#they dragged me back kicking and screaming AGAIN

[torturedlexdepartment]

Forever Mine

Dark JJ Maybank x fem reader

Author's note: obx account dropped this still and reminded me of this fic I wrote a while back 🫠

Warnings: DARK CONTENT ⚠️ SMUT, JJ sneaks into your house, dubcon/noncon to start, slapping, fighting, choking, breeding 💀, unprotected sex

Summary: after you break up with him, JJ sneaks into your house to claim what's his

You didn’t hear him come in. Unfortunately, JJ knew you always left your back window open during the summer for fresh air. You had just laid down in bed, the lights were off and you were in your comfy silk pajamas. The sound of his footsteps approaching your bedroom door is what startled you. You sprang straight up against your headboard before reaching over to the side of the bed to grab the bat you kept there. You had it for safety but never imagined having to use it.

A shadowy figure appeared in your doorway and you quickly recognized it as JJ.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You huffed in annoyance but were relieved it was him and not someone else. He was wearing a bandana over his face but you could still see his fluffy blonde hair. He pulled the material down with a huge smile on his face.

“Did I scare you, princess?” He taunted as he stepped inside the room. You placed your bat back on your side of the bed before turning back to look at him. He sat at the foot of the bed, looking down at his hands while he fiddled with his rings.

‘What are you doing here JJ? You need to leave.” His head jerked up to look at you, his eyes were hazy and the way he looked at you made you uneasy.

“Did you really think you could just break up with me? That you could toss me to the side like I don’t mean anything?” You could hear in his voice how angry he was. This was the last thing you wanted to deal with. You dumped him two days ago, completely fed up with his jealous and childish behavior. You knew he was pissed but the last thing you were expecting was for him to show up at your house at night like this and have the audacity to break in.

“JJ, I’m not doing this with you okay. Please. You need to leave.” You were stern, your words cold as you watched him clench his jaw and look back down at his hands. "God dammit it JJ, get the fuck out!" You shouted but nothing could prepare you for what happened next.

He lunged for you, dragging you by your legs closer to him, and quickly hovered over the top of you. His hand tightened around your throat, keeping you from making a sound. His eyes were black and you had never been more scared of him in your life.

"You are fucking mine. Seems like you've forgotten that princess. I guess I'm gonna have to remind you." He growled as he reached down to try and pull off your pants. Your survival instincts quickly kicked in and you kneed him hard in the stomach and were able to push him off of you. You rolled off the bed as quickly as you could but he was right on your tail. He grabbed ahold of your feet as you tried to crawl towards the door. Once again he pulled you down to him, grabbing the hem of your pants and ripping them from your legs. Your panties followed quickly after.

“Stop!” You screamed as you tried to claw, hit, and kick your way away from him. He only laughed at your desperate attempts. He used his knees to spread your legs apart as he pulled himself out of his shorts. You managed to land a pretty good slap to his cheek and then he pinned your hands above your head. He shoved himself inside of you in one fluid motion.

“So wet for someone acting like you don’t want this.” He taunted. You were dripping and as much as you hated yourself for it, you didn’t want him to stop.

“I fucking hate you.” You spit out, frustrated that you could only fight him with your words at this point. You squeezed your eyes shut as he started thrusting. Refusing to look at him, to give him any indication that what he was doing was okay. His thrusts were hard and deep as his head fell to rest in the crook of your neck.

“I can’t wait to pump you full of my cum, to breed you with my baby so you can never be free of me.” He growled and you whined which only fueled him further. “And if you ever try to leave me, I’ll knock you up again, and again, and again. You will never get rid of me. You are mine. Forever. Do you understand me?” You couldn’t help but clench at his words, his need to trap you. He groaned at how good you felt around him and your eyes finally snapped open. You tried hard to suppress your moans but they still managed to slip past your lips. He released his hold on your hands and pushed up your shirt, revealing your tits to him. He latched onto your nipple and your hands went to fist in his hair, tugging at it harshly. He moaned against your skin and snapped his head up to capture your lips with his own. You swore you hated him but you couldn’t help but give in and let him have you in whatever way he wanted.

He increased his pace and trailed a hand down your body to rub your clit. He swallowed all your cries of pleasure as he forced his tongue inside your mouth. That band inside you snapped and you soaked his cock as he panted above you. “Didn’t want to have to take it from you baby, but you gave me no choice.” He cooed as his movements started to get sloppy. Three more thrusts and you felt his cum painting your walls white. He kissed your neck as you both came down.

You were too far exhausted to say anything or move a muscle when he finally pulled out of you. The mixture of your juices seeped out of your pussy and JJ tsked. “Can’t have that.” He used his fingers to shove the cum back inside your tight and abused hole and you squirmed from the sensitivity. He licked the remains off his fingers before scooping you up and placing you on the bed. You had nothing to say to him even with his sudden gentle behavior. He grabbed your underwear and pants, sliding them back onto your body before leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow with my stuff. You really shouldn’t leave your back window open anymore, princess. You never know what kind of sicko could climb through it.”

[revelboo]

Gah, the swindle fic was so, so good!!! I feel so bad for saying it, but I was talkin’ about Swerve, the lil dork that runs the bar in Lost Light!!! I’m so sorry!!! 😭

This little bozo!!! :)

Yes, you were xD I was working on the next Scavengers when I saw it and my brain just went: Swindle. Ignore me, it’s cold and I’m struggling

Lose Control

IDW Swerve x Reader

• Placing a clean glass back where it goes, Swerve surveys his kingdom. Aside from Trailbreaker sprawled across the bar top making a low rumbling sound as he recharges, the bar is empty and quiet. It’s something he never thought he’d have, a space to call his own. Where he’s in charge and listened to. “Third last call, big guy,” he says, reaching out to nudge Trailbreaker with a servo. “You know you can’t keep sleeping in here.” Mostly because when he wakes up, he’ll start drinking again and he can’t open if Breaker drinks all the inventory. Again.

• “Seriously? Don’t make me drag you,” he groans, knowing it’s an empty threat. Trailbreaker is as big as two of him and then some. There’s no budging him short of going and asking Magnus for help. And listening to the complaints about his bar and Magnus’s love language- rule violations. No, he’d rather take his chances with one very over energized mech. Which means babysitting all night to protect the bar. Frag.

• After kicking Trailbreaker’s stool again, he wanders around the bar. Bored and tired. “I don’t care if you’re my best customer,” he mutters, dragging a table slightly away from a wall. And there’s a sharp cry and a tiny shape darting from the shadows. Somehow that manages to wake up Breaker. Everything seems to slow as he sees the small form running alongside the bottom of the bar, sees Breaker shift and slide out of his stool, a ped coming down. And he’s running, diving with his hands outstretched. Feels that soft body hit his palms as Breaker steps on him instead and comes down on him.

• Flung off balance, you roll end over end and go sliding. Realizing that the big monster had almost stepped on you without even noticing and the smaller one had pushed you out of the way to take the brunt of the impact himself. Your confused brain is screaming at you to run, but as your rescuer groans, you can’t. “What happened?” The bigger one complains as the red one hits him, flailing to get free.

• “You’re crushing me,” Swerve snarls, venting raggedly as he gets loose, head turning to find the human still there, eyes wide as you stare up at him. Tensed to bolt, but waiting instead. “Hey, tiny.” Wiggling his fingers at you only makes you back up a step, expression uncertain. “I wouldn’t run. I at least see you,” he tries, as Trailbreaker gets to his feet and staggers away, gawking. Of course he’d heard the rumors of Brainstorm’s screwup, but the machine was destroyed. Right? And you glance from him to Breaker and back, and take a tentative step forward. A human that shouldn’t be here, doesn’t belong. Too small to survive, and he gets being smaller than every other bot except maybe Tailgate. He’s short, but you can be stepped on. “Little things need to stick together.”

[archiveof22048]

oceans and engines | michael kaiser sfw | fem!reader with she/her pronouns, swearing

he sees footprints on the sand, he smells the salty air of the sea, and he feels the coldness of your hand, who drags him along the bleakness of the beach. even as he closes his eyes, knowing that he trusts you with where you're leading him, he can still hear the huffing of his breath, trying to keep up with your pace, he can still feel the waves crashing around his bare feet, and he can still taste your expensive chapstick on his lips, as cold as they may be.

"open your eyes, mihya."

and so he does.

the sky is still as it was: desolate and devoid of blue, overcast, and sad. the sea is cold, vast, neverending.

immediately, he tenses up, and he thinks maybe he should have listened to you when he peeled off his jacket before you left his car in the parking lot (it's not even his own car, nor his own jacket, but he hasn't the heart to tell you). he's jealous of you, with your hands tucked in the pockets of your jacket, all bundled up in your layers.

then, you scream.

"the fuck was that?" he asks, his voice raised.

"i'm letting go," you say, just a bit louder than his question. you've got this smile on his face that begs for him to kiss you again.

he scoffs. "of what? you don't even have anything to let go of."

"just shout, mihya!"

and so he does.

"FUCK!!!!!!!!"

you laugh. "yes, that's it! just scream!!!"

"goddamnit!" he screams into the sea. "fuck you, dad! fuck my life! agh!" he kicks the sand, but the sand is wet and hard to kick up, so he gets even more frustrated, and he kicks harder. it splatters on the ground like blood.

again, you giggle. "look at you, soccer player. kicking up anything you see."

he rolls his eyes, but he's half-smiling. "you're lucky i left the soccer ball in the car or else i would have kicked that shit in your face."

"but then i would have a broken nose, and i wouldn't be pretty anymore," you quip, pouting.

he marches over to you, as shouting into the sea had migrated him away from where you are standing. he cups your cheeks gently. "whatever. as long as your lip's not busted, or else it'd be pretty hard to kiss you, huh?"

"jeez mihya, you're so clingy today," you tease as he leans into you, burrowing his face into your neck. he claims it's warm, but you can feel the cold touch of his lips right on the base of your neck. all you can do is wrap your arms around him, and you keep your giddiness to yourself by planting your feet in the sand (if you bounce your knees, he'll remind you of how excited you were when he returned your feelings for him).

"teach me something," he mumbles, dodging your tease.

you rub your hand over his back. "what would you like to learn today?"

"i dunno, just anything."

"but that's what you always say!"

"math, then."

you scoff. "i can only teach you so much math! i'm still learning geometry!"

he laughs. "isn't that just triangles and stuff?"

you pull away from his grasp, still holding onto his hand. your fingers are interlaced. "yeah, well... it's hard to explain."

eventually, you decide to review the vocabulary list that you learned in school the past week. you sit down on the sand, taking off your leather bag and pulling out your school notebook, and he sits down next to you, resting his head on your shoulder.

after reciting your fifty words for the week, you close your notebook, and you sling the bag over your shoulder. "well, that's vocabulary for you," you conclude.

"interesting," he says. "now i know what the word 'philosophy' means."

the both of you stand up and dust off the sand from your legs and behinds. he takes it as an opportunity to rub your behind, borderline caressing your ass, and you turn around and smack his hand away.

"mihya!"

"must've been the wind," he jests, giving you his signature half-smirk.

you look at your wristwatch. "ah, mihya. it's five after."

he rolls his eyes. "whatever. he's not going to get back 'til way later, anyways. gonna go gamble whatever money we have left."

you tuck your hands into your pockets, smiling sheepishly up at him. "well, let's at least start walking back to your car in case he does come back earlier than you expect."

...

he puckers his lips.

"give me a kiss before you leave."

rou've got one foot out of the car, ready to be dropped off in front of your house, while he holds onto your left wrist, stopping you from leaving. he looks like he really owns the car he stole: he grips the steering wheel like he's driven the car a million times, and his slouched posture is to show he's not afraid of wondering whether you're going to kiss him or not.

you close your eyes and smile while you lean in.

"i love you, mihya."

"i love you, too."

then, you leave the car and that is the last time michael kaiser sees you before he becomes famous.

...

"she's beautiful, kaiser."

kaiser looks up from his phone.

it's alexis ness, his teammate, who takes a seat next to him on the bench of bastard munchen's locker room. he's being awfully nosy right now, peering over next to kaiser, taking a look at what's on his phone screen.

"my stupid phone from five years ago has the shittiest quality," kaiser dejectedly states. "you can't even see her eyes clearly."

"but you have a new phone just last year," ness points out.

kaiser scoffs, and he starts rubbing his phone screen with the bottom of his shirt, pretending like it'll do something to clear up the photo of you. "yeah, and transferring all these pictures of her fucked up the quality."

ness hums in understanding (he doesn't get it). "well," he begins to pry, "who is she?"

kaiser's smirk that appears on the field, ness notices, is cold and haughty. it is angering, irritating, and would make any opponent of his shudder and scream. it identifies the emperor of the field, and it is an expression that rules over all.

yet, this smile of kaiser's is unlike anything ness has ever seen during his years of knowing him. kaiser's piercing blue eyes immediately soften, and only the corners of his mouth are lifted up in a smile- it's gentle, bittersweet, and humble. ness feels like he's intruding into the depths of kaiser's heart.

"she's my girlfriend."

ness stands up in shock, and he can't help but clutch the back of his head to accentuate his surprise. "you never told me you had a girlfriend, kaiser!"

kaiser can't help but laugh. "you never asked!"

"well, what does she do?" ness asks curiously.

kaiser hums in thought. "hmm. well, when she was in tenth grade she said she wanted to become a writer. dunno if that's changed, though."

it takes a second for ness to process his answer. "you... don't know what she's doing?"

"well, she's probably studying in university right now. can't say for sure what she's learning."

again, ness is confused. he furrows his brows. "are you saying you haven't talked to her since five years ago? since you joined bastard munchen?"

kaiser looks down in what could be described as shame. ness isn't really sure what he'd call it, but it is definitely not pride. it's such a foreign look on kaiser's face, no expression like ness has ever known kaiser to make.

it becomes increasingly difficult for kaiser to defend himself. so, he resorts to a different tactic: he begins to show ness different photos of you. "oh," kaiser says in fake surprise, "look at this picture of her."

it was a struggle to plan dates between the two of you, but on the rare occasion that you and he could hang around your neighborhood, you'd take him to your favorite ice cream parlor. during this particular date, you and kaiser challenged each other to see who could finish their ice cream cone the fastest, but it ended up as a default win for kaiser as you had accidentally knocked over your ice cream and it landed straight onto the ground.

ness is immediately drawn to the exaggerated faux frown on your face, coupled with happy eyes. he looks over your expensive outfit, and then down at where you're pointing in the image: the melting ice cream on the ground.

he laughs. it's a short "haha," and he isn't sure whether it's out of pity, or if he's trying to play it cool for the delusional kaiser, or if it is genuinely a funny picture. but, he looks past the phone in front of him and looks at kaiser, who has this expression that borderlines ignorance and pure joy.

"funny, right? she's so clumsy, i swear," kaiser says, swiping through more photos on his phone. ness cannot help but notice the softness in kaiser's eyes; how unfamiliar it is to see this boy so vulnerable. "take a look at this one."

after screaming at the beach, kaiser let you take control of the music in the car on the way back to your house. thus, you were granted access to his phone- shoddy, yet reliable. it was probably not the best for taking quality pictures, but pictures were memories, nonetheless.

it was a selfie of the two of you, with you sticking your tongue out and holding a peace sign, and kaiser with his eyes laser-focused on the road. he's got his left hand on the steering wheel and his right on your thigh. as casual as the photo was, ness already knew the intimacy of your relationship.

as kaiser pulls back his phone, ness watches kaiser's expression once more. he looks at his phone like he's in love. kaiser's peculiar smile, unfamiliar to his face, was born from the feelings he held for this girl that he hasn't talked to since he was whisked away in the world of soccer.

"i wonder if she watches my games," kaiser wonders out loud. "i mean, i must be that famous to be appearing nationwide, right?"

ness is taken aback by the sudden change of tone. "u-uh, yeah, for sure, kaiser."

kaiser is pleased with ness's answer. then, he goes back to his phone, swiping through more photos, and consequently chuckles. "oh my god, i forgot i took this video. look at this, ness."

the quality is so bad, but at least he can hear your voice.

...

you're holding onto his soccer ball.

your back is turned to him, and you're dragging him along by holding onto his wrist. his other hand is holding his phone, recording you.

"we're almost there, mihya," you call out from over your shoulder.

his hand holding the phone swats away tree branches, and occasionally dried up leaves crinkle beneath his feet.

"jeez, are you gonna kidnap me or something?" he asks from behind the camera.

then, it suddenly comes into view.

it's an open field. it's just pure grass for miles and miles, and for some reason, it's all trimmed.

the camera pans onto you, and it's slightly shaky. you hold up your hands in defense, and you exclaim, "i didn't cut any of this grass, by the way! i just found it like this, and i wanted to show you. so you can play soccer to your heart's content..."

you drop the soccer ball and begin kicking it around. you've picked up some tricks from him.

"there's no goal post though, i hope you don't mind..."

then, the phone drops.

he calls out your name. "i love you."

"i love you too, mihya."

"i love you more!"

"you better make it big, okay? i didn't show you this field for nothing."

"well, you better watch me, alright?"

"i'll always be watching!"

"shit, wait, where's my phone?"

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 12

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

"Enough! I’m not playing with you!" I snapped through gritted teeth, looking around nervously, fearing someone else might see us. "We’re going inside now, and you’re going to put some clothes on before I have to force you!"

"For someone who’s been treating me like I don’t exist, you seem awfully concerned," she said, dragging out every word with exaggerated slowness, dripping with sarcasm.

I didn’t know my body could overheat like a volcano about to erupt until this cursed woman crossed my path. It was evident from the triumphant look on her face that making my life a living hell with her presence was her greatest mission on Earth. I had no doubt that was what tied her to the band.

Being here every day, driving me a little more insane for her amusement.

Every time a car passed and honked as the driver caught sight of her body, clad in nothing but a white lace bra and matching panties, I wanted to claw my eyes out. It was hard enough to focus on her mocking face when all I wanted was to savor the view that hadn’t been mine for a long time.

Everything was still perfectly in place, and damn it, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this close to her exposed body. Her curves looked like they’d been painted with the finest brush, and at this distance, I could practically feel the texture of her skin and even catch her scent. I wasn’t the best at remembering things most of the time, but I never forgot anything about her.

"Let’s. Go. Inside. Now!" I said slowly, feeling another wave of fury boiling inside me as another car passed, honking and catching her attention.

"Don’t you dare come any closer!" she warned, pointing a finger at me, stepping back as she realized I was closing the distance between us. "Stay right there! Don’t move!"

"Or?" I tilted my head, matching her defiant tone. "That’s what I thought."

It only took one step to invade her space and lift her off the ground as if she weighed nothing, slinging her over my shoulder. Her screams and hysteria as we headed back to the studio didn’t faze me in the slightest, nor did her fists pounding against my back in an effort to free herself.

"PUT ME DOWN!" she yelled, kicking her legs and hitting my back harder. "PUT ME DOWN NOW, YOU IDIOT!"

Inside the studio, I tossed her onto the couch and pinned her down, immobilizing any movement by holding her wrists above her head. Her chest heaved erratically until our breaths became one, her darkened eyes locked on mine.

"Damn the day you crossed my path, you cursed girl!" I growled, tightening my grip on her wrists, my stomach churning inexplicably every time she curved her lips in amusement. "Have you lost your mind, pest?"

"You were so eager to touch me again that you broke your own stupid rule, didn’t you?" she taunted, biting a corner of her lower lip and holding it between her teeth, eliciting a faint gasp from me. I hated when she did that. "Look at you, still the same scared little boy whenever something crosses the limits of your control."

She lifted her head slightly, and our faces blurred into one another. Instantly, my skin felt like it was sparking as if struck by invisible embers.

"You still reek of fear, Noah," she whispered, her voice maddeningly soft. God help me, it was the closest I’d ever been to losing my mind. "And I love it."

"How is it that your entire life revolves around making mine a living hell and enjoying every second of it!"

"I won," she declared softly, almost sweetly, her jet-black eyes gleaming like polished tourmalines. "I beat you."

There was no denying the curse in her gaze. Not once had her eyes crossed paths with mine without dragging me into an abyss where I fell endlessly, with no place to land. Trapped in a trance. That was her power over me.

"There are curses that can’t be broken, Noah..." she whispered, her lips brushing faintly against the skin of mine. They were dry from the sudden lack of air and the suffocating heat that had overtaken the studio in mere seconds. "No matter how much you try to avoid us during the year, every pathetic day of your life, or who wins tonight. In the end, you’ll always be mine."

Her small nose grazed mine, and my eyes closed as her long, curled lashes brushed against my eyelid. Every touch seemed to amplify in intensity, as if reality had slowed to six times its normal speed, forcing my body to absorb every moment with care.

My free hand traced the side of her body, and with each advance of my fingers, counting her ribs, she gasped and reacted with her skin prickling from the sensitivity. I lifted her by placing my hand on her spine, and when I finally released her wrists, she launched herself at me, pressing our lips together in a furious kiss.

She clung to my neck as if afraid I might escape at any moment—an impossible detail when I was holding the world in my arms. The entangling of our tongues fueled the compression of our bodies. Slowly, I pushed her legs apart to wrap them firmly around my waist.

“I never disagreed with this part,” I murmured, tugging at her lower lip slowly. Pulling away swiftly, I tilted her head back, my fingers digging into her hairline, and watched as her heavy breaths colored her flushed face. I couldn’t resist when her smile broke through a soft moan under the pressure I applied to her body.

Our laughter synchronized with our desperate breaths as we resumed the rhythm of our kiss. Living a scene where we’d almost killed each other moments ago seemed to ignite an even fiercer spark, fueling the silent dance of our bodies. I buried myself in her lips with such urgency, as if I might lose her again. Her lips sucked on mine as we switched sides, and I held her face firmly, pressing my thumb into her skin.

It was more than good.

Tasting something that belongs to you has a different flavor. Tracing a body you know so intimately, like running fingers over the keys of a piano; feeling at home in a familiar place; recognizing the rhythm of a breath as if it were a musical note; desiring to merge with one person's lips for the rest of your life.

It was more than good.

But it couldn’t be mine.

With one last turn, I released her lips slowly. She seemed confused at first but softened as I rested my forehead against hers. Her fingers gently traced my face, making my skin tingle as if it might peel from the bones at any moment.

“I know what you're trying to do…” I said quietly, as though an invisible rope tightened around my throat.

“No, no, no, no, my love…” she repeated, holding my face as I tried to pull away. “Don’t do this, please.”

“We can kiss now, drown ourselves in this feeling that everything still belongs to us. That we still exist. I could tell you I’ve been waiting for this, and you could drown me in your lies and more promises you won’t keep,” I declared, even more agonized. “But our problems won’t disappear when we walk through that door, and they’ll come back, forming that same chasm that tears us apart, the one we know too well. Do you know why? Because I don’t want to hear you anymore, no matter what you have to say.”

“No, don’t say that.”

“Because you haven’t changed a single thing, and the proof is what you’re trying to do now, pulling me back into the same cycle again.” With the finality of my words, I stepped away from her gradually and stood up. On a chair, I noticed a shirt I assumed was Ruffilo’s and threw it at her, still staring at the ceiling in a trance. “Why are you doing this?”

I felt like closing my own throat with my fists, such was the pain constricting it and cutting off my air. I needed to breathe in short intervals, releasing it slowly through my mouth. I watched her get up and dress while still sitting, her arms hanging limp, her disheveled hair revealing the knot she tried to swallow.

Like me.

“It’s getting harder every day to just pretend I don’t care about this when everything I see, every path I try to take, every place I’m in—everything I am—has you,” she said without even looking at me. “I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life, and that’s saying something, considering I’m used to my own company. But that was before I hated everything I see in the mirror. Because she’s the real culprit.”

“I could say I miss you—I miss you in the morning, I miss you at night, I miss you in the shower, I miss you in bed, I miss you when I eat, I miss you when I’m on stage, I miss you when I write…” I paused for a few seconds, searching for air in the ceiling. “Because you’re right, it’s like I’ve forgotten how to write anything good. You took everything I had, even my inspiration.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated over and over, shaking her head. “There isn’t a day I don’t feel guilty for killing that version of you and turning you into this.”

I hated myself for being moved by her tears. Were they real, or just the effect of whatever junk she was on? I didn’t care; the crushing sensation was the same, like a hammer shattering a glass chest.

Taking cautious steps, I approached and knelt beside her. Hard shell, sharp tongue, and a messed-up personality, but deep down, she was just a girl afraid to go home, afraid of anything that might trap her again. She was like a damned little bird, insisting on flying with wings patched together with toothpicks after a grave injury.

"If you’re truly consumed by remorse and want to do something for me, then take care of yourself," I said softly, lifting her chin with the tip of my finger. "Keep your mind steady, your body healthy. I wish I could do that for you, because I would never treat you this way."

"I love you."

Shimmering gemstones in the salty sea of her tears—it was the first time I heard her say it with such anguish, as if each word tore through her chest. She surprised me with a tight embrace, collapsing onto my lap, breaking down completely on my shoulders, and shattering my heart with the sound of her sobs.

Unfortunately, I returned the hug just as tightly, drowning in her hair. She wouldn’t see the tears I left there.

I love you too, little storm.

Nor would she hear what I whispered to myself.

Bad Omens was on its way to Mexico.

We couldn’t be more excited about a festival in a country we had yet to visit. Our Mexican fans were awesome and always tagged us in posts, asking us to come. Their day had finally arrived.

Our schedule was so packed during the three days we’d be there that we’d hardly have time to explore the city. Gerard, of course, thought that was nonsense and made it clear that if we wanted to sightsee, that’s what vacations were for.

The guys were asleep in their seats at the back of the plane, and not even my headphones could block out Folio’s snores.

Matt, Jolly, and Ruffilo were with the rest of the crew, glued to their phones, while I… well, I was in my favorite spot by the window, playing a ridiculous fruit-slicing game on my iPad and listening to music.

Nothing could ruin my trip.

“Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me.” She said quickly, weaving through the people in the aisle. Her body came to a halt in front of the aisle seat, and she checked something on her phone before glancing at the seat number.

Well, I spoke too soon.

“Great, this is my seat!” She said without much enthusiasm and, after placing her carry-on in the overhead compartment, sat down next to me.

It was impossible for her to arrive anywhere without drawing attention. She had to be noisy, bump into things, and breathe way too loudly. I kept playing as if nothing was happening and turned up the volume on my headphones.

Of course, after the conversation at the studio, things had gone back to normal. We fought like animals the next day because she insisted we should change the stage setup unnecessarily, and our brief truce resulted in another three days of silence.

I thought it was perfect.

“What are you listening to?” she asked, running her palm along her thigh. From her rushed tone, I guessed she was nervous.

“Music.”

“What song?” she shot back with another question, and I wished for death just to avoid answering.

“How about you grab your headphones, put them on, and stay silent for the rest of the flight while pretending this seat is empty and that Matt forgot me at the airport?” I said, glancing at her, and she didn’t even flinch.

For a few seconds, that actually worked—she stayed quiet.

But, as I said, only for a few seconds. From the corner of my eye, I saw her tapping her fingers on the torn part of her jeans. Her breathing seemed uneven, and even after sitting for a while, her body remained tense. If I knew her well enough, I’d say she was having an anxiety attack.

“Would you mind switching seats with me?” Her fingers curled, and she pressed her palm against the armrest as the plane prepared for takeoff. “I promise to stay really quiet if you let me have the window seat.”

I pretended not to hear and kept slicing fruit on the tablet. Out of the corner of my eye again, I saw her close her eyes as the plane ascended, shrinking into her hoodie with trembling fingers peeking out of the sleeves.

I closed my eyes, sighed deeply, and shifted to stand up. She opened one eye and looked confused as I gestured with my chin for her to take the empty window seat.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t tell me Miss I’m Not Afraid of Anything is still scared of flying.” I let out a chuckle, settling into my new seat.

"Ok, go ahead and call me pathetic," she replied without looking at me, her eyes fixed on the clouds over the airplane wings as she quietly counted her breaths.

"Actually, try focusing your energy on something during the flight, and it’ll go by faster. Try listening to music, reading a book, or—"

"Composing? Singing for the entire plane?" she cut in, raising an eyebrow as she turned to face me. "All terrible options. Honestly, I just get bored when I’m sober."

I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to the tablet, as if pulling an invisible curtain between us. The more I kept my mind occupied, the faster the flight would pass, and the torture of enduring her next to me, constantly talking, would end.

"We get bored when we’re sober," she repeated, but this time with her eyes narrowing at something specific. "But we’re miserable when we’re not."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Her eyes lit up with something sharp, like lightning, and she pulled her phone from her pocket, fingers moving rapidly until she found the notes app.

"I can’t be saved," she murmured under her breath as she typed.

Carefully, I set the iPad aside and lowered the music in my headphones, watching something come to life before my eyes. She was having a burst of creativity and needed to write it down urgently.

"Watching it swirl down the drain," she continued, and my eyes narrowed as I watched her create something. It was fascinating how nothing around her seemed to exist—she was just immersed in her own thoughts.

I jumped when she suddenly shoved the phone into my hand, a sequence of jumbled phrases filling the screen. Each one had meaning but still needed to connect somehow.

So I decided to follow her inspiration’s formula.

"Old friends, the same as enemies. I’m killing myself again…" I said, finishing the sentence on her phone, filling one of the blank spaces.

"Watching it swirl down the drain…" Her expression finally softened as if something clicked into place. "Down the drain."

"With all I was but couldn’t change," I continued, holding her gaze before adding another note. "Down the drain."

"Down the drain," we said together, lifting our heads in surprise and holding each other’s gaze for a few seconds.

We had just created the second song for our album. Together.

Damn it.

We couldn’t be more different. We were a terrible duo playing instruments in completely disjointed orders. She always seemed to row against the current I was swimming, intentionally. And yet, it was surreal how she could take something so complex and make it look simple.

Like writing a song during an anxiety attack on a plane.

It was as if she didn’t need preparation or even a warm-up because she was born with it in her veins. Because she was good.

Really good.

"Thanks," she smiled, her breathing steadying as she leaned back in her seat. "I’m feeling better now."

"You wrote a good song."

"We wrote it," she corrected, nudging my arm with her elbow. "The first time you let yourself just listen to what’s in your head, we made a good song. We’re still a good team."

She looked so beautiful that, for a moment, I almost didn’t hear what she said, too focused on her bare face. The curve of her lips when she smiled was almost painful to look at up close, every time I remembered that just a few days ago, I’d tasted her again.

"Now that you’re feeling better, you can leave me in peace," I cut her off, turning up the music on my phone.

I was almost drifting off to sleep, guitar riffs running through my mind, when something poked my arm.

"Do you mind holding my hand?" My eyes opened, and there she was, looking at me with a pair of glistening gems. It was strange seeing her afraid, something I’d only witnessed a few times before. "Just until we land, please."

Slowly, I turned my palm upward and waited for her to slide her fingers over mine and interlace them. Unlike mine, her hand was soft and warm, and I couldn’t resist the involuntary motion of running my thumb slowly along the side.

Once again, I was doing what she wanted because maybe she was right when she said I was pathetic.

And I couldn’t wait for this plane to land already.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

[samijey]

random but sami and jey just look so good together?? i can't fully explain it, but for me even just visually speaking these characters have the right amount of similarities and contrasts to fit so well together - especially lately with the whole blue/red palette they've had going on with their merch... and the blue/red contrast of their hair?? idk it's just so aesthetically pleasing to me 😌😌 add onto that the chemistry and the months of meaningful backstory together?? jail

[starculler]

strap in for this week's fic flavor: the failsafe episode of season one of the young justice cartoon except the simulation just won't. fuckin. end.

(fics that inspired this at the end)

If I ever did sit down to make my own fic, I'd split it in 3 parts:

The Simulation: bits and pieces of the 40 years Dick lives after most everyone he knows has died

The Return: the immediate aftermath and healing from the trauma of having not-quite-actually lived a whole life only to wake up and find out it was all fake. nothing traumatizing about that whatsoever.

The Unintended Consequence: aka the twist I'd love to add and would hint to in the second part - finding out the simulation, through martian mind fuckery, pulled from the real world (and in many cases, from real minds). Dick meets a bunch of people he didn't think were real outside the confines of his simulated life. A bunch of rowdy, heroism-inclined teens across the years get to meet the sibling/friend/mentor figure they all dreamed up one night.

(actual idea snippets under the cut)

.

Dick Grayson is 14 and most of the world's heroes have died. He planned a suicide mission that left him the sole survivor of a doomed team he helped found. The invasion may have been stopped, but is this really the price he wanted to pay?

The first face he sees in the infirmary is Roy's, and he has to close his eyes and just breathe for a few minutes because for one painful moment he'd thought it was Wally. But this isn't the world where his best friend miraculously survived alongside him. This is the one where he got his best friend killed and didn't even give him the courtesy of following behind him. Behind them.

.

Dick Grayson is 27 and has lived longer without Bruce than with him. The invasion's anniversary is always a tough day for him, but that morning seems especially harrowing. He'll get shit for it later, but can't resist stepping out onto the balcony of the manor's master bedroom (Bruce's old bedroom) for a smoke -- his first since he'd promised to quit if Jason, just 15 then, did too.

"Bad habits tend to pile up," he'd said, a rueful quirk to his tired grin. He'd tapped the cigarette twice on the railing and added, lower, "and this one's especially nasty, huh."

He inhales, watches the sun creep across the horizon, and lets acrid smoke burn through his lungs for a long moment before blowing it out in a small cloud. His eyes water, but he doesn't cough. It tastes just as bad as it did the first time he smoked one, not even a year after the invasion and treading water as Robin proved insufficient.

There hadn't been enough heroes to go around then, and Dick had been trained by one of the best. It hadn't been fair, but it had been his plan that had ultimately stopped the invasion. His shoulders everyone's expectations fell on.

He takes another drag, then smudges the lit end against the rail he's leaned on when he hears a boot scuff purposefully against the roofing above him.

"Todd and Pennyworth will be upset with you."

He doesn't turn around. Damian doesn't jump down to join him.

.

Dick Grayson is 54 and wakes up in a room full of ghosts. He hears his long-dead father-figure tell his long-dead team about a simulation they weren't meant to win. A training exercise gone wrong and only half a day spent under their mentors' careful, if slightly panicked, supervision.

He looks at his hands, watching the way his gloves crease when he flexes them in and out of tight fists. He looks at his team, their eyes a little haunted but shoulders slumped with relief even as they grumble. Batman's heavy, gloved hand settles on his shoulder and the weight of it is a nauseating mix of foreign-familiar.

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

Tears prick his eyes behind his domino mask, and he tells himself the suffocating, acidic void building in his chest is just some leftover side effect of the ordeal and not the grief-guilt of outliving yet another family (no matter that they hadn't been real in the end).

.

Dick Grayson is 16-going-on-56 and well used to the coincidences piling up between his simulated life and the real thing. Some of it -- missions and villains he remembers cropping up -- he's marked for Bruce to review and sort as he pleases. Some -- security for the cave, team building anecdotes, and training regimens -- he's shared with the team. And some he keeps only for himself.

Tim is one of those. He knows it's not fair to the kid (so much smaller now than he ever was when Dick lived his simulated life), but he can't help being selfish just for this. Tim is the one kid he's sure he didn't make up, and if Dick's taken to babysitting the kid just to be near at least one member of the family he built for himself in the wake of the worst days of his life .... Well, anyone who says shit about it can happily stand in line to have their teeth kicked in.

Despite this, it still catches him off-guard when he sees a familiar face pop up in one of Bruce's reports.

Jason Todd, caught boosting tires off the batmobile, is nearly the same age now as he was when Dick met him. He stares at the words, but none of them really sink in beyond the kid's name and address. He's moving before he's even made the decision.

He's used to the world kicking him when he's down - lived it for 40 frustrating years. But he has Bruce again. And things with Tim have been so good. And he's always been selfish when it comes to family. If he could just see Jason. If he could just meet him. If he could talk to him.

If if if if if--

.

Inspirations:

Circles in Shattered Mirrors by InfinityIllusion

Fine (But Not Okay) by CharlotteDaBookworm

Verisimilitude by mutemelody

[werepuppy-steve]

sometimes fandom is lonely

[seithr]

its now MIDNIGHT here which means its JUNE 15TH which means it is now

THUNDER 8TH ANNIVERSARY‼️‼️💥💥

Happy birthday to my goofball knockoff fireemblem with dragons, senseless violence, delaying your revenge but only for twenty years, the body horror of war, and of course, yuri

https://Thunder20xx.carrd.co is now LIVE after hacking away at it for a few days to get it somewhere presentable... I probably need to kick it around a little more however i dont intend to spend money on carrd site upgrade rn, so until i am willing work around that i'm taking a break but yippee! Everyone important's got a blurb, there's pictures, a short mix, the rundown of events; go take a look if you don't mind reading about the knights and lords I mention offhand every couple of minutes here. Or don't idk. I will continue to talk about em here anyway

[sagittariangirl27]

Pisces new moon tonight. 🌑♓️🦇

[lyrarts]

Spores.

Not meant to be any particular species, but inspired by the ringless honey mushrooms that grow in my yard every autumn.

[fstbmp-a]

Clenching my fists seeing Fate stuff on the dash...

[kenobihater]

the last remaining threads of my sanity are slipping through my fingers rn 🚬 😑

[ittybittybumblebee]

GoodNIGHT you smeely smelly tumblr idiots love you guys a lot bye

[jerichoes]

gods above. i feel the need to pull out a sketchbook.

[alloreli]

It truly is unfair that going to the gym 2-3 times a week for about an hour very much unfucks everything that having a desk job does to my body

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Oh God. You were going to die. This was it. It wasn't demons or Muzan that take you in the end. It was your damn husband and his insatiable lust and stamina.

Lying face down on the bed, you panted against the mattress, your face a mess of tears and sweat, hair sticking to your forehead, eyes rolled up and cheeks painted a bright red. Behind you, tugging at his cock and eager for round...whatever the next number- was your husband.

Maybe you shouldn't have riled him up the way you did. You know how possessive he can be so why on Earth did you purposefully get him jealous by flirting with another man? Oh, right. Because you wanted to get fucked rougher. Well, you got what you wanted and now you're going to die.

You jumped as you felt the familiar sensation of a fat cock press against your entrance, your stuffed cunt instantly begging for mercy. You swore that if he fucked you one more time- made you cum one more time- filled you with his seed even one more time- you'd see the pearly white gates call for you.

You gripped onto the bedsheets and pulled yourself away, your body working on autopilot as your husband had successfully fucked the brain cells out of you. You heard him chuckle as you tried to crawl away, your body feeling like jelly, your arms and legs numb and barely capable of getting you to the edge of the bed before:

A pair of hands grabbed you by the hips and dragged you back, laughing at your whine of protest. Uzui reeled his hand back and smacked you across your already beaten ass before he spread your legs and gave an equally painful spank to your pussy, making you scream. "Now, what made you think that was a smart idea? Try running away again and see what happens."

Obanai lets you think you escaped before he grabbed you by the ankles, ignoring your cries as he pulled you back towards him. He flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing, making you squeal as he took a nipple between his fingers and twisted, your back arching off the bed. "Are you trying to piss me off even more?"

Just as you reached the edge of the bed, wondering if you could make it, you felt Rengoku press himself against your back and- oh- fuck! He slid right inside you! You gasped as the man pushed his cock in with one fell swoop, taking your breath away as he instantly started moving his hips, preferring to fuck you where you were instead of dragging you back. "Get comfortable, baby. I'm not done with you."

Sanemi caught you the second you tried to move, simply reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and pull harshly. You yelped as your neck was forced to snap back, your back arching as your husband pulled at your hair, his other hand looping to the front to grab you by the neck before he leaned towards your ear and growled: "I'm going to give you a choice. I can fuck you here, on the bed, or I chase you and fuck you where I catch you and trust me, I won't be as nice."

Gyomei didn't say anything, even as you got off the bed and onto your wobbly feet. You wondered if you could just leave when he said, in his booming voice: "Are you sure that's what you want to do?" You froze, body trembling. Why was one sentence enough for you to rethink your whole lives decisions? You didn't know what Gyomei meant by it, but you knew it probably wouldn't be fun. With a gulp, you climbed back onto the bed before getting in front of your husband. You spread your legs wide as you lay down in front of him, reaching down to grab at his fat cock and press it against your entrance. The man smiled as he slowly started to sink inside your familiar heat. "Good girl."

Giyuu grabbed you by the legs and pulled you back while also changing his own position. To your horror, you found yourself slung over his knee, a predicament you just experienced an hour before which was why your ass was a bright red already. You started apologizing profusely, kicking your legs like a toddler but your husband simply ignored your pleas and held you down, the task quite easy for him even if one arm of his was free to do the spanking. "It seems one round wasn't enough to discipline you. Guess we have to go again."