#this also goes for older men who go in my ask box and try to talk to me

[dark-nymph3t]

I swear if one more man who is decades older than me follows me one more time I’m gonna lose it

[clitorphosis]

DOLL PARTS

Death Island Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON SEX, SMUT, female reader, age gap, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, Stockholm syndrome, dumbification ig, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, finger sucking, bruises, implied physical violence, internal conflict, teasing, guilt, implied obsessive behavior(Leon) i think, dirty talk, pet names, degradation.

Summary: There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is close to lose after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. For him, to kidnap you is to save that part. Cause life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Of course you don't understand.

notes: this is a mess I fear, but I had a blast writing this tho so idc LOL!!! Also thanks @writingwisterias for letting me bother you with my rambling and my indecisiveness with kidnapper leon（╹◡╹）I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

Clocks are ticking, not only in real time but in his mind - a disturbing reminder of how at his age Leon wasn’t even able to settle down. Tick - tock. Of course, men can always find a young woman, and two or three times of unprotected sex would be enough to impregnate one. Still, Leon doesn’t believe that applies to him - alcohol is not only a boner killer but also of fertility. Neither does he crave babies, he can be considered a dad to Sherry, also they would only show how time flies. She is enough of a reminder, no need for more.

He found you on the dating app - Sherry suggested he try, as a joke, probably not expecting him to follow the advice.

For him, you looked like a doll. Almost a godsend. Pretty, young, and easy to manhandle. Almost drooled at the prospect of having your legs wrapped around his waist. He should feel guilty or disgusted at the idea to fuck you… at the images of the material of your panties clinging to your hips, wrinkling up with every movement before his fingers would curl under it to tug them down. Right? No-no, he is only 38 years old - at his age men are already bald, Leon is having an easy time here. He has a chance, always had.

While he was unsure what to do, was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ enough for you? Or would it be too simple? Or repulsive? Why is he even worried about that, you probably matched him on accident.

You texted him first, something he didn’t expect from a young woman - even women of his age don’t text him first, they are dry and uninterested. Like sex with them.

“hiii ^^” This forces a smile out of him. Again, three dots appear. “You didn’t swipe me as a mistake, right?:3”

He hesitates, his thumb floats on the digital keyboard for a moment. No, it wasn’t a mistake, still, he needs to gratify his ego. “If it was, would it get you sad?”

“yep, actually, very big big sad!”

That was it. Easy and quick to get closer to you. He expected more obstacles, maybe times changed indeed or you are into older guys. All he needed to do was to open his wallet, be nice enough, and show how a ‘real man’ should treat a woman.

Leon knows a lot about you. He knows too much information - where you live, your college, and where you work. Not in a creep-like way, no-no. You were the one asking him to drive you there. Maybe your youth is the only problem to blame on - you were a chatting box endlessly and easily sharing anything with him, maybe things you should not have to. Somewhat, this only attached him to you.

There are always some subtle hints and hidden alarms, no one usually gives a shit about. Also, understandable, to ask anyone who knows him - hard to find someone with a bad opinion of Leon.

“He is okay”

“A hero. Not everyone is capable of saving the president’s daughter” or a simple shrug.

Outside his work, Leon is… just a guy most of the time. Yes, of course, not the luckiest one with the ladies, but it is unlikely someone would describe him as the type to kidnap a girl. No one understands how middle age crisis is going to be hard to handle, he is pushing 40, surely enough it is already waiting for him at the edge of the doorstep - and Leon had enough of bullshit in his life, a pretty and young woman is the panacea for this. The godsend pill to erase his problems.

And finally.

Finally, the tremendous loneliness will disappear, leaving it behind him like a bad dream. The feeling that everybody in the world is doing something without Leon. He can’t stand this ever-consuming loneliness to spread anymore, today IS the day.

He can let himself be selfish just once. Right?

To reach his goal, there is a small step though, a sacrifice to make. That’s why he set a date, in a good and expensive restaurant too.

And today is the day. This shouldn’t be forgotten. The biggest day. The most important one. No, doesn’t do the justice. The absolutely, positively biggest day, may be the right choice of words for Leon.

On the spot already, waiting for you. This time he isn’t late. That bad habit since 1998, but for once he didn’t struggle with his punctuality - too petulant about what will happen, checking clocks every second. Almost like a goddamn teenager, shifting the weight from one foot to the other on the spot. Nothing can go wrong, he tries to calm himself, there are so many ways to cover your disappearance. Perks of the job.

He didn’t notice how you arrived here too until your perfume brought him to senses. Your face is soft, your eyelashes flutter and you are so untainted. Your younger frame reminds him of himself your age. 21 years old, 1998. When he was at your age he had already witnessed horrors, you don’t realize they still exist. Leon shakes his head, that memory never brings anything good, but today his mood is not ruined and the memory has only strengthened the urge to keep you close.

Leon needs you, untouched by horrors and he knows much better how life can be terrifying.

“You ready?” He flashes a smile, his mood is more upturned than it has ever been - you can’t help yourself, a grin spread across your face too. It is infectious.

“Mmm, I am” you nod, curling your hand around his elbow, to keep yourself closer to him. And he is ready too, god, he has never been so fucking ready in his life.

“Not late this time,” His heart clenches at your words, and he looks into your eyes with a cocked eyebrow - awaiting whatever you came up with. “not like you at all, should I expect a surprise?”

“Maybe, maybe not” He brushes off with a shrug, a smile is still on his lips as you get closer to the car, but he can feel your excitement.

“A ring maybe?” You giggle. He opens the car door for you to get in, you don’t want to let go of his arm.

“A ring? Already?” He says and shakes his head. No, not a ring, but a different surprise. He kisses your lips in a chaste way, hoping you will not try to harp on this topic. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart, wait for it”

…

After dinner was different. A drop of temperatures and an easy flow of the air, dull lights of the street lamp illuminating your figures, inhaling the air in your lungs for the last time. The street is empty; no drivers, no smell of cigarettes, just you and him. And… silence fell upon you both.

Until his hand presses a tissue around your nose. It is suffocating; your nails dig into the arm, trying to worm out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, easy there” His voice brushes against your ear, soothing and intimate. The one he used when he fucked you. “Don’t make it worse for yourself...”

The warm body pressed against your back and kept you close until your body became pliant in Leon’s embrace on the silent night.

Tied up and unconscious. He is considerate enough to not let you experience the narrow space of the car trunk. With heaviness in his chest and like a scaredy cat, driving to his apartment - guilt shifts to euphoria in no time. You wanted this, no? Why would you stay with him after all? It doesn’t matter anymore. He was successful, finally. It worked. Today is his luckiest day, it should be highlighted on the calendar.

While this is the uncomfortable memory of your last date.

…

Every time you are alone, there are little things to do - you could have done some projects for college, maybe talk to friends and go to clubs. To catch a pretty guy, to have sex in the bathroom of the said club. Or fall in love with a guy of your age. It fills you with love and excitement like your hypothetical phone is going to ring as if you aren’t forced to be in Leon’s apartment.

Leon says you are a doll. Not those plastic bimbo dolls you see on social media with plastic acrylics that are longer than their eyelashes. Those reeks of cheapness by trying to be expensive, Leon has explained the difference to you. You are not Barbie or Bratz, those are ones you’d probably played with in your childhood, for Leon, you are another kind of a doll.

He is the one controlling you, making those dumb rules you’ve never memorized and you aren’t really going to. His grip around you is tight and your skin blooms with darker colors after playing with you.

Pretty, that word lives rent-free in his mind, almost becoming the most used of his. Favorite word. Your presence urges him to dress you up. A glance into the closet, most of it contains dresses and other items he has bought you. To take care of you, Leon almost emptied his wallet entirely for you a lot after getting you. It excites him. Admiring outfits he put you in and the same night, he is the one raising the fabric of your dress - two fingers or a dick inside you are enough to make you busy with moans and squirm.

He loves it, oh, he adores it. And your pussy is the best. It calms him, centers him - being someone’s center of the world is delightful, the only one time of the day in which he doesn’t feel insane. You make him feel sane, on the days when your mouth doesn’t run free.

From your point of view, he looks like he is trying to play house with you. In a wrong way. Playing house didn’t include tears or forced silence. Or forced participation. It should be fun, usually, it had been, at least in your childhood. Leon acts like this is normal like he didn’t just kidnap you during your date and force you to be here. He is still sweet, still spending his money on you (even though he doesn’t care about your preferences now), there is food on the table too. During the dinner, the silence is filled with stories from his work - names of people you don’t know. They don’t know you either, you aren’t the most famous captive girl on the planet after all. This is the bare minimum.

What’s more to ask for? Freedom, you are full of his shit actually, you would have preferred ignorance to be bliss cause his farce makes you feel insane. More unanswered questions flood your mind, they stick to your mind like a leech on the skin after a fresh swim on the summer day. You need to wash away this feeling, the only way is to question him. Right. First, you played nicely, still pitying him and holding him dear to your heart.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” And a confused expression was his answer. He doesn’t even process what you said, just moves on. This didn’t work. Nothing fucking works here.

Now you prefer to poke those facts at him - like a harsh whiplash, a cold water against his face to bring him back to reality. You shouldn’t live like this alone.

Under your flesh there is a hidden hole filled with turbulent waters, almost tearing you apart - suffocating you with confusion. You wish hatred was the only reason to keep you sane, but the deep affection towards him still emerges like a bad dream. His tired eyes with loving and sweet nothing words come from his mouth, peppering your body and face with kisses when everything is right. The memories of nights with him flash in your mind: he is nice enough not to break you, while your body reacts in natural ways. You get wet, you feel pleasure, and his fingers know just the right spot to make your back arch.

This tears you apart, it confuses you too. Maybe there is something you don’t catch on, something missing. Conditioning? You aren’t a mindless idiot, nor a Pavlovian dog, but your body reacts like one. Maybe that’s a lie to reassure yourself. Still, you can’t drive yourself close to orgasm when he is not home. Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, almost with tears trying to get yourself off. To feel like your own person without him.

But something. Is. Always. Missing. You are incomplete.

…

It is already late, really late. Leon is a busy man, at least his job seems to be really important - so important, that he has always refused to tell you, avoiding the topic like the plague and switching to that honeyed tone, talking to you like a dumb puppy. Maybe it is some government shit job, something dirty - suitable for him.

But when he is late, many hopeful scenarios emerge, the most common is his car crushing to death. Good girls get gifts, their wishes get accomplished also, and they end up in heaven too - Leon told you that and to him, you are a good girl. Corny shit. Could he be right though? What if your wish was heard finally? Then remained trouble in your life would be to get out.

And the same dreams are crushed every time the sound of the car engine goes off, the jiggle of keys reaches your ears. You know it too well, you can recognize these little details and they fill you with dread. The sound of his steps, they are so different from others. The sound of his car doesn’t sound like those outside his house. Maybe you are insane, but everything he does is so recognizable it makes you sick.

And Leon is back.

His face is the only one you see, even in your dreams. There is nothing changeable in it. Light stubble, but still him. Shaved and it is still him. Different cologne. And still him. Leon sickens you, this little play often pushes your buttons, urging you to break this act and get yourself into trouble. Maybe the remains of hope are to blame, maybe Leon would change his mind and stop this.

He plops down on the couch, drawing your attention to him - impossible to ignore, if you did, you wouldn’t stop hearing the end of his complaints. His black shirt strains across his muscular body, the fabric is not shy to outline his big chest. Black suits him, but Leon looks good in everything forcing more dread stir in your chest.

“Finally, home” Leon sighs, his hand creeping up to pull you into his lap, acting unbothered. Your legs straddle his hips, facing him. Don’t forget, you are captive. And this is the part of the routine. He is going to watch those old movies from his childhood, or work silently(maybe he will nudge his cock inside you, to keep himself warm) and then he will fuck you. A tearful routine.

“…yay..!” You try to smile, forcing it to please him. Ignoring conflicting feelings in your body, anticipation to feel his dick mixed with dread. A yearning for change. Leon kisses your forehead.

His blue eyes feel heavy on your face, making you feel so little. “I missed you” Leon cooed with a honeyed tone, pulling you even closer. That light smell of beer coming from him forces your skin to crawl. His fingers pinch your cheek, tugging it briefly too. “My doll felt lonely today, right? Without me?”

Again, that mocking sweetness. The one you’d use for puppies. You nod with a hum “Mmm”

“I had a bad bad day today, those reports dried my eyes, god” he groans, his head tipped back, rubbing his eyes as to emphasize his words. But still gripping your waist. You don’t have the mood to be nice to him, his smile and relaxed expression stir dread and hate towards him. And yourself.

“You look like you had a bad day and not me” Leon comments, raising an eyebrow before his thumb tugs on the corner of your lips - smile. You had a bad day forever, your day can’t be compared to whatever he had today. His voice is sweet, but condescending, like he knows what is better for you. Leon doesn’t know shit.

“I don’t think you have reasons to be upset, huh? Your life is easy, baby” He snaps his fingers. Like an order. “pretty smile for me, no one likes grumpy girls”

“You are fucking sick… you know that?” Words spill out quickly and mindlessly, ignoring his distorted expression - you just want him to be in pain. Like you are. There is a hint of fear in your voice, subconsciously aware of what is going to happen after your words. “… you KIDNAPPED ME and you want me to play along with this act?…” A bittersweet pause. Adrenaline rushes through your blood, like after a good shot of vodka. “That’s fucking smart… asshole”

A hard swallow, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat. Anxiety. This time, your voice is much quieter, you feel so small. Involuntarily shrinking away to shield yourself from what is coming. “I hate you”

There is an uncomfortable silence and his face is not blurry anymore - it is the only thing you can see right now. There is no slap, which is worse, silence is much scarier than a reaction cause you need to know what is going on in his head. You should have stayed silent instead, maybe Leon was right - you can’t stop but back talk and try to get yourself into trouble. You got yourself into this, not him.

Maybe an apology… wouldn’t it be late? Would it save? God, you MESSED this up. There is no way back.

His eyebrows furrowed, looking down at you with a clear discontent painting on his face, his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks - uncomfortably keeping you still. This time being pretty and batting your eyelashes like a dumb doll is not going to save you.

“You are so spoiled. No one likes ungrateful bitches like you” Leon shakes his head, not giving a space to you to talk back again. “I buy you pretty things, I spend my time and money on you… and you repay me like that?”

He tilts your head, the grip is bruising, almost. Leon doesn’t give you flowers, but bruises look like them quite enough. His words hit you like a slap, making you feel like there is something tremendously wrong with you, not with him.

“Is it so hard to play nice and stay pretty for me?” He adds with a raised eyebrow. His thumb caresses your lower lip, playing and tugging it down, before pushing the digit past your soft and tender lips.

“And quiet.” He tsked, feeling warm saliva clinging to his thumb as it pressed down onto your tongue. Lucky for Leon, one of his wishes is accomplished - you can’t really talk, only muffled words, while your mouth is occupied with his digit. He keeps the grip on your jaw, before replacing it with two fingers. Pointer and middle finger. You are so pretty when you keep your mouth shut or around his fingers. Or dick. The latter is much preferable.

Your mouth is always warm, inviting, and wet. Hard to hide how such act affects you, your breathing catches in your chest, as his fingers keep rubbing the front of your tongue - messy and slick, not wetter than your cunt right now. Your mouth can not be compared to your pussy though, it has much more pros than disadvantages, the only con is the lack of wetness sometimes. Not something unfixable at the end of the day, a spit or lube (if he is in a good mood) can fix anything.

Your eyes are closed, feeling his other hand keeping your head pointed up where he can see you. To be honest, you don’t really know if you are just trying to illude yourself and hide from the truth - both options are useless, they bring you back to him. Every time his fingers are in your mouth, keeping you quiet and forcing you to suck on them - your pussy gets wet quickly like it is connected to your throat. His fingers delve deeper, moving in and out slowly. You can’t help yourself. Your clit throbs uncomfortably, urging you to do something about this, and your inner walls flutter around nothing - your mind reminds you of how good his dick feels. You probably look so pitiful to him, your eyes reflect well what your body begs for while drooling around his fingers.

Your thighs try to snap close, to rub them together and get that sweet-sweet stimulation, but they end up straddling his hips tighter - feeling the outline of his hard cock press against the damp and thin material of your underwear. It isn’t a big obstacle right now, the burning heat can be felt easily. A choked whine escapes from your mouth, realizing that his pants are still on him.

“Uh-huh, you want my attention?” Leon asks, not trying to be subtle with his tone, laced with mocking sweetness. His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, leaving a trail of droll connecting you both. It is so empty without him filling your senses. His eyebrows curl up, glaring down on you like at kicked puppy. He mocks you, another squirming heat crawls in your cunt. Embarrassingly wet, dripping, and staining his jeans with your slick. God, you ARE getting off when he is being patronizing with you. “You ruined my day, baby. Do you really think you deserve anything right now?”

Your mind is screaming at you to do something, you need that relief. His cock. Anything that will fill the emptiness inside you with pleasure. You shiver when his fingers brush across the hem of your underwear, clearly amused by how wet you are. They push aside the fabric, already wet by your saliva - slowly stroking your drenching folds. So warm and puffy, even the light touch of his fingers on your clit makes your body jolt like you are in pain.

“Leon…” Your voice sounds cloying, it goes straight to his hard dick, as you look under your eyelashes at his face - it makes you feel dumb. Any sentences or words are thrown away into the bin under his glare, he doesn’t even try hard to make you feel like that, there is no need cause you are dumb. And you ache for his cock, ignoring alarms in your head. You are just a dumb, aching doll.

And his. He told you that.

“What?” Leon pressed, already withdrew his fingers from your cunt, wanting to see you more desperate. Your hips try to grind against his hard cock, to get a light stimulation. You stay silent, words aren’t enough to formulate what swirls in your mind. Somewhat, his presence and words are always tied to that deep feeling of owing him something. What? Not clear, but it is still here, even if his cock empties your mind.

You are still his after the dramatics you pulled, right?

You swallow hard, the sight of his unmoving hand on the belt makes your cunt painfully ache, ignoring your mind screaming at you to hit him. You don’t deserve this, it whispers. The guilty part of your brain won a long time ago, it overwhelms that soothing reminder - canceling it completely - you need to hurry up him. You are at fault, it whispers. “…Please…” Forgive me, I need you.

You gasp as in rasp motion he changes your position, shoving you and you end up with your back pressed down flatly on the soft material of the couch, while Leon hovers over you. And he kisses your forehead, with the same tenderness and affection he has given you before - like a couple, married couple on honeymoon. Your mind misses the bullseye with this conclusion, but whatever helps, right? The spot burns hot, as a reminder that you have to please him.

Clink-clink! It snaps you out of your thoughts. The sound of his belt makes your skin crawl, and more slick pools in between your thighs like at the unvoiced command. You try to buck your hips up, only to end up restrained by his hand - it grips tightly your flesh, in a bruising hold, and the signs will bloom into another purplish collection in the morning. His hand pins your hips down, - silently denying the control over your pleasure. Couldn’t be even wetter at this point.

It isn’t really visible, but his breathless sigh signaled you that his hand is, probably, wrapped around his cock. You squirm, to prop yourself to look down and maybe get comfier - again, he pushes you down with a head shake.

Your legs shake when his cock presses up in between your drenching folds, the slick clings to the skin, and his cock head nudges against your aching clit. And this hits so good too, his hard cock slides across your cunt. You can’t help but let your hips buck up back, again - to get your own control on the pleasure. Tsk. Your attempt gets easily interrupted again, as his hand pushes your hips down. His cock gets harder after every slow and agonizing rut, the wet sounds of your slick pressing and smearing his cock is like music to his ears. No wonder it is so easy to get lost, thank god your attempts to worm out of his grip snap him out of that pleasure.

You are so impatient. But for Leon, sex is so much simpler, cause he is a simple man. With age many things change, they get uncomplicated. Of course, Leon likes good stuff; tasty good, keeping you pretty, watching how your tits bounce with every thrust and feeling your flesh under his hands, how you react to him. But the sex isn’t the lovemaking or a way to satisfy you, for him, it would be useless to keep you here then. There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is so close to lose touch with after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. Life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Every time he sees you so confused, depending on him - he can’t lie, it makes his cock jolt. He wants to see every little expression on your face, - desperation, affection, confusion, misery, everything - to etch the sight into his memory.

“Baby, you don’t know what’s good for you..” Leon says, there is no answer from you and he doesn’t really need one. His eyes are focused on his cock nudging your hole before slowly pressing in - now watching your spasming and drenching hole swallows his cock. And you gasp.

Without fingers, without any preparation, but wet as hell, you still feel tight as sin. It is easier to get through though. The velvet softness of your fluttering cunt is addicting as your walls clench around him in a vice grip with every inch pushed inside.

It is dizzying how your mind empties together with your body, any remains of conflict regarding this situation is gone. Focusing on how his cock stretches your walls, leaving you breathless and trembling at the slow-filling sensation in your cunt. Your hands creep to rest on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His cock pushes through, until its tip presses against your cervix - he is deep inside, his hips nestled right against your ass - and your pussy is so overwhelmingly full, for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

“That’s okay” Leon cooed again. His hand brushes across the skin of your collarbone, caressing it. Burns and you are hot, to the point his touch felt cold. You shiver, his hand is always pleasant to feel, but at the same, the feeling of it is accompanied by something else, you can’t ever catch it. It is brief but always gives you awareness.

Your chest rises up and down unsteadily, looking probably pathetic right now as his hips start moving. Already overwhelmed without a way out.

“Awww, you are just a dumb thing, not knowing anything better” Leon drawls with an amused smirk.

The pace is set, rhythmically rocking against you, using your cunt like a toy. You want to roll your own hips back, to do something but today isn’t your day. You already forgot about your earlier lash-out, as the only sounds reaching your ears are flesh-hitting ones mixed with your moans. His lips are parted on a soft stream of pants.

“N-no..” This attempt of protest slips out easily from your mouth, without giving too much thought into what may happen. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. His hand creeps higher, to rest on your neck in a loose grip, a silent warning perhaps. Pretty faces don’t need to do anything other than being pretty, but tonight you let your mouth slip out too often.

The hand on your hip pushes it down again, the grip hurts actually. Feels like there are already bruises forming and he is clearly not pleased with you. He isn’t at all, your comments ruin his fun. They distract him from your tight pussy, how hot it is, and engulf him, begging him to thrust ruthlessly and fill you.

Unspoken rule, you should be silent and let him use your cunt without other noises than incoherent moans.

“Oh, no-no” Leon mocks you, a sharp, unexpected thrust, his cock head grinds against your cervix. To punctuate his words his grip on your throat tightens. Or you are imagining this? Another thrust, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hips start dragging his cock out of you, then he pushes it back deep inside. “I know what’s better for you.”

Every deep thrust into your spasming cunt, your thighs shake, and muscles in your body flex every time your hips connect. And his hand squeezes your throat, you can clearly feel the outlines of his fingers on the skin of your throat. God, is the grip getting tighter? Is he trying to cut the air? This fills your body with panic; it writhes even more, ignoring the painful grip on your hip and becoming more aware of the one that’s getting tighter around your neck.

Yeah, he is angry at you.

“Doll, you brought this… on yourself” Leon whispers breathlessly, watching your expression twist with a mix of pleasure and fear. Your hands travel from his shoulders to his wrist, nails dig into its flesh. “don’t resist”

His hand angles your hip better, losing the rhythm of the pace as his cock pounds into you in quick and deep thrusts. It hits your g-spot too, but the lack of air is the biggest of your worries right now. Your cunt flutters, getting tighter with the less air incoming, and more tingly wave of sensation rides over your body. The tips of your fingers feel weird, and your entire body starts to drown in numbness. It is weirdly pleasant but at the same time scary. Deep down you like it, not realizing it.

“Come on,” Leon grunts, his grip on your neck doesn’t lessen, and you try to focus on something else other than the possibility of passing out. Your walls clench around his dick tighter, and your mouth opens uselessly as a dumb fish trying to speak, but the only sound coming out is a muffled one.

“If you are so smart… fuck…” He moans, you feel so good, your walls clenched tight around his dragging cock and your body is so easily letting him use your pussy. He can get drunk on it. “…use your big mouth”

His grip tightens, and another choked moan tries to drawl out of your mouth. Nothing comes out other than a quiet, pathetic mewl. It feels like you are going to die.

“Use your filthy and smart mouth” He taunts again, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. His hips thrust into you in rough and hard movements. It feels like just his presence is overfilling you. Maybe the lack of oxygen is to blame. “or you can only use it for my dick.. huh? Like a whore, not a doll”

“A…m, S-s” I am sorry. You try your best, but it is hard to do multitasking when your head is so lightheaded and his dick inside you feels so good. Your body feels numb like it doesn’t belong to you anymore, writhing and squirming every time his cockhead hit your cervix - a pang of tingling mixture, something so new and pleasurable, but at the same time foreign, with the hint of pain. But it is a delicious kind of hurt, toe-curling one.

You are going to pass out, trying to swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth and your nails dig into the skin of his bicep - begging, unawarely your eyes sprinkle with tears. “S-..sor-r—” This is your best attempt.

Orgasm has always been different with him, it is warm, still keeping your turmoil. This time it is crushing, but feels shorter than it was actually. It hits your body unexpectedly, filling to the brim with the feeling of his cock spouting cum inside you, while every patch of your skin is numb and burning hot.

Confusing your mind more when his hand slipped away, so close to pass out and the quick rush of air fills your lungs almost choking you, overwhelming the pleasure of your own orgasm. You are so sensitive, at the brink of tears - not having any strength to keep them in, they easily well in your eyes, blurring even more the vision before rolling down. It doesn’t hit like it should cause you are too focused on the fading numbness and shaking while inhaling the air - unreasonably afraid(to Leon) that he is going to take it away again. Breathing feels much better than sex, right now at least.

He pulls out his dick, and his cum slowly oozes out of your hole, while you are still recovering. Not hiding where his gaze is directed. It is hypnotizing, urging him to shove it back into you with his fingers and keep his cum inside you for a little bit longer. You snap him out of this trance with your sobbing and incoherent words.

“I am so—sorry!” You sob, tugging onto the fabric of his black shirt to pull him closer to you. Seeking comfort in him, you don’t have any other options. He can’t deny this to you, his arm wraps around your shoulders. And even if you had other choices, still you would crawl back to Leon. “I was mistaken… I am so-so sorry. It was a mistake!”

God, you shake like a leaf right now. He huffs as if your words were the most obvious thing. Like the sky is blue or two plus two is four. It is hard to push you away, the trembling and teared-up mess. Leon enjoys that.

“There you are, baby. I got it” Leon sighs, the crease in between his eyebrows deepens. His hand brushes away your hair from your face, to get a better glance of your state. Mistake. Everything is a mistake here - your presence, getting off only of him, texting him first, and letting him take you on dates. Leon can’t help, but chuckle. “Of course. Indeed a mistake, doll”

[soullessjack]

i’m probably bedridden until monday with my stomach bug so now is a perfect opportunity to start truthing about local-Lebanon-cryptid jack. for starters, i think jack would really fit those spooky Reddit videos on YouTube about strange encounters with people that were so strange it left the person wondering if they’d met something entirely nonhuman.

like, every time he’s spotted in town, he’s doing some relatively normal stuff—“grocery”shopping (if beer and candy bars count as groceries, anyways), hanging out in a diner, etc. nothing he does is out of the ordinary, and again he’s very friendly and approachable, but he’s still just. Off.

he always shows up seemingly out of nowhere, with no car or ride to be seen

he either never has any ID on him, or has ID that changes every time he shows up, with the same face and a different name (one that oddly matches a famous person each time, too).

he always has this underlying nervousness about his demeanor too, like he’s trying not to get caught with something, or like he’s trying to avoid the conversation going to a specific place, but there’s almost never anything that it could be. and then there’s the fact that, when it comes to anything pop-culture-y, or any news about the world, he seems genuinely unaware of everything. he could rattle on about some pretty dated movies he watches “at home” (wherever that is, bc all he says is that it’s ‘outside of town’ ), or the even more dated classic rock records he owns in his room, but he wouldn’t be able to tell you one artist on the radio or anything else like that. he talks about it all like an alien who just discovered what Hollywood is and is very pleased to be learning so much about the planet.

overall he seems too normal, too innocuous, like he’s trying way too hard to put on that appearance and is constantly worried that somewhere, somehow at some point the “illusion” will shatter. what’s decidedly strange, is that for all his lacking in most of the normal world, he seems to know quite a bit about everything else — monsters, the occult, magic, theology, crime cases, even dead languages and cultural rituals. he doesn’t seem like he ever went to school for any of these subjects, but he’s well educated nonetheless. whenever you get the conversation over to any of these topics he loses the awkward, cringy disposition and goes on forever. “how does he know all this?”you’re very likely to ask. “well,” he’ll say, with more of the awkward refrain again, “it’s sort of my family’s business.” but will he indulge on what exactly that business is? no. it’s one of those suspicious conversations you can tell he’s trying to avoid.

In fact, he won’t even really go into detail about who his family is, aside from the fact that it’s comprised of 3 other men all living out of town together, whom he sometimes watches old movies with on Tuesday’s. but the only people you know of that live on the outskirts of Lebanon are those creepy middle-aged guys with the classic black car and shotguns who are also supposedly serial killers. and one of your classmates, max, actually met them all — supposedly her meeting with two of the older guys involved John Wayne Gacy’s ghost trapped in a box, but she absolutely refuses to talk about what happened with this “Jack” guy. her and her girlfriend Stacey. as if that isn’t weird enough, on the occasion that jack happens to cross paths with the two, he supposedly goes out of his way to avoid them, but seems visibly more distraught about it. unfortunately, much like them, he won’t talk about it either.

all in all, ever since this “jack” guy and his “family” popped up outside Lebanon, weirder and weirder shit has kept happening. and not just deja vu weird, like. Horror Movie weird. creature sightings, the dead rising from their graves, whatever else you can think of—and one thing’s for certain. no matter what, that “family” is always at the scene of the crime, jo matter how much they like to keep their distance from the rest of the town.

[urauntiefaye]

Can you write head Canon K as the older boy next door (both reader and K legal). She's into him but he's more concerned about the age gap than his feelings for her. Let's say the age gap I'd 6/7 years. That'll make reader around 20/21 which is way less mature compared to 27, which will explain his concern. But he likes her too, just resisting.

Older!K x Younger Reader Head Cannons🌸❤️‍🩹

WC: 856

TW: Angst in the beginning, fluff, age gap, drunk K, reader low-key being led on, not proof Read, let me know if I forgot anything!

A/N: the fact that I am 21 and there is indeed a 6 year age gap between K and I….also low-key had an idea similar to this before but with Hyunjae from the Boyz……anyways I hope you like it 😁😁😁(also listen to Guys My Age by Hey Violet)

You two met on your moving day, you were carrying a box that was twice your size with no movers or anyone to help. And unfortunately for you the elevator in the apartment building was out of order.

Kei saw you struggling and helped you, carrying the rest of the boxes to your apartment which just so happened to be the one right next to him.

Seeing how you both lived alone you found yourself spending a lot of time with him. Always going over to each other for lunch or dinner, accompanying one another for grocery shopping, even going to the mailbox with one another.

You fell for him pretty quickly.

You always had a thing for older men, and men who had their shit together. The reason for that is simple: you always struggled to get along with people around your age.

Having grown up being told you were “so mature for your age”, but that being because you were essentially forced to grow up at such a young age. Having experienced things earlier than others.

Kei on the other hand was always cautious when it came to you.

Now he did notice how you were pretty mature, but you were still in your early 20s and he just can’t shake the feeling that you still had some growing up to do.

Now despite all that, you made your feelings for him pretty clear, and you also thought he felt the same. The way he always spent time with you, catered to your needs, how he let you hug and cuddle him, hell even the way he just looked at you.

But it made you frustrated because he never made an upfront move on you.

You knew he was holding back, but you didn’t know why and it was killing you

But not as much when you saw him bringing another girl around his age to his apartment

When you asked him about it the next day, well more so went off on him

Asking him why he had another girl, why he was doing that when he constantly showed he liked you

He would try and break it to you that you could never be together, that you were too young and too immature

His words stung badly, because you knew that those words were a lie, he of all people knew that wasn’t true

After the argument you would pretty much ignore him, feeling led on and hurt you couldn’t bear to even look at him.

Kei thought this was for the best at first, but he couldn’t help the aching pain as well

Missing seeing you smile at him and come over to hangout, to now having you ignore his entire existence.

He slowly started to regret it, feeling the impact of his actions

He wanted to apologize but he honestly just didn’t know how to do that, whenever he tried talking to you, you just either sped up or pretended like you couldn’t hear him.

It was eating him alive

So, to try and get his head clear he went out to drink with his friends, taking shot after shot till he was sobbing so hard that snot was running down his nose.

Crying to his friend Fuma how badly he fumbled with you, that he actually really likes you and just wants you by his side

Fuma getting tired of his drunk crying self drags him home, but instead of bringing Kei to his apartment he goes to yours and knocks on the door

You opened the door confused and concerned by the state of Kei, especially when he sees you and pulls you into a hug, dropping on his knees and hiding his face in your stomach.

Fuma would tell you everything, that he knows Kei fucked up but also telling you to reconsider

You brought Kei back into your apartment, getting him on the couch and sitting on the floor to admire his face

Kei who's half away and still drunk would mumble out incoherent words, reaching out to grab your hand and trying to pull you close, begging you to stay and that he was sorry

The following morning Kei would wake up to the smell of fresh coffee and you bringing a cup to him. He'd sat up questioning what was going on.

Once you caught him up on everything he would stay silent for a while

Once he does speak and gather his thoughts and courage he'd admit that he meant everything he said. That he did miss you, and that he doesn't want you to leave his side

Saying that he knows it might take you a while to forgive him and give him a chance but he wants to be more than neighbors more than friends

He'd still keep rambling on until you grab his face and pull him into a kiss

Saying that you do forgive him, but if he ever called you immature again you won't hesitate to drop kick his ass

Your last statement made you both laugh as he leaned in again to give you another proper kiss.

[sunnyie-eve]

42 | Protective Once Again

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Colby being protective

| MASTERLIST |

"We're at my house!" Dani shouts and the boys jump up and down, "Well, at my parents house." She says to be more specific.

"We have to invade your parents house like you do with ours. It's only right." Chris was the first to speak up.

"Hey, make yourselves at home." She didn't have a problem with it.

"Like Chris said, it's only right." Nick agrees.

"My mom loves y'all too." She tells them so only Nick and Chris talk about who the favorite might be out of them.

"Me?" Matt asks as the two point at him, "I don't know."

"I honestly wouldn't be surprised." Nick sighs making Dani laugh.

"It's unfair our mom has no other options." Chris adds.

"Sorry I'm not a triplet or a twin." She apologizes to him making him laugh now.

"Can you imagine if you were a triplet?" Nick thinks about.

"One for each of you." She makes the tree laugh, "Now, let's get to work. AND NO MAKING A MESS!" She shouts and sees the look Matt gave her, "Don't make that face Matt. He's acting like he's never screamed before. In the car, playing a game, I can go on."

"Who's sharing your bed with you tonight?" Chris asks since they were all sharing her room while they were there. Two would get the big air mattress and one would share her bed with her.

"Excuse me?" She laughs a bit that he was already bringing it up so everyone starts to talk at the same time so no one heard Matt trying to talk.

"I should because I'm the best friend." Nick tells her.

"That is true but you don't cuddle like they do." Dani adds making a face.

"I haven't had my turn yet." Chris plays with the bread whining a bit as Matt gives him a look that no one sees.

"That's also true."

"Know what's on the menu? Me 'n' u." Chris jokes with Dani making her crack up and he jumps up and down with her.

"I fucking hate you." She playfully shoves him as Matt keeps watching them jump around laughing at them. "I love how we just joke about it."

"Others would think It's odd."

"I'd rather you joke than be awkward." Matt tells Chris and Dani.

"Okay, we need to get serious now." Dani says so Nick salutes, "Now let see..." Dani goes through drawers and Matt tries to get over to her but Nick and Chris were blocking his way.

"Put the potatoes down." Matt watches Chris play with them.

"Nah, they're dancing."

"Freak." Dani passes him to go to the sink.

"Oh my God, Colby just scared the fuck out of me." Matt sees Colby enter the room to take a seat in the living room.

"Yeah,  I'm here too." He tells them so they all say hi to each other.

"You failed to mention that to us." Matt turns to Dani as she laughs at his reaction still.

"She didn't know I was coming." Colby lets them know.

"Wow, the older brother is here too." Nick laughs, "It's like our house."

"Yeah, but Justin sees me as a sister and to Colby y'all-," She gets cut off by Matt  seeing her hold a bottle of ketchup.

"Oh, you get that way from the food." He points at it wanting it out of sight.

"But my dad..."

"Away or I'm making you, Danielle." He tells her as Colby watches them.

"Watch it Matty boy." He tells him.

"Let's just  pretend he's not here." Dani continues trying to ignore him not wanting him to ruin the fun.

"I'll keep talking so you can't ignore me." Colby chuckles.

"And I'll tell mom  to send you to your room." She looks over at him crossing her arms.

"Dani's the definition of mom's favorite." Nick speaks up laughing at her as he does his part to make breakfast.

"Here, Matt follow this" Dani passes him the pancake box to read. As they continue, Chris gets distracted by the family's cat, "Chris, is she letting you pet her? She hates men." Dani says surprised.

"Seriously? She went like this to me." He demonstrates the cat letting him pet her.

"Ooohh. That's two cups." Matt holds the measuring cup up.

"What's up?" Dani asks him, "Are you confused or what?"

"How do I know?"

"You look at the number on the cup..." She tells him moving her knife around making Nick move away.

"Dani, you're scary."

"What are you? What... Are you helping me or doing something different?" Matt looks at what Chris was doing.

"Different." Dani answers.

"Put that down, Dani." Nick looks at her knife, "Different." He did what she did moving the knife around.

"Matt, did your license get suspended for driving all these girls crazy?" Dani jokes as they keep preparing.

He gives he a look and smiles, "You know I did." He agrees so they all laugh while Colby rolled his eyes on the couch.

"Oh, I saw my first edit of me the other day." Dani lets the boys know, "I was honored but refused to see the comments. I'm scared of that."

"I love yours." Nick tells her since he's seen them before.

"You knew I had some before I did?"

"Yeah." Matt jumps him laughing, "Are you good, yes." He gives the camera a thumbs up.

"Thanks."

"Enjoy your edits and just ignore what people say about you. It's just crap." Nick tells her as he cuts the potato he was working on still.

"So you haven't seen the ones of us together yet then?" Matt asks her, "The range that they all go is hilarious. The best is us being sassy to each other."

"I need to look them up after this." She looks up from what she was cutting.

"Yes, I'll show you my favorite."

"I just don't want to come across the shipping ones especially with you." She paces around making him laugh.

"Oh expect that along with me too." Chris lets her know, "It's unavoidable."

"Umm. What... Am I missing!" Matt shouts lost looking at the instructions again.

"Does Dani have to help you?" Chris looks at him then over at Dani.

"I can do it"

"Sure... You can." Dani gives the camera a look.

"That knife hit me, Dani." Nick sighs looking at her, "Put that thing down."

"Dani isn't like this at home." Matt smiles at the camera.

"Oh speaking of shipping, I'm gonna go change so people don't think shit because Matt and I sorta match." Dani leaves the room quickly to go change.

"Colby, whatever you do, don't get overprotective over there." Nick looks over at him, "We know how you are."

"I don't need you coming after me to my face this time. You already scare me." Matt looks over at him too.

"Good then. That means I'm doing my job."

Matt makes a face, "Maybe I should tell on you as well." He says as Dani joins them again.

"Colby stop being an ass or literally leave the room." Dani says in a tone that he knew she was annoyed with him so he stays quiet to keep watching them.

"How about you don't leave us alone?" Matt gives her a look.

"Sorry, I'll keep him on a leash." She chuckles, "Let's just get this over with." Dani says done.

"You're never gonna cook for us again." Matt says making Nick look at Dani saying she better not do that  to them.

"What the hell have you done?" Dani sees Matt's pancake mix.

"I don't know what happened, dude. You'll see when you edit this."

"You ruined it! Our pancakes, Matt." Nick shouts at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be the best at doing adult things?" Dani asks Matt as she washes her hands.

"Can I try again?"

"No!" She walks past him going back to her spot.

Matt gets an idea to get her in trouble with Colby, "Is that a tattoo peaking out?" He points at her lower back one.

"Dude!" She wipes her head around to look at him.

"Dani's heart is racing right now." Nick laughs at the look on her face.

"Tattoo?" Colby speaks up again wanting to know more.

"Why did you get it?" Chris asks her.

"I'm an adult and it was free because Matt paid." She explains not seeing why it was a big deal, "Why turn it down? I've been wanting to get one."

"But you got more than one and a matching one with Matt." Chris says to get them in trouble.

"Matching?" Colby looks over at them.

Matt takes a deep breath, "Are you trying to get him to hate me more?" He looks at him like he was crazy.

"Who cares and they're cute."

While Nick talks about how he hates butter, Matt was secretly using the spatula to spank the pancakes and Dani catches him, "Will you stop being weird over there?" She gives him a odd look.

"What's the matching one?" Colby asks curious.

"Sun and the moon. We complement one another." She explains so he sighs.

"Don't over think it." Matt tells him.

"It's really nothing deep down." Chris adds.

[kazumahashimoto]

He held off the two biggest, baddest war machines BY HIMSELF that one time as if it was a regular Tuesday.

He's a giant hypocrite and a goofy dad.

He's the only one who looks at himself becoming a monster and goes "someone should stop me" instead of going psycho.

He's Angeal Hewley.

Uh anyway, um, an ask...

How many times can his farm boy muscles bench press Sephiroth before he gets tired?

well firstly i'd like to apologize for the wall of text i'm about to give you but unfortunately you HAVE just activated my trap card by calling angeal a dad. i feel strongly about this o7

angeal is, plain and simple, not old enough to be zack's dad and i truly feel like that is an important distinction. angeal is 25. he should be at the club joke. but literally like, he is far too young and zack is too old for this to work.

besides that point, i feel like slapping the Dad label onto angeal is reductive not only of his character but also of his relationship with zack. "dadgeal" is a quick and simple, small quirky way to describe their relationship to one another. not saying you constantly have to wax poetic about them (the way i like to LOL) but it gives them a certain flavor they simply do not have.

the relationship between zack and angeal is a complicated one. and it's not that i can't see the paternal aspects of the way angeal treats him, but at the same time it's so much more than that. like i think i said this somewhere a few months ago but to me the paternal aspects of angeal are more like, accidentally calling your teacher "mom" because as a kid at school a teacher fills a similar role in that space, or a teacher referring to their students as Their kids, because at school they might as well be. but kids don't generally Really see their teachers as their parents, or teachers viewing students as their actual kids. there's nuance. and with angeal, especially from zack's perspective, they have more than just a student and teacher or mentor and mentee relationship. they also have something different from a father and son relationship.

even for me as someone who enjoys viewing them in a brotherly fashion, i think one of the most important pieces to understanding their relationship is when zack is knocked out after falling through the church's roof, imagining talking to his mom, when he says, "i want to help out a friend."

a friend. not something vague like "someone important to me", or even something more distant like "my mentor", what he calls angeal is a friend. despite the fact that angeal is nine years older than him, is higher ranked than him, and is in a direct position of authority over him, zack first and foremost views him as his friend. this shows his innocence he still has, it shows how deeply he cares for angeal in such a simple yet important way. zack sees angeal as his friend before anything else.

this is where i think the paternal aspects really reduce their relationship, trying to fit it into an easier box to make cheeky jokes about, rather than acknowledging how, especially on zack's end, he does not view angeal in that way.

and i don't think angeal views zack as being his son either, at least not seriously. like, i can envision him referring to zack and others as "son" that way older men do with boys just cos he feels like the type to try and Act beyond his years, but he's still just 25. he's not gonna see a sixteen year old as being his kid like that.

it's kind of late rn so i feel like i'm losing my train of thought here a bit but the bottom line for me is that zack and angeal just don't ever treat each other like father and son. they're obsessed with each other and thinking about each other constantly and angeal wants to protect him and zack looks up to him, but that doesn't make them father and son, even in a cute quick jokey way. they are friends. zack does not just see angeal as a figure of authority over him, he sees him as his friend. no need to replace that with a different type of authority figure.

anyway, to answer your question, theoretically if sephiroth were to allow himself to be bench pressed, i think angeal could do it long enough to have me staring gayly at his arms the whole time

[scary-movies-on-netflix]

THE FLESH AND THE FIENDS (1960)

This film takes place in the 1820's in Edinburgh, the spookiest of Scottish cities.  Really.  Two dudes dig up a recently-buried body from a cemetery.  They take it to Dr. Knox (Peter Cushing), a renowned lecturer on medicine, and he promptly buys the body!  (He needs the corpse for teaching purposes; he’ll dissect it to teach his students human anatomy.)

The dudes who dug up the body are called “resurrection men.”  They go the tavern and spend their money, and two bullies and scoundrels, Burke and Hare, watch them.  They return to Burke’s boarding house and discover that one of the boarders has died!  They take the body to Dr. Knox, who buys it from them.  Next, they escort a drunk older woman to their house, and Burke suffocates her to death.  Dr. Knox buys her body.  Hare buys himself a fancy new vest with the money.  An old man arrives at the boarding house, looking for a bed.  He explains that he’s come to find some work and earn money so that he “can end his days in peace.”  We next see him in a box at Dr. Knox’s house.  Dr. Knox isn’t there, but his assistant, Dr. Mitchell, looks over the body.  He says that the man “died only a few hours ago,” and he notes a bruise on the head.  Hare feigns ignorance, but Mitchell demands, “Where did he get that bruise?”  Then Knox appears.  He is nonplussed about how the man died and buys the corpse.  Afterwards, Mitchell presses Knox, “Are you satisfied that man died a natural death?” and he asks, “You’ll continue to accept subjects from them without question?”  Knox says, “I will continue to teach anatomy, using the best specimens available, to turn out doctors who will replace quacks!”

Meanwhile, we’ve also met Chris Jackson, one of Knox’s students.  He’s met Mary Patterson, a local woman, and despite their different backgrounds, begin a relationship.  Chris is quiet and studious, and Mary has a temper and likes to drink.  He asks her not to spend time at the brothel (where she gets free booze), but one night she goes anyway.  Chris returns to his flat and sees that Mary isn’t there, so he finds her at the brothel, sitting in another man’s lap.  Chris says, “You’re drunk, Mary.  Let me take you home.”  Mary mocks him.  “If you were half a man you’d drag me out of here by the roots of my hair.”  She says, “I’m not gonna be bored any more by your mealy mouth talk.”  Chris leaves, but, after a moment, Mary runs after him.  Chris is not outside, but Burke and Hare are there.  With the promise of more booze, they lead her to the boarding house, but Mary’s friend, Maggie, sees them.  At the boarding house, Hare begins to sexually assault Mary.  “No, please,” she cries as she tries mightily to resist him.  He chokes her to death.  Mrs. Burke returns home and is more perturbed by the presence of the dead woman than by the fact that Hare killed her.

The next morning Chris is studying at the academy.  Someone rolls in a covered corpse.  “This one’s the best we’ve had so far.  Doctor wants some drawings taken before we put her in the brine.”  Uneasy, Chris removes the cover and sees the dead Mary.  He runs out the building.  Knox is confused, but Mitchell explains that “Burke and Hare have just brought in the body of a woman … she was Jackson’s girl.”  Knox seems slightly concerned, but says nothing.

Chris goes to the boarding house and attacks Burke, but Hare sneaks up behind Chris and stabs him.  That night, they walk the corpse out of the building.  A young man named “Daft Jamie” sees him, thinking that Chris is still alive, and Hare gives him some money to go away.

By the next morning Chris’s body has been discovered.  Knox and Mitchell identify it for the local police.  They don’t say anything about Hare or Burke.  Later, Knox asks Mitchell why he didn’t mention the men.  Mitchell explains that he’s trying to protect Knox’s reputation.  Knox tells Mitchell that he should tell the police if he feels that he must, but “if you really consider that the life of a street woman is more important than the advance of surgery, then stand in the market square and scream ‘murder’ to the mob.” 

Back in that market square, Daft Jamie approaches Burke and Hare and mentions that he found a ring off a corpse.  The murderers sense that he’s trying to shake them down, so they tell him to come to the boarding house that night so they can buy the ring from him.  Daft Jamie then speaks to Maggie, Mary’s friend, who’s been looking for Mary for two days.  Daft Jamie goes to the boarding house as requested, and when he enters Burke tries to kill him.  Jamie resists to the best of his ability, and he makes it outside, but Burke and Hare catch him and Burke smothers him in the mud of a pigsty.  Fortunately, Maggie is hiding nearby and sees the act!  Burke and Hare take the body inside and find the ring, and Maggie runs away, shouting, “Murder!”

She runs to the square.  Mitchell is there and asks her what happened.  She explains that Burke and Hare killed Daft Jamie.  He quickly moves away.  Maggie goes to the police station, and she leads an inspector to the boarding house.  Burke and Hare are already gone, so Maggie then says to look at Dr. Knox’s place. 

Mitchell arrives at Knox’s house and begs the doctor to not buy any body that Burke and Hare might try to sell him, “because the police know it was murdered.”  Knox, however, reveals that he’s already purchased the body.  He shows Mitchell the body of Daft Jamie.  Mitchell explains that Burke and Mitchell know that Knox has more to lose than they do.  “They’re relying on you to cover their traces.”  Mitchell asks Knox to dispose of the body, but then the inspector and Maggie arrive.  Maggie identifies Daft Jamie, and Knox confirms that he died a violent death. 

Maggie runs to the town square and whips up a mob to find Burke and Hare.  “They’ve been murdering right under our noses,” a man says.  Maggie adds, “And what’s the law doing about it?”  Burke and Hare flee to a warehouse, but the mob quickly breaks in.  They grab Burke, and then they grab Hare.  The camera floats over a huge crowd celebrating their capture.  They are quickly put on trial, and Hare turns on Burke and testifies against him!  Burke is found guilty, but neither Hare nor Knox are charged.  Maggie shouts, about Knox, “But why should that old scoundrel get away free as air?”  Knox attempts to continue his normal routine of teaching, but his number of students have dwindled, and the mob shouts outside his house.

Burke is hanged to death.  Hare is free to leave the police station, but the mob is waiting for him outside.  The police toss him out the rear door.  Two men are waiting for him.  One holds him from behind while the other presses a torch against his eyes, blinding him.  For his own part, Knox is summoned by the medical council.  He has to walk through the mob to get to his carriage.  He faces the council, a group of fellow doctors whom he has insulted and belittled throughout the movie.  “This is a heaven-sent opportunity,” he tells him.  “Make the most of it.”  He leaves the room, but Mitchell arrives.  He faces the council and essentially accuses all of them of doing the same as Knox, in buying corpses when maybe they weren’t sure of the cause of death.  The council erupts into shouting.

Knox walks home.  In the central square, a little girl asks him for some coins so she can buy candy.  Knox says that he has no money, “but if you come to my house I’ll give you some there.”  “No, thank you,” the little girl says, “you might sell me to Dr. Knox.”  Knox is suddenly crushed.  He’s not a renowned doctor; he’s a monster.  He arrives home and speaks to his niece: “It took a child to show me what I am now.”  Knox admits that, despite his statements of working for the betterment of medicine and society, he’s been driven by “achievement, ambition.”  He says that he knew how all the people died when Burke and Hare brought in their bodies.  Mitchell arrives and says that the medical council has exonerated Knox, and he scoffs, “So, they’ve decided to let the world judge me.”  He heads to teach his next class, which he expects will be empty, but instead the hall is packed with students (all men).  He receives a standing ovation.  Knox begins to talk about the Hippocratic Oath, ending with the promise to “never do harm to anyone.”

This was surprisingly good.  The film was panned when it first came out, but now it’s starting to receive some notice and acclaim.  I think it’s a masterpiece.  The film was just … morbid, both in subject matter and tone.  Burke (George Rose, a mean bully) and Hare (Donald Pleasance, conniving and greedy) were effectively portrayed as true monsters, amoral murderers.  The murders were violent and brutal, long extended takes where the victims fought back as best they could before succumbing.  (Before their deaths, we did get to learn a little about the victims, poor people simply trying to survive.  We spent a lot of time with Charlie and Mary, both flawed in their own ways, and watch as they are killed.)  On the other hand, Knox (Cushing) was cold and dispassionate, appearing to care little for the dead, removed as he was by his wealth and education.  Even at the end, when he realized that these were dead people he was dissecting, he again viewed their loss only in abstract terms.  He was only remorseful because his own reputation was suffering.  Like the little girl said, he was a monster, too.  As terrible as it may sound, the real Burke and Hare and Knox were probably even worse than these film versions.  Burke and Hare killed at least sixteen people.  When Knox purchased the corpse of the real Mary Paterson, she had been smothered to death by the men after passing out from drinking.  Knox kept her body in a barrel of whiskey.

[candycandy00]

I’m currently closed for requests for fanfics. I’m open for headcanons and Choose Your Own Price Commissions only.

General Rules/Info for Interacting with Me and My Blog:

This blog has adult content. Do not follow or interact with this blog if you are not an adult! There’s adult fanfiction as well as adult art!

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I do write fanfiction about aged up characters! This mostly applies to my Wind Breaker fanfics. I am very clear about the fact that I age them up to mid 20’s or older and often include context in the stories to show that they are indeed adults in these fanfics (them having careers or owning homes or whatever). If this makes you uncomfortable, feel free to block me or filter out my wind breaker posts.

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Rules for Requesting Headcanons:

Nothing involving minors, animals, or scat/pee/vomit.

If you want the headcanons to involve a Reader, please specify if you want their gender to be anything other than fem. Otherwise, I will assume you want fem Reader. I am open to writing headcanons for other types of Readers.

I’m open to writing headcanons for characters and fandoms not listed in the “Characters I Write” section. Just ask! Fandoms I would probably write headcanons for: MHA, JJK, Wind Breaker, Demon Slayer, Bungou Stray Dogs, Durarara!!, Baccano!, Kaiju no. 8, Black Clover, X-Men, Gintama, Persona (all of them), Final Fantasy (up through 15), slashers (like Ghostface, Freddy, Michael, Jason, etc.).

That’s it! If you have any questions about anything at all, just ask!

[shitty-goose-quack]

older sister -> tomboy -> lesbian -> she/they (i'm an ally!) -> she/they (im not a woman) -> 🤔🫠🤨🧐 (im 14 and edgy) -> gender fluid (my crush said she was) -> gender fluid (im indecisive) -> some complicated bullshit about genderfae/genderfawnet -> gender fluid -> it would really just be easier if i was a guy ->🤔🫠🤨🧐 (im depressed) ->

🔥NAME CHANGE🔥

"it's like the ocean or something (xenogender) (micro labels are fun) -> 🤔🫠🤨🧐 -> gender fluid but in an ocean way -> oh i like this agender shit -> nah fuck it gender fluid (you can be all of it) -> pan gender -> you're a woman you fucking trender -> nope that was just a woman day you're gender fluid ->

🔥MERCH TIME🔥

✅ gender fluid hair tie

✅ gender fluid earrings

✅ gender fluid picrews

✅ binder that isn't actually a binder cause you're bad at online shopping

✅ long tumblr rant that is still your most popular post

🤔🫠🤨🧐-> you're a straight girl who's looking for attention -> genderfuck (micro labels will make me happy) -> ocean gender (micro labels will make me happy) -> genderfae (micro labels will make me happy) -> micro labels will make mehappymicrolabelswillmakemehappymicrolabelswillmakemehappymicrolabelswillmakemehappymicrolabelswillmakemehappymicrolabelswillmakemehappy -> fuck it gender fluid (part 2) -> oh whats this? people in my head? that are different genders? making me feel like different genders? -> quinn is a hot mess and nigel is a man and x is nothing and thea uses she/they...

and years go by and felt like hours or however that poem goes but also the background music box shit off of lovely ladies playing

-> hello im your chest dysphoria and i would like to *punching noises* -> so. here me out. we dissociate from the dissociative disorder so bad that all the people get repressed and you feel like your friends died can we not? nah it's fine. (neutral gender??) -> 📞 hello we have been trying to reach you about your chest's extended warranty for some time now. would you like to return your tits? -> like nonbinary i guess just use they/them and don't be weird -> but girl. ew. he/they -> no one said he so ig just back to they/them

and years went by but felt like hours

oh god but trans guys are so relatable -> what if i just went on t for a little bit for the bottom growth and the voice and then came back from it -> what if top surgery but no too scary -> what if little boob reduction so binder work -> shit i taped the bitches down and i feel alive maybe i do want top surgery -> down the rabbit hole of ftm youtubers and fuck you im a guy -> yes -> no -> yes -> no -> tiddy look good tiddy feel bad -> well you see i only wear men's clothes and never do makeup and bind my chest and sleep with a packer and get kinda giddy when someone calls me he and i dressed up as my brother for halloween and i cut my hair off and i don't wear earrings anymore but im not like,,, a guy what are you talking about that's crazy anyway how do you grow a beard without taking T asking for a friend

[mygloviesme]

cool about it. || myg

no. 2: breaking a sweat about it

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: kanako is an established idol with a growing career and a secret relationship with a producer from her label, haneul. when she’s asked to work with yoongi and rm to create a track for her, she gains unexpected feelings for a certain upcoming rapper. with her increasing fame, her controlling boyfriend, a set of six boys who seem to have grown an attachment to her, and a new boy who’d give her the world, how will she figure out a way to balance it all?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 2.5k

genre: ANGST, friends(?) to lovers, slow burn,

chapter warnings: toxic relationship (not w/myg), mentions of alcohol, small mention of oc getting groped

inspo song: night shift by lucy dacus.

FEBRUARY 16TH, 2012, 3:00PM

I plop on the floor and pick up my water bottle, taking a rather large swig before wiping my mouth and laying my head back. My chest moves fast as I try to collect myself. The rehearsal room is quieter than I thought, the only sound being my quick breaths and muffled music that’s still going. It’s a week before my new album launches and I get back to performing, interviewing, and switching to my other persona. The one that isn’t anything other than happy, the one that’s so glad to be here. 

I bend my knee to rest my head on it, closing my eyes for a fast minute. Just to rest. To clear my head and feel like a normal person. Like I’m back home. 

The door swings open and I’m met with a group of boys, all ready with water bottles and workout clothes. I shoot my head up and gain my composure, trying to act like I wasn’t moping. It takes them a second to notice I’m here, but almost like instinct, my eyes find Yoongi. He doesn’t have much of an expression if any at all. Not like he saw me over a month ago being absolutely devoured by Hanuel. He immediately goes to talk to another member like everything’s normal. 

I stand up quickly and grab my things, “S-Sorry.” I mutter and bow, rushing out the door before they get the chance to whisper a hello. I take one more glimpse at Yoongi before I’m out the door, and he catches my eye too. 

The moment is quick but it gives a sort of reassurance, an odd one. The simple acknowledgement has me spiraling as I walk back to my dorm.

Would it be better to know that he knows and he cares, or would it be better to know that he knows but he doesn’t care? I want him to care, for some reason. Like he could talk to me about it, like he could tell me everything I needed to hear. 

What am I even saying? 

FEBRUARY 22ND, 2012, 9:34PM

It’s the day before my album launches but Haneul insisted we grab dinner. At 6pm. He also insisted he invite some of his own friends, whom I had never met. The friends don’t arrive until later, but when we started, it was actually fun. He smiled and shared words of encouragement and urged me to order whatever I wanted. Mid-way through he brought out a gift from his pocket, a small box that contained diamond earrings. 

I had never expressed I wanted earrings, nonetheless diamond earrings. I was grateful for the gift. Eternally grateful. But I couldn’t help that all it was...was flashy nonsense. Did he actually ever listen to me and my desires? I shook away those thoughts, afraid they would spoil my meal. But it’s those exact thoughts that keep me awake at night, that linger in my brain like an undiagnosed disease. I put them off and we continue dinner like normal, smiles and laughter exchanged like a normal couple. Because that’s what we are, right?

A few moments and courses pass until he gets a text. He smiles, “My friends are here.” he says. He gives me a pat on the back, leaving me with a weirded expression. He stands and waves his arm to a group of men and women, all much older than me. I get a feeling in my stomach, the first impressions one. Especially because I don’t know who these people are and they could very well spill to the tabloids about me and Haneul.

But again, he seems to mind much less than I do. 

“Oh Kanako, hello! I love your music!” One of the women says and I hear a chuckle from a man behind her, “It’s hardly music, no offense Kanako. You know how it is.” He holds a hand out as if trying to console me. The table erupts in laughter, including Haneul, who I give a slight look to. He looks down at me then back up to the table, passively. He moves his hand from mine and takes a sip from his glass. I wait as if we’ll interlock once again but he doesn’t. I wait, wait, and wait. But he never does. If anything, he brushes me off whenever I try to touch him. Like he’s embarrassed. I feel a dark flush in my cheeks, suddenly the walls caving in on me. It’s like I don’t know anyone here, not even Haneul. 

“Oi, isn’t your little girlfriend not even old enough to drink?” Another man says, causing a domino effect of howling amongst the group of people. “Hey, hey…she’s old enough for something else. That’s all that matters, right? ” Haneul says, making me back away from him in disgust. 

“I don’t think she liked that one, bro.” The same man says, covering his mouth to contain his laughter. I look at the different people sitting before me, as if trying to connect to any one of them. As if trying to say help me. But they all think it’s funny. They think I’m some source for their jokes. My breath decreases and I feel much smaller than I usually do. They talk amongst themselves and I look down to my hands, trying to escape the situation by simply daydreaming. 

Thinking of home, my mother, my bed. Sleeping and being unconscious, if I’m being frank. I try to drift off. But a hand…a hand is on my thigh. I turned my head slowly, wishing that somehow Haneul was the one on that side. That it wasn’t a complete stranger. But to my luck it’s a stranger, another one of his friends. The man looks at me with a sinful grin, “So Kanako,” He begins, but I shake my head and get up aggressively. The table shakes from my sudden movement and one or two glasses tip over. 

“What the fuck, Kanako?” Haneul yells. I grab my purse and my coat, sneaking past everyone to leave. He grabs my wrist, making me think of that night. My birthday dinner. His soju breath and sweaty palms. Him yelling at me, cursing at me. Making me feel bad at something he did. 

“You’re never going to change, are you?” I whisper, a slight crack in my voice from attempting to hold back my tears. His eyes dart around the table, as if his facade is cracking, his perfect mask, ripping at the seams. 

“Baby..come on..” He trails off, but I dash out of the restaurant. 

Everything about this night is too familiar, the biting air, the cars, the glowing buildings. I hold myself in an attempt to self-soothe, my breath hitching up to my throat. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. But all I can think of all those other times he’s mistreated me, each memory burning into different parts of me. Will these wounds ever heal? How long is it going to take for him to stop treating me like this? Is this really what I deserve? 

I’ve wasted so much of my time thinking of how I can better myself for someone who doesn’t even care about me. And then an awful thought creeps in my mind, like a monster behind a closet door. 

He’s the only one who can love the real you, the fucked up you. Isn’t that right?

I sit on a bus bench, shutting my eyes closed. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. I purse my lips tightly, wishing I could call my mother to protect me from monsters again. I wish I could walk to her house, only to sneak inside her comforters while she holds me. To have her check under my bed and kiss me goodnight. 

Goodnight? I check my phone, 10:52pm. Shit, I have to be up by 8am. 

“Kanako!” A familiar voice calls out. I turn my head and see Haneul, his button up loose and untucked, his hair ruffled and his cheeks red from the cold. 

I stand up and hold my hand out, “I cannot deal with you right now. I need to get home.” I say. 

He walks closer to me, taking my hand and interlacing it with his. I look down at our fingers, remembering just a second ago he was refusing my touch at dinner. I let go, gently this time. 

“Baby let me fix this. I’m sorry my friends were acting like dicks. They just didn’t know what to say or how to talk to you because you’re so-”

“Young? I know, Haneul. And you do too. You know what you are?” I spit out.

He chuckles and throws his head back in amusement, “What, Kanako?”

I clench my fists together, “You’re a fucking vampire. You’ve sucked the life out of me, you know that? I’m NOTHING now! I’m…I’m…” I pause. Holding my hand on my belly as my breath quickens. He fills the space between us again, his hand trailing to my face. 

“But you love me.” He whispers. My eyes follow his and I part my lips. 

“It’s killing me, Haneul. I can’t. Just…” I stop and turn away from him, stuffing my phone in my pocket and walking away from him. 

He calls out to me multiple times, but never follows me. Never stops me. I wipe my tears away and continue my path, wanting to leave him far away from me for as long as I can. The love I have for him is breaking down, the only thing bringing me back to him is the feeling I get when apologizes to me. We get tangled up in this mess over and over again and I convince myself I’ve learned something every time I leave. But our mess is so magnetic, I feel like I can’t feel the ground when he loves me properly. When he swears up and down that says those words just because he loves me, when at night he worships me like a god. When the curtains are closed and he cries in my arms because he knows I deserve better. 

When he’s asleep in my embrace and I can’t stop looking into his face, wondering if this is what his mother thought when he grew up to be a fucking monster. Devastated, heartbroken. But he was just a boy once, one who needed and seeked for love. But that’s not my job. To fix him, I mean. 

It never was. 

And how did he end up being the one who needed healing? Apologies? How was it that at night, I was the one that held him? I’ve kissed his forehead so many times and have consoled his cold, beating heart. I’ve ran my fingers through his hair and wiped the hot tears from his face.

I remember when he let me drive his new car even though I had just gotten the hang of driving just weeks before. He tossed me the keys so confidently and beamed at me like I was the love of his life. Wasn’t I? I felt so special when I placed my hands on the sleek, black wheel. He placed his hand on my thigh and gave it a loving squeeze as he watched me drive through the barren road. It was just us. 

He used to give me so much, but now all he does is take. He takes, takes and takes. I gave up all my blood for him and now I’ve been hung up to dry. How could he possibly want more? I wrap my arms around myself, tightening the grip. Wanting some sort of comfort. My eyes look to the cars and pedestrians still out. I wonder what it’s like to not deal with something like this, to be a normal person walking down the street after a night of clubbing and fun. But I remind myself to keep my head down, just so no one recognizes me. It’s one thing to be recognized by fans, but another to be caught by them with mascara down your face. 

I attempt to walk faster, time fleeting and the night growing darker. I need to get home or else I know I'll sleep in tomorrow, and I cannot, under any circumstances, be late to performing my first show of the year. As I walk, I accidentally manage to shoulder-check someone. 

My body jolts back from the force and I look up, afraid of who I’d see. I don't know what’s scarier, someone I know or a complete stranger. I rub my shoulder and meet eyes with-

“Yoongi?” I say, not realizing I said his actual name which he’s never told me. Hopefully he doesn’t remember. There’s someone else next to him, someone I saw in the rehearsal room as well, earlier this week. He looks much younger than me and Yoongi, which catches me by surprise. Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly and his mouth parts, “Ah-Kanako. What’re you..” He trails off, looking me up and down. 

Usually I’d be blushing but because of my current attire and the status of my makeup, I’m more self-conscious. I maneuver my hands that settle in my pockets to move closer together, attempting to cover myself up. Although I’m not sure why, it’s not like I'm naked. “I just got done with dinner.” I state simply. 

I’m also not sure why I’m so defensive at this moment. I look at the boy who stands next to him, “Oh, Jungkook. This is Kanako-well Kanako, this Jung- nevermind.” Yoongi fumbles, which makes me crack something of a smile. Jungkook grins, “I, um, really love your music.” He says nervously. His comment is genuine and kind, but it only takes me back to dinner. Nothing can scrub my brain of what happened tonight, unfortunately.  

“Thank you Jungkook. I appreciate that.” I express, my hand stringing from my pocket to my hair, trying to busy myself to seem less awkward. As I run my fingers through my hair I feel tiny droplets. Then medium droplets. Then, a pour. 

“Oh shit.” Yoongi mutters, looking at Jungkook. The boy throws his hands over his head as the rain doesn’t hesitate to cascade onto us. “Rain, I thought it was supposed to be snowing?” He shouts over the loud droplets. 

Yoongi looks around and sighs, “W-We have to go home, do you need a ride?” He asks, looking into me like he really doesn’t want to be asking me that.

I bite my lip and stare off for only a moment. Haneul would lose his mind if he saw me in a car with these two guys. But I'm cold, in the middle of Seoul, and I can't take any chances.

“Um, yeah. Probably.” I reply. 

JANUARY 22ND, 2012, 11:45PM

Yoongi parks his car and sighs, leaning back into his seat. He seems to sigh a lot. I grab my things and prepare to leave before hearing Jungkook, “Hyung, Kanako’s dorm is all the way around the building.” He speaks. I’m unsure of what he’s insinuating, but I stay still in my seat. 

I look over to Yoongi who is almost unwanting of eye contact with me and I suddenly realize what Jungkook means, having me and Yoongi speak at the same time. 

“It’s okay, the walk isn’t too far-”

“We can let her stay in the dorms-”

We both pause and finally look at eachother. “Well-” He says, running a hand through his hair. My lips part just slightly. Am I really going to stay with seven guys I barely know? What kind of person does this make me?

"You guys, I mean, we all can get in a lot of trouble over this." I attempt to shut down this wild notion.

“It’s alright, we just have to be quiet.” Jungkook gives a reassuring smile. 

click here for read more of this story!

[thatoneguywhodoesntusethis]

on my old posts I like to look back to all the way back to my blue narrator era and think:

"why has he evolved from twink to Twink but tall to blob to hunk and now some genderless thing with a body and wings"

anyways headcannons below if you wanna know more Abt my narry and curator and TK/432

SO anyways time to info dump!!!

My narrator is a fallen angel I like to imagine. With each death he has, he goes closer to his holiness. Though he does not want to really? Considering he already fell once and is fine with his life, he doesn't want to deal with his siblings rattling him about for being the middle child.

Also, quick note, touching water melts him! Or at least the part that is touched, but luckly he is self regenerating. Water kills him!

As for siblings, I headcannon curator and 432/TK are his siblings, with curayor being the oldest and TK/432 being the youngest

they all represent a stage in life kinda? Narrator is death as for the reason with his true name being Mori Momento. Fallen angel is angel of death kinda way.

Curator is life, she makes life, and gives life. Though as life sucks, so does she! Curator does not like narrator and is kinda shitty. like. I mean curator is really strict and serious about their positions, but she is lucky enough to still be an angel !

TK/432 is limbo, or the in-between. They are the in-between of life and death, deciding whether you reincarnate, go to the after life or whatever, really based on your religion there isn't just one place, they decide who goes where

so the system is like this: Curator brings life, narrator sends it to death, and TK/432 decides where it goes

however! of narrator chose to he could bring some people back, thought depends on how important one is ECT

important people stay DEAD

but! as for the parable? it was more or so his punishment to start with, as since being a being who is death and controls death is now a fallen angel, what do you do? so his older sibling curator decides to make the parable along with TK/432 and have narrator stay they're for eternity, but why let him get bored yk? so they choose an already dead human and tell him to bring him back (gets him into more trouble as it was Stanley and he was important and yk...) so now he is stuck in a parable with a guy who has fallen head over heels for narrator

also side facts: narrator is genderless but goes by he/they/it, he is gay (likes. men.), and his form always shifts about sometimes more feminine sometimes more masculine sometimes ambiguous depending on how he feels

Curator is also genderless and a lesbian (likes. women!!), going by she/they/it, and her form mostly stays more feminine looking as she dislikes trying to change her form

TK/432 is genderless as well, and goes by they/it but sometimes a sprinkle of he and a sprinkle of she if they feel bored, they are panromantic but asexual!! they always stay a very gender neutral state but sometimes like to jokingly become the body type of some wild west cowboy that works out 24/7

annnnd yeah hope that was scrumptious!!! if you ever have questions feel free to go into my ask box and ask me stuff, im fine with anything dw, like hell ask me to write a response my narrator would write to something you say I'll do it

[lianahayze]

Shadow and the Midnight Misery: Chapter 4

Welcome to chapter 4, my lovelies! If you missed chapter 3 or want to catch up from the beginning, you can find my masterlist here. Chapter 4 is below the cut!

Chapter Four: Garver Institute

The Garver Institute is sunny. When I’d walked in about two hours ago, it had been the first thing I’d noticed. Sure, I’d noticed the doctors and nurses. I’d noticed the excess amount of identification I’d had to provide. I’d noticed everything I’d had to surrender at intake. I’d noticed a lot of things, sure, but there was something about all the large windows that really stuck with me.

It’s like they’re trying to create artificial happiness.

As I walk through the hallway, all I want to go back to my room. That's right: my room.

Not only do I have to talk to fucking doctors, but I must be isolated while I do it. I hate it and contested it when they first looked through my bags looking for "drug paraphernalia" but it hadn't stopped them. They'd practically upturned my bag, digging through my belongings with a fine-tooth comb. Had I brought anything with me? No, I hadn't been stupid enough to waste the money I'd spent, but I also don't see myself here long term. A few days, that's what they'd told me. A few days if I cooperate.

I'm not by myself as I walk down the hall. Beside me is Dr. Norris. She's not forcing me to speak, which I'm grateful for, but she thought a walk would be nice before we formally meet in her office.

Truth be told, I'm glad I'll be working with her instead of Dr. Dorian. He was as bland as a box of chalk, and if I had to spend any extended amount of time alone in a room with him, that "cooperation" they'd so desperately wanted wasn't going to happen. Older men, especially men who are decades older, just make my skin crawl.

Finishing up our walk, Dr. Norris leads me to her office. The flowy green skirt she's wearing swishes around her knees, and I find myself staring at it for a moment. Maybe it's the fact that I didn't smoke or take a bump this morning, but my eyes have been easily distracted all day.

Dr. Norris shuts the door behind us. She invites me to sit down, and she goes behind the desk. The wheels of her chair spin against the floor as she sits down and starts her computer.

"So, Shadow," she says, "what do you think about Garver Institute so far?"

What do I think? Well, from what I can tell, Garver seems to be designed with a specific clientele in mind, and that clientele is me. I don't even want to know the bill for my stay, but, based off the immaculate upkeep, the large trees and bushes, and the fact that there are cameras everywhere, I'm willing to bet I'm not the only famous person here. Everything just looks so... luxurious.

It could almost be mistake for a spa or a resort for anyone who didn’t know better.

"It's nice for people who need it, I guess." Even though I don’t need to, I smooth out my jeans. I pick at the rips in the knees, widening them.

"So you don't think you need it?"

I look up. "Huh?"

"You said it's good for people who need it," she says. "Do you mean it's good for you or other people?"

"Well, it's..." I'm not sure if she's trying to get me to say something specific. I decide on my words carefully. "I think you all know what you're doing here." I smile. Yeah, that will work.

"And what are we doing here?"

That smile falls. "Uh, helping people?" I sound unsure of myself.

"it's okay, Shadow. You can relax." She begins typing on her computer. "There are no wrong answers here."

I listen to the keys for a moment. "But you're here to help people, right?"

"That's what we try to do, yes. But it requires effort from all parties involved."

"So what do you think I need help with?"

She stopped typing and looked at me. Leaning back, she says, "That’s a good question for me to ask you, actually. What do you think you need help with?"

"Honestly, your guess is as good as mine."

"You don't know why you're here?"

"I mean, my band is acting stupid."

"That's right; you're in a band. What's it called?"

" The Midnight Misery." I pause, wondering if she's still just trying to get to know me or if the session has officially started. "We're, uh, like an alternative band."

"It's not my type of music, but I think I've heard of you."

"It's a lot of grunge, mostly," I continue. "But Wyatt, our guitar player, can come up with these sick riffs. His music taste is mostly stuck in the 80s, so stuff like that." The knot in my stomach that I didn't even realize was there begins to loosen. "We have a good time. Well, we used to have a good time."

"Hmm. What about the rest of the band?"

"They're all good. I got lucky with them, I guess."

"Do they smoke and drink, too?"

"Yeah." I pause. “But not all the time. It's part of the lifestyle, but we know when to take it easy."

"What lifestyle?"

"You know."

"No, I don't,” she says, “maybe you could explain it?"

Her face is blank. I'm not sure if she's just pretending to be clueless or if she genuinely doesn't know, but I decide to indulge her.

"There's a lot of partying. It just comes with being in a band. We buckle down when the time comes, though. Can't party without putting in the work first."

"That's a good attitude to have. It'll help you be very successful." I'm glad she thinks so. "And the cocaine?"

I'm tempted to say, "What about it?" but bite my tongue. I'm not going to lie about it, though, so I say, "I've been using for a few years now. They knew about it. actually, they've known about it for a while." And they've never had a problem with it until now.

That's what makes no sense about this entire thing. If they have such an issue with me occasionally doing coke, why haven't they brought it up before? Why not just mention it instead of staging a full-on intervention?

"How often do you use cocaine?"

"Depends."

"On average. It's just a normal week when you're not doing anything out of the ordinary."

"But my life isn't ordinary." She gives me a look. "Most people aren't musicians. They have normal jobs."

"Ah." Dr. Norris nods. "Well, normal for you, then. How often do you think you're on cocaine during a normal week for you?"

I cross my legs as I think about it. Continuing to pick at the holes in my jeans, I'm not sure how to answer her. It's not like I’m high all the time, and my consumption isn’t excessive. Most of the time I do one or two lines in a go. Do I sometimes go back for more? Sure, but it's not like I’m demolishing a full plate in one sitting.

"Not that much."

"How much would you say you're spending a week on your habit?"

My eyes narrow. Theres something about calling it a "habit" that irks me. Some people like to have a cup of coffee first thing in the morning; I like a line of coke. Really, there isn't much difference.

Still, I ballpark a number. "1 to 2 k." She nods, repeating what I’ve said. "But I don’t use all of it myself. I go to a lot of parties and we, um, share." I’d much rather share my stuff than rely on favors from someone else. Unless I know the person, I can’t verify where they get their drugs from, and I'm not trying to inhale something that’s been cut with who knows what.

At least I’m safe in that regard.

"Have you ever done a detox before?" she asks. "Even an informal one on your own?"

Why would I detox something that isn't a problem? "I'm gone a few days without it, if that's what you mean."

"And the weed and alcohol?"

I wonder if I tell her the weed is medical if she'd buy it? "I really only drink a couple of times a week."

"How many servings would you say you have throughout the week?"

I shrug. Honestly, I can't even answer her. Sure, a "shot" is an official size, but it's hard to keep those uniform when your bartenders are your friends. "I'd say I go hard twice a week."

"Do you smoke every day?"

I nod. "Yeah, just about."

"Vaping?" I shake my head. "That's good. There are studies that show vaping THC might be worse on your lungs than rolling weed into a joint. So, what do you think we should do?" I ask her what she means. "Are you comfortable with quitting everything?"

I practically choke on the air as she says it. "The weed's not harming anyone," I insist. "It relaxes me. Good way to start my morning."

"So you only do it in the mornings?"

Well, not only, but... "Sometimes I can't sleep at night and it helps."

"Okay. This is good, Shadow. Honesty really does help."

Glad I'm saying at least some of the right things.

"Let me see." She stares at the computer screen. "I believe you're with us for seventy-two hours. Does that sound correct to you?"

I shrug. Maybe it's right. With Dr. Dorian by my side, I had "willfully" brought myself here. The guys had been here too, and they'd signed some papers. So, I guess I’d agreed to seventy-hour hours, but, without actually having read the paperwork, I didn’t know for sure.

"After that, we'll do a full evaluation to see if a 5250 is warranted."

"Yeah, I'm trying to--" Suddenly the numbers reach my brain. A 5250. Why does that sound so familiar? I try to wrack my brain but come up empty handed. "Remind me what that is again?"

"It's similar to the 5150." Her voice is calm and straight-forward. As if trying to gage my response, she looks me straight in the eyes.

It takes me a moment, but when I finally realize what’s going on, rage fill my body.

"Wait, I thought I was allowed to leave whenever. I came here voluntarily!"

"No, Shadow. You came here with Dr. Dorian."

"Yeah, but I walked myself in!"

"You were deemed a danger by the other individuals that accompanied you in."

A danger? A fucking danger?

I've heard of 5150. It's how they keep people who are a danger to society locked away for a couple of days while they're being evaluated. I'm not a danger to myself, let alone society. What the fuck is going on?

"Your alcoholism is stated as the reasoning on the paperwork. Do you not agree with that?"

But I'm not even an alcoholic! What the hell?

"I thought I was here because of the drugs, not the drinking."

"In my opinion so far, it could be cumulative, but--"

"I'm not trying to hurt anyone! I guess I’ve hurt the band, but not like that. Not physically, I mean. They're just mad that I'm sometimes late for practice. And there were a couple of shows that..." I shake my head. "Never mind. The point is I'm not a danger to anyone."

"No, Shadow, you're not understanding." Really? It seems pretty black and white it me. "You're not here because you're a danger to others. You're here because you're a danger to yourself."

Her words piece through me, causing my breath to leave my chest. A danger to myself? I'm not suicidal, if that's what she's trying to say. There have been times where I'd rather die than let certain things happen to me, but full-on suicidal? No way. Absolutely not.

"I'm not drinking and doing drugs because I'm trying to kill myself." Just saying "kill myself" out loud makes my mouth dry.

"No, that's not what I'm saying." It's not? I exhale sharply. "I think your friends are worried that you might accidentally harm yourself. That's all. You're lucky you have such caring friends."

I purse my lips. "That's all"? She makes it sound so simple, like I'd just missed a meal or something. "Don't forget to eat breakfast. Studies show it's an important part of your day." That's the tone she's said it in, like all of this is just a recommendation.

But if all of this is just a recommendation, then why am I here?

"I think there's been a mix-up. I don't know why they did this, but I don’t need to be here. Not like this."

My chest feels tight. I'm beginning to wish that I would have tried to sneak some drugs in. My body is shaking and I either need a drink or a joint--stat. My skin is crawling and I feel hot. My legs are shaking violently as I tap my heels against the floor.

"It's okay that you feel that way." Her voice is still so calm and nonchalant that it’s eerie. Why is she so calm, acting like this is no big deal? "I'm not telling you that you'll be here indefinitely, just for the next three days."

Isn't that the same thing?

"I can't just sign some paperwork, or something?"

She shakes her head. "No, that's not how that works. You didn't sign yourself in, so you can't sign yourself out."

Well, that's total BS. "What can I do, then?"

"You can work with me over the next couple of days. Once the three days are up, I'll do a re-evaluation to determine if you're safe to go home."

I was afraid she'd say something like that, but it wasn't what I meant. "So what will you be looking for?" I ask.

She takes a moment before answering. "There’s not an official checklist. We'll meet up a couple of times a day, we'll chat, I'll see how you adjust here by talking to the rest of the staff, and, if I think you're well enough, I'll create a plan for your discharge. If, for your own safety, you'll be here longer, we'll come up with an extended in-patient treatment program."

The thought of being here for more than the three days makes me nauseous. "So I just... answer your questions and be nice to everyone?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that, but to put it in the simplest terms, yes."

I put my face in my hands. I feel sick, like I'm about to throw up. If I ever get out here--no, when I do get out of here--I'm going to kill them. I'm absolutely going to kill them. They put me in here to save the band? Ha, by the time I get out, there's not going to be a band to save.

"Does all of this make sense, Shadow?"

"Huh?" I pull my hands down from my face and look across the desk at Dr. Norris. "Um, yeah. I guess." It's taking everything to my power to not grab the paperweight next to me and hurl it across the table. Throwing a fit isn’t something that I often do, but, right about now, I desperately want to.

I exhale. "Yeah, I get it."

She smiles. "Good. That means for the rest of the day, you're on your own. Did they give you the meal schedule? You know what time meals will be served?”

I nod. Though I doubt I’ll be eating, I remember them saying something about mealtimes during intake.

"Excellent. Feel free to walk around the grounds but remember that you'll have to check in every hour."

"What?"

"It's just so we can keep track of you, make sure you’re adjusting alright. Tomorrow it'll be every two hours." My breathing keeps increasing. This is going to be an absolute nightmare. "One other thing, you're not on any legally prescribed medications, are you?" I shake my head. "Good. We wouldn't accidentally want you detoxing from that." She stands. "Well, unless you have any questions..."

I have several, none of which I can actually get from my brain to my lips. I shake my head slightly, starting to get up. My legs wobble as I stand up, and I have to press my palms against the chair to prevent myself from falling. Dr. Norris notices, and says,

"Be careful. Are you okay to stand; do you need some water?"

The thing I need isn't water. Forcing myself to compose myself, I shake my head. "I'm alright. I just..." I shake my head again. I'm not even able to come up with a good excuse.

As I leave her office, Dr. Norris says something to me, but I'm not able to hear it. There's a buzzing noise in my ears, and my vision keeps switching to black. I keep myself upright just long enough to wave at her. The moment her door closes, I collapse against the wall, my body slowing dragging down against it.

My chest continues tightening, and no gasp of air that I take makes it better. I feel like I'm drowning, unable to calm myself down.

My fingertips start to tingle, and my heart bounces hard enough to just about crack my ribs. I'm alone in the hall, and I don't know what would be worse: being alone and with no one to comfort me, or someone turning the corner and seeing me.

Eventually, I'm able to get myself up. How long I'm on the floor I don't know, but, as I get my feet, all I want to do is take off my clothes. I'm hot and dizzy, and I have to blink several times for my vision to slide back to normal. I cough over and over again. I'm wheezing, but, after several attempts, I'm able to get it over control.

My feet drag as I make my way back to my room. Luckily, I don't run into anyone. My hands shake as I open the door, push myself inside, and slam the door behind me.

For a moment, all I do is stand there. It's quiet, but the screaming in my head is loud. I can't silence it, and, needing to get it out, I walk over to the bed. I stare down at it. The pillows look flat, and the covers are tucked in so tightly that I’ll probably struggle to put them back when it’s time for bed. Not that it even matters, though, because the bed looks ridiculously uncomfortable. I'd probably be better off sleeping on the floor.

Calmly, I walk into the bathroom. There's a toilet and shower and sink. Like everything else in this place, it's cleaned impossibly well. I reach for one of the small bottles on the sink. I turn it over in my hand. My eyes scan the words, but none of it reaches my brain. I look at myself in the mirror; a spilt second later, I'm throwing things at my reflection.

First it's the small bottle in my hand. Then the second one. Then the third one. I find a hair dryer and throw that, too. It doesn't break the mirror, but it makes a loud sound.

I storm back out into the bedroom. I open my bag onto the bed. There isn't much for me to sort through, and I quickly found what I was looking for. I grabbed my makeup bag and unzipped it. I hastily took out anything that I was at least somewhat heavy. Going back into the bathroom, I continue throwing things.

My mascara. My blush. My foundation. Anything that will ricochet off the floor and walls is fair game. I want to scream--I want to punch a hole in the wall--but, with this being the best I can do, I let the destruction consume me, not caring what breaks or who hears.

When it is all over, my foundation is splattered all over the floor, the glass bottle broken. I'd thrown the hairdryer so many times that parts of it have chipped. My heart is still thumping, and I'm still enraged, but I feel better. I feel... like something is actually in my control.

Taking a deep breath, I begin to clean everything up. Leaving it for housekeeping will only arise suspicion. Methodically, I pick up everything. One by one, I place the shards of glass into my hand and then into the trashcan. I don't know if they'll check my trash, but, right now, I'm so focused on just cleaning everything up that I don't really think about it.

After all, hiding things? Cleaning up messes? It's probably the only thing I'm good at.

-

Thoughts? Let me know what you think here. Hope you're having a wonderful day!

[multiples-fandomswontkillme]

~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!

[morefandomscenarios]

@lilmilkmaiden asked:

I love your writing and I've just been stocking your page reading your work could I perhaps request op dudes as dads? And how they would take care of there infants? To like let the mom/s.o. relax? Like after birth?

Oh sorry bout that I was hoping for kid and killer and how they'd take care of there new born while there s/o went to the spa or something for some much needed self care i kinda realized it was a little under specific 😅 sorry bout that you don't have to write it. If its to much.

A/N: This turned out pretty long oopsies

Kid

Oh my goodness are you sure you want to do this? Are you really, really sure??

He has absolutely no idea how to take care of a newborn baby. Will probably end up throwing the responsibility to his crew. I am so sorry.

It gets better as time goes on though.

Kid mostly has no idea how to babysit infants because they can only cry, so he panics because he has no idea about what the baby wants. Are they just hungry or are they literally dying???

So as they grow up and start to babble or be able to form some kind of words, given that he's also getting used to the whole parenting thing, he'll become more comfortable, and you'll feel more at ease to leave him with the baby.

It's kind of cute to see him 'converse' with the toddler in the early stages. He's struggling so bad to understand them, but he wants to, so badly, after he sees you being able to have a conversation with them.

It also helps that he's able to make toys and interesting contraptions. Your child is spoiled for choices. They'll have boxes upon boxes of things made for them to play with because Kid keeps making one as soon as they get bored of it.

Don't worry, they're not dangerous. You've beaten enough sense into him to make toys that are safe for your baby. We don't talk about the first toy he made... Let's just say your baby has slight scarring on their arm now.

He's all for tough love, so he won't be the helicopter parent who follows their kid everywhere and picks them up when they're about to fall or do something dangerous. Kid will still keep an eye out for them, but he won't freak out from the slightest fall or bump. If the child cries, he'll pick them up and distract them with toys, grinning proudly when they stop crying. "Now that didn't hurt that bad, did it, pipsqueak?"

The older your child gets, the more chaotic the duo will be if you left them without supervision.

Some kind of destruction will always be waiting for you when you return, be it the playroom looking like a tornado has gone and gone wild inside the room, or the deck missing a chunk of railings / floorboards, or Heat sulking over the burned ends of his hair...

Killer

You know how they say mothers have a special sort of connection with their babies?

That's Killer and your baby.

You have no idea why or how Killer ended up being the one who has this telepathic sixth sense power to detect your baby's moods and wants, but he has it alright. It's all the times he dealt with Kid, he's trained for this

He knows whether they're hungry, or need a change of diaper, or just want to be held based on their cry. So you'll have zero issues if you want to take some time off for yourself.

And Killer is really understanding about it too - he doesn't even hesitate when you say you're tired and you want to have a self-care day on the next island you dock, he'll nod and tell you to go ahead because he's got this.

He prefers to play and interact with his baby behind closed doors, but it can get stuffy in the cabins, so he'll carry your baby up so they can get some fresh air every now and then.

Times like these the crew who are around will be all over your child, helping Killer with babysitting voluntarily. Your baby is the crew's baby! They're all proud uncles and aunts! They wanna shower the baby with love!

Imagine this buff, beefy hunk of a man carrying a small little human, surrounded by other massive men and women trying to make the small human laugh. It's adorable.

As the child gets older, nothing really changes except that now Killer is the one who's at the beck and call of your little spawn when it comes to the activities they do.

He's still a firm parent when he has to be (again, he's trained to take no bullshit from babysitting Kid), and though he's a silent protector he'll let his child run around freely.

They want to braid his hair? He'll sit in the middle of the deck and let them do it.

They want to zoom around the deck to burn off some excess energy? He'll be there to make sure they don't slip and fall into the ocean.

They want to climb up uncle Kid with his cool mechanical arm? If Kid is in a good mood, why not? It's fun to see the redhead get all flustered as he tries to not hurt them accidentally while the child climbs him like a monkey climbing a tree.

[oh-my-damn]

Oh boy I logged in at the right time LOL. This is in response to the new ick ask, so if anyone wants to scroll who disagrees haha. I agreed with number 5 on that list as well. They made good connections on the other ones but 5 ties directly to my issues with older men dating so young.

Men who say things like they want a woman who knows how to apologize or doesn’t push back? I’m in my mid twenties and while I have been in relationships, just because of how the passage of time works, I don’t have as much insight into them as a woman in her 30s or 40s would. I go to my older cousins and mentors for advice all the time. To see older men with women my age is gross because no matter what there’s a power dynamic and with that comes the risk of being able to manipulate someone easier. I said what I said 🤷‍♀️

So yeah, I’m over Chris. There’s a reason I was never a Leonardo DiCaprio stan or something. Shit like this is a character/morals thing for me.

Once again, my opinions under the cut. If you read it and get offended or upset, that's on you. Don't hurt your own feelings lol

I absolutely agree.

It's something you won't understand if you've never been in a situation like that. All men can be manipulative, but there's something just a little more special about an older man dating a younger woman.

She can be smart, deep, mature (for her age! that's the key point bc thats what everyone always say).

Fact of the matter is that people change as they get older. They learn organically. They gain experience. It doesn't matter how mature you seem for your age, you will always lack experience compared to someone in their 40's.

Women in their (especially early) twenties are also usually in a situation where they're trying to define themselves in relationships. They won't know the pitfalls or red flags to look out for bc they haven't experienced them. Even if we think we have a handle on it, there will always be more to learn. And I think it's worrying that someone above 40 can "identify" with someone who's in their 20's. Cool dude, but you shouldn't be. It's a red flag that you do. A MAJOR one.

Now, Chris definitely fits into that box. He's never had a successful long term relationship. All of his exes have moved on pretty beautifully (most even got married/had kids RIGHT AFTER they got out of the relationship. Clearly they wanted it, just not with him.) I think it says a lot that he can't make it work with people within his age group and has now gone searching for younger girls. I always thought the rumors about him hooking up with 20 year old interns in DC was just that - a rumor. But now I'm not so sure anymore.

I'm done trying to defend him on anything. I feel bad for Alba if it really is a situation where he's controlling or manipulative. I'm not saying he is - I'm saying it fits the pattern (also the videos from the pap walk are also kinda alluding to that, ngl)

If they're happy that's great. But a lot about this situation seems fishy. It's not a coincidence they've been ramping it up ever since the WN trailer came out and its DEFINITELY not a coincidence they were "papped" the same day season 2 came out. It's also not a coincidence that the person who "randomly papped them" is the same guy as the one who took the pictures of him and Lily James in 2020 (who, btw, usually works exclusively in London and LA. lol) There was also someone on tumblr who revealed days in advance that a pap walk had been booked for Chris in NY. So they're definitely using it for PR - the question is just how deep it goes.

Either way, it's a shame it had to overshadow the entire SMA thing. That's honestly too bad. We'll see what happens. But I can't lie about my feelings. Idk when my muse will come back, all I know is that seeing his face rn makes me make this face

[the-witty-pen-name]

Tell Me Your Mine, Darling

Western AU 

18+ ONLY

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

Warnings: prostitution, mentions of smut, alcohol, cursing, violence, mentions cheating 

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Hey! As always, this is unedited! Please let me know if I missed anything to include as a warning. I’m on the fence if I should make this a longer story, I like the idea of this being a stand alone, but let me know what you think! I’d love to hear any feedback cause this is my first attempt at a Western AU :)

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The player piano echoed throughout the whole saloon, bouncing off the walls as patrons moved about the crowded room. The peppy music was perfect for dancing as a few of the men threw back shots of liquid courage and asked some of the women working tonight for a dance. It was a night where the people who came in through the batwing doors could forget about their troubles and the existence of sins, and partake in merry drink and debauchery. The night air hung heavy and the room smelled of sweat, cheap liquor and even cheaper perfume. 

The women were scantily clad in dresses only slightly less revealing than their undergarments, and the men still in their clothes from long days of travel. Cowboy hats, rugged trousers, and boots that lost their shine years ago. Girls carried around large trays of shots and lagers, passing them around to the drunk souls who struck rich for a night and opened tabs at the bar. 

It was a busy night both downstairs in the saloon, but also many of the girls were leading men upstairs to their beds, for a warm place to lay their head and anything else they can afford. That was the secret that kept this dilapidated building up and running. The music and the watered down liquor wasn’t enough to keep the sheriff from closing and condemning the building. 

If the owner was honest, he knew what kept the sheriff from coming and toting him away to rot in one of the two cells down at the jail. Not only was the sheriff partial to a drink or a few each night after the sun goes down, but he was particularly taken with one of the girls who worked there. Sure, the sheriff must’ve had his turn with every girl in the joint, but there was something about you which made the sheriff absolutely smitten. Of course, no one dared admit to seeing his obviously growing affections but the owner knew as long as you were here, and his glass was refilled, he had nothing to worry about. No one quite knows what happened. He went from coming in every Saturday night asking for whichever girl is free and then it went to asking only for you, every week without fail. 

People theorize that maybe it’s your honeyed smile or the sweetness in your voice. The ability to deceive every man into thinking they’re the only one to ever touch you. The ability to put on the act of the farmer’s daughter while having the dirtiest mouth on this side of the Mississippi. No matter what drew him in, the sheriff had declared you his girl and anyone with half a brain knew better than to try to say different. 

Nothing was any different about tonight, you watched from one of the stools at the bar while the other girls worked the room. Sitting with your legs crossed, your dress skirted up high enough to show the tops of your garters, you sip on your drink stealing glances at the doors waiting for him to arrive. You can’t help but let out an impatient sigh, balancing your high heel on your toe as you watch the clock that’s mounted on the wall behind the bar. 

“Slow night?” the bartender asked as she topped off your drink. You smiled, but it fell a little flat, not meeting your eyes. 

“Every man here is scared to come near me,” you chuckle dryly. Not that you were necessarily complaining- but you worried more and more as the savings you kept under your bed dwindled. The sheriff was a regular who paid incredibly well, but he was feared. And no one else would touch what he called his. You wanted to save up to get out of this town, salvage whatever was left of this life and do something. You didn’t want to live cooped up in that room and in this town for the rest of your days. You were luckier than most, that you understood and never tried to forget that, but still you found yourself daydreaming. 

You thought about the men you’ve slept beside and the wild stories they told you. You didn’t want to live a hard life, the tedious and unfulfilling work they told you about. But, oh, you were so envious of how they traveled. Seeing the naked lands of the country and going to different towns. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to do, but you wanted to have the option. So in a little cigar box under your bed. You scrimped and saved what you could from each week. But, being the sheriff’s favorite girl, meant no one else dared touch you, meaning you have been having to open that little box of savings more and more. 

“That ain’t the worst thing in the world,” you heard a voice next to you. Soft, and velvety- you’d recognize the voice anywhere as Dottie, one of the older women who had been working there much longer than you. Middle-aged, but completely sensual in her mannerisms and her voice. She had the ability to captivate an entire room with her prominent curves and everything you know, you learned from her. 

“I know, I know,” you try to explain, but she feels your frustration. She understands it, and she knows it better than you do. She’d been there herself. The restlessness, the feeling of being incomplete, the utter fear of your life being wasted away under men whom you’re never going to fall in love with. She knows.

But she also knows the harsh realities of this world and how it treats lost souls like you, and she doesn’t want to see how it can hurt you like it hurt her. She understood how demeaning this line of work is, and how from here there is no way to move up in the world. It’s a limbo, where you're stuck in this saloon, listening to the complaints of men who despite their hardships will always have it better than you. However, the alternatives for women like you are far less desirable outcomes for your lives. 

“Appreciate the gift you’re being given, sweetness,” she chuckles, watching as the bartender makes her usual. “As long as that sheriff keeps coming around, you’re working less for the same room and board the rest of us pay.” 

You know she’s right. You know there’s so many things wrong about this town you can’t change. You can’t afford to worry about things like that, while so many of the people in this little one room saloon are just trying to survive tomorrow. It’s never going to be an ideal, and the world is much too cruel for miracles to happen for a woman like you who sold their soul. 

Jesus befriended Mary Magdalene, so it never made much sense to you when folks in this town claimed you were damned to spend your own eternity in hell. You weren’t sure if the people in this town actually read the Bible. Granted, you didn’t know much about religion yourself. But long ago you learned religion was a luxury only the wealthy people in this town could afford to follow, and they were the ones who could afford to participate in the sins you peddled. But, that was just one woman’s observation. 

Dottie disappeared back into the crowd as quickly as she arrived, and soon you were back to watching the doors again, waiting for the sheriff to relieve you of your ever growing boredom. The place was in full swing as a posse of men you don’t recognize entered, talking about how they were on their way to the coast, to mine for gold and become millionaires. You can’t help but roll your eyes, and you keep to yourself as they whoop and holler, making demands of the barkeep to send out a round for the whole place on their dime. Their rowdiness makes you flinch, and for the first time tonight, you find yourself anxiously waiting for the appearance of the sheriff so you don’t have to entertain the likes of them. Maybe God does like you, because before one of the men staring at you has an opportunity to saunter over, the saloon doors open suddenly and you can be saved. 

You know you shouldn’t find it thrilling, but there is something about being his favorite that fuels your ego on nights like this. The most commanding man in the town, calling you his- making you have this untouchable status for the night. It was the closest you think you can ever be to royalty. In that bar, on the nights he regulars, you’re a Queen. It’s a rush that's definitely spoiled you and yes, in the moment, you absolutely revel in the power you feel as he changes the atmosphere in the room- with his hardened blue eyes locked right on you. 

“Evening, sheriff,” you coo and shoot him a smile, genuinely happy to see him. 

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Lee, darling?” He smirks, placing his hands on your knee so you uncross your legs and he can stand between them. The feeling of his hands on the exposed skin of your upper thighs sent a tingle right up your spine. His thumbs slowly rubbed circles on your skin, making you shiver. 

You rest your hands on his chest, rubbing gently, your hands shamelessly feeling the strength of his chest under his shirt. You straighten out the gold sheriff’s badge on his chest, and you can feel him tremble slightly at your touch, which strokes your ego more than it already was. 

“I forget,” you tease, straightening out his tie. He smirks, looking down at you as his hands trail up higher, resting on your hips under the skirt of your dress. “I need you to keep coming back and remind me,” you flirt shamelessly. 

“Your usual, sheriff?” the bartender asks over the loud music, people settling back into their own business after the excitement of the sheriff arriving has died down. Lee replies with a quick thank you but doesn’t take his eyes off of you. 

“Did you miss me, darling?” he quips, rubbing your sides, his thumbs trailing across the waistband of your undergarments. 

“I always do,” you wink, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to the side of his jaw. “It’s so slow when you aren’t here,” you practically whine, pouting your lips slightly. 

“I’m sorry about that, sugar,” he mumbles, leaning in and trailing kisses down your neck. 

“It’s your fault you know,” you tease, your nails scratching his scalp affectionately. 

“Is it now?” he chuckles, as he nips at your skin. 

“No one else comes near me,” you admit, and you feel him smile against your skin. 

“Good,” he murmurs against your collarbone. 

“Ice is melting,” you chuckle, referring to the drink he’s ignoring on the counter. He just chuckles, pulling away only long enough to finish the drink in one long sip, and you watch as his Adam’s apple moves, and how the condensation of the glass drips onto his knuckles. 

After he places the empty glass on the counter, you pull his arm to lead him upstairs with you. He takes your hand and let’s you lead the way, he knows like the back of his hand, and at this point better than his own house.

“Impatient, darling?” he teases, “Not going to ask me for a dance?”

“You never say yes,” you giggle, “Figured you want to have some privacy.”

“I might’ve said yes,” he retorts and you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Would you have?” you counter and he shakes his head no with a devilish grin. 

“One of these days, doll.” 

“I’ll be an old maid,” you joke, continuing up the stairs and down the hallway towards your room. 

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he says. You don’t know exactly what he means, but you don’t push him for an explanation. As soon as the door clicks closed behind you both, Lee’s lips attach to yours like if he waits a second longer he’d evaporate. 

“Been dreaming about this,” he mumbles against your neck, leaving a trail of love bites that send a shiver up your spine. “Think about you every night I can’t visit you.”

You noticed how much more intimate your interactions with the Sheriff were gradually becoming. You weren’t sure how much of it he meant. The way he fawned over you and treated you like something more. Plenty of times, men behaved this way, never admitting except behind closed doors that that craved a much deeper sense of intimacy. You had always assumed the Sheriff was no different.

He’d take care of you, and you saw over time the way he handled you changed. It used to be rough and impersonal, oftentimes as well relying on you to do all the work so to speak. But, overtime, his visits became more of a mutual endeavor, and soon he was kissing you like how he is now, or begging to let him settle his head between your parted thighs, saying he felt good making you feel good. 

“I’m addicted to the feeling of your skin, darling,” he whispers as he lets his fingers linger as he pulls the straps of the dress down your arms. When the dress pools at your feet, he stares in awe like it’s the first time seeing you, and then soon enough his lips are on yours again and his hands are free to wander where they please. 

“Most stunning thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers as you work on taking off his shirt, teasingly slow at undoing the buttons. 

“You say that everytime,” you point out and he chuckles, running his hands up and down your sides. 

“Cause I mean it everytime,” he smirks, walking you back until the back of your knees hit the back of your bed and you lay down with him on top of you. 

One time a month or so back, you were sitting on top of the bar counter with him settled between your legs. You were using a rag to wipe blood off of his face after a messy fight that happened. Well, a fight that he started. 

“I didn’t like him looking at you like that,” he grumbled, still fuming and he winces slightly as you press the damp cloth to the cut by his brow. “Shouldn’t be touching you like that,” he slurs, and you can smell the whiskey on his breath. 

“Just means I’m doing my job right,” you chuckle, amused at his possessiveness. “It don’t mean nothing,” you say.

“It don’t mean nothing when it’s me either,” he pouts, with his eyes closed like he could fall asleep standing up. You are convinced he’s just drunk and doesn’t know what he’s saying. He leans on you slightly to keep himself upright, and you move to wipe the blood that is smeared by the corner of his lips. 

He’s so handsome, you can’t help but observe. From a distance, sure he’s gruff and rough around the edges but he’s got the most handsome face you think you’ve ever seen pass through. You’ll never admit to yourself that you were taking your time patching him up so you could just look at him like this for a little longer. It’s always nice sometimes to pretend a situation is something that it’s not. 

“Tell me your mine, darling,” he almost whispers when his eyes flutter open again to look at you. His gaze on you felt heavy and you weren’t sure what to make of it. 

“I’m all yours, Sheriff,” you can’t help but chuckle, thinking he’s just fooling. Just trying to tease you. He frowns and looks so  sad, those damn blue eyes more expressive when he’s drunk. 

“Tell me your mine,” he asks again, like a whispered plea as his eyes roam over your face. 

“I’m yours.”

By the morning, he’s always gone. He always leaves more than necessary, insisting to you the night before not to tell the owner. He doesn’t want him taking a bigger percentage. He whispers not to worry, and to let him take care of you. He knows how much he affects your wages and he wants to do the right thing. 

Lee doesn’t like to pay you. It’s a horrible reminder to him that you don’t actually care one way or another if he shows up or not. It’s the terrible wake up call come morning that you aren’t actually his, as much as he asks you to say it. 

You’d just have to say the word and he’d do just about anything to make you love him back for real. But he knows that this can’t ever go further. You deserve to go off and see the places he hears you tell the other girls about. You don’t think he knows about you wanting to leave but of course he does. 

The pictures of far away cities are hung on your mirror held up between the frame and the glass. There’s a picture of New York that sometimes he’ll stay up staring at, knowing your heart ain’t tied down yet to one place like his is tied here. He can’t leave and he knows he can’t in good conscience ask you to stay. He knows you would, but not for the reasons he wants. 

Good god, you’re still young and have a spark in you that he damn well knows he doesn’t want to be the one to put out. He wants nothing more than for you to look at him and see you could be happy and be in love. But what life is that compared to the life you’re dreaming of. You have hopes, dreams, and Lee knows he isn’t at the center of any of them. 

So for now, he settles for the time you share with him when he comes by like tonight. Where he hopes he can silently tell you with his touches how much he feels for you. Where he can carefully tread the waters of sweet sentiments in hopes you’ll return them without him asking. It’s not real, none of it is. 

He can hold you close and touch every part of your body like it’s only his to see and feel. He can hear every noise you make and watch every reaction to his touches and it fuels him for now. It’s enough for now to leave bruises on your skin and pretend it’s enough to keep others from knowing you’re his. It’s not, because the marks won’t matter. 

He can feel himself inside you, and feel how your body reacts to him. The way to him, nothing will ever come close to the feeling of you around him. He’s addicted and he can’t go back. He’s been ruined by you, and no one else will ever come close to adding up to you. 

But it’s not real. He’ll go home in the morning, and lie to his wife one more time, swearing that it’s the last time he goes back. He’ll tell her he worked late and slept in the Sheriff’s office. He’ll make the promise that he’ll be home on the weekend. But it’s not real. Because, he knows that he’s going to find himself going back to you. And he prays to God you won’t be there.

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