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mothhball · 10 months ago

Text

Positive Reinforcement

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x delusional!Reader (fem)

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, DUB-CON (bc Jon is playing a little hard to get), L-BOMB, fingering, oral sex (both m + f receiving), deepthroating, brief breathplay, mutual body worship, p in v sex, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, overstim, clothed male/naked female, threats of drugging, violence mention, reader is a little unhinged

Summary | You’re convinced he’s the one, but you’ve been causing nothing but trouble for Jonathan. Maybe it’s time to switch up the strategy.

Words | 6.2k

Notes | FILTH. Jon may be ooc, whoops. Honestly, this is very self-indulgent and was a struggle to write lol

Arkham certainly has its charms. From the noisy, dark hallways to the scratchy and shapeless patient uniforms - there’s something for everyone here. As far as you’re concerned, you’re here for no reason. At least no serious reason. You’re a lover and a fighter. Literally just a girl. Even though the GCPD certainly didn’t agree when they arrested you for attempted murder, assault, breaking and entering, and a bunch of other rude accusations.

Your ex broke your heart, so you crashed your car into him in an attempt to get back at him, breaking both his legs in the process. He may never walk again – big deal! A crime of passion, your honor! Revenge for the two years that you’ve wasted on a person, only for him to break up with you once he noticed the tracker sown into the bottom hem of his favorite jacket. Bummer.

But life goes on, and as long as your heart can beat, it can love. And the person who made you believe in romance again is sitting right in front of you in his office, narrowing his eyes as he stares you down over the rim of the coffee cup he’s sipping from. If only you could trade places with an inanimate object. Jonathan Crane in his entirety is worth the stay at Arkham. He’s worth the uncomfortable bed, colorless food and horrible daytime television that’s always running in the recreation room. Who needs freedom when you have love?

Crane was the first to listen to you. The first person to let you speak and philosophize about the nature of your devotion and the way you love people. And he didn’t judge you. At least not out loud.

But now, two months after being admitted to the asylum, he’s grown tired and agitated. Unhealthy attachment and mood-natural delusionships involving someone who wants nothing to do with you. That’s the addition to your diagnosis that Crane is currently rattling off right in front of you, but you’re too busy staring at every detail of his face, trying to manifest his hands on your skin and his tongue down your throat.

“Are you trying to go for a new record in weeks spent in solitary confinement?” Crane sets down the cup to have a free hand to rub his temple with.

The question makes you smile. Oh, he’s always so funny. So charming. But being sentenced to solitude wasn’t the goal you had in mind when you smashed another patient’s face into the cafeteria wall, not easing up until her teeth were scattered around like the shiny pearls of a rich lady’s ripped necklace. Even though you were hosed down by a guard and received a fresh set of clothes, the other woman’s dried blood is still crusted under the nail of your left ring finger. A secret little sign of your devotion. You didn’t do it out of anger or jealousy either. You did it because you knew that Crane would be forced to sit you down for an emergency therapy session. It’s his own fault for reducing your sessions to only once a week.

A playfully coy smile pulls at the corners of your lips, and you lean forward a little, wanting to get a better look at him even though you’ve already perfectly memorized every detail of him after just the first two days of being here.

“She shouldn’t have provoked me. I was defending myself. You understand me. Right, Jonathan?”

You slowly inch your hand across the table, almost making contact with his fingertips until he opts to grab your file instead. It’s a pointed gesture, and you quietly mourn the chance for physical contact with him. Crane clears his throat to bring your focus back to the here and now. And of course, the first thing he does is correct you.

“Whistler?” You furrow your eyebrows. “What does she have to do with this? I thought… I thought you were trying to help me.”

“It’s Dr. Crane for you. And I understand that you have very little self-control.” He pauses for a moment, struggling with a sudden surge of anger before he manages to continue. “I’ll be honest. My patience is wearing thin. You’re a danger to the other inmates, and Dr. Whistler of all people already offered to take you off my hands.”

This revelation makes you perk up suddenly, and there’s a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s thinking of giving you away?

“Yes, emphasis on trying. But as you can see, we’re not getting anywhere, are we? And Whistler mentioned how optimistic she is about your case. If you want my opinion, I think she’s itching to test out some new sedatives we’ve added to the catalog.” Crane adjusts his glasses, and the way he speaks almost makes you think he doesn’t care. But you’re sure he does. Of course he does. He has to. Nevertheless, the mere thought of not seeing him on a regular basis makes anxiety crawl up your spine, and you absently pick at your cuticles until you tear a little too deep, and another line of red pools around your fingernail.

“You can’t do this,” you try to argue, searching your brain for any good reason for him to keep you aside from the fact that you two belong together. You briefly lick your lips, daring to appeal to his pride. “If you hand me off, everyone will know that you failed. They’ll all know that you gave up on me because you couldn’t handle me.”

Crane’s eyes narrow into cold slits, and his grip on your file tightens. Uh-oh. That’s a very ugly expression on your darling doctor. He’s quiet for a moment, silently reigning himself back in. The rage that’s simmering beneath his skin dissipates a little when he has a sudden idea.

Maybe a different approach could work better. Realization sets in, and he almost wants to smack himself for not thinking of this sooner. Evidently, you don't care that much for punishment. Solitary confinement and restriction from activities do little to keep you in check. But how about a different motivation? How about reward?

"Alright, here's what we're going to do. We'll keep up the weekly frequency of solo therapy sessions." He thinks out loud, crossing his arms over his chest and occasionally tapping his fingers on his biceps. You want to voice your protest about not getting more sessions with him, but he continues with this lovely, rumbly tone that he uses whenever he's planning something and getting matter-of-fact with you. It's like catnip for your ears, almost making you melt in your little grippy socks.

"And if I don't hear any complaints about you from the other members of staff, you'll get a reward each time. So, be a good girl for a week and you'll get a treat. Easy, right?"

His eyebrows are raised expectantly as he waits for your reply, and you think about his offer, picking at your sleeve as you weigh out the pros and cons.

"Do I get to pick the reward?" you eventually ask, looking back at him with a glint in your eyes that he immediately recognizes. Crane firmly shakes his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"No. Because I know what you'll choose."

"Then I'm not doing it."

Crane sighs, pulling out his work phone.

"I'll give Whistler a call," he states, concentrating on trying not to smirk at the way your expression falls. Like threatening a child by calling Santa.

"Wait! No, I - ... how about a compromise?" You plead, not missing the parallel either. But if you don't want to settle for coal (or in this case, withdrawal from your man), you'll have to suck it up.

Crane looks up from his phone, thumb hovering over the buttons for another moment before he tucks it back into the pocket of his suit jacket. "A compromise? Doll, we’re not arguing over who does the dishes and brings out the trash. You have no say in this aside from agreeing to either a good or a bad time.”

Damn. Did he have to make it domestic?

“Let me burst your bubble for a moment,” He continues, not allowing you to fantasize over his choice of words for longer than necessary. “You have no power here. No agency, no privileges. You’re not ‘doing’ anything, you’re having things ‘done to’ you. You may think you have me in the palm of your hand, because I’m forced to see you every time you get yourself into trouble, but I could just as well keep you drugged and docile for the rest of your indefinite stay here. So,” he leans forward, resting his palms on the table and clearing his throat.

“No more nonsense. This is your very last warning. If you lash out again, I’ll hand you over to Dr. Whistler, advise her to keep you sedated and move onto other much more interesting and agreeable patients, my reputation be damned.”

The silence that follows his words is deafening, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears as the air suddenly feels thinner. Tears well up in your eyes. Bitter tears of shame and disappointment, and you feel like a petulant child, but it does nothing to stop them from rolling down your face and dripping onto the table below.

Crane stiffens, visibly taken aback by your sudden display of emotion. He thought he’s seen it all from you. The smirks, the winking, the way you bite your lip in an attempt to seduce a man who’s as emotionally available as one of the brick walls making up this very building. Part of him wants to escape the conversation immediately, but it’s his job to at least attempt to help you through your issues, and leaving you in a state of distress is the entire opposite of that.

“Listen,” he starts, almost tentative. “I don’t want to do any of that. Not really. I want to keep working with you. And I believe you’ve made a little progress so far, but you’d be even further along if you’d stop antagonizing everyone for a chance to speak to me.”

“But I need to. You don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

You sniffle, unable to articulate properly. He should know. He should understand from a single second of eye contact. Yet here you are, forced to spell it out for him. Crane’s eyes soften ever so slightly, and he pulls out a pack of pocket tissues, sliding it across the desk so you can dry your tears. His tone is calmer now, almost gentle.

“Why are you doing this? All of this resistance… the altercations with other patients… your life could be so easy. So why?”

“To make you notice me,” you sniffle, gingerly patting your cheeks with one of the paper tissues. Crane’s eyebrows furrow in response.

“You don’t think I would’ve noticed you without all of this mess?” He tilts his head, slightly amused by your melodramatic performance. You scoff at the question, frowning when he actually smirks at you this time.

“No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t notice me if I were a model patient. You wouldn’t spare me a single glance if I was docile like the others… I want you to think about me even when your shift is over.”

Crane shrugs, letting out a sigh through his nose as he does. A corner of his lip twitches, and you can’t tell whether it’s in amusement or disgust. The fact that you tried to manipulate him by being a ‘bad’ patient irritates him, but he has to admit that your strategy worked.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t notice you. You have no idea how difficult and repetitive this job gets… how much the faces start to blur together after a while. You’re not very special at all, if I’m being honest.”

The comment and the monotony in his voice sting, and just for a split second, the mask of sweetness slips to reveal the anger and hurt in your eyes. You quickly manage to reel yourself back in, and you clear your throat as you look away from him. At least he’s being honest with you. The basis of a good and healthy relationship.

“I could… make myself special to you.” A pause.

“Do you think you’re capable of doing that? I mean, so far, you’ve just been causing problems and it’s getting stale. Can you really do something better for me?”

“I can be good… I could show you how I feel for you.” It’s a gamble and you know it. But the possible reward outweighs the risk. At least to your infatuated brain. Crane shifts in his seat, deciding to humor you.

“How do you feel for me? Enlighten me a little bit.”

“I’m in love with you. I love you.” Your sweetheart bristles like a cat, and you feel let down by his reaction. During the countless times you’ve fantasized about this moment in the showers, scrubbing yourself with cheap soap, he was elated by your confession. But the real-life Jonathan Crane just looks at you with mild pity. Pity that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That was… fast. Didn’t even waste a moment to admit it. But I suppose it’s expected from you,” he sighs, shaking his head as he writes something down in your file. You’re quick to defend yourself. This isn’t a joke to you, after all. You’re laying your heart completely bare, ripping apart skin and flesh to expose the bloody, weakly beating thing to his unimpressed eyes.

“I mean it.”

He lets out a low whistle, and his eyebrows raise ever so slightly. For an agonizingly long moment (about 30 seconds), he punishes your honesty with silence before he finally sets his pen down and looks at you.

“Then do something to prove it.” He says it so nonchalantly. As if he’s not really expecting anything at all. But he’s severely underestimating how deep your devotion runs for him. Your chair screeches across the floor as you get up, and Crane looks alarmed for a fleeting moment before you lower yourself to your knees and crawl under his desk until you come up between his thighs. Your sweetheart’s eyes soften, and he reaches down to brush his fingers through your hair almost instinctively.

“I’ll show you…” you murmur softly, running your hands over his thighs and lightly digging your nails into the fabric of his slacks. Crane lets out a barely audible sigh, shifting a little in his seat to part his legs for easier access. So considerate. Your man really is such a darling.

Looking up at him from beneath the table, you make quick work of his belt and zipper before you pull up his shirt that he kept tucked into his pants. Your mouth waters at the sight of his skin, and you lean in to kiss his stomach while your hand moves to palm his cock through his boxers. Crane hisses softly, keeping his eyes locked on your devoted form between his thighs, and a shiver runs down his spine when you pull down his underwear, exposing him to the cool air of his office.

“God… your cock is so beautiful… you don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming of sucking you off…” you murmur, eyes lighting up as you wrap your hand around him. Crane licks his lips, unsure how to feel about the compliment. You’ve been his biggest headache for months now, and yet here you are, sweettalking him while you’re sitting under his desk with your fingers around his dick.

“I bet you taste as sweet as you look.” You giggle, gathering some saliva in your mouth before you let it dribble down onto his tip so you can pump his cock more easily. Crane’s brows furrow, and you smile up at him before licking from his base up to his tip, causing him to twitch against your tongue. You know he’s always pent up, always stressed, and you don’t really have to worry about him seeking release elsewhere since he’s always focused on his work. And, in some abstract way, always focused on you.

Loyalty. Another pillar of an unbreakable bond.

You can feel him hardening within your grasp, and you swear you can hear an almost silent breath of relief when you finally take his cock into your mouth. You start off slow, moaning at the feeling of his length on your tongue, and you continue to caress his thighs and stomach in an effort to worship him like he deserves.

“No teeth, doll.” He smirks down at you, smoothing his thumb over your cheekbone as you continue to suck the precum from his tip. The taste of him makes your mind fog up, and you nod eagerly, pulling away from him for just a moment to answer properly.

“Cross my heart, Jon.” Your mouth is back on him within seconds, and you bob your head up and down, taking him deeper down your throat every time. Crane hisses in response, and his grip on your hair tightens.

“It’s still Dr. Crane to you…” His protest is half-hearted at best, and you witness his composure crumbling in real time as you suck him off like you’re trying to devour him whole. You’re on a mission. A mission to drive him to the brink of insanity like his mere presence does you. Crane huffs out another sharp breath, and his hips twitch forward, generously helping you to breach your throat barrier and causing you to splutter around him. Tears well up in your eyes, but you stay down on his cock, pushing down all the way until the neatly trimmed hair on the base of his length tickles your nose.

“Fuck… You’re so pretty when you gag on it.”

You pull off of him, only managing to swallow half the spit that gathered in your mouth while the rest drips down your chin, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Crane’s hand massages the back of your head encouragingly, and you flash him a bright smile before you go back down at him with a little more vigor.

After a while, you go to catch your breath, but before you can pull away completely, both his hands shoot out to grab your head and push you back down on his cock. Your eyes widen, and you let out a slight noise of protest as he begins to fuck into your throat. Drool dribbles down your chin, soiling the shirt of your patient uniform while your nails dig into Crane’s thighs in an attempt to ground yourself. He clenches his jaw, moaning through his teeth while your throat contracts around him.

“Perfect little cocksucker… so eager to show me your love…” He cuts himself off with a little grunt, and his grip on your head tightens as he moves your skull up and down. “All the way down… yes, keep your tongue out…”

You continue to gag around his length, trying to keep up with the rhythm of his thrusts as he forces his cock down your pharynx, enjoying the way your muscles clench and contract. His soft moans become more urgent, and pride makes your heart swell. He’s making these noises because of you.

“That’s it… good girl. Eyes on me. I want you to look at my face when I cum down your pretty little throat...”

You whine in response, nodding your head as best as you can, and you start to work in tandem with him as he gets close. The moment you feel him pulse on your tongue, he pushes you down all the way again, and his hand reaches around to your face. You catch a dark glint in his eyes when he suddenly pinches your nose shut, constricting your airflow completely as he chokes you on his cock. You struggle against him, but he doesn’t budge as his eyes fall shut and he grunts out more praise. Panic rises in your chest, and your muscles convulse in a desperate attempt to get air into your neglected lungs. And it’s exactly this panic in your eyes that pushes Crane over the edge and he shoots his load directly down your throat, giving you no other option but to swallow the hot ropes of cum that he lazily continues to fuck into your mouth.

Finally, he lets go of your head, and you immediately flinch back to suck in some much-needed air. The both of you are panting, and you keep your watery eyes locked on his satisfied expression while strings of spit still connect your swollen lips to the flushed head of his cock.

“You okay?”

“Yeah...“ you breathe out in reply, trying to swallow the soreness in your throat. Crane’s hand reaches out to you again, caressing your head like a cherished pet, and he chuckles to himself.

“Catch your breath, doll. That was one hell of a way to prove yourself…” He murmurs, reaching across the table to retrieve the pack of pocket tissues and hand it to you. Your fingers are a little shaky as you wipe the mess from your chin and neck, and you slowly return to your chair. Crane’s brows furrow when he watches you retreat, and you blink at him.

Immediately, your thoughts begin to spiral. What are you doing? Sitting back down, that much is evident. Did he want you to stay and keep on sucking him off? Were you supposed to keep the spit on your face intact? Does he – Crane effectively snaps you out of your mental gymnastics routine by brushing his foot against your calf, and you’re immediately focused on the butterflies that fill up your chest.

“What?”

“What are you doing?” He asks, not bothering to elaborate.

“As far as I’m concerned, you behaved very well just now. So, I’d like to keep my word and reward you.”

He points over to the leather couch in the corner of his office, and you find yourself standing before he can even fully extend his arm. Crane follows after you, leading you with his hands on your hips until your knees softly bump against the furniture. He’s pressed up behind you, breathing in the scent of your skin while his hands begin to trail all over your body. You tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder as his touch slips under your shirt, and you can feel the way his fingers are trembling against your flesh. Crane clicks his tongue as he pinches your nipples, slowly rolling the hardening bud between index and thumb in a way that makes you jolt in his grasp.

“Let me see what I’m working with, doll,” he murmurs, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside before the cotton bustier that the asylum provided follows suit. Your first instinct is to shy away, but he grabs your shoulders and spins you around to get a good look at you. His gaze is detached. Clinical. And you can feel yourself shrinking away until he finally decides to open his mouth. “Fucking hell… maybe I should’ve indulged you sooner.”

It isn’t much in terms of a compliment, but to you it might as well be a marriage proposal. Your breath catches in your lungs as Crane leans in, sucking your nipple into his mouth while his hands wander lower to push down your pants and sneak into your underwear. He chuckles when his fingers dip into the mess that has built up between your thighs.

“Did sucking my cock make you this wet already?”

“I mean… it is a pretty cock…” you try to defend your already half-unraveled state, and he lets out a laugh. A genuine one of honest amusement, and the noise makes your heart soar up into the sky.

“Quiet. Lie back on the couch for me, sweetheart.” The new pet name almost makes your body collapse in on itself. Your back meets the cold faux leather, and you let out a quiet hiss of discomfort as you sink a little into the cushions. Crane pulls your pants and underwear off completely, letting them join the already existing pile on the floor before he gets on the couch with you. He grabs your thighs, pulling you a little closer so he can rest your legs over his shoulders while he lies flat between them. His breath ghosts over your pussy, and he spreads your folds open with his thumbs to get a good look at your drooling entrance.

“Pretty… so, so pretty,” he murmurs, kissing up the insides of your thighs before he circles his tongue around your eager hole, savoring your taste with a deep, guttural groan.

You reach out your hand to hold his, but he swats it away, causing you to give his hair a harsh tug when he doesn’t do as you want him to. This, however makes him answer with a rough bite to the meat of your thigh, and you’re almost embarrassed by the wanton noise that slips past your lips. Pain tingles down your spine, and you try to sit up, only for him to push you back down. In a second attempt, you manage to catch his hand and immediately link your fingers together so he can’t escape your clammy, possessive grip. To your absolute delight, he’s not even trying to this time around. You knew he’d come around.

His tongue dances around your dripping entrance yet again, licking a stripe up your pussy that makes your grip on his hand tighten and your toes curl. Finally, finally, he sinks a finger into you, already sliding in to where his digit meets his palm, and he moans along with you when he feels how your pussy flutters around him.

“Jonathan…”

For the first time, he doesn’t correct you. Instead, he chooses to lean in and devour you, eagerly lapping at your juicy cunt as he presses the pad of his fingers against that sweet spot inside of you. He’s insatiable, parting your folds with his tongue and groaning at your taste as you grind your clit against the diligent muscle. And his eyes. Oh, God his eyes. He’s almost crushing you beneath his heated gaze, keeping you pinned while he eats you out like a starved man. Now, it’s Jonathan’s turn to get messy, and he doesn’t mind in the slightest as your saccharine slick coats his chin. He adds another finger into your cunt, pulling away from your clit to bite and suck on your thighs while he stretches you open.

“Fuck – “

“Just another finger, doll. Let yourself go for me…” He murmurs between licks and gentle bites as he returns to your pussy, his glasses fogging up from the heat.

Your hands are still intertwined, even as your back arches and you continue to pant and moan out his name. Even as your breath hitches when he latches back onto that sensitive bundle of nerves. Even when he adds a third finger and you finally come on his tongue with a wail that sounds as blissful as it does delirious.

Your brain is clouded by euphoria, and your bite your lip to keep quiet as he continues to pump his fingers inside of you. You can hear the mess he’s made between your thighs. A mix of his saliva and your juices, and Jonathan is not wasting a single drop of it. Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you only faintly register the little laugh he lets out at your state.

“Christ, I want to kiss that expression off your face… Actually, don’t mind if I do.”

Jonathan leans over you, laughing again when he gets a closer look at your expression. And then months of yearning and dreams of romance become reality when his lips meet yours. Fireworks go off in your head, and you immediately pull him closer, almost causing him to topple over on top of you. It’s messy and overly excited on your part, but you couldn’t care less as your teeth clash a few times and you lick against his tongue and taste yourself on it.

Jonathan pulls back for a moment, despite the vise grip you have on his shoulders, but he calms you by pressing his lips against your brow, whispering like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Easy there… come on, be good.”

You whine in response, but when his thumb brushes over your clit again, your body jolts and you immediately shut up. Jonathan pushes his own pants down further, freeing his leaking cock again and giving himself a few pumps before he pushes his hips forward to coat his length in your slick. Every time the heard of his cock brushes up against you, you let out a soft little noise, and it’s in that moment that Jonathan decides he’d like to hear a lot more of it in the future. He grits his teeth, slowly sinking into your cunt while keeping his eyes fixed on yours.

Once upon a time, you were nothing special. You have an interesting backstory, sure. And your obsession with him does wonders for his ego. But right here, right now, something cracks the stony façade and he silently dares to venture a little further into the dreamworld you’ve built around the two of you. He sees parts of himself in you. The obsessive, volatile behavior. The inability to love in a way that’s considered normal. The desire to possess something or someone in its entirety.

You shiver when he bottoms out inside of you, his hips meeting yours and slightly squishing you into the faux leather cushions of the couch. You’re still tight and sensitive from your previous climax, and Jonathan can feel your pulse in the velvety walls of your pussy that’s clenched around him. Despite your heightened sensitivity, his thumb returns to your clit, rubbing a tight figure eight into it that makes your head spin. His other hand leaves yours, grabbing your jaw instead to keep you from squirming.

“You’re gonna come for me again,” he states, rubbing you a little faster and applying more pressure along with it. Your muscles tighten, and your heart hammers in your chest as you stare up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“C… can you – “

“Move?” he finishes for you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Only if you cum again, I’m afraid. It’ll be another reward.”

You sob out a moan, face scrunching up when that familiar pressure begins to build inside of you for a second time. Jonathan keeps his hand on your jaw, watching every twitch and flinch of your expression with a look of genuine fascination.

“God, why would anyone ever leave you…” he murmurs, and his word pierce right into your heart and the black depths of your lonely little soul. “Pretty thing… if you didn’t break his legs, I’d recommend for him to get a cell on the opposite end of the hall…”

Your breath hitches as he continues to rub your clit and softly speak to you. “Insanity, I tell you… abandoning such a cute toy... It’s beyond me.” He lets out a soft groan when you tighten around his cock. “That’s it… thaaat’s it.”

You reach the edge again, clenching your eyes shut as you come a second time. Jonathan captures your lips with his own yet again, and while you’re stuck on cloud nine, he pulls his cock out all the way only to slam back inside with an intensity that pushes the air from your lungs. You cry into his mouth as he picks up a consistent, slow rhythm of deep thrusts that make your eyes clench shut. Jonathan releases you from the kiss and gives your jaw a little warning squeeze, wanting your eyes to stay on his while he’s rearranging your anatomy with his cock.

“There we go… stretched open so well.”

You squirm back on your elbows, looking up at him with dilated pupils and burning cheeks, but he grabs your waist and pulls you back right to the base of his cock. A truly sinful noise spills from your lips and for a moment you don't even register that it came from you.

Crane chuckles as he starts to roll his hips again, his right hand hovering dangerously close to your poor, abused clit again. A silent threat almost. Then again, he's quite literally threatening you with a good time.

"S'too much...," you groan out, your body rocking every time he spears you open with his girth.

"Shh... no, no.." he tuts, tightening his grip to prevent you from escaping. "You're gonna stay right here and take it. Stay right. Fucking. Here."

Every word he speaks is empathized by a sharp thrust into your drooling cunt, causing you to howl in pleasure and claw at his back. Every nerve in your body is on fire, drowning you in sweet, sweet agony.

"You wanted this, right? For months you've been begging. And now it's suddenly too much?"

You can only nod, babbling some incoherent nonsense in response. Crane lets out a condescending laugh which quickly twists into a moan when you clench around his cock. No matter how much he tries to pretend, he's just as close as you are.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, clinging to you like you're a lifeboat in a storm as he keeps on thrusting into your slick heat.

"So good for me... God, you're so beautiful when you're sweet and obedient... accepting your reward like a good little patient."

You look up at him, trying to focus on his flushed face even though your eyes are rolling back in your head. Crane leans down to capture your mouth in another heated kiss, nipping at your lips and tasting your tongue while he moans down your throat.

The rhythm of his hips stutters when he pulls away to press his face into the crook of your neck, and suck and bite at your skin in a desperate attempt to leave traces of himself.

“Are you going to cum again?” He groans into your skin, flattening his tongue against your pulse.

“N… no…” you whine

“No? This –“ He’s cut off by a moan of his own, and it takes a moment for him to pull himself together to finish his sentence. “This is your reward, doll… We’re going to have to work on – fffuck – on gratitude…”

“I can’t...! Please… please…” you beg, but you’re not sure what you’re even begging for. Certainly not for him to stop.

“You can’t? Well… you’re going to.” His thrusts begin to get faster and more erratic as he tries to fuck into you as deeply as possible “Do it for me, hm? Just for me…”

“No- fuck, please! Jonathan -!!” Tears well up in your eyes from the delicious pain, and you actually scream when he starts to rub your clit again. Colors explode behind your closed eyelids. “Please, please, please- “

“I know you can do it… one more time, doll… Just one more time…”

And you finally do as you’re told, cumming around his cock with an intensity that feels as if someone punched you in the gut. Your brain short-circuits, and you’re not even making noises anymore as he fucks you through your climax like you’re a toy that was handmade for his pleasure.

“Fuuuck – Christ, fuck -“ Jonathan’s voice completely lacks the air of authority and superiority that you are so used to when he whimpers into your neck, his hands tightening around you. It feels like you’re wrapped in cotton, and you can only hear him faintly due to the volume of your pulse that’s hammering in your ears. Finally, his hips still, and he sinks down on top of you as he finishes inside of your fluttering cunt. Rational thought is absent in this moment, and you’re absolutely certain that this is what paradise must feel like. Connected to the one you love so dearly. Overwhelmed by pleasure.

For a long while, the office is silent aside from the rugged breathing that’s coming from both of you, and you bask in his warmth, absolutely content to stay like this for the rest of time. Jonathan clears his dry throat, lifting himself up onto his elbows as he looks down at you, and you’re struck by overwhelming affection once again.

“I love you…”

“Shut up…” But there’s no bite to it. He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, and for a moment, there’s a very real glimpse of fondness in his eyes. Crane stays silent, taking in your features like it’s the first time he sees you properly, and his hand comes up to gingerly trace over your cheekbone and eyebrow before he brushes a strand of hair out of your forehead. Then finally, he lets out a soft breath before he murmurs gently, intimately.

“Looks like I’ll have to come up with more rewards in the future.”

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #smut #.moth writes

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lanawinterscigarettes · 9 months ago

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Lady Oswald (Clara Oswald x reader)

Summary: when traveling in Victorian era London, you and Clara slip away to have some much more private fun

Warnings: SMUT, vaginal fingering (Clara receiving), gender neutral reader, playful/giggly sex, roleplay (Clara pretends to be a high class Victorian lady while you tempt her away from her unsuspecting husband), brief swearing

A/N: roleplay sex must happen at some point in the whoniverse given how often they pop around to different time periods and dress up accordingly. this fic helps reflect that because I'm a whore for Clara in Victorian clothing

"My, Lady Oswald, you sure do look lovely this evening," you praised highly as your eyes scanned her beautifully dressed frame with obvious interest.

She let out a soft giggle at your flirtation, giving you a half curtsey as a means to humor you. "Why, thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."

You smirked at her response, casually making your way closer. "Tell me, how are things with your husband?" Your tone held underlying disdain for the fictional figure you were referring to.

"Oh, he's out of town again. He leaves me alone for weeks at a time, would you believe it?" Clara did a good job playing the role of a dissatisfied housewife, you had to admit. "I get so lonely, staying in that big house all by myself."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," you openly sympathized, your hands leaving some not-so-subtle touches along her waist and lower back as you spoke. "You know, if I was married to you, I'd never leave you alone."

"I can believe that. From the way it seems by how you're touching me, you'd never let me have a free moment to myself," she jokingly pointed out, though she made no attempts to move away from you, and in fact moved towards your touch.

"Perhaps we should go somewhere more private," you suggested in a low murmur as your hands settled on her hips. "You might be a bit more comfortable away from prying eyes."

Her eyes lit up at the mention of getting to be alone with you. "How thoughtful of you." She leaned in closer so that her face was mere inches away from yours, a mischievous smirk in her eyes. "Well then, lead the way."

You did just that, taking her hand in yours and finding a secluded room in the expensively furnished house. Your lips were on hers as soon as the door shut behind you, kissing her with all the built up passion you had within you.

She moaned softly into the kiss, her arms reaching up to wrap around your neck, pulling you in close. "What would my husband say if he found me now?" She mused out loud, causing you to let out a chuckle at how she was still playing into the role she'd chosen for herself.

"He doesn't ever have to find out, so you don't need to worry about it." One of your hands slipped down to start pulling up the bottom of her dress, eliciting a gasp from her in mock offense.

"How dare you! I'm a married woman," she said in an over the top manner, acting as of you'd just committed a crime. You rolled your eyes affectionately at her dramatics.

"Oh, please. If anything, you should be upset that he never bothers to touch you the same way I do," you lightly teased, your hands fighting to find the end of the long, flowy piece of fabric. "God damn it, just how long is this thing?"

Clara snorted in laughter at your visible frustration. "Here, let me help you with that." She pull the skirt part of her dress up far enough for you to slip your hand under it with ease.

"Oh, thank God. It was either that or untying your corset, and I really did not want to have to fight with that," you commented as your hand moved underneath her dress, caressing her thigh.

She smiled in amusement at your words, biting her lip at the feeling of your hand against her. "I guess it's a good thing I decided to forgo the stockings, then."

"Mm, a very good thing." Your fingertips tiptoed up the soft flesh of her thighs until you found the waistband of her underwear, pulling it down just enough for you to slip your hand beneath it.

Gasping at the sudden friction of your fingers against her folds, she arched her back and pushed her hips closer towards your hand. "Oh, God yes..."

You didn't spend long teasing her, as she was already plenty wet. Slipping two fingers inside her, you leaned your body into hers, your lips brushing against her jaw as you slowly thrusted in and out. "There you go... That's it, sweetheart..."

She whimpered in pleasure, turning her head in your direction and capturing your lips in a tender and loving kiss. "It feels so good, please don't stop," she mumbled against your lips, a soft moan coming from her as your fingers moved deeper.

"I won't, sweetheart, I promise," you reassured her gently, moving your fingers in and out of her in a slow and steady rhythm. Her soft pants and moans began filling the room the longer you touched her for, her hands reaching out to grip onto the front of your coat.

"Oh- oh, God-" She tilted her head back against the wall, closing her eyes as she embraced the pleasure washing over her. "I- I think I'm getting close-" She warned you, her hips starting to move in sync with your hand.

You nodded as you picked up the pace, your other hand finding its way down between her legs so that you could rub her swollen and sensitive clit. A loud moan exited from her lips at the feeling, and it wasn't long after that her body tensed up as she came, clinging to you desperately.

Panting heavily, she pressed her face into your chest while you slipped your fingers out of her and murmured soft words of praise in her ear. "You did so well for me, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you."

A bashful grin covered her face as she peered up at you. "Would it be too much for me to ask for a round two?" You simply let out a laugh as you pulled her in for another kiss.

You both returned at least another twenty minutes later, hastily fixing your outfits so hopefully no one would realize what you'd been doing. Clara's hair was sticking somewhat to her forehead from sweat, and her makeup was a little smudged, but otherwise you didn't think anyone would notice that something was off.

"Where on earth have you two been? I've been looking for you for ages!" The Doctor's voice asked as he popped up from seemingly out of nowhere, quickly making his way over to you.

"Oh, we just got a bit lost, that's all," you lied casually, Clara giggling as you shot her a playful wink. "Shall we, m'lady?" You held out one of your arms to her as you spoke in a playful manner.

She took it gladly, looping her hand through with a bright smile. "After you, my dear," she responded in an equally playful way. The two of the gave each other a knowing look, leading the Doctor to wonder just what the two of you had been up to when you were gone.

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

Main masterlist | Doctor Who masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @theonetruepotato87 @sessa23

#gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #gn reader #x gn reader #doctor who #doctor who imagines #doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader #doctor who fic #doctor who smut #clara oswald #clara oswald imagines #clara oswald imagine #clara oswald x reader #clara oswald fic #clara oswald smut

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dead-tired-cm · 10 months ago

Text

404 - Title Not Found (Pt 3) WIP

Part 2 - Tumblr

Ao3

Summary: Jason learns just a bit more about the guy who feels familiar while doing laundry.

Danny sees Laundry Guy at the gala and wants to avoid him because it’s not everyday people from Crime Alley go to Wayne galas but amazing Fenton luck strikes.

AN PLEASE READ FIRST: As always this is crack, this is a whole crack fic; and I play fast and loose with DC&DP cannon. Ignore any out of character writing(mainly Vald and Bruce). Also this is a WIP, this is strictly a work in progress and not the final product. I just wanted to post something while working on this fic and other stuff and this won the vote.

Final things before the actual fic:

Kinda/slow Vald redemption aka still an asshole but one you can deal with

Danny - Quarter Guy

Jason - Laundry Guy

———————

Jason immediately knew that the other wasn’t from Gotham. No one just offered anything without an immediate confirmation that they would get something in return. At least that’s how it was in Crime Alley. He and the other held small talk while they were doing their laundry.

“You just offer quarters to people?” He said sarcastically only to have an actual answer in return. “Only the cute people.” The other said with a somewhat joking tone and wink.

“Uh huh. What’s ya name? I didn’t catch it.” Jason wouldn’t directly admit but this guy had peaked his interest even more.

“Well, I didn’t throw it.” The guy answered with a smile that felt sarcastic with just a bit of wanting chaos.

The topic changed to other things. He learned that Quarter Guy had moved to Crime Alley awhile back, he didn’t give a clear reason why; “Just thought it’d be a good change of pace.”

He also learned that Quarter Guy was going to some kind of event with his godfather; saying that even though he agreed to go, he could still complain. And god did he complain but nothing sounded too bad. “He’s just a fruitloop, I wouldn’t doubt him trying to use me to get secrets from the other people.”

Jason didn’t share any too personal information; besides it just being out of sceret identity and such but it would also feel weird to. Jason did complain about how he was more or less forced into agreeing to go to the Wayne gala, only not sharing that it was a gala or that it was a Wayne event.

“Maybe we end up at the same event.” Quarter Guy, who still didn’t tell Jason his name, joked. His laundry had been done before his own. Quarter Guy left with a smile that only made him want to figure out why he felt familiarly even more. Jason was more curious about this guy than before but decided to hold off on figuring out more about it.

—

It was just meant as a joke. Danny really did mean as a joke but just his fucking luck(or honestly he was expecting CW to be the cause in some way), he was now looking at the guy he gave quarters to a day or two pior. He was standing next to the snack table, avoiding Vald so he didn’t have to worry about talking to other rich people he didn’t trust. The snacks didn’t look good in any sense of the word, why did he expect rich people to know what good snacks look and taste like.

He was thinking about texting Sam to complain, knowing that she would say I told you so but he noticed the guy from his apartment building was there. It took a second to recgionze him since he seemed more put together and dressed nicer, but it was him. Danny wouldn’t have questioned it too much if the guy wasn’t standing next to Bruce Wayne but he was. Danny didn’t need to know any more rich people in his life but life(or probably CW) had other plans.

He noticed that the guy hadn’t seemed to see him yet. Danny moved away from the snack table, going opposite from Wayne and the Laundry Guy; mainly focusing on staying hidden but a voice called him. “Daniel!” It wasn’t loud, at least it wasn’t to humans. It had just enough of a hint of ghost speak to have Danny turn to look. Of course when he had his back turned, Vald had to go and speak to Bruce Wayne. The amazing Fenton luck stuck again.“Come over, I’ve hardly seen you since we’ve arrived.”

Danny held back a sigh and eye roll as he went over to Vald and Wayne; which also meant Laundry Guy. He had felt Wayne’s eyes on him as he went over, Laundry Guy hadn’t seemed to notice or frankly care enough to look. He looked at Bruce. He knew of “Brucie” Wayne and had wondered if it was just a persona like when Vald used to pretend to be niceish to his dad. He side eyed Laundry Guy, who didn’t look at him at all.

“You didn’t tell me you had a so-“ Bruce started with a hint of curiosity. Danny was quick to cut him off. “He didn’t because I’m not.” That’s what finally got Laundry Guy’s attention, he looked at Danny for a second and Danny already knew that he recognized him. “Daniel, that was rude.” Vald looked at him before going back to Bruce. “I apologize for him but he is right. He’s my godson.” Vald said, leaving it to Danny to introduce himself.

“Yes, I do apologize for cutting you off like that.” Danny started. He used the tone he would use with some of the ghost nobles. It was a bit forced but relatively kind. He’d hate to admit and never would out loud but he learned it from Vald. “It’s alright, I understand how words hold meaning.” He noticed how it sounded more real(?) than “Brucie” usually did.

He just nodded before continuing, “Okay. I’ll introduce myself before Vald tries to.” Danny made his tone sound just a bit joking. He felt Laundry Guy’s full attention on him. He smiled, a little fake and a little smug. “I’m Danny Fenton and as Vald said, I am his godson.”

#fanfic #crack fic #red hood #jason todd #ghost king danny #danny phantom #dead on main #dp x dc #dpxdc #hot mess fic #fanfic wip #current wip #as always i tried my best #404 - Title Not Found

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janyiahsucks-blog · 2 years ago

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A Dream With a Baseball Player

~Miles falls in love with someone who he can't even know.~

wc: 0.6k

warnings: slight stalking (miles is a pussy)

Miles is taking this very seriously. I mean it's his first official mission from Miguel and after their long-standing tension he is quick to try not to disappoint him.

He has a very strict set of rules assigned to most of them being, so he simply doesn't cause more harm than good. The one Miguel stressed the most was to stray from interacting with the people of Earth-780. He says he doesn't want Miles getting attached to people from other multiverses and that this mission is a simple in and out job.

"Do NOT overcomplicate this Morales" Miguels voice is so loud that it rattles in Miles's skull before finally settling.

To say the mission went slightly awry would be an understatement. In the course of trying to capture the anomaly he finds himself in a situation in which he has to save (therefore interact with) one of the many citizens of Earth-780. You.

Probably the most normal person Miles's has interacted with in weeks. But to him you're enthralling. There's just something about you that drives him crazy. He doesn't know what exactly it was that first drew him in, but he knows the hook line and sinker was your smile.

Your smile was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and he knows from that moment on he's absolutely fucked. You exchange maybe five words on the way back to your apartment (he insists to walk you).

In the brief conversation he catches your name, and he finds himself wishing he could be just Miles. Maybe he could introduce himself some other time when he wasn't on duty but that happened to be what Miguel called a liability, he had some strict rules against dimension hoping for anything other than missions.

But hey some rules were just meant to be broken, especially if it meant he could see you smile at him just one more time. He found himself visiting Earth-780 far more than he would like to admit. When he was there, he spent all of his time on you. Following you home, making sure you were safe, finding your hobbies. And most importantly sketching you. Candid linework of you in the park, the outline of the back of your head, you smiling at your friends. They filled his sketch book to the brim. Sure, it made him seem like a little (lot) of a stalker, but he just needed to know that you and that smile were fine.

When he got home from long days of patrols and fighting crime, he thought of you. Opening his sketchbook his fingers trace the lines that make up your face on the book. He decided in that moment for one of the very few times in his life he wanted to break rules and he was gonna do it no matter the consequence.

The next week after days of preparing himself he opens a portal to Earth-780 and walks himself all the way to your local park. He knew you'd be there due to his detective work (mild stalking).

You were sitting on a bench minding your business looking as gorgeous as always when he approached you. An awkward looking boy with a lopsided smile and his hand held out in front of him.

You look around trying to see if he's confused, because to your knowledge you have no idea who this man is.

"Uh Do I know you..." Your voice is like music to Miles's ears. He hasn't heard something so sweet since their previous "conversation" if you can even call it that.

"Oh No you don't I just thought you looked like you needed some company" He shrugs trying to be nonchalant when really his heart was beating out of his chest and his brain was turning to mush.

"I'm Miles"

When he gets your number and you make him pinky promise to call he finds himself happy he decided to break some rules

#miles morales headcannons #miles morales x reader #miles morales #into the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #astv fanfic #miles morales 1610 #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #atsv x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv miles

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so-mordor-itis · 1 year ago

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Peter's used to having rough nights, but not like this.

His mask peels off of his face so slowly, as if it's become a brand new skin. It's sticky from his sweat, slightly hardened with history. A part of his mind wanders as the night's cool air hits his skin, whispering ideals, dreams, and prayers.

Being Spidey has its perks, but it also has its faults.

As he steps away from the window, a noise of someone stumbling makes him pause. A loud tin clatter echoes from the kitchen, along with a string of curse words. Peter inhales with relief, almost snickering with delight. Only you would snack this late and cause a ruckus as you do so.

If this was the start of your relationship, he would've also followed in your footsteps and allowed a few biting words to tumble from his mouth as he did his absolute best to strip his suit off without you noticing. How that would play out: he would stumble, falling flat on his face with considerable noise; you'd then call his name with increasing concern and he'd have to shoo you away as if you were a pigeon that flew directly into his mask's lens. (That's happened so often, if he had a nickel...)

However, this wasn't the start of your relationship.

Peter pokes his head into the door frame and witnesses the cause of your colorful language. This time, he allows himself to chuckle. You start, bracing yourself against the counter. A spatula in hand, branding it as if it were a sword. "Pete.." You breathe, shaking your head. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I could say the same for you," he gestures to whatever it is that you are doing. "I entered our home, heard something break, and thought we were getting broken into. Well, it wouldn't be the first time."

"When did we last get broken into?" Your voice is now laced with anxiety, and he feels slightly bad. Did he not tell you about that one time? Maybe not, considering he is Spiderman, and he's so used to dealing with that type of crime by himself.

"Nevermind-"

"No, you can't just end it there!" You are flabbergasted, and all Peter can do is blink his pretty brown eyes and hope you forget about this in the morning.

His wish does come true, but not in the way he thought.

After you calm yourself and slam back into reality, your eyes trail over his suit and then his face. You soften as you approach. "What happened? You look so exhausted."

"I always look exhausted somehow," Peter comments. An attempt at humor. Probably not his best.

You lick the tip of your thumb to wipe some grime off his cheek. "Not like this." Your eyes scatter all over his face: his forehead, his other cheek, his nose. You are looking for any scraps or bruises.

Peter finds himself deep in his mind again, remembering the events of the day. Saving a family from a fire, the smoke dancing alongside his suit as he reached into the orange flames. Stopping a couple of bank robbers from stealing at least a good 2 grand.

Seeing Gwen's face in the crowd for the first time in what feels like a lifetime ago.

With how you are right now, fussing over him, cleaning his nose, he doesn't think he would ever be strong enough to admit it.

"Just a lot at once," He states. Peter has never been the best liar. He definitely wonders how he's been able to keep up the charade of Spiderman for this long and keeps wondering how much longer he will be able to.

You give him a look that points right through him, and he forgets how to breathe. "You don't have to tell me now." You brush his shoulders in an attempt to at least rid his suit of some wrinkles. "But, you're not alone anymore in this. Okay?"

He smiles. "It'd be hard to forget."

(Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, Gwen smiles.)

#marvel #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #the amazing spider man #the amazing spider man peter #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker #my writing

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thedepthsoffandomminds · 10 months ago

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The guest - PT 2

Jack Dawkins x fem reader fic. Requested story.

PT one here.

You rushed through the town to the hospital, finding Jack walking out.

"Doctor Dawkins? Excuse me doctor?" You call out to him. Upon hearing you he turns, a smile drawing across his lips.

"Hello Miss y/l/n. A bit late for you to be put isn't it?" He asks, sauntering over to you.

"I'm sorry Doctor. I just needed to ask if you're heading to a poker game?"

His eyes narrowed at you.

"Yes."

You sigh, "okay. Do me a favour, do not take the twenty six pound bet. Fold and leave." You implore him.

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"I can't tell you how I know but please trust me. Darius will cheat you. Please just do this for me." You ask. Jack looks at you curiously.

"I don't know how you know but sure, I'll fold if it goes to twenty six pounds." He replies, a small grin on his lips, "I don't suppose you'd like to come with me would you?"

In all honesty, yes you'd love to go with him, but you figured it would be better if you returned to the Governor's house. You bid him a goodnight and darted away from him again. Making your way back to the house and resting back on the guest bed.

*_*_*_*

Jack sat around the table.in the captains quarters a hand of cards held between his fingers. He glanced around at his opponents. The sun was coming up outside, causing a dim glow around the room. Jack looked at his pocket watch, a surgery was scheduled for.in twenty minutes. He had a good hand but your words were playing in his mind. Looking at the pile of coins in front of him Jack chose to fold his hand.

"Oh come now, Doctor. I thought you had bigger balls than that." Darius laughed.

"We can discuss the size of my manhood another day, I have to save a life." Jack quipped, spinning on his heel.

The awaiting crowd chanted in the theatre as Jack ran up to Sneed. The two doctors waltz into the operating room and Jack turns to the crowd.

"Gentlemen. The Royal Hospital somewhat proudly presents Dr. Rainsford Sneed and the much celebrated Dr. Jack Dawkins." The crowd cheers, "Now, we have a fine one for you today, gents. A leg, shattered. Falling down a mine shaft, was it?" He looks to Hetty the head nurse, "The question, though, is who cuts?" He and Snees take their places either side of the table and Jack flicks a coin into the air. Hetty captures it and announced the heads.

"Me." Jack threw up his arms to his sides before sweeping round to the other side.

"I bet you can't do it under forty three" Sneed whispers.

"A pound says twenty nine." Jack grins.

"When have you ever had a pound?"

"As soon as you lose. Gentlemen! Dr. Sneed here seems to think that I can't amputate this leg in less than his record of forty three seconds. Well, I beg to differ!" Jack played up for the crowd, he wouldn't admit it out loud but he loved the adoration. He turns to the patient.

" Mr. Champflower, this will be the worst thrity seconds of your life, but I promise, I will make it as quick as I can. Your favourite memory. Take your mind there now." The operation begins and within twenty eight seconds the leg had been amputated and seen up. Jack gave Mr champflower a drink of medicinal whiskey as Hetty began wrapping the leg in a bandage.

"Come on hot shot, we have a new shipment of convicts to deal with." Sneed explained as the two men gathered their medical bags and made their way outside. Two tables had been set up for them with a line of English convicts waiting their turn. Hours passed him by as he mindlessly gave each one a health check.

A young woman stepped up to his table, Jack felt putty for the girl, her round face reminded him of the girls he had known as a child.

"Name?"

"Milly Wince."

" And your crime?"

" I stole clothes for me baby, but he died on the way over."

That made Jack sad, pitty swept over him.

"What was his name?"

" Benjy."

" She can help the schoolma'am." He says to the redcoat behind her. Hetty wrote down the girl's name and new job in the book beside Jack.

" But I can't read." She whispers to him.

"It's all right, they'll teach you." He says with a small smile, " All right, next."

A man dressed in old, dirty clothing steps up, his hands bound in iron chains. Jack looked up, his world shattering in an instant.

"Hello, Dodge. Been a time? Dog got your tongue?" The old.man laughed. Jack jumped up grabbing the man's shoulder and dragging round a corner.

"You're dead. They hanged you 15 years ago in Newgate." He says shakely, pushing Fagin to the wall.

"Surprise, surprise." Fagin chuckled, looking around himself, "What are you? Why are they all salutin' you like you're royalty?" He asks.

"I was a navy surgeon, an officer." Jack explains and takes a step backward.

"Oh. You've done well for yourself, boy. I'm proud of you."

"What are you doing here, Fagin?"

" Well, Her Majesty and I thought that I could benefit from a bit of quiet time in the colony." He laughed again.

" Now, listen to me. I can decide your fate with a stroke of my pen, so if one word gets out about our past..." jack begins, Fagin throws up his hands.

" No, I would never do that. Never. Never. To even think it hurts. No. I'm here for you, just as I hope you're here for me. Because sometimes, a covey gets pushed into a corner like a rat, and the only way out is to bite. So, don't make me bite you, Dodge." Fagin says.

"What do you want?"

"Well, a little bird flapped in and whispered to me that you'd escaped from prison in London. Do they hang escaped convicts here? I'll take that as a yes. Don't fret, I'd never give you up, just keep me off that chain gang." Fagin almost thinks of begging.

Gaines appears around the corner, "Dawkins. Everything all right?"

"Yes. I thought he might have something contagious, but it's just his stench." Jack lied quickly.

" Where's he going? I need another on the chain gang. Doesn't matter if he doesn't last that long." Gaines asked eyeing Fagin.

"No, I was thinking of making him my convict servant."

*_*_*_*

The trip to the seamstress had gone well and you stood with Belle in a new pastel green dress. You had to admit, though the corset was foreign to you it felt nice to be such a lovely dress. The two of you walked out of the shop towards the carriage, the two of you laughing together. It was nice speaking with her. Sharing your medical knowledge with her, making sure you didn't give too much away.

"You have to tell me about either. Do they use it in the hospital you're from?" She asks. The driver giddied the horses and it pulled away.

"Oh l, yes. It's brilliant, in full use. We use it for all the surgeries." You say happily. Outside the driver is calling out to the people on the streets when you feel a bump, more than a bump. The whole carriage rocked and you were sure it was close to toppling. It stopped and you got out as fast as you could knowing what must have happened.

Just as you'd thought the boy, Charlie was lying on the road, his leg split open. You drop down beside him and tear at the material of his trousers leg before tying it just below the knee. Glancing quickly around you grabbed the thick hat pin from your new hat and used it to tighten the tourniquet. As you worked people gathered and were chatting loudly one woman called out for a doctor. Jack appeared beside you.

"I've tied a tourniquet, but it isn't tight enough."

"that must have hurt your arm." He says looking between you and the child. You grinned but didn't reply.

"It's all right. I'm gonna sort you right out." He said to Charlie reassuringly. His tone was even softer than you remembered from the show.

"Can you fix it?" Belle asks.

" I'll need to amputate."

"no." You breathe out.

" What about Bircher's procedure to save it?" Belle questioned.

"Miss, please, To do that, I would need to drill into his leg bones, and insert pegs to knit them back together again. He would die of shock and pain." He argues his case.

"Not if you take the pain with ether." You interject almost to yourself.

" The Yankee Dodge?" Jack looks at you curiously .

"Yes." Belle becomes excited.

"That is unproven." He remind sher.

" Except for Morton in Boston and Liston in London. Do you even read The Lancet?" She bites at him.

"Not while I have strength, no. Anyway, that chump of a Governor has banned ether, so Prof wouldn't let it near the hospital." Jack explained

" That's just idiotic." Belle scoffed. Look, I've got-"

"Look, m'lady, one of us is a qualified surgeon and the other one is carrying a bloody parasol. So, thank you, but would you mind awfully sodding off." He cut her off and you sniggered under your breath.

"Okay enough, look Jack, Fagin get the boy in the carriage, Belle has an idea." You grinned at them and got to your feet, pulling Belle to the side.

"What are you talking about?" She asks in a whispered tone.

"You have everything we need at your house. Get us there quickly." You say raising your eyebrows at her. Belle's smile was wide with mischief and excitement. Behind you Jack had gotten Charlie into the carriage and jumped in. You and Belle got in alongside them, Belle sat beside Charlie's head meaning you had to squeeze in beside Jack, your hip bumping his as you did. He glances at where you touched him before raising his eyes to meet yours. A whimper from Charlie pulls his attention away.

"Hey, it's not too bad, Charlie boy. I've seen much worse at sea. Plus, you're gonna have a terrific scar." He attempts to reassure the lad.

"A stump." Belle scoffs, "Instead of using ether, you're going to butcher the boy and condemn him to beggary?"

" Thank you. Wonderful bedside manner you've got. You've got a knack for it." Jack sneered at her.

"Someone's got to stick up for him. If only you'd listen." She tried to fight back. Charlie grabbed for Jack's arm.

"You're not gonna take it?" He asked.

" I promise, I am going to save your life." Jack spoke softly to him, then turned his attention back to Belle, "You listen to me, you upstart. I'd give anything to trial that surgery Anything. Surgery without pain would revolutionise medicine."

Your hand comes out to take Belle's, "The biggest risk to any surgeon is the addiction to feeling like God. You are gambling against death with only your wit for ante, and that is bloody exhilarating. But the risk is not yours. There is a person beneath your hands. And the moment the cutter forgets that, and gives into his ego, then the patient is lost." You explain to her.

"A surgeon is lost." Jack adds as she Huff's at you both.

"Might I suggest you find your backbone?" She bit, folding her arms over her chest.

Jack felt the carriage turning to the left instead of right, "the hospital is that way!" He spoke out.

"We aren't going to the hospital." Belle quipped.

"Why, he doesn't have much time, you ridiculous woman...this is the Governor's house." Jack realises.

"Yes it is." You say pulling Jack's eyes to you.

"This is your idea?" He asks, almost impressed.

"Not really. Belle, go in and get your supplies. I'll make sure the way is clear." You say to her as the carriage is pulled to a stop.

You jump out a little too quickly and feel your breath catch in your lungs. Jack is beside you, concerned .

"I'm fine, just getting used to this corset." You say brushing him off and running into the building. You can hear the Governor's gathered guests upstairs and hoped everything would work out just as it did in the show.

Belle came running to you, her surgeon's kit tucked under her arm.

"Here give it to me, go get them." You say grabbing the equipment from her and placing it on the side board behind you. As quietly as you could you emptied the table and pulled it forward into the space beside the stairs, just as they were carrying Charlie in.

"Here we'll have to do it here." You say calling them over.

"Not ideal." Belle scoffs as she nervously checks up the stairs. Her father was already bringing his guests down. You stop at the head of the table, one hand beside Charlie's head and the other reaching to your chest.

@fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon

#jack dawkins x y/n #jack dawkins x reader #jack dawkins and belle #jack dawkins #the artful dodger x reader #the artful dodger #thomas brodie sangster

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artemisravencourtney · 7 months ago

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Klaroline WIP Wednesday: Those Violent Eyes Ch5

(Klaroline peeps please tell me if I'm doing this wrong, it's my first time trying WIP Wed)

TW: Very brief mentions of past SA

He muses out loud, more so to himself than Stefan, “We could imprison him? I happen to have some options beneath the manor that should do nicely for now.” “Imprison him until when? He’s obsessed with Katherine, he won’t just give up on the idea.” Klaus waves a hand, “Until it’s appropriate to kill him.” He says flippantly. “Weeks, decades, centuries, who knows?” He shoots Stefan a pointed look, then, “Your brother’s days are numbered, ripper. He lives because I allow him to, but I will tire of that eventually.” Comprehension dawns on Stefan’s face, and the hybrid realizes he’s given too much away. “Because of Caroline. You’re keeping him alive until she gives you permission to kill him.” It’s not entirely the truth, but too close for comfort, regardless. Stefan smiles then, tone friendly, “You like her.” He’s brought back to his upbringing, and Mikael’s wicked glee whenever he’d find a weakness in his least favorite son. His ‘father’ could poke at anything that touched a nerve until the words hurt almost as much as the blows, all without ever losing that hint of sadistic pleasure that came with causing his distress. Klaus won’t allow Caroline to be poked at. “Your brother is a rapist.” He says slowly, “I don’t have to like her to want him dead.” Stefan only smiles wider, eyes sparkling in amusement. “No, but you’d have to at least respect her to wait for her permission to kill him.” He raises an eyebrow at that, “Your bar for what constitutes as respect is pitifully low.” The ripper shrugs, allowing him to relax slightly (though he suspects they will be revisiting this conversation at a later date). “Maybe. Anyway, we can imprison Damon until you kill him, but that might raise some questions. He’s friends with the town Sheriff, they have lunch together every week.” He pauses, noting the scowl on Klaus’s face with a healthy degree of trepidation, “If he goes missing, she’ll catch on.” Klaus Mikaelson is not a good man. He will be the first to admit that. Not with pride, but not with shame either. It’s an intrinsic truth, one his mother knew long before he did, one that he stopped trying to outrun the day his Wolf was bound. Klaus is objectively a terrible person, a questionable brother, and a monster among monsters. He murdered his own mother, for crying out loud. But the very thought of befriending a woman like the sheriff, laughing with her while committing unspeakable crimes towards her beloved daughter in the shadows? Pretending to be her ally, while you destroy the one person most dear to her on this earth, and ensure she’s none the wiser? All for no apparent benefit, aside from blood and your own twisted amusement? Klaus is not a good man. But there exist evils he isn’t capable of. Something snaps inside of him, dark and foreboding. “You wouldn’t happen to mean Sheriff Elizabeth Forbes, would you?” At Stefan’s answering nod, he feels a startling clarity wash over him. There’s no seeing red, no fiery hatred, no bloodlust. Instead, he feels swept underwater, awash with a bone-deep chill the likes of which he hasn’t felt since his last winter as a human. Idly, he wonders if this icy, detached thirst for vengeance weaving its way through him is what Elijah feels on a daily basis. He’s always been the hot-headed, mercurial one of his siblings, and he prefers it that way, but perhaps there’s something to be said about this cold, calculating fury. “Change of plans, then. I have a much better idea.” He unlocks his phone again, scrolling to another contact, “You might want to book a hotel for tonight, preferably under a different name”, he says, typing away. Stefan says something in response, but the sound is garbled and far away as he hits send.

#klaroline wip wed #klaroline #caroline forbes #klaus mikaelson #the vampire diaries #my fic writing #those violent eyes #klaroline fanfiction #fanfiction #wip #stefan salvatore

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hischierdevils · 2 years ago

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Lover of Mine | J.M.

note: big thank you to @rowdyhughesy for encouraging me to finish this! I love writing for john and I’m so glad I have someone to talk about him with. Inspired by Lover of Mine by 5sos.

summary: a late night storm brings out some secret fears

warnings: lots of fluff, slight shark slander

wc: 1.3K

Lead to where your secrets are

Where we've been a thousand times

Swallow every single lie

Take all of me

A crack of thunder jolts you awake in the middle of the night making your heart race. You roll over searching for comfort, only to be met by empty sheets. “John?” You whisper into the darkness as you catch the time on his bedside clock. Where could he be at three in the morning? The bed is cold so you know he didn’t just run to the bathroom.

A flash of lightning lights up the room as you get out of bed and pad across the floor to the door. Even though you’re expecting it this time, the next crack of thunder still causes you to jump. “John?” You call again softly to the dark apartment.

You find him in the living room, standing in front of the big window watching the storm light up the sky. He jumps slightly as you wrap your arms around his waist from behind but then he relaxes and turns in your arms to face you. “Hey, baby. Why are you awake?”

He smooths down your hair on both sides of your head before bending down to place a kiss on your forehead. “The thunder woke me up and you weren’t there.” You pout, hoping he’ll give you a kiss.

He obliges before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight to his chest. “I’m sorry.” He kisses your head again and you can tell something is bothering him. “I’ll come back to bed.”

“Why were you out here?” You force yourself to pull away from his warm embrace so you can look at his face. Most of it is in shadow but the faint light from the window allows you to see the worry lines around his mouth and the way his eyes are downcast. You bring your hand up to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He lies before turning his head to kiss your palm. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“John.” Lightning flashes throughout the room so bright you have to close your eyes followed closely by a rumble of thunder so loud it sounds like it hit your apartment building. You jump and he tightens his hold on you as he moves you both away from the window. “Talk to me.”

“I had a bad dream.” He admits so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

Your heart clenches as you look up at him. You know he’s been stressed with the trade deadline approaching. His name hasn’t come up in any trade rumors but that doesn’t mean it’s not a possibility. “What was it about?”

“I got traded…” he confirms your thoughts. “...and we broke up.”

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got right

Confessing to his bad dream causes John to relive it all over again. In the dream, you had told him that you were tired of following him around the country for hockey. That you didn’t want to start over in a new city again and that you couldn’t keep doing it year after year, wondering if he’d get traded again. Dream you had told him that it was over, you had to break up with him. He woke up in a panic with tears on his face as he looked over at your sleeping form.

You were the best thing that ever happened to him and he couldn’t imagine his life without you in it. The two of you met at Harvard and you had followed him to Pennsylvania and now New Jersey. He knew it wasn’t fair to you but he loved you and couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

“I’m not going to break up with you just because you get traded, bub.” You assure him as you reach up to play with one of his curls. “I love you.”

He smiles and bends down to kiss you. “I love you too.”

“I’d follow you anywhere.” You tell him as you relax against his chest. “You should know that by now.”

Doubt continues to creep into his mind. “What if I get traded to Vancouver?”

You laugh as you step out of his arms and walk to the couch. “I’d prefer somewhere warmer. Maybe San Jose?” John follows you and sits beside you. “You look so good in red though and I don’t like their colors.”

“Oh yeah?” He laughs as you curl into his side.

“Yeah.” You yawn. “Maybe Anaheim will be a better color scheme for you.”

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder. “I love you so much, y/n.”

“I love you too, pretty boy.” He blushes from the nickname, burying his face in your neck as you run your fingers through his curls. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

“I’m okay with that.” He mumbles into your skin, causing you to giggle.

He picks his head up to smile at you and you quickly boop his nose. “You have the cutest little nose.” You tell him. “Hopefully one day our kids have it.”

“Kids?” His hands tighten on your hips as he looks at you in surprise. “Our kids?”

“I wanna have your babies someday.” You explain as you trace the mole on his cheek with your finger. “Is that okay with you?”

“It’s more than okay, baby.” He tips his head down to kiss you as he tugs slightly at your hair so you’ll open your mouth for him. He pushes his tongue through your parted lips as you move in his lap so you’re straddling him. He moans softly against you as you begin to rock your hips but a loud crack of thunder causes you to jump off of him.

He stands up to pull you in for a hug, remembering you said that the thunder woke you up to begin with. “Will you come to bed with me?” You ask him quietly as you rest your head against his racing heart.

“I have a better idea.”

Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

You watch him curiously as he walks over to the stereo and turns it on. A Taylor Swift song that you were listening to earlier starts to play and John walks back over to you to take your hand. “Dance with me.”

“Bub, it’s the middle of the night.” You hesitate as another flash of lightning lights up the room, illuminating John in a white glow. “You have practice tomorrow.”

He tugs on your hand, pulling you close to him so he can rest his free hand on your hip. “I wanna dance with my girl.” He gives you a quick peck before spinning you around.

The sound of your giggles makes him feel like his heart is about to burst. “You’re such a goof.” You tell him as goes to dip you.

“But I am your goof, forever.” He tells you once he’s holding you a few inches from the floor.

You smile, a little breathless before he brings you back up. “And I'm yours, bub.”

As the two of you dance around the living room, you wonder how you got so lucky with him. He’s on the quieter side most of the time and more reserved than most of his teammates but he’s always given all of himself to you.

Moments like this, dancing around the dark living room at three am with a thunderstorm as music, is what made you fall for him in the first place. It’s what you think about when he’s on the road and what keeps you following him city to city.

#john marino x reader #john marino imagine #john marino fic #john marino #my writing

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scarlovebot · 2 years ago

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2 A.M PATIENT WHISPERS

Natasha romanoff x female reader

hiya this is my first fic <3 please be patient I am very scared

Summary: You can’t sit through a casual evening, resulting in anger and disappointment from both yourself and Natasha

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

Nothing good happens after 2 A.M, supposedly.

You should have listened.

It started as casual drinks, a simple mix of vodka lemonade and beers (to much of your disgust as cocktails were the more obvious choice). As the group of the earths mightiest heroes settle within the lounge-diner of the compound, soft tunes cascade from the speakers and scattered chatter floats from person to person.

Almost telepathically Tony and yourself look into one another’s eyes sensing boredom which can only be fixed with one solution, tamper with the drinks.

A mischievous grin is shared amongst the pair, Y/N clutches onto her almost empty glass rising from her slouched demeanour, announcing “Anyone for another drink?”.

The group declares their ever so boring orders, Tony injects himself into the situation offering a simple helping hand for the individual bartender of the evening (now declaring this role as yours for the evening).

With the plan in toe you head for the bar, standing backwards towards the group so no peeping eyes can see the chaos forming.

Unknown to you and your now presumed partner in crime, the group have already caught onto the awfully thought out organisation.

The naughty glint in yours eyes could be recognised by almost anyone, known for the light hearted tricks pulled in recent events your coworkers have become wary of almost everything you do when not in the field (somehow trusted more in the battle front than in the comfort of your own home).

The first mistake being your casual question came out more demanding, laced with hidden giggles and an attempt at a sultry tone. So when Tony and yourself made the great escape everyone’s eyes shared a similar soft eye roll - little did you know a secretive plan had been put into place when faced with this similar situation: Do not touch your drinks from this point onwards.

With all four hands full of ‘poisoned’ beverages, the former playboy and his rascal of a ‘mini me’ made their return.

And now the second mistake was the self mutation, knowing that you’ve done something that would not be approved by the captain would always result in the sudden silence of your loud, opinionated voice.

However, it’s accurate to say that your ego won’t lower to admit but Captain America wasn’t who y/n threat the most, no it was the women who showered you in flattery and possessed you as hers.

Yourself and Natasha Romanoff had been an item for a little over a year and it’s been a fever dream to say the least. The older women rarely looses her temper with your cheeky self, but the turning point in her mind is when you play games. This isn’t to say that she turns into the green gorilla, no she turns into a motherly figure which your young, tipsy self loved to egg on. And Nat was not your biggest fan during these moments.

With the drinks handed to the culprits you were ready for the games to commence. The sly looks aiming in your direction went completely through you, your drunken eyes had lost its perception of clear view - Natasha could see you slowly losing all self control which caused an internal battle in her head: choosing between the role-play of

a sympathetic girlfriend or agitated mother.

as undecided she was Nat didn’t want her cherub to completely suffer, rising from her seat in frustration the assassin strolled over with grabby hands, taking a tight grip on either side of your rib cage she hoisted the limp body which sprawled out upon her.

y/n brows furrowed with a childlike pout, suddenly overtaken with sensitivity. The realities of your actions were coming to surface. No, you didn’t cause harm but had been profusely told that casual drinking meant casual drinking (nights like this were becoming way too familiar).

with gentleness Natasha spoke “детка, bed” and with that you shook your head, whining due being sent to your room.

“y/n why do you think I’m sending you to bed?” Natasha’s voice laced with sternness, not wanting to surrender to what you saw as a ‘punishment’ y/n made an attempt to wriggle out of her tight grasp, mindlessly aiming for the bar - you can only imagine who won this game of cat and mouse.

Surprise, neither.

by the end of the evening Natasha and y/n were the only two left in the living area due to the battle y/n had put it.

Unlike before you had lost your temper, no longer finding the motherly instinct caring and instead condescending.

it had now hit 3 A.M and to say the pair was exhausted was an understatement: y/n being left with very little voice and red tear stained face, Natasha having buckets of sweat dripping from every inch of her body, and clothing that looked ten sizes too big (the reason being y/n pulling on Natasha’s clothing to remain anywhere but their shared bedroom).

the exhaustion finally took over y/n body, looking up to Natasha’s eye-line who stood towering over you, “bedtime….” You sung out in embarrassment and guilt.

taken by surprise your merely awake partner hooked her arms underneath and hoisted you up, holding by the waist and delicately grabbing your chin - oh fuck.

“тигр, this ends now! I haven’t got a clue what got into you tonight but you need to go to bed. and think about what you have done” your loves eyes narrowed with anger, yet a softness remained.

you were done playing games knowing that the line had been crossed many, many hours ago. turning away from Nat and stomping up the stairs: not in anger but frustration at your actions. slamming the door hard enough so that the sound echoed throughout the mammoth length of the corridor, not caring who awoke.

Natasha didn’t hurry up after you, this was nothing new to the red head. You would fill with rage and project the feelings onto anything, then the next day silent treatment , and to finish it off - a waterfall of tears and repeated apologies.

as the door took its attack this was your girlfriends cue to dismay the discipline approach and forth come with love.

The kind of love that holds you close through your worst mistakes, peppering you with mass amounts of kisses, and tangling yourself together with her patiently giving you a telling off.

#Natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #marvel #black widow

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varpusvaras · 8 months ago

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New note

Marked five files/reports so far for further reading

All groups that have previously operated on the area do not match by their motive or by what they are delivering; cannot be striked through yet

Strava -> possible operator? name repeats in many reports, need further information

Need to find out if

The door slid open. Fox wasn't fast enough to shut the datapad before whoever it was had already seen the glow of the screen in the dark.

"Really?" It was Thire. Fox didn't need to turn his head to see.

"Really", he answered, and turned to look anyway. Thire hadn't switched the lights on in the room yet, but even against the light coming from the hallway behind him, Fox could see that he looked kind of disappointed. "Did Stone make you come here?"

"Stone, Thorn, Index, who didn't?" Thire asked. He hadn't yet stepped in, and despite the expression on his face and the tone of his voice, Fox could see that he was a bit nervous. It made sense. Thire had not been made a Commander yet, even thought the promotion was pretty much imminent, which meant that Fox was still his superior officer in a way that he wasn't for Thorn and Stone.

Which meant that Fox needed to make the decision for him.

"Come in and shut the door", he said. "And switch on the lights."

He squinted his eyes when the bright, yellow-tinted light flickered on. It didn't hurt as much as it did a couple of days ago, at the very least, so there was some progress. Fox decided not to say that out loud, though.

Thire took the one chair they had in their bunk room, and positioned it right in front of Fox's cot.

"Have you found anything?" He asked. Either he didn't feel comfortable admonishing Fox further, or he wanted to get to the point. Either option was good right now in Fox's book.

"Not too much", Fox admitted. "Though that's not a surprise, I've barely made a dent to the files. There's a lot of them."

Thire nodded, and then hesitated for a second, before speaking again.

"Can I help?" He asked. "I've done my work for the night, and Index told me that I need to take a sleep shift today, so I don't have anything better to do."

"A sleep shift means you should be sleeping."

"And having a concussions means you shouldn't be working." Thire looked almost suprised at this own words. "Sorry, Sir."

"No, you're correct", Fox said. "I'd much rather take that from you than from Thorn or Stone. Is Thorn back yet?"

"No." Thire shook his head. "I talked with him maybe an hour ago. He was still a bit...grumpy?"

"I see." Perhaps Index should call Thorn in for a sleep shift as well. It wasn't that Fox expected him to be in a good mood all the time, but he had been tense and annoyed at pretty much everything for the past two days. Fox really needed to get back to work, if having to take on his duties as well caused this to happen to his Commanders.

Thire cleared his throat.

"Can I get the files?" He asked.

"Right. I'll send them over." Fox opened up his messages. "I've marked the ones I have already read, so you don't need to bother with those."

"Thank you." They lapsed into a silence as the files transferred to Thire's datapad, and it continued as they both got into reading. It wasn't a bad silence, though. Fox could see that Thire was just tired, and didn't wish to speak, and Fox felt very much the same. It was still nice, to have someone in the same room working with him. Fox had never done too well with just silence, but that was the case for most of the clones. It just happened when you grew up having someone around you constantly.

He briefly thought of Cody and the others. Did they ever have to do things like this? Most likely, though Fox assumed it was reading over old battle reports and strategies, more than combing through reports of crimes from the past few decades. The former was something they were all familiar with, at the very least. Fox had not been trained to be a Security Officer, as there had been no demand for such while they had been in training, as far as he had understood it. The Guard was something that had been created precisely at the moment the war had started, and Fox had been pushed into the role.

Fox did understand why: the Chancellor and the Senate wanted a good defense force on the Capital, and they had picked the troopers that had the highest marks for the job. Understanding that still didn't erase the feeling of him being wasted.

His train of thought was interrupted with Thire making a noise. Fox lifted his eyes to see him grimace at this datapad.

"What is it?" He asked. Thire glanced at Fox, then back at whatever he was reading.

"Nothing", he said. "This report is just...a bit unsettling? Sounds more like some horror story than a report."

Fox wasn't exactly suprised. The Guard had just barely started to move down to the lower levels, and they had all already seen pretty gruesome things. There was bound to be more of that in the reports.

"Was there anything relevant for this case?" He asked.

Thire scowled at his screen.

"Not that I saw", he said. "...can I share this with Here and the others? They've started to collect whatever creepy stories they have heard. They would love this."

Thire didn't sound overtly enthusiastic himself, which was a bit surprising. Fox had not taken him for someone who was spooked easily.

"Sure", he said. "But tell them that they cannot spread any personal information of anyone mentioned in the report."

"Of course", Thire said. He typed something quickly, and then seemed to move on to the next report, if the slight loosening of his expression meant anything.

The silence lasted for a few minutes more.

Then both of their commlinks went off.

Thire reached his first.

"It's an emergency notification", he said. "From the medbay."

Concussion be damned. Index wasn't someone who used the emergency notifications for no good reason. Fox got out of his cot, and grabbed his boots.

"Let's go", he said. Thire didn't need to be told twice.

#The Other Reports #everyone: Fox please go to bed #Fox: I am in bed #there are at least five different subplots going on at the same time in this #the horrors are not waiting for their turn one by one #sw #tcw #Star Writing #Commander Fox #Commander Thire #Coruscant Guard #my writing

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fortheloveofwonderland · 2 years ago

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A War of the Heart - Chapter Two | Luke Alvez x Fem! Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - things quickly come to a head between you and Luke when he forces you to talk about the past.

Category - heavy angst | smut | eventual happy ending

A/N - I watched this episode (1202 Sick Day) while I was writing this fic and I still can’t remember if Hotch was actually in it or not. So for the sake of this we will assume he was.

Content Warnings - slight argument?, swearing, build up to smut, shower sex, slightly dominant Luke, making out, mentions of masturbation, some Spencer x Reader, penetrative sex, use of “good girl”.

WC - 3.6k

Chapter Two

Present - Los Angeles, California

Hotch made a rule of not pairing you and Spencer up on cases, for obvious reasons. Most of the time you found yourself paired with Tara as the two of you worked great together. But since you and Luke had history he thought you were the best fit for him to be partnered with on this case, much to your chagrin. Of course you couldn’t make a fuss about it so silently you climbed into the passenger seat of the car while Luke got in the driver's side and the two of you headed for the crime scene.

For the better part of the journey the two of you remained silent but you knew it was only a matter of time before you needed to speak. There had been a lot of things left unsaid between the two of you and the sooner you got it out the less awkward the whole situation would be. But where would you even begin? Your mind was racing over so many things you couldn’t pick a starting point so instead you just stayed silent and stewed on them, much like you’d been doing for the last thirteen years. Eventually, it was Luke who finally broke the silence.

“So you and Reid, huh?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as he drove.

“What was that?” You frowned at him.

“What was what?”

“The tone.” You pulled a face, turning a little in your chair.

“What tone?” Luke frowned now as he took a left turn.

“So you and Reid, huh?” You deepened your voice, doing your best Luke Alvez impersonation which made him scoff.

“Was that supposed to sound like me?”

“I think it was pretty accurate. There was definitely some judgement in your tone.”

“No judgement.” Luke shook his head.

“But…”

You saw Luke pull a face and roll his eyes, his grip tightening a little on the wheel

“But…he doesn’t seem like your type.” He shrugged.

“You don’t exactly have a well rounded knowledge of my type, Alvez.” It was hard to force yourself not to call him Sarg. You’d barely ever used his name back then.

He’d once told you hearing you call him Sarg was a massive turn on and you used it to your advantage. It drove him wild hearing that from your lips so there was no way you’d slip up and use it now.

“True. But I’m just surprised is all.”

“Admittedly I do usually have a habit of going for pretty but dumb guys.” You shot him a look, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Ouch. That’s cold.” He put one hand to his chest but he laughed all the same. “So you’ve upgraded to pretty and a genius?”

“It would seem so.” You glanced out of the window at the LA traffic that was prolonging this conversation.

You’d give anything for this to be over, to close your eyes and have it be this morning again and being introduced to your new team member and it not be Luke Alvez. Mostly because, and you would never admit this out loud even under torture, it was so unfair that age had caused Luke to grow impossibly more attractive. The occasional grey hair peppering his jet black locks and the small lines around his eyes and mouth made him look distinguished. His muscles seemed somehow more prominent and you’d be willing to bet he worked out just as much, if not more, than when you served together. He’d literally aged like a fine wine. And that was just so, so unfair.

“Pretty, smart and I can only assume jealous?” He gave you a slightly amused look to which you frowned. “Oh come on, you were so quick to say we were friends. What did you think I was going to say by the way? Oh I was her boss but we were also lovers.”

“Gross, don’t use that word.” You scowled, prompting Luke to laugh. “Spencer can be…insecure I guess. I didn’t exactly make things easy on him, I lost count of how many times he asked me out before I finally said yes. I just didn’t think it would help matters for him to know about us.”

“Right, so I have to just pretend that you and I don’t have a history so your boyfriend doesn’t feel insecure?”

“Please.”

After that the car grew silent again. You turned your attention out of the window and focused on the buildings you edged past in the slow moving traffic. The GPS display told you that you weren’t far from your destination, but how long you would sit in this jam was anyone’s guess.

It was almost fifteen minutes of silence as Luke plodded the car along and was finally able to put his foot down and drive more than five miles an hour. As the journey picked up, Luke shot you a look out of the corner of his eye, unable to contain his thoughts any longer.

“Why didn’t you call?” He mumbled, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him.

“Huh?” You turned back to him with a frown.

“Last time I saw you, you said you’d call. You never did. And as you’ll recall I gave you my number but you didn’t give me yours.”

“We had fun.” You shrugged, sighing a little. “But that was in Iraq. We weren’t going to make it in the real world. It was just…a deployment thing.”

Luke frowned at you, a hint of hurt in his eyes which you tried to ignore.

“A deployment thing?” He scoffed. “So telling me you loved me, was what? A lie? I don’t think you’re that good of an actress.”

“No offence, Alvez,” you suddenly snapped just as Luke pulled the car to a stop at your destination. “But you knew me for all of nine months. You do not know me as well as you think you do. You were scratching an itch. I was lonely and touch starved and you were…you were…”

“I was what?” He shut off the engine and turned to you, anger pooling behind his eyes.

“You were there.” You shrugged. “Let’s not pretend what happened between us was more than it was. It was just sex Alvez! Thirteen years ago! I’m with Spencer and he’s great. We have a shot at being the real deal. So you don’t get to show up here and rehash the past when that’s all it is. The past.”

You went to turn away and reach for the door handle to get out of this car that had become stifling all of a sudden but before you could, a strong hand was on your shoulder, firmly pulling you back.

Luke’s eyes were wild, looking at you like he’d only ever looked at you a handful of times before. A lump formed in your throat and you swallowed.

“I’m not going to tell your precious boyfriend about us, ok? But don’t you dare sit there and tell me everything we had was a goddamn lie! I know you, Y/N, much better than you think I do. I’m sorry if my presence has thrown you but it’s thrown me too! How was I to know you worked for the BAU? You haven’t spoken to me in eight years! I’m happy for you and Reid, but I can’t just pretend you meant nothing to me and that seeing you again isn’t opening a lot of old wounds. So don’t fucking lie to me and tell me I meant nothing to you and make me feel like it was all in my head. Because it wasn’t. You don’t get to sully my memories.”

You watched as he exited the car, throwing open his door and slamming it shut behind him, causing you to jump a little. You continued to just observe while he headed towards the crime scene tape and flashed his credentials at the beat cop manning the scene, not once turning back to you still sitting in the car.

Maybe you hadn’t been fair to him. Maybe it was excessive for you to make out he’d meant nothing to you when in reality he’d meant everything to you. The term love of my life seemed too cliche but it was probably most apt to describe your feelings towards Luke. And what scared you most, was in seeing him again all of those feelings had come rushing to the surface like they’d been there the whole time.

In truth, Luke Alvez was the only man you’d ever loved. And it was becoming clear he may be the only man you ever would love.

***

2010 - Diyala, Northeast Baghdad

“So what happens when you leave?”

Another copter rattled the walls, this one louder than the last. Had to be a Bluebird, maybe even a Blackhawk. You couldn’t give it much thought though given your current situation.

Luke had talked you into a second shower of the night although it hadn’t been all that difficult. Now as the two of you stood under the flow of water, Luke’s strong body was pressed up behind you, his hands running up and down your hips and his lips peppering kisses over your neck.

“I don’t know.” You replied. You’d done nothing but think about what your reassignment would mean for the two of you but had yet to come up with any answers.

“I love you.” He spoke against your wet skin, arms now snaking around your waist to pull you closer as his hardening cock pressed against your lower back.

“I love you too.” You breathed.

It wasn’t a sentiment the two of you shared often, so you knew he must be really worried about your reassignment to say it now. The first time Luke had confessed his feelings to you had been during sex, right before he’d come he’d mumbled those three words against your lips. Afterwards neither of you mentioned it and you’d carried on as normal.

It wasn’t until almost a month later when the two of you had been alone in the gym on your compound in the middle of a workout when he’d glanced over at you from his treadmill.

“You never said it back.”

You looked over at him with a frown from your own treadmill.

“What?”

Luke huffed out a breath, hitting a button on his machine and waiting for it to slow to a stop. You did the same and came to meet him in front of the machines. You both had sweat rolling down your faces, Luke’s wife beater clung to his solid chest with perspiration. He looked utterly delicious.

“I told you I loved you and you never said it back.” He didn’t make eye contact with you and it was the most unsure you’d ever seen him.

“I’d hoped it was implied.” You shrugged your shoulders and he finally looked up at you.

“Implied in the way you ream me any chance you get?” His lip twitched at the corner.

“I prefer the term “flirty banter” but yes.”

Luke chuckled, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was around before he stepped closer to you and cupped your jaw.

There were a handful of people who knew about your relationship, only those who needed to know. Both Reynolds and Luke’s neighbour Martinez were privy, mostly because you had to kick them out if the two of you wanted any alone time. But if the captain was to find out, it would be the end of you both. Sex between soldiers happened extremely often, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t against the rules. Especially when one of them was in a position of seniority.

“Tell me you love me, cariño.”

“And if I don’t?”

He chuckled again, eyes darkening. His hand moved from your jaw to the back of your neck, gripping it hard and pulling your head back roughly. You gasped, feeling the all too familiar heat spread between your legs and wanting him to take you right here and now.

“Tell me you love me. I won’t ask again, private.”

“Fuck,” you swallowed thickly, his fingers digging into your neck and making your knees quake. “I l-love you, Sarg. Of course I love you.”

It was the first time you’d ever said that to someone before and you’d meant it with your entire being. Since then you’d only ever said it a handful times, as had Luke. Which was why you knew exactly how he must be feeling in that moment.

“I can’t imagine doing this without you.” His breath tickled your flesh and caused you to push back against him, mostly for fear you would collapse. His hold on your waist grew stronger, holding you upright. “I wish we could just leave, go back to the states and have a chance at something real. I’d marry you tomorrow, you know? I’d give it all up and I’d marry you and buy us a nice little house in the suburbs and we’d have kids and dogs and we’d be so fucking happy.”

“But we can’t.” You felt strangely emotional, tears welling in your eyes at his words. “Because we made the decision to fight for our country. And we’re both too stubborn not to see that through.”

He turned you in his arms and you immediately noticed the tears in his own eyes. He moved you backwards until you were flush with the wet tiled wall. He pressed his body up against yours and held your face in his large hands.

“I want more than this.” His nostrils flared slightly. “This isn’t enough for me anymore.”

“Sarg,” you shook your head. “I am going to Afghanistan. I love you but I loved the army first.”

“If you go,” he choked a little as he spoke. “If you go, I don’t see a way we can be together.”

“I know.” You agreed. “But I’m not giving up everything I’ve worked so hard for, for anyone. I’m sorry but my career will always come first.”

Luke surprised you when he chuckled dryly.

“And ironically, that’s one of the things I love most about you. I would never stand in the way of your career Y/L/N, you know that.” One of his hands moved down to toy with the ring hanging around your neck wistfully.

“And that’s one of the things I love the most about you.”

He let go of your necklace, suddenly slamming his hips against yours and thrusting you back hard into the tiles, a complete one eighty from how soft he’d been just moments before. You knew well enough that Sergeant Luke Alvez hated to be vulnerable, even with you, so his change in demeanour didn’t surprise you.

He moved his hand down your body, beneath your right thigh and tugged your leg up, practically throwing it around his waist. Seconds later he roughly thrust inside of you, causing you to gasp loudly at the sensation. Luke was certainly not small and although you’d been expecting it, it didn’t make it hurt less. But god how you loved the pain.

He buried his face into your neck, unable to look at you any longer for fear he may actually cry. Luke had always been more comfortable communicating with his body, letting his thrusts tell you all the things his words couldn’t.

And at the moment, his message was loud and clear. You belonged to him and you always would. No matter what happened, a piece of you would always be owned by Luke Alvez.

***

Present - Los Angeles, California

You and Spencer had a very strict no fraternisation while on cases rule. The two of you only ever hooked up when at home, not wanting your relationship to get in the way of work.

The only problem with that was it had been a month. It had been a month since you and Spencer had been alone together, a month since the two of you had been intimate, the longest in your six month relationship. And maybe if that was the only thing, you could have waited until you were home. But it wasn’t the only factor.

Luke’s reappearance in your life had thrown you through a loop, but not only that, had left you frightfully horny. You couldn’t look at him without thinking of those long, hot Iraqi nights spent between the sheets with him. The way his fingertips felt on your skin, the way his lips felt pressing kisses all over your body.

It wasn’t fair on Spencer for you to use him for sex because you were craving your ex. But if you didn’t find yourself outside of his room that night, knocking on his door, you feared you may have ended up at Luke’s door instead.

You’d tried not to give in. You masturbated three times in a desperate need to banish Luke from your sordid thoughts. But it wasn’t enough. And so you found yourself outside of Spencer’s room, ready to break your one rule.

When he opened the door he was wearing just a pair of boxers and an old CalTech t-shirt. His hair was messy and his eyes a little bloodshot, telling you he’d been sleeping.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You chewed on your bottom lip.

“It’s ok.” He offered you a sleepy smile. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s been a month.” You shrugged, giving him your best sultry smirk. “I’ve missed you.”

You watched the way his Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. His eyes moved down your body, raking up and down your skimpy shorts and tank top. When they settled back on your own eyes, the tiredness had vanished.

“We’re on a case.” He croaked, his voice cracking a little.

“Exigent circumstances.” You shrugged again. “It’s been a freaking month.”

For a second, Spencer looked as though he may argue with you and send you away empty handed. He swallowed again, looking over your shoulder as if to check no one was around, before he took hold of your wrist and pulled you inside his room.

As soon as the door was closed behind you, he attacked you with his lips, the most ferocious kiss he’d ever bestowed on you. It was so much more like the way Luke always used to kiss you, that desperate and hurried passion, as opposed to the gentle way in which Spencer normally kissed you.

It wasn’t long at all before you were helping each other out of your clothes and dragging him towards the bed. Usually Spencer would spend a long time pleasuring you with his fingers or his tongue before you got to the main event but you had no patience for that tonight.

He tried to kiss down your chest, heading south down your body to eat you out, which usually you would have been all for. But not tonight. You gripped his face as his tongue swirled around your nipple and pulled him back so you could kiss him, parting your legs and hooking them over his thighs. His hard cock nestled between your legs and you grinded against him.

“Please, Spence,” you spoke against his lips. “Please just fuck me.”

“Are you sure?” He mumbled.

“Yes. Yes, it’s been too long.” You arched your back, helping him line himself up.

He pulled back from the kiss and looked down at you, questioning you with his eyes as if to make sure this was what you wanted. But you’d never been surer of anything.

Spencer nodded his head, placing his hands either side of your head on the pillow for leverage as he pressed himself between your legs. He was slow in his movements, inching his way inside of you delicately and you wanted to scream at him to fuck you harder. But you refrained and let Spencer set the pace. At least at first you did.

It was only a matter of minutes before you started thrusting up to meet him, digging your fingernails into his ass cheeks. You moved your lips to his ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Spencer for the love of god, fuck me like you mean it.” You growled into his ear.

Spencer hissed a little at your words, surprised by your request. But he didn’t deny it, he’d never deny you anything. As if some kind of switch flipped in Spencer, he grabbed your thighs a little roughly and moved them from where they were around his waist to over his shoulders. His eyes were practically black as he looked down at you, taking hold of your hips as he began thrusting hard and fast.

You moaned so loudly the walls practically shook. You didn’t know Spencer had this in him, maybe you should have said something sooner. The way in which he roughly fucked you was so reminiscent of Luke you couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter closed and picture him on top of you. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t, but once you saw his face you couldn’t stop.

“You’re so good for me, Y/L/N. So fucking good for me.” His voice rang out in your ears. “My good fucking girl. Tell me what a good girl you are.”

“I’m your good girl, Sarg.”

You came in record time, only just biting your tongue from calling out Luke’s nickname when you did so. Spencer looked suitably proud of himself when he pulled out and rolled down next to you in the bed.

“Damn, I didn’t know I was that good.” He chuckled, pulling you close so he could kiss your forehead.

The tears pricked at your eyes as you snuggled against his chest to hide your face from him. What the hell were you playing at, thinking of Luke while Spencer fucked you? You were in over your head, Luke’s presence had fucked with your mind. It would get easier, you promised yourself it wouldn’t happen again.

Taglist -

@carolinesbookworld

#luke alvez #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x fem! reader #luke alvez x fanfic #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez smut #luke alvez angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 2 months ago

Note

fave 1989 lyrics?

Oh this is a tall order for a certified 1989 girlie!

Kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats under coats

So it's gonna be forever or it's gonna go down in flames / uou can tell me when it's over if the high was worth the pain

Cause darling I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream

I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt

You took a Polaroid of us then discovered the rest of the world was black and white but we were in screaming color

The monsters turned out to be just trees

You'll see me in hindsight tangled up with you all night, burning it down / Someday when you leave me I bet these memories follow you around

Clear blue water, high tide came and brought you in, And I could go on and on, on and on, and I will / Skies grew darker, currents swept you out again and you were just gone and gone, gone and gone

In losing grip on sinking ships, you showed up just in time

Your kiss, my cheek, I watched you leave / Your smile, my ghost, I fell to my knees / When you're young, you just run, but you come back to what you need

You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore

The rain came pouring down / when I was drowning that's when I could finally breathe / And by morning gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean

So I punchеd a hole in the roof / let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

Ten months sober, I must admit just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it / Ten months older, I won't give in / now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it

Didn't they tell us, "Don’t rush into things"? / Didn't you flash your green eyes at me? / Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?

He says, "Look up" and your shoulders brush / No proof, one touch, but you felt enough

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars / And why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words

We show off our different scarlet letters, trust me, mine is better

The rumors are terrible and cruel but honey, most of them are true

Everyone wants him, that was my crime / the wrong place at the right time

Half asleep taking your time in the tangerine neon light, this is luxury

I would stay forever if you say, "Don't go"

Why’d you whisper in the dark just to leave me in the night? Now your silence has me screaming

You grew your hair long, you got new icons / And from the outside it looks like you're trying lives on

And the only way back to my dignity was to turn into a shrouded mystery / Just like I had been when you were chasing me

You were so magnetic it was almost obnoxious,flush with the currency of cool / I was always turning out my empty pockets

I broke my own heart 'cause you were too polite to do it

"Come here," I whispered in your ear in your dream as you passеd out

Your new girl is my clone

Let's fast forward to three hundred awkward blind dates later / If she's got blue eyes, I will surmise that you'll probably date her

Think I didn't see you? There were flashing lights / At least I had the decency to keep my nights out of sight / Only rumors 'bout my hips and thighs and my whispered sighs

Oh, Lord, I think about jumping off of very tall somethings just to see you come running and say the one thing I've been wanting, but no

#1989 tv #did i just quote the whole album basically? yes

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ravenzeppeli · 7 months ago

Text

Claimed

Chapter 41 - The Calming Aftermath of Violence |La Squadra x Reader Angst|

Warning: strong language, physical abuse [implied], blood, mature themes. MA.

Prosciuttos POV

Walking into the base looked like somewhat of a crime scene, drops of blood being splahed all across the door, leading down the hallway. A hole was punched next to the wall that blocked off the kitchen, blood smeared on the side of the wall. Prosciuttos' mind immediately went to you, his heart going tight as he rushed down the hall, a sense of dread hanging over him as he pushed your cracked door open.

Illuso sat with his back against the wall, his entire right eye black as he stared across your room. Visibly, his lip was busted open and swollen, dried blood staining the side of his chin, the white t-shirt that he was wearing practically stained with splashes of red. With swiftness, his eyes locked onto Prosciuttos. "She won't come out of her closet. I fucked up and I can't get her to come out without attacking me or herself."

"Why the fuck won't she come out?" Snapped Prosciutto, heading towards the closet without any hesitation. "She did that to you?"

"Prosciutto, she's really scared," Illusos voice dropped to a whisper as Prosciutto stood in front of the closet, seconds away from opening it and dragging you out. "She didn't do anything to deserve what happened last night. It was all me."

He froze, turning his attention back towards Illuso. "Just get up and go home, take the day off, and come back tomorrow." The annoyance in his voice was thick. "I'll see what I can do."

Illuso got up slowly, his arm wrapping around his waist. "Listen, Prosciutto, mistakes happen. I love her, and you know we all kind of love her. Love makes people do crazy things." He gave Prosciutto a smile, his front tooth completely gone. "Y/N, are you listening in there? I'm not mad at you, I'm proud. You really kicked my ass, didn't you? Wanna come out here and make up, at least? Come on baby, I ain't gonna hurt you."

A scoff escaped his lips as he quickly turned away from Illuso. The love that he had for you was private and personal. It wasn't something that he was ever going to openly admit. How could Illuso just be comfortable with admitting it? How could he even still love you, given that it looks like you beat him.

As Illuso walked towards the door, he heard a loud bang, the closet door rattling as if you had punched it. "I'll stab you!" You yelled, your voice sounding hoarse, void of any strength. "Get away from me! All of you, go away!"

This was completely ridiculous, given that you were just an inexperienced child compared to them. He found this behavior extremely childish and even a little odd. Never once have you hid yourself from them. Never have you attacked and screamed threats at any of them. You do hit back, but you never go past punching. The emotions that he felt were complex. This was childish, but were you actually hurt? Why would you attack for no reason?

"She's gotta knife," he added in, "by the way. It was right up to her throat last time I tried to drag her out." He shrugged at Prosciuttos glare, limping out of your bedroom.

A hysterical woman was something tuat he hated to deal with, this was not how he wanted to spend his fucking morning. "Y/N," Prosciutto spoke, staring at the closed closet door. "You need to come out now. I will drag your ass out. You do not threaten anyone's life on this fucking team."

"I'll come out," you said weakly, light shuffling coming from the closet. "Just please don't hurt me. I'm sorry I said that, I just wanted him to leave me alone."

"Stop this nonsense," he snapped, causing the shuffling to stop. Fuck. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. "I've never hurt you before, now come out here and let me help you."

The closet door slowly pushed open, you stepping out, your arms wrapped around your waist. Your hair was a mess, hiding your face from his view. Your clothes were worse off than Illusos, a dried bloodstream staining the side of your clothes. You stayed halfway standing in the closet, your body as stiff as a board.

"Let me see you," he muttered, not being able to hide the shock in his voice at your condition. It looked as if you just got home from a very difficult mission. "Don't be scared of me, I wouldn't do this to you."

"I want to be alone," you whispered as he walked up to you. "Please just leave me alone."

A sigh escaped his lips, "Just look up at me and let me see your face." What did that bastard fucking do to you?

You raised your head, your eyes finally meeting his. As he stepped back a little he noticed that your entire throat was marked with heavy bruises, your left cheek. The right side of your head had dried blood, a clump of it dried in your hair. As he reached out to touch you, you quickly backed away, seeming to be on guard.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" He asked you, you quickly shaking your head in reply. "Goddamnit Y/N, at least tell me something."

"You'll just agree with them," you replied quickly. As he looked into your eyes, he noticed tears forming, your tears causing him to immediately feel uncomfortable. Never once had he seen you cry. "I just want to be alone, Prosciutto."

Yelling at you wouldn't solve anything. It would only scare you. This was a situation in which he had to handle delicacy. Maybe he could manipulate you into calming down, giving you a false sense that you were in control while he pulled the strings. It wasn't he place to question the other men on how they disciplined you. He kept telling himself that. Was this a punishment or something much worse? You looked as if you were strangled, and he didn't like it.

"Formaggio and Pesci will be here soon," he told you, a look a fear appearing on your face that he immediately found odd. Ignoring your discomfort, he stepped towards you, extending his arms out. "Come here, it's okay. I'm going to help you. I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, I'm going to take you to my house."

"I don't wa-"

"You'll have complete privacy until I get home at night unless you happen to run into Risotto." He wrapped his arms around your waist, quickly pulling away when you flinched. "What's wrong, hm? Show me what's hurting you so badly."

"I don't wa-"

"I'll have to strip you and examine your body if you don't show me," he told you, immediately interrupting you. "Baby, I need to see if you are hurt. Please let me help. I can make you feel better if you let me fucking help you." The aggressiveness in his tone only worsened, the anger that he felt rising. Though, this time he wasn't mad at you, he was mad at whoever beat the shit out of you. Was it actually Illuso? He wasn't stupid. You weren't telling him something.

That threat caused the tears that you were forcing away to instantly spill more rapidly. You raised your shirt, his hands instantly balling into fists as he saw a massive bruise directly in the center of your stomach.

"Illuso did that to you?" He muttered, his hands softly brushing the hair away from your neck, examining the dark bruises carefully. "Did he try to kill you?" As he examined the bruises closer, he realized how truly terrible they were, how your hair was masking the even darker bruises.

The anger that he felt boiling deep inside of him was hard to contain, his eyes not being able to leave his neck or stomach. This wasn't a punishment. This wasn't a beating. This was a murder attempt. He was no goddamn fool. It immediately crossed his mind that Illuso didn't do this. He was too calm about the entire thing, and he was in terrible condition right along with you.

"No," you replied, your eyes shifting away from his glare as you pulled your shirt down. "We hurt each other. I.. punched him first."

Right to his face, you were choosing to lie, but this was no time to correct you. The main goal was to pack your bags and get you back at his house. He'll clean you up and let you rest. No matter how disobedient you were, he never wanted to hurt you badly. He truly did care for you and if you ended up dying, he would fucking snap. A man is supposed to provide their woman with a balanced level of discipline as well as love. Punishments should always end with comfort or encouragement, not in fear.

He needed to find out the truth, and given how you don't like to tell on the other men for some reason, this will be extremely difficult. Perhaps he would call Melone or let Risotto see your condition. If he couldn't get the truth out of you, Melone or Risotto could. For now, he just needed to get you cleaned up and calmed down.

He raised your shirt slightly, shaking his head. "Did he punch you in the stomach?" This.. really made him fucking angry. What's the need to beat you like this?

"I've been stalking all of you," you muttered, "and I got caught. You would have done the same thing, so just leave me the hell alone." You shoved past him, your shoulder pushing into his.

"Watch yourself," he hissed, spinning around. "You've been stalking me?" He watched as you sat on the edge of your bed, turning your back to him as if he didn't exist. Quickly, he shook his head. "No, fuck that. I don't care right now. You're coming home with me. I will bathe you and you will rest in bed. You need to rest." Getting onto you for being a stalker was the least of his worries. It may be unprofessional and dangerous of you to follow the men, but it meant that you cared enough to watch them. A spanking and lecture would have been a fine punishment, but not a beating. He did not agree with beating you, he wanted to beat Illuso, if he was the one who did this.

"I have work to do," you immediately replied as he opened your closet. "I'm helping Melone later today. I need to call him and help him with baby face because he's hav-"

"What did I say?" He questioned, eyebrows immediately raising as he stared down at a suitcase in the middle of your closet. "I hoped you packed a lot. You're going to be staying with me for a while."

You looked over at him, tilting your head to the side a little. Even in your roughed up state, he found you attractive, the love that he had for you melting away any physical imperfections that you had. In his eyes, you were always physically perfect. "Will you help me hide this from the others?"

"I'm not hiding this from Risotto." Prosciutto leaned down, grabbing your suitcase and snatching it off the closet floor. "Whatever you tell the others is on you, but it is not good to lie. You and Illuso are both lying. If I can tell, then so can everyone else."

As he heard your footsteps approaching him, he turned around, eyes watching you carefully. The condition that you were in made him wary, and he was close to taking you to a hospital. He would examine you at his home and make a decision.

"I'm sorry, Prosciutto," you replied softly, his eyebrows raising in surprise at your apology. "And I've been stalking you a lot, and I noticed that you aren't cheating or doing anything wrong."

"Don't stalk me anymore," he snapped, his arm wrapping around your waist as he led you out of your room and down the hall. "Because of your condition, I'll let it slide, but cut it out. And you better not be stalking Risotto. He is your capo, and you do not watch him." How did he not notice you watching him? He will have to corner you about it when you are healed.

"Okay," you replied, "I'm sorry." You apologizing was was, but hearing you do it a second time was shocking. He had to beat an apology out of you before, and even then, you wouldn't apologize. "Where are we going?"

"My house," he replied, confused. Didn't he already tell you that? "Did you sleep at all last night, or did you stay in that closet all night?" He got silence as a reply, a sigh escaping his lips as he led you to his car.

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worlddevoid · 5 months ago

Text

World Devoid: Episode 1.4 - This Is (Not) Your Morning

(Word Count: 1.2k)

...

As they clear the stretching road scattered with broken down vehicles and approach the campus dorms, Baz slows to a roll and parks directly in front-- ignoring the 'No Parking' sign pitched up at the entrance. He kills the engine and turns to Cassie, realization and horror finally setting in.

"Cassie. What the heck do you think happened here? And real talk- what the FRICK was that thing- because I promise you it was no spider!” He blurts out.

"I don't know, but I desperately need a shower, and so do you. Let's hope someone at the dorms can tell us what happened," Cassie responds, moving to get out of the RV, still in slight denial about the fact that they haven't seen a single other person. ‘There has to be someone, right? I mean, surely we're not the only ones around... Right???’ She reasons anxiously.

Baz hops out of the RV and falls in line with Cassie. "Yeah, someone at the dorms..." He mutters, but his sentence trails off as his eyes graze over the disheveled exterior.

The uneasy feeling that they’re being watched causes Cassie to glance around, but she sees no one nearby. Choosing to ignore the shiver trickling down her spine, she walks right up to the shattered glass remains of the entrance doors.

Carefully stepping over the shards, the crunching sounds under her toes make her cringe. Nevertheless, she pushes forward, casting aside all her worries even as she notices signs of struggle all around. It looks like some kind of fight happened and then everyone left in a hurry.

Inside, the shattered glass crushing beneath their feet litters the tile flooring and the furniture scattered about looks like it had been swept up in a tornado. Armchairs lay on their sides, loose flyers and supplies riddle the ground, potted plants have been tipped over-- dirt splashed in front of them like blood at a crime scene.

The fluorescent lights flicker as if acknowledging their presence.

Baz takes one step ahead of Cassie, centering themselves in the main entrance hall. He eyes the front desk- a telephone hanging haphazardly over the front by its cord- before calling out a hesitant, but loud, "Hello??!”

As Baz calls out into the empty room, their voice echoes ominously. They wait for a few moments but no response comes.

Tentatively, he takes another step forward, craning his neck to get a better view further down the hall.

Not a single sign of life nor movement comes. It seems that they are completely alone. “Helllooo??” He stupidly calls out again.

When Baz’s greetings are met only with his own echoing voice mocking him, he takes a step backwards in fear and trepidation.

"Ugh, where is everyone?" Cassie cries out from behind him, lightly kicking a tipped over chair in her frustration. She doesn't want to admit it, but she’s really starting to freak out. Feeling on the verge of tears, she thinks to herself, ‘What is going on??’

Baz glances back and watches a plume of dust billow out of the chair Cassie had aimed their anger towards.

Suddenly, in the distance, a very faint scuttling noise can be heard softly reverberating off the walls.

‘There must be more of those creatures here. I have to study them! But also…those guys give me the creeps.’ Baz contemplates; admitting to himself that, even for a bug lover, this is all a bit too much. He turns to face Cassie and speak his piece.

"Cassie, I think it would be wise of us to strategize at this current moment. That encounter on the road was way too close, and, though I am not easily surprised, I will admit that even I was taken off guard by those things. If I'm deducing this correctly, I think those creatures are fearful of large vehicles. I suggest that the best course of action would be to ram our RV through the entrance and drive it through the halls for protection."

‘I'm so frickin' smart.’ Baz thinks smugly, puffing out his chest a little.

Cassie was positioned to abuse the furniture once more, but stops- leg midair- to toss Baz an incredulous look.

"You want to drive the RV through the dorms? The whole building could collapse on top of us!" She immediately protests, but honestly, she doesn't really have a better idea right now.

"Perhaps" Baz replies thoughtfully. ‘They're right, but I could have sworn as soon as we got back into the RV, that spider thing was twitching and freaking out. There has to be some correlation…’ He reflects before concluding, "All I know is the vibes are freaking weird in here and I'd feel safer in the RV."

Baz looks around again at the empty and disheveled lobby. What once was a manicured and vapid entranceway, had become the stomping grounds of an event unknown to the two of them. The place not only looks empty...it looks like it had been attacked.

More scuttling sounds erupt down the hallway- this time closer than before. Baz jumps three feet in the air and grabs Cassie's arm in alarm.

"Dude- Cassie-- I think that thing that attacked us on the street had friends...." He points down the hallway towards the source of the noises. "I think there's more down there. D-Do you think-" he gulps hard. "Do you th-think those creatures are responsible for all of this?" He gestures around the room at the clear signs of mayhem.

"It sure seems that way. No time to discuss further, let's just get back in the RV for now," Cassie twirls around and heads back toward the front entrance, but before she can even take two steps, a horde of spiders pour in from around the corner, flooding down the hallway.

Hundreds of eyes blink in odd rhythms at them as they trample over each other in an attempt to make headway.

Cassie snags Baz's arm and takes off running. They drag him along behind them as they push themselves to sprint faster. Somehow, they both make it to the front entrance, jumping over the broken glass and heading straight for the RV.

"WHAAAAAAAAT THEEEEEEE FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICCCKKKK!" Baz is yelling as he is dragged by his arm; his feet kicking wildly behind him as he tries to find his balance between forced steps.

When their large vehicle pops into view, he finally snaps into action-- shaking free of Cassie’s hold and scrambling to get into the RV. He slams the driver's side door closed and sighs in relief, slumping into the seat.

‘They can't get us in here.’ he assures himself.

Struggling with her chunky heels, Cassie had fallen behind when Baz broke away. As he clambers inside easily, the tip of Cassie’s shoe catches on the sidewalk and she trips forward onto the concrete - scraping her palms on the way down. The spider-like creatures begin to close the distance as she struggles to push herself back onto her feet.

The sounds of thousands of tiny, tapping legs - skittering across the ground - grows more intense, and she scrambles up in a panic.

She expertly launches herself towards the passenger door, frantically groping for the handle as the hoard scuttles closer and closer.

...

(Original Photo Credit: Reddit r/LiminalSpace - u/AlexandarPANASONIC -- Edited by @same-soup-just-reheated)

(Banner by @charzardmain)

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