fall asleep - instantly switches it off. 

Takes sleep very seriously and needs a good eight hours or she’s an absolute terror to deal with (grumpy pants) the whole day after. 

Dead silent sleeper, only very light breaths. 

Relatively heavy sleeper. Unlikely to wake up unless you shake her a bit but wakes up pretty easy to alarms. 

Moira indulges a little bit in skincare routines but nothing too intense - she’s more of a moisturiser and eye cream kinda gal but really not much else. 

I get the feeling any brand she does use she extensively researches the ingredients and reviews before comparing them to other products and then eventually she purchases them.

Probably has the most scientifically backed anti-aging skincare available if she doesn’t formulate her own. 

Definitely has silk pajamas and an eye mask.

If you fall asleep before Moira, she’ll give you a kiss and say goodnight but she’s usually too invested in her book to really give you anything more than that. 

Not really one for cuddles. She won’t shake you off if you roll over and spoon her, but she prefers to kind of have her own space and won’t really initiate consciously unless you’re upset or she knows you need it.

Latches on to you like a monkey when she’s asleep though you doubt she even knows she does it.  

Drools little puddles on her pillow. 

It’s so gross but it’s cute.

[tr1ckysp00k]

•Bob x nurse reader•

[warning: mentioning of scars, murder, cannibalism (I mean, this is bob), mental illness, mentioning of sharp objects (such as syringes, knives and such, ¿suggestive?]

Slightly proof read: I added more detail in certain bits of the story, and corrected any misspellings and missing words <3

Enjoy! <3

After years moving to various health schools, you’ve finally had became a licensed physician! You had a wonderful job, and big house, and lived in a amazing town!

Until. .

Your whole ship sank. You suddenly weren’t making enough money as you should, now this was a major problem considering you needed money to pay off EXPENSIVE bills, and nonetheless food, the very thing that keeps you alive.

All these problems were pulling you at the edge of a cliff, either continue down this path or. .

•

You decided to move to a smaller house in a less expensive town. You needed to be able to pay for food, and a home, so you choose to live in the cheapest town you could find.

This place was not all of a dump. .

Well it mostly was, but it couldn’t get worse. You unpacked your stuff from inside your shabby house, getting ready for a new day in a new place. You’ve already signed up for a job at the hospital. .which looked more like a asylum, but ANYWAYS.

It paid you well, you were able to keep afloat, there were only so many people working there. Your patients were well-behaved too! But then you hit another bump. .

Day 1

11:00 - AM

You walk into the hospital, which was cover in polar white paint, while the floor was decorated in lose, gray tiles. Something felt off once you stepped inside, like today was gonna be a bad day. .

Reluctantly you walked in, dusting off the stomach-churning feeling with a shake of your head. Once you clocked in, almost immediately, you were called into office. The head informed you that you were gonna be handling a ‘special case’ since you were ‘the only licensed nurse’.

•

To be honest, it’s mostly because you were the first person to arrive work.

They had specifically instructed you on what you’ll need to do and sent you off with a little warning.

‘We are not worried about you hurting him, but him hurting you. . If he does get a little ‘frisky’ we laid out some syringes filled with chloroform (aka the ‘knock out drug’)’

•

Now you were worried, a lot actually. ‘He will hurt me? Why would he do such a thing? Is he mad or something?’

You continuously fidgeted with your fingers as you slowly made your way to the pale white door. Your heart rate was at a faster pace, feeling as if it were trying to escape from your chest. You gulped as you placed you hand on the cold handle of the door, slowly opening it to reveal. .

•

Nothing. Nothing but a empty hospital bed, lied out equipment that rested on a tray, and documents. You hesitatingly walked in the room, heading for the documents. You opened the vanilla colored folder out of curiosity, reading through the fine printed lines of words.

‘Bob velseb, hmm what a peculiar name, where have I heard that before. .’

As you tried to flip over the sheet of paper, something felt out from between the pages.

“The devil has come out?” You said in a whisper.

BAM

The slam of the door echoed through your ears, swiftly turning, only to be knocked to the ground. You were face to face with a large man with pale white skin that was lathered in cuts and bullet holes from top to bottom. His smile only contained pure mania. He placed one of his massive arms beside the door blocking it so you couldn’t run off and within his other arm, his hand held a scalpel. He dazed amongst your terror filled eyes, you were basically paralyzed in fear. He pounced onto you, holding the small blade at your neck.

“Did you know. .~ the heart organ can survive 6 to 8 hours outside of the body?…” a chuckled followed his horrid fact.

“Did you know, breath mints are a thing?” You seethed, kicking in the base of his stomach. He slid amongst the smooth-like tiles, then charging at you. You ran in a panic, aiming to grab one of the syringes that were spread on the ground. You did manage to catch one, a small ‘yes’ of relief escaped your lips but, weren’t paying no attention to bob.

You grabbed you by your neck, pinning you to the dirty ground while holding the scalpel near rim of your stomach. Cyan ruled over his eyes with a sadistic passion. And drool ran over his lips, like a river. With swiftness you hammered the syringe into his arm. He hissed out of pain, and threw you aside. He ripped the shot out his skin, and attempted to make his way towards you before

Boom

Went the man, as he made contact with the ground. He was out cold. You had took it to your advantage. .

•

After you removed any bullets that were lodged in his stomach and back, and sewn him up, you decided to do some digging on him. You read through the paper that read ‘devil has come out’ the placed were you left off, and read through the lines.

‘This makes more sense now..’ you thought, as you furrowed brows at the man that was out cold on the small bed, his large stature took over.

‘How isn’t this guy dead?’ You questioned as You glared at the disc that held the blood covered bullets. Suddenly thoughts were put to a pause when you heard the man shuffling around the sheets. You held a vile close, just in case he tries any funny business.

He arose from his head-aching slumber. Holding his noggin in his hand, clearly a bit in pain from the ‘nap’ he took. It didn’t take long for him to notice you in the corner of the room, sitting in a slightly broken chair. He slowly got himself up, and attempted to get off the bed to come towards you, but you showed him the syringe just as a little warning. He plopped back down in bed, still making eye contact.

By this time he had both feet on the ground, but was still slouched in the bed. His fore arms rested atop his legs, as he let his arms carry his weight. His eye were trained onto you, the itching hunger to grab and bite was clear as day in his eyes. You made sure to show him that you were not afraid, staring right back into his crazed filled eyes.

•

All of a sudden someone opened the door, you made sure to keep bob in your vision no matter who it was.

“I say, y’all did well?” The man asked with a question in tone.

“He tried eating me, but I got done what needed to be done.” You say, with a expression that was as blank as a board.

“He… what?”

“Nothing, just keep a very close eye on him, while I get his lunch ready.” You got out the rusty chair, handing the doctor the vile.

Bob frowned a bit when he saw you leaving the room, something about you made him feel a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn’t hunger I’ll tell you that.

•

You had gotten the food prepped and ready for ‘your patient’. You wanted to hurry, you didn’t trust bob with your fellow employee. And if he did get hurt, you’d be responsible for the incident, since you left them both alone.

When you returned, everything seemed fine. They confirmed that bob didn’t try anything, and stayed from afar. You escorted them out the room, making sure they exited safe and sound, then faced the murderous cannibal. You dragged your feet as you made your way to give him his tray, which has plain food sitting in each category of the tray while a glass of fresh water sat at the edge of the plastic serving dish.

“Here, enjoy. Sicko. .” You trailed off at the end of your sentence, for only a mumble to be heard.

He cringed his nose in response, while slightly narrowing his his brows. He looked down at the food in disgust, complaining with a groan.

“This steak ain’t even seasoned. .”

He grumbled in irritation. Picking at the slab of dry meat with a plastic spork.

“Boo-hoo.” You giggled a bit, but immediately stopped when you saw the man frown in annoyance, a bit of sweat beading out your fore head as you reminded yourself you were in the same room with a serial killer.

You got everything done without a hassle. Including getting bob to eat, despite his pro-testing. What you really were ticked off about is that, you were STILL going to have to take care of him for a couple of weeks, until his injuries have recovered.

• What a way to star the day. . It’s not even past 12:00 yet.

• He’d request for you non-stop through out the day.

• Needed to get some paper work done? Forget it. You were on break? Time to get to working again, your patient is in need of you. You couldn’t even go to the bathroom without being bothered.

• bob had MADE sure it was only YOU coming to his rescue, attempting to bite, or tear into any other twat that tried laying a finger on him.

• when you did snapped at him for his constant, annoying request for you, he giggled it off saying it’s was cute seeing you this frustrated.

•

“There are other people here, why don’t you try asking assistance from them!?” *you’d hissed in irritation, frustration was visible*

“*he chuckles* aww, don’t

Be so mad. . Isn’t it yer job to help those in need, docs?” *he coos*

•

• but once the moon made its way up the night sky, you had given a sigh of relief. Finally able to rest, and someone else would have to put up with his bull-crap.

• When you were getting ready to go home, after a day of long work. You bid the tramp adieu, the frown he gave what up-most satisfying. Though, come tomorrow, you’ll have to go through this hell with him again. And he knew it.

•He just couldn’t wait.

Just until I figured out what happens in part 6 of just a bite.

Thank you for reading!