#you are going out of your way to save a life - you clearly need therapy

[the-anastasia]

The villains of the show:

The real villains of the show:

I get that Mae put a strain on their family and ultimately put them in danger but maybe don’t blame the girl trying to get away from people who mutilated her and are trying to kill her? And maybe don’t blame Suzanne for being the only person trying to help her? Like imagine being mad at someone for trying to save the life of a minor. They could have stepped up and took on more responsibilities around the house and had some compassion. But I guess it’s excusable when the girl who suffered unimaginable trauma makes you a little uncomfortable. Oh is her behaviour strange? Is the girl who grew up in a cult and knows nothing else socially awkward and weird? I wonder why that could be.

Honourable mention to Isaac for getting mad at Jules for getting another friend and for wanting to go to a party (which she invited him to). And he was mad at and disliked an abused girl for….I guess existing? I hate how the show portrayed Jules as the bad friend here when she literally did nothing wrong in their relationship?

[solar-wing]

🦇 Surviving Damian: BatBro's Life 🎞️

I don't know why, but the way Damian turns to look at Dick in this clip has me rolling

🦇 🎞️ A/N → A continuation of my Batbro Headcanons with everyone's favorite little assassin, Damian. This is also inspired by this post from @batsiblingfun. This mixes in a lot of different elements from different DC shows and movies, but still all tie together. Conner x Reader along with Damian x Raven included. WARNINGS: None really. family fluff, minor threats of violence. You and Damian conspiring together. Bruce needs his lawyers. Mentions of trauma and therapy. Joker being Joker.

🦇🎞️ Summary → It's one thing to find out Bruce Wayne is your biological father. It's another thing to find out you also have a half-brother from the same father who also didn't meet him until around the same time you did. Now, some would consider getting a new older brother to be a good thing. Of course, when they point out what they see as an ideal image of that, Damian Wayne is more or less far from it. Truthfully, you'd need an entire documentary to explain that trauma. But, in his defense, he did warn Bruce not to make him a middle child. Oh well...

🦇🎞️ Word Count → 5.3k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

🦇 ENJOY 🎞️

— Some may imagine having Bruce Wayne as your father entails a glamorous and extravagant life.

— "Oh wow! Your dad is Bruce Wayne? That's so cool!" "I bet you've been to so many great places." "Have you met any celebrities before?" "Your life must be so interesting!"

— To answer that, depends on the day. The watchtower is cool, but not as interesting as what you saw on that one trip to Puerto Rico. Would Superman even be considered a celebrity? And, define interesting.

— Because if you mean 'interesting' like waking up every day wondering if it's going to be some random supervillain that unalives you, or your own brother, then yes, your life is fascinating.

— What most people don't consider when they find out your father is Bruce Wayne is not only did you all of a sudden get a new parent, but you also got new siblings. As your eldest brother Dick once said, "I went from being an only child to living in utter chaos every day." The only difference is that Dick actually somewhat thrives in chaos. Which is weird considering you'd think it'd be someone more like Jason who lived by that statement.

— You, on the other hand, would rather go without the constant weird shit that goes on with your father and siblings all being a bunch of vigilantes who save your city and the world from crazy clowns and guys who clearly like to live every day like it's Halloween.

— But, the thing is, 90% of the shit you have to deal with doesn't even come from those creeps and villains. It's literally from your own house, specifically one person.

— At one point in your life, you wished to have a sibling. Someone you could share that irreplaceable bond with. Fighting over small stuff like the remote, or who got first dibs on Alfred's cookies. Only to kiss and make up later when one of you got bored or hungry. Insulting and torturing each other only to join forces if someone outside of you two decided to mess with the other. Coming up with crazy schemes that would inevitably shorten your father's life expectancy.

— You know, normal stuff.

— You'd think Dick would get the title of 'most stable' among your siblings, but surprisingly, that was awarded to Jason, which, I know right?! Mind you, 'stable' was being used on very loose terms here. But, Richard was almost more like a second dad than a brother, which you figured came with the role of being the oldest sibling. Since he had the most experience dealing with an emotionally absent Bruce, he'd pick up where he fell off. Of course, Bruce got better over time and learned how to not distance himself whenever his feelings got even a little poked, but Richard was always your go-to whenever you needed support.

— You'd almost considered Jason for the title of most unstable, but then you met Tim, and realized Jason was actually better than you thought, considering what he's been through. Your second oldest brother wasn't really open towards you, but as you two started to spend time together, you grew on him and vice versa. At one point, the Red Hood persona vowed to not only do everything he could to keep you safe but as innocent and pure as you could be. He would not let Bruce and his questionable parenting ruin another child. His earlier methods were probably not the most effective. CPS was still calling at least once a week.

— There weren't enough words to describe Tim. When you first came to the mansion, he seemed completely normal and sane for the most part. Then, after you discovered your father's side hustle, you realized how opposite the reality was. You remembered something your mom said about the only things she was scared of. "I only fear two things in this life; God and the IRS." Well, you'd definitely be adding a certain Red Robin to that list. There were just things Tim would say or do that he thought was completely normal, and you'd be discreetly dialing a mental hospital, fearing for your safety. Why did you know the number for one off the top of your head? Let's just say you had your reasons. But, you'd rather have Tim as an ally than an enemy, so you refrained. That didn't stop you from keeping them on speed dial though.

— Yes, you definitely had some interesting siblings, but none of them compared to your other brother. The one you regrettably shared blood with. Hopefully, he didn't hear you say that.

— It was one thing to have Bruce Wayne as a father. It was an entirely different thing to have Damian Wayne for a brother.

— The first day you two met, Damian had already been at the manor for a few months when Talia had left him with Bruce while she went to handle business. What business that entailed, your father kept you in the shadows, and quite frankly, you were grateful. After your mom left you on the manor's doorsteps with a note that just read, "Trust me, he's yours," your life was never the same.

— You remembered being excited that day. You finally got to meet your dad, and you got a brother out of it too! Multiple brothers and sisters actually! Whoever was out there listening to you had answered your deepest wishes.

— Now, you wished they just minded their damn business.

— Unlike Damian, you were not aware of your father's secret identity. So, when you met, you were a little more than put off by Damian's first greeting towards you.

— "Father, I thought we discussed your habit of  picking up street rats and turning them into your next apprentice."

— Truthfully, that was actually more than a pleasant start to your relationship with the trained assassin. When you eventually heard the story of how Dick and Damian "met" for the first time, you suddenly felt grateful at the fact there were no sharp objects nearby...that you knew of.

— If you happened to start locking your bedroom door at night and setting booby traps to alert you if anyone came in while you were sleeping, that was no one else's business but yours.

— The thing was, you tried to connect with Damian, but he would keep brushing you off. Bruce really wasn't that much help as he didn't have the best track record with his first three kids.

— The issue was you and Damian came from two completely different backgrounds, despite your shared parenthood.

— Damian was raised among an organization of highly-trained assassins and was molded from the second he was born to take over from his grandfather who was the equivalent of an undead lich, only he was actually alive. You had a normal childhood for the most part. You went to school, made friends, tried different hobbies, etc.

— You saw Damian as uptight and weird, and he saw you as naive and weak.

— Of course, as everything does in this family, shit only got more intense.

— After Bruce ran a DNA test and confirmed you were indeed his son, they got you set up in the manor and your new life. Your last name was officially changed to Wayne with you wanting to keep your mother's surname hyphenated in there.

— You wanted to decorate your bedroom, so you asked your dad to take you shopping, fully intending to take advantage of your newfound wealth (your mother taught you well). Bruce figured it'd be a great way for you and him to get to know each other as he was trying to be more of the supportive dad that Dick and Jason lectured him about. And if CPS decided to give him another one of their 'visits,' he'd rather not provide them with any more reasons to be taking down notes. He was still trying to find a way to punish Jason for that stunt.

— And at Alfred's suggestion, he brought Damian along, thinking it'd be great family time for the Wayne men, and it'd give his firstborn a chance at being an actual kid since Damian never decorated his room when he first got there.

— You went all out. At some point, Bruce wondered if everything he was buying was starting to become too much, but you threw him the puppy dog look you mastered at three years old, and he folded like a lawn chair. Your mother had grown resistant to that trick so, it was great to finally be using it again. Posters, knick-knacks, a new desk, a whole gaming set-up, LED lights, a gaming chair, you name it, you got it. You'd even tried to get Damian to get a few things for himself, wanting to get to know more about your brother.

— "I don't need materialistic objects to satisfy myself like you and other low-lives do. Besides, you're only doing this to 'make up' for the more than likely poor life you lived before with whoever your harlot mother is."

— Alright, that did it. You tackled Damian in the middle of the mall, throwing all your weight on top of him. Of course, you were unaware of his combat training so he threw you off pretty easily, pushing you to the ground and twisting your arm behind your back to where he almost broke it. Bruce had to yank him off you and grab you as well to prevent you from charging him again while everyone else around was taking pictures and videos.

— Bruce's PR team was not happy with the stories and articles on the gossip websites the next morning. But, they managed to twist it around into a positive light, painting the Billionaire Playboy as the role model male, doing his best to raise his two boys as best he could being a single father.

— "Oh, he's such a family man. #EvenMoreAttactive". – @Supermom92

— "He's a good man, Vanessa. A good man." - @mooreswhore

— "This is what we need more of. Strong men taking charge in their son's lives." – @topalpha

— "#GladTheyAin'tMyKids." – @aynonymous

— Of course, this did nothing to help the relationship between you and the youngest Boy Wonder, but Alfred's reassurance eased Bruce's headache.

— "Truthfully, Master Wayne, it would seem to me they are already falling quite well into their new roles as brothers. It will get better over time."

— When exactly was better? Because things only seemed to get more tense between you two. The fights didn't end there. As you spent more time in the manor, you'd gotten to know your other adoptive siblings. And particularly, spending time with your second oldest brother, you'd learned some defensive moves in fighting that only led to your fights with Damian getting worse now that you could hold your own a little more.

— Only there were some moves that you knew that Damian didn't, which really caused a shit storm.

— It may have taken Dick and Jason's combined strength to hold Damian back from trying to literally slice your throat open after you introduced him to the art of the cheese neck. Jason thought it was hilarious and low-key well deserved since your half-brother decided to cut open one of the stuffed bears you had since you were four. Alfred was able to put him back together, but that didn't help the need for revenge you had in the pit of your stomach.

— Since he couldn't murder you, he decided to go with the next best thing he had in mind; mental torture!

— He knew you loved Scooby-Doo, but had a slight fear of some of the monsters and scenes from the show. Look, shit from back in the 70s could be creepy with how they decided to do specific stuff. And sadly on your part, Damian had amazing resources thanks to dear old Papa Bruce.

— So, one day when you thought Bruce was on a business trip (he was on a League mission, and Dick, Jason, and Tim were nowhere to be found along with Alfred), you had the manor to yourself. Or, at least, you thought you did. 

— Let's just say Damian decided to place you in your own Scooby-Doo episode, only a tad bit more rated R. Last time you checked, the vampire from that one episode didn't actually have blood and guts dripping from his teeth while chasing Shaggy and Scooby.

— Yeah, Bruce low-key had to invest in a therapist for that one. And CPS definitely took a note down when they saw part of the costume had fallen out of a trash bag and your "concerning" reaction to it. Damian had no shame.

— "Next time, he'll think twice about whose neck he's slapping."

— "Master Bruce, I really do think they're starting to grow on each other, if I do say so myself." This time, Alfred's words were not reassuring for the billionaire.

— Eventually, you and Damian came to a mutual understanding. You stay out of his way, and he would stay out of your way. And it worked! At least until you found out the big secret, and no not the one where Tim...actually, never mind.

— It was an accident, really it was. At least that's how Jason and Tim tried to spin it when he had to explain to Bruce how you thought Red Hood and Red Robin broke into the manor. In truth, they thought you were at a friend's house studying, and the tracker that was stitched to your backpack showed that.

— Hold up... tracker?

— You'd grill them and your dad for that later.

— Now, you were constantly in the Batcave and working Damian's last nerve. You kept asking to help on missions or patrol, and shockingly, this was the one time when Bruce put his foot down and said no to having an adolescent child fighting crime with him.

— Who would've figured?

— The most he'd let you do was help Alfred with comms and computer stuff. Of course, that'd only lead to you and Damian getting into one of your brotherly spats over the comms.

— "At least I have competent training to be in the field. You can barely defend yourself against a cat." Damian sneered into his mic while roundhouse-kicking a thug.

— "First of all you stuck-up brat, Alfred the Cat and I have a lovely relationship and we were play fighting. Secondly, the only thing you're competent at is proving what happens when you forget to use protection!" You quipped right back.

— Dick and Tim tried holding back their laughs while Jason just shouted "DAMN!" Bruce had to pretend not to notice Damian's glare through the domino mask and Alfred pretended to scold you while giving you a fist bump. The Boy Wonder was grinding his teeth.

— Then, a miracle happened. Well, really it was a traumatic experience that Bruce would have to pay for more sessions with your therapist but still was a miracle in the end.

— In another one of his crazy schemes, Joker decided to target Bruce Wayne again, but this time, the newly discovered heirs to Wayne Enterprises, at least, that's what the media was referring to you as.

— He hired some goons to abduct you and Damian from your school and hid you both in one of his many secret hideouts around Gotham. And Joker, never one for subtlety, of course, decided to send out a televised message to Brucie Poosie, a name disturbingly similar to Joker's nickname for Batman. He'd addressed that later.

— Your father and siblings immediately jumped into action of course and started searching the entire city, checking all of Joker's known hideouts and connections. Only, Joker had apparently taken some inspiration and notes from Riddler because while he was busy taunting and trying to shake down Bruce Wayne for everything he could, he was leading Batman and his little birdies (his nickname for all the Robins) on a wild goose chase.

— The more and more time went by, the more and more they got worried for you. Of course, they were worried for Damian as well, but he was used to these kinds of situations. This was your first (and frankly, probably not last) kidnapping.

— At first, you weren't scared (much). No offense, but, Joker always kind of seemed like a joke to you. The fact his whole persona was based on a mad clown really didn't help. You had also never really watched the news or heard people talking about some of the horrible things he had done. You always just heard the part when Batman swooped in and kicked his ass.

— Well, if you made it out of this, you'd definitely have nightmares and a new fear of clowns to add to your list. May have to start considering two-hour sessions with your therapist.

— But, to your surprise, Damian had helped to keep you calm and protected you from seeing more of Joker's 'fun side'. Whenever the clown or one of his thugs got a little too close to your holding cell for your brother's liking, he always placed himself in front of you, just in case they decided to fuck around and find out so he could be ready.

— When the green-haired villain went on one of his disturbing tangents or talked about his plans for you two in case your father didn't follow through with his demands, Damian would cover your ears. Of course, it didn't do much, but the sentiment was appreciated. Your older brother, despite his 'quirks', actually did have a caring side to him. It just took being kidnapped by a psychotic clown and your lives being in terrible danger for it to show. Go figure.

— Of course, your father and siblings eventually tracked you and Damian down and came to your rescue. From what you had seen from your father and brothers in their fighting style, they always were more smart and sneaky with their attacks and ambushes. Jason was more of the impulsive and brash one who liked to rush in, but he grew more into the Bat's style over time. Especially seeing how the last time he rushed into something concerning the Joker, well, there's no need to go down that road.

— But, nope. This time, Bruce was not forgiving with his 'justice' towards Joker. Honestly, you and your siblings were a little worried that Bruce would break his number one rule on no killing for the first time, but he still held back. In the middle of all the chaos, you'd even managed to surprise Damian when some goons tried to surprise you and him after he broke you guys out of the cell. And who said video games couldn't teach you a thing or two about fighting?

— Damian was impressed, and more than curious to see what kind of games you were playing that taught you the fastest way to incapacitate a 200-pound man with a few jabs and well-placed strikes. That or you were insanely lucky to have a man who could barely defend himself against a child. Either way, a win was a win for you.

— Obviously, things changed a bit when you two returned home. 

— For one, your family became a lot more clingy and overprotective than before. And that was saying something considering they had a tracker stitched into your backpack without your knowledge before. There was a rotation between the brothers of who would drop off and pick you up from school. This was already a rule before, but now, it was just even more intense with you not being able to leave the manor or go anywhere without someone from the family accompanying you. Bruce started training you in self-defense and combat, with regulations and supervision from your brothers so he didn't make the same mistakes he made with them with you.

— You appreciated it all, and it definitely did help you feel a bit safer (in the beginning), but, really one of the most shocking changes not just to yourself, but everyone else was Damian's change in attitude toward you. Of course, he wasn't outright hugging you or anything crazy like that, but he was more cordial and almost friendlier you could say.

— It was also very apparent Damian had developed a similar protective stance toward you. You being the only non-vigilante in the family meant you kept an aura of innocence and light-heartedness the rest of your family had lost a long time ago. They were more than determined to make sure you kept that light and never lost it like they did so many years ago.

— Thankfully, your time with Joker wasn't anything too traumatic. Joker was actually on one of his schemes for once and didn't do anything too drastic. But, that didn't stop your brother from glaring down any suspicious figure who got too close to you for his liking. If you asked to hang out at a friend's house, Damian took over Bruce's role of asking for details on your friend, they're parents, where you'd be going, and all that extra stuff. If you were aware of the fact that Damian was running full background checks on your friends and their families whenever you went to hang out with them, you pretended not to notice.

– Bruce also had a teary moment of being a proud father seeing how Damian was showing already to be just like him. Which, if we're being honest, was actually a terrifying thought.

— But, it wasn't just Damian who started making an effort to build a more friendly bond between you two. You'd contributed as well. Showing Damian the ways he could learn to let loose and actually be a kid instead of a trained assassin all the time.

— You'd invited him more than once to hang out with you and your friends that you made from school. Hesitant at first at the idea of hanging out with others that weren't you and his family, you managed to convince him when Dick, Jason, and Tim got into one of their own brotherly spats, and Jason decided to start chasing the two around the house with a rag wet with a 'mysterious' substance.

— "Your local comrades quarters it is then." Damian muttered before quickly ushering you out the door with Alfred towing behind since you needed someone to drive you. Damian offered since he kept claiming he knew how, but Bruce still wasn't going for it.

— With your help, Damian actually learned to make friends with kids his own age. He developed hobbies and interests that had nothing to do with anything sharp or pointy (that didn't mean you weren't gonna booby trap your room still just in case).

— He even joined an art club at school and you both decided to enroll in a martial arts club together as well. It'd actually become quite the inside joke between you two. There was one guy in there, Carter, who swore he was the best fighter in the entire school and he could take any one of these 'runts' down, including you and Damian.

— Now, you were still learning and getting comfortable fighting from your lessons with your dad and brothers. When Carter decided to pick on you and Damian as the Wayne brats and challenged you both to a sparring match, boy he did not know what he was getting himself into. Especially when you and your brother looked at each other with the most mischievous evil smirks anyone had ever seen.

— When Bruce got a call from the school later that some parents were looking to try and sue him for the 'extensive harm' his kids did to their kid, he could only raise an eyebrow when you and Damian appeared in his office, smiling like you both were innocent angels.

— "See, Master Bruce. I told you if you'd given it some time, they'd grow on each other." Alfred said to him later that evening.

— Only Bruce was now more concerned than ever. When you and Damian basically hated each other, he only had to worry about the terror and havoc you two would unleash inside the manor. Now, that you were basically best buddies, he'd have to worry about inside and outside the house.

— "I'm gonna be meeting with my lawyers more frequently, aren't I Alfred?" Bruce asked.

— Alfred gave a small chuckle as he patted the man's shoulders. "Oh, Master Bruce, most certainly."

— The butler wasn't wrong.

— You and Damian became like a force that everyone was scared to cross. Even your own brothers were slightly afraid of the kind of shit you two could get into. You'd come up with the crazy schemes and ideas, mapping out any and all details while handling any technological stuff which you had gotten really good at considering the time you spent with Alfred in the Batcave monitoring missions. And, Damian would do the more physical acts required as well as sneaking and sleuthing around if need be.

— Bruce had a meeting with his attorneys at least once a week because of you two.

— You'd even developed your own sense of overprotectiveness over your older brother. Some guy in the art club Damian had joined at school decided to try and pick with him and messed up one of his paintings. Surprisingly, Damian was calm about it and didn't even yell or react at him. Just scoffed at the guy and called him pathetic.

— You did not have a similar reaction.

— When word got around the school and managed to reach your ears, you were for lack of a better word, feeling quite revengeful. The next day at school, that guy became the laughingstock of your entire class when a private photo mysteriously made its way into every student's locker in your grade.

— When Damian found out, he immediately confronted you about it, and you could only smile innocently while feigning ignorance.

— "Why, brother?! How could you even think to accuse me of such a vile act of one's breach of privacy."

— "Y/N..." Damian said.

— "Fine, it was me. But, you have to admit, it is quite a lovely picture. And besides, nobody messes with my brother except me." You smiled.

— Damian only gave a small smile, grabbing you to give you a noogie on the head before walking for the exit of the school to head home. He tried not to let such a small statement get him overly emotional since he'd never really had anyone before you and your family be so caring and defensive over him. Not even his mother. 

— The older you two got, the more close you became. At one point, Dick even started to joke that if one of you had gotten involved in some stupid and even dangerous plot, it wouldn't be long before the other got involved as well.

— "You'd even given yourself the nickname of the Blood Brothers since you and Damian liked to remind your other siblings more than once who Bruce's actual kin was, especially Dick whenever he went on one of his tirades about being the first Robin blah blah blah...

— Tim did happen to point out your chosen name's disturbing similarity to one widely known supervillain to which you scoffed in response.

— "Oh please, Brother Blood wishes he had half the brains and looks me and Dami have. Isn't that right, bro?" You said turning to Damian holding out a fist bump.

— "I refuse to get involved in this."

— And given your bond with each other, it was of course all too expected that you would each get involved in each other's love lives. When Damian was sent away to Titans Tower to learn how to be part of a team, you were very pissed at Bruce since he was breaking up you and his team.

— Honestly, Bruce hadn't even considered that, but he was happy and looking forward to the much-needed break from his weekly meetings with his lawyers concerning his sons and their growing stack of attempted lawsuits.

— It was a shock to not only you but to Damian from how you knew when he returned from the tower on a visit, and you asked "Who is she," with your arms crossed and tapping your foot against the ground.

— From your daily calls and messages, you'd picked up quite fast that Damian was crushing on someone, you just didn't know who. You figured it may have been that Tara girl you heard had joined the team, who should consider herself lucky she succumbed to her own fate and not the one you'd planned for her after finding out what she did to your brother and his comrades.

— Superman and Wonder Woman were still campaigning to put you on the League's high-priority watch list after hearing and witnessing some of the things you got up to with and without your brother. So they and everyone else in the League who had the fortune (or misfortune) of meeting you had no qualms that whatever you planned for the blonde earth-powered girl, was nothing short of maniacal.

— When you found out it was Raven after your dad brought you along to Damian's surprise party at the Tower with the rest of the team, you managed to get a chance alone with the half-human, half-demon girl, exchanging some friendly banter and humor. You'd also jokingly (but also not jokingly) warned her that if she hurt your brother in any way shape or form, you'd give her a fate worse than anything her father could ever imagine.

— Weirdly enough, she smiled and gave you a pat on the shoulder.

— "I promise, you don't have to worry about anything from me. And, I can see now why he cares a lot about you. You both protect each other."

— To which you replied with a simple, "He's my brother." Nothing else needed to be said between the two of you. You both were aware of Damian's past, you more than Raven of course, so you knew Damian sometimes needed some extra care and love. You could clearly see that was something she had every intention of making sure he got.

— You approved.

— Now, if only you could get Damian to approve of you and Conner.

— Let's just say, neither your father nor your brothers were anywhere near please when they found out about you and the half-Kryptonian's relationship.

— Dick just couldn't fathom that both of his baby brothers were dating someone from the two teams he helped co-found.

— Jason didn't like that you were dating someone he couldn't really intimidate or threaten the way he wanted since the dude was a literal teen Superman.

— Tim was oddly okay with it at first. But, when you started abandoning him and your regular scheduled gaming sessions for your dates and hangouts with Conner, he was more than ever determined to take down the half-Kryptonian.

— Damian didn't like the idea of you with someone so much stronger than you and could hurt you very easily. To which you pointed out he was dating a half-demon whose father has more than once tried to take over the universe and she almost helped him in succeeding.

— "Not the point, little brother."

— You did have to warn your boyfriend though, because, unlike your other brothers with the exception of possibly Tim, Damian had his own hidden secret cache of Kryptonite for emergency if it was ever needed.

— How you knew?

— Well, after you and Conner announced your relationship, you noticed your father and brother consistently making trips to the vault where all the Kryptonite was stored. And, you once caught your dad making a smaller version of the 'special' jewelry he used to fight Superman that one time, which you figured had to be for Damian.

— "Oh come on! I don't see anyone walking around with crosses and holy water whenever Damian goes out with Raven. But, y'all are ready to pull out all the stops whenever Conner and I even look like we're about to hug!" You yelled at your family.

— Damian stepped forward, placing what was supposed to be a comforting hand on your shoulder.

— "I do apologize brother. But, you should really be blaming Father for this, since I did technically warn him what would happen if he made me a middle child.

— "He did." You heard your father's day from behind.

— Someone really needed to make a documentary about your life.

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[starlightshadowsworld]

The Wary Weretiger

"You know, I think therapy might be more effective than this." Said Atsushi. He didn't need to turn around to know Akutugawa was rolling his eyes.

"Shut up."

Atsushi raised his hand, catching the orange. "Huh, you even peeled it this time. Must be serious."

He wasn't exactly sure how they got here. Akutagawa had been hunting him down for his bounty.... And than one day just stopped. Somewhere along the lines this had become their routine.

Akutugawa ranted at him, Atsushi sat and ate whatever fruit he'd pick up on the way. Sometimes he'd voice his own opinion and Akutugawa would begrudgingly listen.

It was werid.

But not unwelcome.

It definitely beat having his leg cut off, that's for sure.

"Go on, out with it. I'm busy today." Akutugawa scoffed "and what could you be possibly busy with." Atsushi shrugged "well I still need to get a job."

It didn't matter how much he saved from what he stole from the Orphanage, it wouldn't last him much longer.

"I thought the Agency offered you a position." Said Akutugawa, carefully. As kind as Atsushi was he fought like a caged beast. He could and would ditch Akutugawa if the other offended him.

And Akutugawa didn't want to admit he liked his company.

Atsushi took a bite out of an orange slice "only because of my ability. They're nice people, but I'll find a job myself. Besides that would you my enemy and I am not dealing with that."

His leg would grow back but it was painful. And being on Akutugawa's not bad side was a nice place to be.

Not that Atsushi would admit it.

Akutagawa nodded, he could respect wanting to keep your pride even when you were at rock bottom. But even soo... "Is it so bad for them to want you for your ability?"

Atsushi paused.

"My whole life people have only wanted my ability. They've tried to rip it out of me because they felt entitled to it.... Do you really think I'd want to join an organisation that values it so highly?"

There was an edge to his tone, but also sadness. Akutugawa's eyes went wide in shock.

He unconsciously tugged his coat closer. He wouldn't know what to do if Rashomon was stolen from him.

Akutugawa felt vulnerable just taking a bath, he couldn't imagine how Atsushi felt feeling his ability get ripped out of his skin. It was fortunate that it clearly failed.

It certainly explained Atsushi's distrust of both light and dark.

"I suppose not." Said Akutugawa, going quiet in thought. He went back to his initial question.

"I was once in a situation like yours. I lived in the slums, it was there Dazai found me and I joined the Port Mafia. That became my purpose, and I'm lost without it. But you... You don't have that, and yet you seem satisfied."

Atsushi hummed, thoughtful. "I'm gonna say something, but right or wrong you're not allowed to stab me again."

Akutagawa scoffed.

"I stabbed you one time, stop acting like it was such a big deal.... But very well, I won't stab you."

Atsushi turned to face Akutugawa, putting his orange slices back into a tupperware box. "That isn't your purpose."

Akutagawa is taken aback. He wants to argue but something in him stops him. The way Atsushi spoke to him now was different to how he usually does.

He sounded like Dazai.

Dazai in the quiet moments, the rare moments when Akutugawa hadn't failed him. The all seeing look in his eye as he read Akutugawa like an open book.

"You had a purpose, one you cherished like a second soul. But you lost it. You tried to convince yourself whatever you consider your purpose now is it, but it isn't. And it never will be."

And yet when Atsushi spoke it was kind. It wasn't intended to tear Akutugawa down, quite the opposite. And Akutugawa found himself unable to look away.

"... How do you know this?"

Atsushi smiled, it was small and sad and it didn't fit him like his usual grin did. "You wouldn't be trying so hard to find your purpose if you truly believed you found it."

He looked away, giving Akutugawa some privacy in his own thoughts. "Ask yourself, who were you before the Port Mafia? Who were you back when you were like me? There's you're answer."

Akutagawa frowned, deep in thought. He'd been... He'd been weaker and pitiful. A small child who killed whoever went in his way, but killing hadn't changed in his life.

He was the Port Mafia's Rabid dog, he was still a killer so that wasn't it.

What had he been killing for? In the Port Mafia it was because those were his orders. Because the weak needed to be destroyed to make way for the strong.

Back in the slums it had been for survival. Akutugawa would've died many times over if he'd let those idiots survive. And Gin wouldn't have survived of he hadn't protected her from them.

Akutagawa froze.

... That's what it was. He had been a protector, his reason for killing down in the slums was to protect Gin and his friends.

His friends who were killed on the night Dazai found him... The night Akutugawa lost his purpose and tried to gain another.

But failed.

"I can't get it back." Whispered Akutugawa, suprised that he choked up at the thought. He hadn't thought of them in years.

"You can" Said Atsushi, looking at him again. "The circumstances may have changed, but the core premise is the same. You just have to open yourself up to that."

Open himself up? So Akutugawa had to find something else to protect? That... Didn't seem so hard, given the Port Mafia protected the city from the shadows. And Gin was still with him.

Had it really been infront of him, all this time?

"That's the difference between us" said Atsushi, quietly but Akutugawa caught it. "You had a purpose only to lose it. While I have never had one."

Atsushi chuckled and it was sad again and Akutugawa hated it. He preferred when Atsushi was genuinely happy. When his smile reached his eyes, his eyes that were kind and shined with light.

Now they looked so empty, so sad.

"You think I'm satisfied but I'm not. I have no dreams, no aspirations, my worth is tied entirely to my ability. I live to spite all those that want me dead, to stop them from taking the tiger if I pass on. I have no purpose, not really."

Akutugawa didn't know what to say, all he could do was nod in goodbye when Atsushi left.

He reached down, picking up the half of orange Atsushi saved for him. That he always saved for him, no matter how hard times got.

"You're wrong" he said to the wind as he walked away. "You're so much more than you're ability."

[celenawrites]

Note - This scenario contains dark content and NSFW parts.

Minors DNI.

Warning - Dark Content, Dubious Content, Stalker!Ghost and Stalker!Soap, Therapist!Reader, Nanny cams, Stalking, NSFW content,Voyeurism, Polyamory, characters may appear to be OOC (and I am sorry about that but I couldn't really resist this idea) etc.

Thinking about Simon Riley being discharged from the military after getting injured in action, and Soap taking leave in order to take care of him.

Johnny buys groceries, cooks for him, and drives him to his physical therapy sessions. Soap helps him stretch and care for his fractures, and he pretends that it's normal for his Lt. to wrap his arms around his waist as they sleep in the same bed. (Ghost's apartment is sparse at best, and Soap is lucky that he even has a bed to sleep on. If it were up to Simon, he'd probably sleep while on his legs - even when they're fractured.)

Soap who wakes up in the middle of the night to his Lieutenant reliving his mistakes on the field over and over again, the nightmare making him shake and sweat in his bed. Soap, who has to carefully wake him up and make him a hot cup of tea, knowing that after such a rough night, Riley won't be sleeping anytime soon.

Simon, who has a hard time expressing his gratitude to his Sergeant, but he can show it in more 'unconventional' ways. Simon, who needs to feel Johnny close to him in bed, in order to have a good night's sleep. Simon, who cannot help but imagine what a life with Soap would be like, if he were to retire from the military altogether. Simon, who feels his mouth dry a little, whenever he glances at even a sliver of Soap's exposed skin from his too-loose tank tops. (Summer has been brutal this time around, for some reason and Soap has been killing him with his tempting body, to be frank.)

Simon who's instructed by Price to go to therapy/get a psych eval before he re-joins the task force. Simon, who along with Soap, is forced to look through newspapers and online articles and reviews until he stumbles upon a therapist who specializes in veterans and is covered by his insurance, thank fuck.

Soap drives Simon to the therapist and even stays in the reception hall while Simon goes through a session, but by God is he distracted by how pretty his therapist is. You're just the most beautiful woman he had probably laid his eyes on in years, and he's pretty sure the filthy thoughts he has for you are totally inappropriate and only reserved for you and Soap. Simon has his dark eyes flutter shut and move around the room, trying his best not to ogle you but failing anyway as he notices your cleavage in your tight white blouse. He's aloof, and curt - if only to save you from the depravity that has consumed his brain.

He wonders how you'd react if he were to bend you over that office table of yours and fuck your brains out. You always look so stressed, you seem like you need it - need someone to take care of you the way you seem to be trying to 'take care' of him.

You're frustrated. You know that someone like Simon clearly has gone through hell, and you want to help him, but you're out of your depth regarding how to assist him. You almost refer him to a more experienced therapist, that is until Simon decides to show you a glimpse or two into his life - telling you about his mother and about Tommy, rarely would he be amenable to talking about his late father though. And you wouldn't force him to talk about things he doesn't wish to touch upon either.

He would sometimes talk about Johnny - 'a dear friend' of his who is helping him out during his recovery. He would sometimes get this almost fond look in his eyes, and you'd wonder how long it takes for Simon to realize that Johnny is more than a friend to him.

Simon talks briefly about his time in the military, almost all names and, places, and information are hidden for your safety. The first time he musters up the courage to talk about his father, he couldn't stop tapping his foot against the marble floor, his hands trembling as he recalls memories of his terrible childhood. Seeing the behemoth of a man

Simon, who finds himself falling deeper in love with Soap, and yet feels shame surrounding him at the prospect of his obsession with his sweet little therapist and her caring attitude. Simon, who wants to be happy just this once, and have the family that he so desperately craves and deserves after the shitty life he had to suffer through, decides to finally plan how to bring you and Johnny closer to him - creating a safe haven for all three of you.

You don't know that he has your phone tapped and that he has been able to track out your address (thanks to military connections). You barely pay attention to the stuffed toy on your vanity table, unaware of the nanny cam inside of it that allows Simon to spy on your every move. He's a gentleman, still. So he doesn't necessarily spy on you when you change into your clothes, or get out of the shower - wet and dripping, your soft body wrapped up in a towel. He definitely tries his best to ignore the hard boner he pops even at the slightest show of your skin.

Soap gets increasingly worried at the prospect of Simon regularly going to the therapist, and then disappearing into his study room for hours on end - barely speaking a word to him ever since he started taking therapy seriously.

On one such day, when Simon leaves for therapy on his own, he insists that Soap stays home and rests - he's been working so hard and clearly deserves to have a day to himself. In his hurry to meet you, the lieutenant leaves his study room unlocked and unguarded - and Johnny lets his curiosity get the best of him. 

Johnny spots the still-open laptop, and surfs through it all - his mind feeling a concoction of disgust, envy, and even awe as he notices how thorough Simon had been when it came to not only vetting you but also keeping eyes on you constantly through secretive means. The device has probably hundreds of hours of footage of you and to be honest, the more he snoops around, the more he can see why Ghost would go out of his way to do it. 

"She's perfect, ain't she?" Simon grumbles from behind him, and Johnny feels his heart fall to his stomach. He realizes that leaving the room unlocked was not a mistake, but rather an intentional move on his partner's behalf. 

The masked man claps his shoulder with his firm hand, egging him on to watch you relax in your office - leaning back into your leather armchair, your chest heaving as you close your eyes and relax before your next patient arrives. 

"Made for both of us", Simon goads him, and Johnny cannot find it in himself to disagree. 

Note -

I legitimately started typing this out while in class, got sick and stayed at home and finished it while I was supposed to be resting. Some of these ideas are too tempting to be left as just ideas, so I would probably try to give this one a chance. (I say this with every little blurb I pump out on my blog lol. Someone should stop me.)

[thenixkat]

Decided to look up the comics that Scarab (lady assassin) firs showed up

also Tim Drake had parents, that were around for a while b4 they got killed off. Apparently, he was hiding the superhero thing from them

Bruce beating Tim's ass in training

and high expectations

apparently, Bruce is upset with Tim for killing someone huh

wow. nice parenting. Maybe Tim needs some therapy for having killed someone instead of his ass beaten and held to very strict expectations

ah yes fire the child sidekick when they're going through it

so batman is a bad parent

i doubt bruce is a good boss at wayne tech if he's like this when an employee disappoints him by going through shit

and Tim's gonna get it when he gets home from lying to his parents

damn Drake parents

just the downsides of not telling yer parents shit

of course the guy that tim thinks he killed is still alive and plotting

what the fuck is up with the ladies in the Batfam being down with hurting their partners?

if Tim wants to retire? let him? just cause you'd rather be on the field doesnt mean he's not going through it believing he killed a man

Tim has to stay a hero, even though his heart isnt in it rn which could lead to him getting hurt or killed or failing to save the day, b/c he saved the day and helped people and most people dont have the temperament or skill to be superheroes

Mr. Drake found Tim's stache

Mr. Drake pulled up at Bruce's house

apparently, they used to be neighbors, the Drakes fell on some hard times i guess

Alfred dont try to gaslight this man when youve been helping endanger his child

Mr. Drake is not having that shit. Good on him for being pissed off at the adults who's been endangering his child

wow, Mr. Drake decided to pull up on Bruce with a gun for endangering his child. Good on him. Gods below, imagine if that's how Batman died? The parent of one of his child sidekicks decides to take him to task on the child endangerment.

haha! Pull the trigger Mr. Drake! End Batman's miserable fucking life!

damnit Mr. Drake you waited too long to pull the trigger

man imagine if Bruce ever had like lasting consequences for the child endangerment that just fucking takes him out/he has to actively deal with it instead of brooding and moving on. Like clearly the dead child as of this comic wasnt enough

also yeah, makes sense that Batman would have a bad rep with common people. His costume is intent to scare and he frequently maims and cripples people

expose his ass mr. Drake!

Bruce really goes out his way to put in insults talking to this kid

someone is grounded

Tim you are literally a child and Bruce is the adult, it doesnt matter if you volunteered Batman had no right to take you up on the offer. Given the minor without parental permission

Bruce that is not a fucking excuse for child endangerment. You could literally go out and get an adult to be yer sidekick or replacement…only adults arent as moldable and controllable as kids huh?

also Bruce, its not a good look to yell at the child who's not yours that you've been endangering infront of his parent

Bruce can't even hold back his shitty parenting to look less awful infront of Mr. Drake

the war

the war against… crime is that fucking serious

Mr. Drake you should still expose Batman b/c fuck him. And also demand Batman offer some fucking compensation for all this

yeah that makes sense. Mr. Drake should still demand payment for all the fucking child labor

[cricket-reader]

Broken Promises

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox | Taglist

Summary: the asset had promised you that he would save you, that he’d come back for you if he ever managed to escape. He didn’t come back for you. Something that both of you needed to work through if you ever wanted to heal.

Warnings: language, Bucky’s negative thoughts and self-hatred, miscommunication, captivity, Hydra, fluff

Word Count: 1672

Prompt: "Say something." | Rescue | Broken Promise | Weak

A/N: Day 13 of June of Doom by @juneofdoom

I’ll come back for you.

I’ll never leave you here alone.

I promise.

You should have known better than to listen to promises from a person that couldn’t even remember his own name. Any reprieve from this treacherous life was welcomed, though. So you dared to hope. You stupidly dared to dream that there was a life outside of those bleak, dreary walls.

You heard about the Asset’s escape. A new hope lit a flame in your chest. He was going to come back for you. He was going to save you from the treacherous claws of Hydra.

As the months went by, however, your flame began to flicker out. He wasn’t coming. He forgot about you. He didn’t care enough to save you, maybe. Whatever the reason, you were stuck there. No one was coming to save you.

You couldn’t really find it in yourself to blame him. In your mind, you weren’t worth saving. He probably didn’t want to come back anyway. You sure as hell wouldn’t want to come back if you got out. You’d like to at least think that you would have come back for the Asset were you in his place, though.

But this isn’t what would you do. This is what would he do. Because you were still trapped and the Asset was free. In what would he do, saving you wasn’t a part of his plan. Clearly.

Briefly, you wondered if he could remember his name now that he was out of the metaphorical frying pan. You hoped he was. You hoped he was recovering. Because he deserved it.

You were not expecting to be saved. So when a dark skinned man burst into your room and led you to safety, you were overwhelmed. Someone had actually saved you. They risked their life for you.

But it wasn’t who you wanted it to be.

It was stupid. You didn’t have time to be picky. Whoever saved you, saved you and that should be enough. However, you couldn’t help but feel gutted. You thought you gave up on the hope that the Winter Soldier would come back for you a long time ago. The empty feeling inside of you said otherwise.

When they began therapy, you realised how weak you were. You couldn’t eat large portions without expelling it afterwards. You could barely walk without assistance, too busy trembling from malnutrition to be useful. You hated every step of recovery. Maybe you hated it so much because you thought that it would be you and the Soldier going through the aftermath together. In the cells when you daydreamed of a life beyond the walls you were kept in, you had thought he’d be there to support you every step of the way. But you were alone.

Sam wanted to beat Bucky up. It wasn’t an odd feeling, but this urge was stronger than usual. He understood when Bucky told him that he couldn’t go back to the place he was held in captivity. He understood that.

He couldn’t bring himself to understand why the hell he was being so chicken-shit about going and seeing you.

It was clear that he wanted to. Pacing in the hallway outside of your room, standing in the doorway for hours upon end, sitting right outside your door and never leaving. Bucky was just too scared to actually make it past the door to your room. Sam had unsuccessfully tried to “accidentally” push him in the room when he would stand in front of it multiple times.

It was really starting to get on his nerves.

One day, Bucky was napping in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs outside your room as he often did. Sam, absolutely fed up with his friend being a love-sick fool, too chicken shit to do anything, decided to push him into the room. It didn’t work.

Needless to say, even with his incredible strength, Sam was no match for a super soldier.

One of the nurses noticed what Sam was trying to do and decided to help. They got him into a wheelchair and wheeled him into the room. Sam dragged the exhausted super soldier out of the wheelchair and into one of the seats near your bed.

Sam thanked the nurse as they wheeled the wheelchair away. The nurse just shrugged, saying that they were tired of it too.

Sam followed the nurse out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

When you woke up, you weren’t expecting to see anyone in your room. Much less the very man that had broken his promise and left you to pick up the shattered pieces.

You wanted to be happy. You really did. But how could you when he had torn away every last shred of hope you held onto? How could you ever forgive him for lying, for breaking his promises?

He looked good. Healthy even. You were happy for him. You really were. But you couldn’t help that ugly feeling of envy that crawled its way up your throat. It wasn’t fair. Not by a long shot. You knew it, hell he probably knew it too.

You sat in silence for what felt like hours before the man beside you finally came to. He jumped up, on edge because he didn’t recognise his surroundings. His entire body froze, seeing that you were in front of him. You looked at him before looking back out the window.

Bucky mentally cursed. You had seen him. He couldn’t just walk away and pretend it never happened… or could he? No! No, he couldn’t. That wouldn’t be fair to you. “Hey,” he said, scuffing the bottom of his shoe against the pristine tile.

“Uh… I meant to come see you sooner… I really did.”

He wanted to hear your voice again. He missed you so much. All those achingly long nights where his nightmares formed the most horrendous images of you being tortured without him there to protect you. It drove him mad. He tried to find you on his own, but he failed. He had to ask for help and he would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant you were safe; he despised asking for help, but he’d do anything for you.

“I’ve been here since you were admitted… I just… I couldn’t bring myself to… to come in and see you. Someone must’ve… they must’ve gotten me in here somehow…”

He was just saying nonsense at that point. Anything to fill the void. You hadn’t looked back at him. Your head still turned to face the window. He couldn’t blame you. Not really. He would hate him too if he were you. Hell, he does hate himself.

“I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see.” He had tears begging to be released in his eyes. He needed to hear you. He didn’t care if all you did was cuss him out or yell at him. Anything to hear your voice.

“Say something. Please…”

Your heart cracked, hearing his broken voice. Tears had already began to stream down your face. “You promised…”

His heart skipped a beat. He didn’t actually think you would say anything. He was convinced that you’d just give him the silent treatment. That, of course, would have been fine with him. He deserved it after all he had put you through.

“Why didn’t you come back for me?” You had to know. Although you wanted nothing to do with him and simultaneously wanted to wrap him in your arms and never let go, you just had to know one thing. The question you had wondered ever since that flame inside of you was snuffed out.

Bucky winced. In all honesty, he should have known that question was coming. It didn’t make it hurt any less, though. “I… it sounds so stupid, but I tried. I really did, doll. I spent months trying to remember where they kept you, hacking into all kinds of files—so much so that I probably would have been arrested if I didn’t cover my tracks. But I didn’t care because I needed to find you. You’ve gotta understand…”

He took a breath. “As soon as I remembered you, I did everything I could to find you. After years of searching I finally asked for help… that just goes to show how fucking desperate I was, god.” He ran his hands through his hair, starting to pace back and forth.

“I—I couldn’t bring myself to go get you. I had Sam do it with Torres because I was scared. I was a fucking coward! And you deserve so much more. I didn’t… I just didn’t feel worthy enough to save you.”

At this point, you turned to see his tear-streaked face. He continued pacing, not even noticing that you were finally looking at him.

“You had been waiting so long and I.. I failed you. I had taken too long to find you, and I was terrified that you’d hate me as much as I hate myself. But what really terrified me was the thought that you hadn’t made it. That I would get there and you’d be a bloody mess, cold and lifeless on the ground.

“My nightmares for the longest time had been filled with you dying because of me. I couldn’t bear to see it in real life.”

“Winter…” you croaked, heartbroken at his revelation. His head whipped over to your body, lying on the hospital bed and covered with yellowing bruises.

“It’s Bucky,” he sheepishly corrected.

A smile was brought to your face, and Bucky found himself thinking that he’d do anything to see that smile more often. “You remembered?”

He nodded his head, tears still dripping down his cheeks. “I did, I remember a lot now. While it’s not always a good thing, I thank every god above that I remembered you before it was too late.”

You felt heat rising to your face. “You’re still such a simp.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “but I’m your simp.”

Taglist: @harleycao

[chorizoa]

Entrail of faith — König x f!reader

part 2!!!!!!!! part 2 part 2 part 2!!!

pt.1 is here

I would like to state that I'm literally just throwing myself into this and letting the thoughts blurb; so if it seems messy, loose, or unorganized its bc I am trying my best :) sorry in advance for anything that may seem plot-holey, geographically incorrect, etc. please feel free to comment on my use of language, setting, wtv— I love feedback and want you guys to enjoy it!!!

this one is also a bit longer tee-hee, and also more revoling around you!

cw: more of konig being a stalker, more talk of kidnap and the like, very brief mention of a daddy kink/use of daddy as a title (its more of a sugar baby kinda way, but hes also just gross), he wants to take full advantage of you, he is very nasty but he loves you so :3

no sex.. yet.

You were a smart girl, but maybe if you were a smarter girl, you wouldn't find yourself staring at an empty message log— thumbs dancing over the screen while you gnaw, and gnaw, and gnaw at that pretty lower lip.

It's insane of you, you think. Giving salt to the interest of a stranger, a man who was clearly dangerous— could so obviously kill you given the chance— one you'd caught glances of during your shifts, always seeming to show up only when you work.. But— Christ.

  The years had not been kind, and being a girl settling into her early twenties, a totally foreign land to start a new life in— not a single soul to keep her warm— well, it embeds a certain sense of desperation. Perfect for men like König. Who, of course, could barely handle a woman under any legitimate means.

Inexperience dripped off of you like a waning ooze, glistening with incompetence for what you could be experiencing— a misted perfume that engulfed you, an aura that "spooked" most anyone anywhere near your age. It kept you at lengthy reach from others, and plastic toys had become your only solace in the pariah'ed life you've lived.

Not him, though, it drew him in— and he could taste it on his tongue, swirl it against his gums and swallow like the loveliest shot of Jager. You would be his favorite spirit to indulge in, and all you needed to do was speak.

He already knew your name, of course he did; so when you texted him— confirming that, yes, this was the cute girl from the diner, and frivolously providing your sweet name in your fluster— it didn't surprise him, but it did make him purr with satisfaction. You were so much closer now, so much easier to bend to his will than you could imagine.

Retirement wouldn't be too bad, it seemed.

Perfect, actually, when he really thought about it. Enough savings in the bank to keep him comfortable until he died of old age, or took an unexpected bullet in the neck; and with the added addition of you? Oh, he was going to bask in heaven's light every night. God had sent him his very own angel— maybe he'd pray, just to say thanks.

He wasn't worried about you not liking him— no, not a bit. It wasn't a choice in his mind, either you liked him, or you didn't… and what he had in mind for if you didn't — well.. it was a particularly nasty thing, and he certainly wasn't bringing it up in therapy. Lest he enjoy the comfort of a solitary, padded room with a jacket to match his confinement— maybe even a damp cell, if they felt so generous.

He was going to have you, whether he had to chain you up in his basement, chain you to his bed post, adorn you with a proximity collar— it didn't. matter.

He was going to have you, and you would have him— a smart girl like you would understand, right? He only wants what's best for you.

That's why he followed you home tonight. Silly girl, don't you know you should take the trolley? There's so many bad, scary men out here— you're lucky he watches your every step, and memorizes the direct path to your home from the shadows, someone could hurt you, sweet girl— and he'd have to make a mess, just for you.

He even watched as you poised your fingers to text him, that sharp sight was a blessing— and observing you as you gnaw at your bottom lip until it swelled was stored into a deep, dark part of his mind for later. Ever still, he found it so amusing how oblivious you were— you should really scan your surroundings more.

Though, when he made it to your home— he found a deep frown tugging at him. Oh, this simply would not do. This was not the place to be for his princess, his darling girl— no, not at all.

This rundown complex was much too grimy for one as stunning as you, everything paled in comparison to you— of course it did, nothing mattered like you— but this was just.. sad, nobody as lovely as you deserved to be so impoverished. The dappled foundation, the assumed stench of cigarettes that must cling to the walls within— he had to get you out of there, and fast.

He almost considered marching in right then, ripping you from the safety of your supposed "home"— but he knew better of it. You needed to be won delicately, you were so sweet, but wracked with nerves like a stumbling fawn— one wrong move, a step too quick, and you'd bolt— he could smell fear, and you held it like a cross to bear. That didn't keep him from feeling angry, however.

He was going to pray, offer thanks, but not anymore. No gracious lord would allow such divinity to suffer like this— no self-proclaimed "God of Man" would allow their subject to wallow in such filth. His sweet girl, he was going to give you much more— so much more than this. He would do what God had failed to. He would help you to understand the divinity of man— and what he had to offer. Father was roiling in his grave at the sacrilege.

That was a nice piece to chew on as he walked back to his car— of course he parked elsewhere, home was much too far to walk from— stuck in a wish-washy daydream of you worshipping him, kneeled at his feet and devoted just as you should be. He'd make it better, he'd make it all better, you need only give him time.

— What are you doing tomorrow night, maus?

He texts, already churning with ideas. Most of them are to capture you, of course, but we've established this— we can't do this. However, he is on the more mundane side of things, wondering how he can somehow pay your rent for a few months— or atleast until he can coax you out of that fucking hellscape in the worst part of town. Regardless, totally normal, gentleman-like, things.

— I work a shift from 17:30-21:00 tmrw night :( but I'll be free after work!!

You're even cute with the way you text, so fitting of you— it makes him chuckle, especially with how quickly you'd replied. In his mind, you're hovering over the phone, jumping at every notification in hopes of it being him.

— No worries, little one, I'd like for you to get your rest. Maybe I could walk you home tomorrow, get to know each other?

He's as articulate as ever, feeling as if you'd appreciate his use of grammar and pronunciation— he hopes you read books, he'd buy you a million books, make you read to him while he bounced you on his knee— maybe you'd call him daddy, if he spoiled you enough. He had so many plans for you, it almost made his head hurt, though his cock absorbed most of his rushing blood.

— That would be lovely :)

It would be, wouldn't it? He'd already walked you home now, you just hadn't known it (you'd never know,) and he'd be able to spend tomorrow evening staring at you the whole time— hence why he memorized the path, and for.. other reasons; but those weren't currently relevant, now were they?

— Good. See you then, Engel.

He could see you now, punching these little nicknames into a poorly guided translator— the blush smattering across your soft little cheeks, your eyes creasing as you couldn't help that smile— God, even the small things about you made his palms itch. He was so excited to have you, hold you, touch and use you when he got close enough. It wouldn't be long now.

He was always so good at planning things.

-

The following evening was a rampage. A festival, perhaps, had ripped through the small town— something about music, either way, the streets were eruptive with fervor.

You, just starting out here, are not well accustomed to this area's cultures— and when the café becomes swamped? Well, you're definitely fritzing for some form of substance. Anything to keep a smile on your face while grown adults trash your place of work, and the surrounding area, in a drunken wake. For crying out loud, you barely knew the language here, and people tend to forget any English instruction they've had once a fiery drink hits their system.

Austria. It'd be the death of you.

Forced to close early due to the mess— much to the dismay of drunk, middle-aged men looking for something greasy to fill their maws— the last hour of your day was spent putting a rag to the wall, the floors, the windows; anything your mind could think of, it had to be cleaned. Tired was an understatement, and 'aching' could not be a severe enough adjective for the sensation settling in your joints.

Maybe if you were a more aggressive person, you'd take it out on your manager. Take a bottle of bleach and splash it in his eyes, maybe a bit of strangulation— that was always on the forefront of your concious— and especially now, as he stood outside and lackadaisically sweeped at the "dirty" corner the building sat on. The lazy fuck, can't even make a proper payroll— the bleach sounded a bit more enticing.

You of course shove these thoughts into the supply closet, along with all the other cleaning products that had been collected from their strewn about positions across the diner. It was almost time to go home, maybe ten minutes or so— and you were getting paid for your last hour, come hell or high water. Rent didn't pay itself, and you almost wish you hadn't treated yourself last night to delivery with that tip König slipped to you— could've been handy.

If only you knew how he was itching to have you practically keep his wallet, you'd find out soon anyways.

You stood behind the bar, leaned into it with a placid expression on your face— slumped and tired, and there was no taming your hair. You partially wanted to cancel the little walk you had so eagerly agreed too, but thought better of it— exhaustion ate at you, however, almost in an irritable sense. The urge to cancel just got stronger, and stronger.

Until he was spotted down the street, that almost completely soured your mood— had not the very sight of him set your pulse to palpitate uncomfortably quick. You took a minute to really observe him, at least from a far. He was giant, no doubt about it— regardless of your size or shape, he dwarfed you, and he didn't have to be up close and personal to tell.

His face was mostly obscured, little black mask hanging across his features— this time around though, no sunglasses to hide his eyes— you were fluttering with excitement at the thought of someone's eyes, Jesus, you're kinda weird. Desperate girl, aren't you?

Regardless, he seemed a bit more.. exposing of himself— and, he was here before the agreed time, like an actual fucking man would do.

Huh, maybe the big giant wasn't a bad choice.

Maybe you just didn't know him well enough.

— Schatz! Nice to see you..

He was warm, inviting. If you didn't have sense in your head, you'd climb into his strong-looking arms, beg him to carry you home like a whiny child— of course, you didn't. Only offering him a smile, and taking his arm as he offered it— the sight making your heart stir a little more.

— Nice to see you too, König. I hope it wasn't too much trouble getting here, I know it's a mess out here right now.

You laugh, but you feel almost guilty for making him come all this way. Yes, he offered, yes, he came here anyways— but Innsbruck during a music festival wasn't exactly.. controlled, and he didn't seem to be the type to like crowds. Something you understood, and sensed very quickly.

— Nonsense, even more of a reason for me to accompany you, little one. Keep you safe.

He gives your arm a squeeze with his free hand, it's soft, gentle— so unexpected from hands that looked as if they could rip your throat out. A frisson of heat creeped it's way up your spine. You'd never been the type to depend on someone, or need someone— but hearing him speak that way.. it was definitely flipping some form of switch inside you.

— You're very kind.

You hum in response, taking a step closer to him as you walked— and he kept his eyes on you the whole time, the route burned into his mind. Though, your phrase did not fall on deaf ears— and he had to keep himself from shoving his tongue down your throat right there— you cannot say things like that to him, you are too good and pure.

— To you, at the very least.

— Why's that?

— Why not?

Banter could be good for the soul, and you almost felt desperate when he looked down to you— eyes creasing from what could only be a smirk. You felt flustered under his gaze, small and compact, but.. safe. Watched over, and protected.

Something about his eyes, his demeanor— the way he so graciously walked you along and made sure you didn't step on a single crack or bump in the sidewalk— it tip, tip, tipped you over into a fuzzy headspace you hadn't felt before. Something small, something compact, something malleable.

— Dunno. Men aren't usually kind.

— Boys, then. You are much too beautiful to be handled by a boy.

You cocked a brow at his statement, an amused chuckle leaving your tired lips. He was a strange man, no doubt caring, but even you could tell he harbored things— kept himself from saying and doing things that might be taken incorrectly, or be downright abhorrent. You should be afraid of him, you should run for the hills and scream for help, you should sense the predator who already has his claws dug deep into your skin. 

But you don't, and you don't think you ever would.

Call it string theory, call it hope, call it desperation or an offered entrail— but you placed faith in him, praying that he wouldn't make decorations of your guts— because something more spoke to you, something outside of the two of you held you together steadfast. Mother had always told you to heed universal implications.

— Are you from around here, König?

— Nein, places like this..? eh, not my style. The mountains are much quieter, prettier.

Just how far had this guy traveled? Innsbruck had mountains, yeah, but it wasn't the most secluded of places— quiet didnt exist here. You had to gauge that maybe he blew in from Salzburg, it got less noisy and more rocky the further you went along the North chain. Either way, it was clear to you now that he wasn't just strolling about, he definitely had an agenda.

— Mm. Quite right, starting to regret settling down in such a busy area. I've always enjoyed the quiet.

— Agreed.. What brings you to Austria, Maus?

A good question, a fine one. You didn't know, you got a lump sum from a dead relative— and took off running. America never suited you, and the country was falling to ruins; what would you have stayed for?

— Something refreshing.

— ..And that is..?

— Sights, sounds, self-recognition- I'm unsure, but it's better than home.

He seemed to understand that, a knowing hum vibrating through the berth of his chest. He curled your arm closer to his body, your hip brushing against him as he took an even, slow pace— clearly difficult for him, but you could only move so fast.

The closeness felt nice in that moment, like it was unnecessary to share words— just enough had been said. It was a different sensation flowing through you. Yes, to be frank, you'd been lusting over him since he gave you his number— a little attention can go a long way— but it was different. That feeling of safety was blanketed with another— familiarity.

— Any family, libeling?

— Estranged, haven't spoken to them in years.

Another knowing hum, but it was followed by an amused sound— a chuckle. If the melancholy of the fact hadn't been refreshed, the sound would've made you pounce like a starved animal. He was attractive as all hell— and you didn't even need to see his full face.

— What's funny?

You try not to sound offended, you aren't, not really. Though, his amusement is of interest to you.

— Nothing, I assure you. It just seems that you and I are very similar. You are an interesting little thing.

— Ha! I'm as face value as they come, I promise you that.

— Don't be so humble, it's unnecessary for a lovely girl like you. I'll be the judge of that.

It was almost as if he was scolding you, but you brushed it off with an amused huff of air— leaning into his shoulder as he walked you along. You could stop his heart with such a thing, you saw him so much differently than others, didn't you? What a rare girl you were.

He wound an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him. He was surprised by his own boldness, but the energy you held was so.. comforting, something in his core shook at the sensation— like a blockage finally being relieved. It could only get sweeter when you returned the gentle grasp, slipping an arm over his slender back.

— I.. this made my night better. Thank you.

You blushy little angel, of course, of course, anything for you. Oh, he needed to give you the world. He'd start a war for you— his very own Helen of Troy.

— Of course, sweet girl. Need to make sure you get home safe and happy, ja?

You laugh and squeeze his side, and he's pushing down another round of nasty thoughts like burning tequila. You have him chomping at the bit for every artifice of your affection.

— Such a gentleman..

— As I was raised to be, Schatz.

It burns him when he has to drop you off at that complex.. again. He wants nothing more than to take you home, invite you to a bed much-too-big, suffocate you in thread counts your wallet couldn't fathom— but it was much too soon, and you were much too angelic for him to ever want to spook you.

It burns you in turn, looking up at him with a shy smile. You want to invite him in, have him over for the night— but it seems you both agree on the terms of "much too soon", and you can't help but feel insecure at the.. state.. of your livingspace. It's nothing lavish, and it's moorish— maybe some other time.

— We should do this again.. I enjoyed this.

— I agree, liebling. Let me know when you work next, hm? Or maybe when you're free, I'll come visit you.

He made you feel as blushy as a school-girl, like you were a gift wrapped in fine bows just for him.

— I'll send you my schedule.

— Guten Mädchen.. I'll see you later then.

And, as if the gods had their hands on your shoulders, he leaned in— pulling his mask down just enough to kiss the top of your head before swiftly moving it back into place, and giving your cheek a quick brush with his thumb. Your skin was on fire, that cheek was never getting washed again.

Good fucking God, coming undone at the smallest touch, are we?

— Goodnight-! Get home safe..

He was already halfway down the block, damn, he's fast.

You're already getting obsessed, damn, he's good.

[messrmoonyy]

I saw this on your Tess NSFW headcanons and I want to scream!!

Dare I say… gun kink. Knife kink. HEAR ME OUT

YES YES YES !! PLEASE give us Tess x female reader - gun kink or knife kink. It would destroy me!!

Thinking about Tess fucking you at gun/knife point aaaagh!

Down the barrel

Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader

A/N- I have been waiting patiently for someone to give me the excuse to write this but look. Look. I just I have no words for this okay and I will be retreating into a dark hole in the ground and just peeking my head out to see how people react to this cause. Fuck me. It’s filthy in every sense of the word and I don’t really know what to say here. But anon you asked for 13/10 feral so. That’s what you get. I edited this a fair bit, chopping shit out cause I was like ‘this is too much they’ll send me to therapy ‘ but yk. Here we are. Goodnight.

Warnings: 18+ || god this is gonna be a long warnings list: tess. I think this could dip into being dark!tess if you squint, smut: gunplay ( no one is hurt ), degradation , praise cause come on now. It’s me. You should know by now my degradation and praise kinks go hand in hand when it comes to tess , thigh riding, reader talks/thinks about dying/death but is not actually harmed, and Tess makes some threats but of course she doesn’t actually do it, and. Look. The gun goes places a gun shouldn’t go. And I have no other explanation to give you, Tess and her Dacryphilia are out in full force, mentions of death and violence, reader is desensitised to violence and is low-key unhinged lmao,

Word count: 4.1k

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated <3

Sometimes you liked to think about what life was like before the world fell apart. How different you were now compared to then. How desensitised. Pre apocalypse you hadn’t know death, or struggles or violence. You hadn’t actually ever laid eyes on a gun in person before, which was saying something for fucking America.

So it was sometimes a little odd to think about, even funny maybe, just how much had changed. How much you had changed. Of course the world had, it had fallen to shit. If you had told pre outbreak you what your life would soon become you’d have laughed. Joked that it was clearly something from science fiction. But no. It was real. The world had changed. And so had you.

Even just in that one singular day you had seen more death than you had in all the time pre outbreak combined. And it scared you sometimes, how little it now bothered you. How easy it was for you to take another life if it meant saving hers. Or upholding honour. But she was just as bad. Maybe worse. She never thought twice about taking the life of another if that person had hurt you, had touched you, had even looked at you wrong. She didn’t care. It was easy.

And you loved it. Craved it. Some deep visceral, primitive feeling that lived in your chest and begged for her to never stop. To stay possessive, to be so completely and utterly devoted that she would kill in the most violent of ways to keep you. And she did. She always had. And she knew that you would always return the favour.

You never wanted it to stop. Never wanted that desperate, obsessive streak you both had for each other to leave. You needed her constantly. Needed her completely. You wanted her with you all the time, embedded in your skin like shrapnel. Swimming in your bloodstream like whiskey.

You watched her intently as she sat opposite you, kitchen table littered with rounds and bullets and a box of stolen firearms that were hers. That had been miss sold and she had been determined to get back. And of course, she had. With your help.

She was cleaning the gun in her hand, an alcohol soaked rag wiping away any traces of blood that remained. Blood of the man that had crossed her, that had sold on the goods that were meant for her. Of the man that had dived on you in some hopes she wouldn’t dare touch him if he had you at his mercy, wouldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t shoot him when he could so easily push you in front of the bullet.

But he underestimated her. And he underestimated you. As so many poor, unfortunate souls did.

Pre outbreak you couldn’t imagine what it was like to stab someone, but present you had done it with ease. No care. No tears. You had stabbed. She had shot. Again and again and again. Because how dare he even think about laying a hand on you.

His blood had stained your shirt, soaked through to the tank you still sat in now. Specks of it littered Tess’ face, adorned her skin like freckles.

And it made something twist deep in your belly, made your chest heave with shaking breaths as you watched her. That burning, desperate ache that came when she showed just how much she cared. Just how far she would go to keep you safe.

It fascinated you to a degree. At how disgusted your past self would be to know that someone killing for you was making you so wet. Arousal swirling in your veins as you watched her there, her perfect hands cleaning away spots of blood like it was something completely normal.

You shifted slightly in your chair, attempting to ignore the ever growing ache between your thighs. You’d murdered someone together less than an hour ago and yet there you were, turned on by the way she’d handled it. How she handled the gun across from you.

She seemed to feel you watching her, her eyes flickering up to look at you across the table. You didn’t need a mirror to know what you looked like. You’d seen it enough when she forced you to watch yourself in the bathroom mirror as she railed you from behind. Knew your pupils were blown, your cheeks flushed red, chest heaving with shaking breaths. It wouldn’t take her long to figure exactly where your head was at. She could read you like a book. She knew what made you tick.

She could tear you apart and put you back together again, could push you to your limits and know exactly when to stop. She was just as fucked up as you were. It’s what made you such the perfect pair.

She looked away again, giving one final swipe of the rag to her gun before speaking.

“ c’mere “ she didn’t look up as she said it, eyes looking for any spot she may have missed in her cleaning. Turning it from side to side to examine it. You were on your feet in an instant, always obedient to her every command no matter what it was, rounding the table to stand beside her.

She still didn’t look up right away, sighing a little when she deemed the metal clean enough again. She shifted in her chair slightly, leaning back and patting her leg. You didn’t need to be told twice.

Her eyes trailed up from where your legs straddled her thighs, up to your face in a slow ascent. She held your gaze and reached forward, slipping her hand past the waistband of your leggings and cupping your damp underwear for a second. She scoffed and shook her head, withdrawing her hand as quickly as she’d put it there

“ fuckin knew it could see it in your eyes“ you squirmed in her lap and she folded her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised as she looked at you “ how long have you been wet? “ you didn’t answer her, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of her shirt “ I asked you a question “ she sat up and you gasped as she pressed the cold metal of the muzzle of her gun to your forehead “ don’t be a fuckin brat. Answer. The question “

You had to force yourself not to move, your cunt aching with a desperate need to be filled as she held the weapon to your head. You should be terrified. Scared for your life that she could take in a second. But you weren’t. You were as far as you could possibly be from it.

You were soaking your underwear, thinking every disgusting, vile thought of what you wanted her to do to you with that gun to your head. And you had no shame.

And besides, if you were going to die… what a good fuckin way to go.

“ a while “ you finally answered, making her shake her head again and bring her face close to yours

“ you’re fuckin sick, you know that? “

“ yes “ you breathed out, arching into her in some silent request for her to touch you. Anything more than the fleeting touch to your damp underwear moments ago.

She moved the gun down, nudging the cool metal of the muzzle under your chin. And you smiled. You fucking smiled. A giggle bubbling past your lips in a way that probably made you look a little manic, but she didn’t care. You didn’t care. She looked like she wanted to tear you apart and devour every single morsel of you. And you knew she would, knew you’d set her off and she was going to break you down, not stopping until you were a useless wreck of a woman.

And you wanted it no other way. No. Needed it.

You might be sick but so was she. You knew she was just as turned on as you were. She loved power, especially power over you. She was getting off on holding you at gunpoint as much as you were.

“ you. Are a little. Fuckin psycho “ she said quietly, a small laugh leaving her own throat as she pressed up under your chin harder.

“ says the woman with a gun on me?“ you were pushing, egging her to snap. That deep craving in your chest so strong it was taking your breath away. You needed her. Desperately “ maybe you’re the psycho here. You ever think about that? “

“ fuckin attitude on you “ she said with a scoff, dropping the gun and gripping your chin in between her fingers now. There was a smirk planted on your face as your heart hammered in your chest, curious as to what she would do next “ are you that stupid that you’ll act like a brat when I could blow your fuckin brains out any second? “

The smirk was still planted on your face and you shrugged, pushing her again. Pressing her buttons. Urging her to test you. Testing her.

“ sounds like a good way to go “

Her eyes moved across your face, reading you, before giving a small nod. Seeing the look in your eyes, noting the way you silently told her to ruin you. To do what she pleased with you.

“ open your mouth “ you did as you were told in an instant, letting out a breathy laugh as she pressed the gun against your tongue. Your lips wrapped around the barrel without further prompting, fingers wrapping around her wrist. She was watching you intently, a mild sense of awe on her face and a smug smile tugging at her mouth “ well look at fuckin you “

You were determined to put on a show, the fact that your brain was already starting to retreat making it all the more easier. When she got you in that state of pure and utter submission to her every will and command, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do.

You moved your head, sucking the barrel as if it were the strap currently hidden in a box under your bed. Your tongue tingled with the mix of metal and the alcohol she’d used to clean it. It wasn’t exactly pleasant but it still made you drool, still made your cunt ache just with the realisation of how truly pathetic you were.

“ that’s my girl “ Tess brought her spare hand to the back of your head, taking control of the way you moved “ that’s my good little slut “ you choked on a moan, fingers tightening their grip on her wrist as she pushed your head further. Your lips pressing against the trigger guard, muzzle brushing the back of your throat in a way that made your eyes water.

And you almost hated the way your hips moved without you meaning to, grinding down on her thigh in some hope it would do something to elevate the throbbing in your clit.

Tess sighed, still guiding your head so your lips dragged across the barrel, and shook her head slightly.

“ you’re unbelievable “ she whispered, a mock sense of disappointment in her words “ I killed someone for you earlier. With this exact fucking gun “ you knew. You were fully fucking aware of what she’d used it for. You’d watched her do it. Had felt that fluttering feeling in your chest as she had “ but you liked that. Didn’t you? Hmm? You get off on it “ you hummed an answer, choking again as she pressed against the back of your throat again and held you there.

Your hips were still rolling against her and you were mildly surprised she hadn’t stopped you yet. But the simple fact that you were getting off to her seemed to be riling her up too much to completely care. Drool was running down your chin, your fingers were still gripping tightly to her wrist, your jaw ached. You must have looked a sight.

“ that’s it, take it for me. That’s a good little slut “ the roughness of her jeans combined with the friction your own clothes provided was bliss. You were like an animal in heat, grinding against her in an increasingly desperate fashion “ you. Are so fucked up baby girl “ you couldn’t deny it and you made no attempt to, in fact you smiled as she withdrew the gun from your mouth “ haven’t even touched you and look at you “ you looked down at where you were grinding your soaked cunt against her leg, the evident damp spot on her jeans “ naughty little girl that likes to play with guns “ she hummed seemingly more to herself as she watched you, tracing the muzzle across your jaw.

“ mhm “ you grabbed at her wrist again, bringing the gun back to your mouth a pressing a kiss to the barrel with a giggle. She narrowed her eyes as she watched you, a small breathy laugh leaving her. You dragged your tongue up the length of the barrel, eyes locked on hers.

You laughed again as she moved to press the gun to your temple, eyes fluttering closed as you gripped the table behind you and honed in on the way your clit throbbed as you moved against her strong thigh.

“ that’s my good little slut “ she wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you closer to her, her gun pressing harder against your temple in a way you were certain would bruise. Her lips brushed against the shell of your ear and it sent a shiver down your spine “ you gonna come with my gun against your pretty little head? “ you nodded feverishly, arms looping around her neck as you increased your pace.

“ yes. Fuck yes “ she tutted lightly, pressing a trail of soft kisses against your neck.

“ I could pull this trigger any second and you’re about to fucking come? That’s fucked up baby “ you whined as she said it, some kind of disgust at yourself at how your cunt clenched around nothing at her words “ don’t worry baby I’d never. It’d be such a waste of such a pretty girl. Pretty girl. With a pretty cunt. Pretty tits. Such a waste, don’t you think? “

She lifted her head from your neck, gripping your jaw as your chased your orgasm. The never ending string of whines and moans that had been leaving your throat increased in pitch, your hips stuttering as you got closer and closer

“ my pretty girl “ she cooed, pushing your head lightly with her gun as if to remind you it was still there. As if you could possibly forget. As if it wasn’t the sole reason you’d been wet in the first place “ my pretty, fucked up girl. Show me just how pretty you look when you come with my gun to your fuckin head “ two more rolls of your hips was all it took, your fingers twisting into the collar of her shirt as your orgasm wracked your body “ there you go, good fuckin girl “

It was like something out of a fucked up sex tape. The pathetic sounds that you made filling the apartment.

She didn’t drop the gun even when you levelled out your breathing again, body twitching slightly through the aftershocks as she flexed her thigh muscles beneath you. She traced it across your jaw, down your neck, trailing it down your chest and tugging your tank top with it until it snapped back up into place, brushing it over your sensitive nipples as they poked through the thin material.

She always looked at you the same way. Like you were something special. Something to be worshipped and appreciated. Which was funny in a way when she was the one that acted like a god, that had you down on your knees begging for her guidance and care.

Tess begged for no one. And nothing. She took what she wanted and exactly when she wanted.

“ stand up. Not done with you yet pretty girl “ you couldn’t imagine what else she possibly had in store for you as you stood, letting her grab at your hips and pick you up. She shoved some things out of the way and sat you on the edge of the table, placing the gun down for a second to wriggle you out of your leggings and underwear in one go. She picked up the gun again, tapping it against your knee “ legs apart, that’s it good girl”

She nudged her fingers under your chin, holding your face in place as she leant forward to kiss you. You sighed dreamily into her mouth, hands pulling at her shirt lightly. She was gentle, careful, as she nipped at your bottom lip, tugging it lightly between her teeth.

You shivered as you felt the metal press against your skin again, pulling away to smile as she nudged it back against your temple.

“ shall we see just how fucked up this pretty little head is? “ she said, her voice low and lips brushing yours as she spoke. You nodded. Not even entirely sure what she was suggesting, but you’d trust her with your life. Literally. She had your life resting in her hands. All it would take was one movement of her finger, one trigger pull and you’d be gone. Just a mess of red on the walls.

She kissed you again, pressing her mouth to yours harder than before. The kind that would leave your lips swollen and red when she was done with you.

She moved the gun down again, trailing over your chest, prodding at the soft flesh of your belly. Your breath hitched as you realised what she was doing. You pulled back and looked down at where she was trailing the gun up and down your inner thigh.

“ fuck “ you breathed as she trailed the muzzle over your sticky lips before nudging it between the slick folds of your cunt, brushing against your sensitive clit in a way that made you shiver “ Tess “

“ what if we just… “ your breath hitched again as she pressed the gun against your clenching hole, tilting her head to the side like some kind of cat. Curious of her own actions. You gripped her shirt in your fists, eyes locked on the firearm in her hands as she pushed it further.

“ holy fuckin shit “ you breathed out, unable to tear your eyes away. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but you couldn’t stop the way your walls clenched around the cool metal of the barrel, a desperate sob of a moan escaping your throat. It was almost too overwhelming. Too much but also not enough. She wasn’t even moving but the sensation and simply the realisation of what she was doing to you was enough to make you want to come on the spot.

“ my dirty fuckin girl huh? You like that?” You nodded instantly, a desperate primal desire scorching through your veins.

“ move- move it please. Fuck I- Tess “ Tess smiled and pressed her mouth close to your ear as she started moving the gun, dragging the heavy metal against your slick and sensitive walls.

“ how does it make you feel knowing I’ll be walking around with this gun after it’s been inside of you huh? What do you think people would say? If they knew what a dirty fuckin slut you were? “

You couldn’t think straight, brain scattered as you tried to focus but failed. Her hot breath against your skin, her fingers pressing and caressing the back of your neck, the heavy drag of the gun inside of you. You could feel your arousal dripping onto the table beneath you, couldn’t stop the noises leaving your throat no matter how hard you tried.

Tears were streaming across your cheeks and she smiled, she’d always loved when you broke and cried.

“ so pretty when you cry “ she said, her voice low and grip on the back of your neck tightening so you wouldn’t look away from her.

Your nails were scratching at her now, trying to keep her close and beg for something your brain couldn’t put into words. You felt despicable, twisted and unhinged.

She had a gun buried in your fucking cunt.

A gun that she had used to blow a guys head open a couple hours ago.

And now was inside of you. Stretching your dripping hole in a way you weren’t used to, the original burn now twisting into some deeply delicious ache instead.

It was too much.

She’d barely been inside of you for a few minutes and you were already coming again, sobbing and shaking as your nails dug into the flesh of her arms. Your walls clenched almost painfully around the intrusion in your cunt, holding the offensive thing in place as you practically screamed through your release.

She held onto as your whole body shook, riding you through your world shattering orgasm until you were well and truly wrecked. Tears streamed across your face, you muscles burning from how tense you had been as your climax peaked.

“ that’s my girl, that’s it. Steady baby steady “

If she hadn’t been holding you, you’d have fallen. Your legs were shaking as you collapsed against her chest, hands gripping at her shoulders to keep yourself up right. You winced as she careful withdrew her gun, leaning over and tossing the gun onto the table, a gentle hand on your back as she did.

“ alright baby, nice and easy “ her voice was tender, quiet, as if she were scared to startle you. You gave a small nod, still gripping at her as if she were going to evaporate beneath your fingers any second. She soothed a hand up and down your spine, holding you as your shakes began to slow and you tried to regain a normal rhythm to your breathing “ Let me clean you up Yeah? “

She helped you down from the table and lead you through into the bathroom.

“ I’m so tired “ you said with a small sigh, leaning against the sink. You felt like every ounce of energy had been drained from your system, muscles aching from unknowingly tensing them as she worked you up.

“ I know. I know baby. We’ll take a shower then go to bed, okay? “ You’d both gotten accustomed to showering together, simply because you were all on rations for water. The water never reached any temperature higher than bordering on lukewarm, and the water would automatically shut off after 5 minutes anyway. So it worked easier to just share. But you were quite thankful for her being there with you in that moment.

She stripped you of your remaining clothes so gently it were as if you were made of China, her voice soft as she whispered a never ending string of praise as she did.

It was strange to think only a couple hours ago that same woman had shot a man in the head.

“ you hurt? “

“ no “ you whispered, voice croaky and hoarse “ aches but I’m fine “

She brushed the backs of her fingers against your cheek and along your jaw, smiling softly when you leaned into her touch.

“ you did so good “ she said, her voice as soft as her touch “ so fuckin good baby. Proud of you “ you twisted your head to press a kiss to her wrist, a silent thank you “ didn’t think you take it that well. But you’re always so good for me aren’t you? “

When you stepped into the shower she reached behind you and turned the tap on, not wasting the precious time with the water and gently guiding you under the mostly cold stream.

She worked quickly but kept her touch soft as she helped you wash the sweat and the blood and the sticky mess that was spread across your thighs, making quick work of herself too before the water shut itself off.

The journey between leaving the shower and getting into bed didn’t register in your mind fully, too tired to really process anything anymore. Brief flashes of wrapping you in a towel, pulling one of her shirts over your head, climbing into bed beside you.

You let yourself melt into her embrace as she held you against her chest, her hand running through your wet hair to free it of knots.

No matter how rough and brutal she could be, she could always switch to that caring side in a flash. A few hours ago she’d killed someone. A few minutes ago she’d threatened you with a gun to get you off. And now she was cradling you like you were the most precious person alive. Because to her you were.

“ sure you’re okay? “ she asked after a few moments as you were drifting into sleep.

“ I’m good. Promise “ you lifted your head from her chest and cupped her face gently “ I’m. So fuckin good “

The ache in your chest felt satiated for now, though you knew it wouldn’t be too long before it reared its head again. And she would be there to assist you with it. Because yes, perhaps you were as fucked up as she’d said you were. But she was just as bad. And that was how it would always be.

[pynchkilledme]

One Day at a Time ✧ Yunho

✧ Pairings: Jeong Yunho X fem!reader ✧ Genre: angst; ✧ Word Count: 3.3k ✧ CW: established relationship; major character death; mentions of suicide; depressive thoughts; ghost encounter (kind of); ✧ Synopsis: When an accident changes the course of your life forever, your husband takes his last days on Earth to make you love life again.

[Author's Note]: Hello! It's my first time posting my work here so I hope you appreciate it. This oneshot started as a simple writing exercise, but I fell in love with it and decided to share it with the world. If you find any typo or you think something more should enter the content warning section please let me know.

The poorly lit road that leads to your summer house in the mountains always made you apprehensive, but on this rainy night, you couldn't stop your hand from sweating and every little thing made your tension grow.

The lampposts half hidden by the forest, the foggy windshield, the radio buzzing without signal, the heavy raindrops on the car hood; all these made you lean over the panel, trying to predict any abnormality on the road, even though it wasn't your turn to drive.

Yunho, behind the wheel, seemed perfectly calm. Almost like he had prepared himself through all his life, just to drive old cars on stormy days. 

“Hey… chill out” he said while passing his right hand on your thigh between gear changes “,we are almost there!”

And that was the last sentence before that curve. The last words before a sudden flash blinds you.

“Hello, how are we feeling today?”  the blonde woman inside your computer screen promptly asks as soon as you open your camera, but your sunken eyes give her the answer she needed. “Dreamt about the accident again?

It’s been 9 months and 18 days since the accident. 9 months and 4 days since you woke up in a hospital bed just to find out you would never hear your husband's sweet voice again.

“I know I said I was getting better and almost never had nightmares, but in the last 3 days…” you begin to describe in detail what makes your dream more and more real, waking you up out of breath every single morning.

Your monologue follows for a couple more minutes, remembering the sensation of Yunho’s arm holding your body against the seat instinctively. The doctors said the seatbelt would already prevent a fatal impact in your case, since the collision happened in the driver's side, but for you, that single gesture had saved you.

“Sometimes I wish I didn't come out alive” you dropped without thinking twice. After all, that’s what the two therapy sessions a week were for “I could be with him now, wherever he is!”

“I’m pretty sure that's not something he would want, Y/N” something in that soothing voice made you want to cry and you could already feel a lump up your throat “it’s a long process, painful and irregular, but…”

“You know, I think at this point he doesn't have to like anything” your crooked laugh mixed up with the teardrops flowing discreetly by the side of your face “It’s all too quiet, too boring, too empty!”

“And how is your adaptation to your medication?” Susanna referred you to a psychiatrist around 3 months ago and you were finally out of the sickening phase of the medication.

“Well, I didn’t kill myself yet!” acid humor was your way of dealing with all this situation, but of course your therapist did not approve 100% of your methods “I think it's finally stabilizing in the right dose, I’m already quitting the complementary medicines!”

“It’s awesome to hear that, Y/N! Soon you will be able to see everything more clearly” looking down, your therapist took notes. ‘You just need time to do its work’ you completed in your mind. Damn time. “Our time is up, see you on Thursday at 3pm?”

You nod your head yes and kiss her goodbye, going back to your loneliness as soon as the video call disappears from the screen. Seated there, in the kitchen of the house you bought together with such hard work, the feeling was overwhelming. You even thought about moving out, but leaving your memories behind didn't seem right to you.

Whether you want it or not, Yunho was in every detail of that house. The colors on the walls that you chose together; the funny food illustrations hang in the kitchen; the office in a mix of games, books, Spider-Man (his obsession) and sad movies' posters (your obsession). A penetrable structure of everything that you were together, everything your love conquered and dreamed of conquering. Structure that, despite being packed with all sorts of things, each day felt more abandoned and lifeless.

Without anyone humming made up songs; without anyone laughing out loud of a video they just sent you; without almost ineligible messages in the fridge door and without anyone pulling you to dance to the cheesiest songs ever written. It was an endless list of things that were and would never be again. Things that only made sense because of Yunho and that had gone away with him.

The thoughts were so suffocating that you didn't even realize you were standing there for 15 minutes, in front of the notebook screen, screen that was already black due to the lack of interaction. It was when you finally gathered your strength to stand up, closing the notebook on the kitchen table and going to the sofa.

Your days were mostly like that. Sometimes laying down in your bed when you couldn't get up, other times you could at least drag yourself to the sofa, changing the atmosphere a little.

Your friends started a rotation where at least one of them called you every day, but you couldn't keep a conversation for too long anyways. It always ended up in tears and you didn't like to be a burden to them, so you started making up things to do, be it an imaginary food in the oven or an hypothetical postman ringing your doorbell. Not that they believed you, but they decided that it was better to give you space.

About 3 weeks ago Susanna asked you to do a "homework" for the next session, a request that became more and more latent in your head as Yunho's birthday approaches. You couldn't convince yourself to do it, not when the exercise to deal with the grief involved writing a letter to your husband.  One he would never read.

The estrangement also came from the fact that it didn't seem natural for you to write letters. The last letter you wrote was telling how your vacation was in 2006, on the first day back to kindergarten classes. 'Does email reach heaven?' you thought, giggling. If Yunho was here, he would probably suggest the simplest way possible to solve this. 'Send me a SMS' would be his first advice. 'If you have no data you could try via messenger, honey' he would say mockingly, but it would be solved.

Without a second thought you searched for your cell phone under the blankets. In your lockscreen a picture of the day you decided to take the train to the other side of town, just to visit a library that someone told Yunho sold coffee and a corn cake fit for the gods. After a few seconds of contemplating, you unlocked it and the screen opened directly on the bright wallpaper of Yunho’s chat. You had done that a billion times before, but you could never go past the last message. A picture of his passenger seat covered with 8 boxes of your favorite candy and an audio right above.

It was a 13 second audio and even so you couldn't press the play button.

'You just need a little courage…' your thoughts were interrupted by a weird noise in the back of the house, and you got up to search for it. The backdoor was locked, so you unlocked it just to take a peek out there. But there was nothing besides overgrown grass.

The sound of a door slamming and someone laughing broke the silence of the house.

‘Honey, you won't believe…’ that sound was enough to make everything around you stop in time. It was his voice. ‘I got into this store and your favorite candy was on sale!! Buy 3, get 1 free!’

The screen of your phone was bright on the sofa, showing the audio that just played. You didn't understand how, but while your tears flowed you just wanted to hear it again. And that's what you did. Over and over again.

In the audio before that, Yunho apologized for forgetting to fill the water bottles, but promised to reward you with kisses. All you wanted most was that everything got solved with the shower of kisses that Yunho always gave you when he got back from work, but it was impossible and in your subconscious you just wanted to scream.

“Why did you leave me here?” you said softly, against your impulses. When you closed your eyes, you tried to control your breathing, before all that ended up in crisis.

“I swear I tried to stay, Y/N” said the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard. The voice that made you shake with nervousness when you were just getting to know each other, and the voice that made you cry from happiness when proposed to you. A voice that only existed in your head and in the 2G of memory that your chat with Yunho occupied in your cell phone. Or at least you thought.

“But I’m here now…” this time the voice sounded almost real and a shiver went up your spine. An inexplicable fear of opening your eyes and realizing it was only your fertile imagination. “I was always here!”

You couldn't believe the trick your head was playing on you. Yunho, with his 1.85cm, was standing in front of you. His brown hair parted in the middle, falling over his tired eyes; the long sleeved white shirt you ironed in the morning of the accident was intact, fitting perfectly on Yunho’s body.

You couldn’t believe it, but you wanted to. Your body relaxed, leaning on the sofa. Your shaking hand inevitably covering your mouth, as if any uttered word could make it all disappear. That man, who you knew by the back of your hand, kneeled in front of you, his eyes sadly smiling, like someone who mourns.

“Are you going for a ‘Ghost’s’ remake?” you said jokingly, still unsure of what was all that. Yunho seemed exhausted, as if he didn't sleep for days, but he gave you a crooked smile showing he understood what you were talking about.

“Are you saying I’m as pretty as Patrick Swayze?” his hand on his chest showed he was flattered. Of course he was pretty. Even prettier than the actor and his answer made you laugh a little, releasing all the tears you were holding back.

You raised your hand to reach him, but they trembled as if electric shocks ran through your veins. He brought his hands under yours and you could see how your hands were smaller next to his, but you couldn't feel anything. This just intensified your cry, because all you wanted was his touch.

“I’m sorry that we can’t feel each other,” he said quietly, getting closer to you. - “I wish I could wipe away your tears and say that everything will be fine”

You didn’t know what was happening, but the voice that had always the power to soothe you wouldn’t have a different effect now. Your breath slowly returned to normal and you used your wristband to clean whatever was running from your nose. So many questions in your head, but for a while you just wanted to absorb every little detail of what was in front of you, just like the first time you saw him. 

“I found out that you needed to talk to me,” Yunho jokes. Your mind was quite funny today.

“Well, it wasn’t- how are you even here?”

“I was always here, Y/N” tilted his head to the side, closing his lips in an almost unnoticeable smile “you just couldn't see me”

“And why now? A-am I dreaming?”

“Well, you can see me now ‘cause I kind of convinced the ones up there to let me help you. My time here is almost over and I started to feel a little desperate because nothing I did was actually working and-” the way he started to babble was too real even for a creation of your mind.

“How come… it wasn’t working? What were you doing here?”

“Uhm, I kind of couldn't let you here, not when everything around you was so gray. They said I couldn't be here past my birthday, ‘cause that would bring me problems and then I passed the last 9 months trying to push you out of bed, opening the windows so the sun could come in,'' now Yunho was the one crying and it was impossible to ignore the pain in his voice “it's been so hard to show you how life is still pretty… how there's a lot of things to live out there!”

It had become evident to you a long time ago how life wasn't worth it without Yunho in it. And well, it came to you way before he couldn't actually be there.

You remember like it was yesterday the path your bare feet made through the white clover lawn. A simple altar in the end of a corridor of mismatched chairs reunited the most important people of your life. On the sides your friends, the family life gave you, and in the middle your soulmate. The one on the other side of your red string and from that moment would be your forever.

You could see through your wedding veil how Yunho was beaming from ear to ear, his eyes resting on his red cheeks. You felt like running to the altar, so you could be by his side as soon as possible, but you held back as you smiled at your few guests, mostly from your families, who smiled at you with teary eyes. 

When you finally got to the altar and raised your dress a little, Yunho looked at your dirty feet and laughed. And when he lifted your veil, your eyes connected just like when the two of you first met at college, as if there was a new constellation of possibilities. “You look like an angel” Yunho whispered tenderly and then you turned so the ceremony could follow.

“But I miss you. I miss you ‘cause you are in absolutely everything. Your smell is in the clothes hanging in the closet, your smile is all over the pictures on the walls. I hear you when I turn the radio on your favorite program and I see you when I wipe the mirror clean. My mind is always bringing you back to me as if it tortured me with your absence, as if it reminded me all that time that I can’t have you.”

He didn't say anything, just stared. His wrinkled forehead and lips so tight they turned white, denouncing the pain you both shared.

“There’s so many things I should live with you, so many places we would visit. It 's not fair! It’s not fair that the sweetest person I've ever met is not here to appreciate every second of the most banal things in the world…” the venting went out of your mouth like a thunderstorm. You wanted to scream and cry, but also wanted to utter the most beautiful words ever created.

Yunho wanted to touch you. Wanted to feel your soft skin one more time, caress your face and wipe away your tears. The ache he felt seeing you suffer was bigger than any physical pain he had ever felt in his 28 years of life. It felt like his heart was being crushed and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“We will never-” your voice fails with the thought. The matter that hurts you the most every time you think about your future. A dream that will never come true, at least not in this life. “I will never know what it would be like to have a family with you…”

“But we were a family, love! Nothing will ever change that”

“But I will never know what it's like to be a mother, Yu! I will never know what it is to look in the eyes of the purest form of love we could create. I won’t see you become a father and I won’t know how your eyes and my nose combined would look like in this little being.”

And suddenly he didn't know what more to say. He knew how much of a dream that was to you and how that specific wound would never heal with time. He knew that even though you could deal better with his absence one day, your heart would never get used to the impossibilities of the future. The part of you and of your dream that would go away with him, leaving a bitter taste behind.

“I am so sorry, honey. And I know that nothing I say will make this hurt stop. And it's gonna be tough, almost impossible, for a long time, but one day it will be less painful. And the next day less and less, till a day it will be just a little piece of your heart” the words barely came out of Yunho’s mouth and you already  imagined how it would be to not feel anything at all. Never feel the thrill of a joyful day again if it meant you wouldn’t feel not even a second more of that pain.

“If you can't do this for you right now, please, do it for me. Live one day at a time, holding to the monotony of a routine till everything gets more tolerable,” you could see his hands caressing your thigh. “You're so strong, my love! One of the strongest people I've met. You gave me the best days of my life without much effort! Your smile brightened every moment, even when everything around was cloudy. My life was the most beautiful and the most complete with you and, despite being short, I wouldn’t change a second of it to live more if it meant not having you.”

At this point you tried to hold back your tears and a huge knot clung to your throat. Would you be able to do it for him? One last request that only you could fulfill?

“Promise me that you will try and I promise to meet you again. I promise to follow each of your steps regardless of how long it takes. I promise to find you in our next life, even if our thread gets tangled and the path becomes longer. I promise that this won’t be the last life we share,” you closed your eyes pondering if you could keep that promise. “Promise you will live everything you can live, always remembering I will be by your side”

Yunho raised his hand so he could place it over your heart. He didn't want to go, but he needed to. He just needed you to promise.

“I-I promise I will try” your voice was like a whisper and your fists clenched, your nails marking the palm of your hand as if it could remind you that this was real.

With your eyes closed you could feel soft lips touching your forehead. “I love you forever, Y/N '' this time his voice sounded like a thought.

When you opened your eyes, your living room was empty again. The wall was yellow with a small beam of light coming from the window. It looks like it's just you once again. The cell phone vibrated by your side and you picked it up to see the notification, but there was nothing. When you unlocked the screen and the white wallpaper of your chat lit up your face, you could see the selected message from 1 year ago.

[Yuyu]: I LOVE YOU FOREVEEEEER!!!

You were not alone and would never be. “Love you more, Yu” you thought while you brought the phone close to your heart. Maybe you could even live. 

One day at a time.

© pynchkilledme 2024 - all rights reserved, do not copy or post without permission.

[mykoreanlove]

One of his girls pt.2 - Choose your fate

You haven’t heard from him in weeks. But now he messaged you – late at night asking if you were still up. What do you do? Which fate do you choose?

FATE #1

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god!!!

Your whole body was trembling. You were barely able to hold your phone properly because of the excitement you felt in every cell.

He finally messaged me. I am so happy now. Thank god I waited for him all this time, now our romance can start over and bloom into love!

You didn’t even think twice before answering him. Of course, you wanted to see him again. Even if it was late at night, even if so many things were still unprocessed between the two of you. You did not care at all – you just wanted him back so badly. You answered him in milliseconds and got up roaming your closet for a suitable outfit. Did you even need one though?

We’re probably going to end up fucking on his couch anyway, so why bother?

You decided on a black lace set which you put on after showering and doing your hair and make up. You hurried up, fearing that this moment would never come again.

So far he had not replied, nor called. You felt your stomach churn with anxiety. Your blood turned cold as you realized that he had read all of your messages and chose to ignore you. Tears were starting to form at the brink of your eyes.

JK, are you serious right now?

You shot him another message, barely typing correctly because of all the tears in your eyes. You saw him come online and reading it. Then his green bubble disappeard, leaving you on read. You felt like an idiot.

Embarrassed.

Humiliated.

Ashamed.

Fuck, I can’t do this anymore. Like honestly, he messaged me out of the blue after weeks of no contact in the middle of the night wanting to see me and what did I do? I did a somersault from excitement. How pathetic am I? Of course he left me on read. He probably messaged me because the other girls were busy and when he found a better option he ignored me. Why is this always happening to me? He didn’t change at all. Why am I so stupid?

You were too consumed by your negative feelings to get up and wash off your make up (or what was left of it due to the intense crying).  Instead, you watched the chat for hours, hoping that he would message you back. But he didn’t.

You fell asleep crying, wondering what you did wrong for him to treat you that way.

FATE #2

You finally had a night off to yourself – the last weeks were packed with workouts, dates, therapy, party nights and study sessions and you clearly needed a break. That’s why you chose to stay in and relax – thankfully with the help of your little vibrating buddy.

As you were getting it on and playing with yourself you got distracted by the many pings coming from your phone.

Who the fuck is messaging me now?

Slightly annoyed you paused the toy and took your phone into your hands, breaking into laughter immediately.

Well well well, look what the cat dragged in.

For a short moment you thought of answering him. Not because you wanted to meet him but because you wanted to tell him that you had changed. You were no longer the little girl that put men on a pedestal, thinking they were the glorious knights saving her from herself.

Nope.

You wanted to tell him that you had worked on yourself. A lot. You now realized how amazing you were – beautiful from the inside and out. Smart, driven, ambitious, sexy as fuck and in high demand. You wanted to tell him that you would never ever accept his boyish behavior again – you deserved far more than that.

You didn‘t hate him but you were no longer interested in entertaining his clownery. You leveled up and if he wanted you back in his life he had to rise up to your level as well.

You felt immense happiness in your chest as you realized how far you had come. You finally chose yourself over him and that felt good. You started typing a heartfelt reply in which you explained to him why you were done with him for now but then stopped.

I could explain all of that to him, right? But I could also… you know, match his energy and focus on me.

Your eyes fell on the toy next to you. Your fingers erased the long message and typed a short reply. You smirked as you put away your phone and got back to work.

Yeah, I’m gonna love me. I do it better than him anyway.

FATE #3

You frowned heavily as you scanned his messages.

See, he is a giant fuckboy. He only messaged me because no one else is around. Call him out on his bullshit!

You felt your chest tighten again. You didn’t want to assume the worst of him, even if it looked that way. But couldn’t there be another explanation?

Who says he’s only texting because of hooking up? Maybe he misses me so badly and it took him some time to finally get it out and that’s why he’s texting me at this hour. Couldn’t that also be true?

Your thoughts were all over the place, not knowing what to believe. You gave up reading his mind and asked him blatantly.

His reaction will tell me his motives, so let’s go.

You watched your phone nervously. He had read your messages. He even started typing but stopped.

Why did you stop? Kookie, what did you want to say to me?

You put your phone away as nothing happened for minutes. You felt sadness in your chest, as you took this as a confirmation of him only messaging you because of sex.

You got interrupted in your pity party as you noticed your phone lightning up – he was calling you.

Shit, he’s calling. Do I take his call? What should I say? Fuck, fuck..

“Hey?”

You heard him breathing at the other end of the call. He was just as nervous as you were.

“Just so you know, I felt deeply hurt by your accusation. But I guess I deserved that.”

You took a deep breath. Hearing his husky voice again made you realize how much you still cared about him. It made it painfully obvious how much you still wanted him.

“Kookie..”

His chuckle interrupted your sentence. “I did not expect you to still call me that. I missed that, y/n. I missed you. Still do.”

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You needed answers, you needed him.

“I didn’t text you because I wanted to fuck. I had a couple of drinks with the guys and apparently that was all the courage I really needed. I wanted to see you and explain why I behaved the way I did. Can I – can I  come over, y/n?”

[annie-creates]

You can call me Andy

Pairing: Andromache of Scythia x reader

Genre: fluff (I guess)

Words: 900

Note: Happy International Women's Day! Let's celebrate with empowering women. Please be aware possible trigger of the loss of a child is mentioned here.

Hot red. That’s all you could see amongst the walls of thick smoke. The fire was burning hot, making your skin sweat under the heavy suit. It might have protected you from the flames but it did nothing for the suffocating feeling inside. You should have stayed outside with your squad, that’s what the orders said.  Instead you threw yourself into the burning house on the mention of a missing child. If there was even an insignificant chance of saving said child, you’d take it.

You became a firefighter few years ago. It was never in your dreams nor imagined future, but after your life turned upside down it felt right. You needed to do something with yourself. Your husband divorced you few months after the funeral of your little baby girl. A few minutes of his mother’s inattention and your toddler couldn’t be saved. Imagine coming home to be told your baby has drown.

No amount of therapy or church visits could take the pain away. You tried to keep your marriage intact but it fell into pieces, with both of you overwhelmed with rage and guilt. You moved apartments, found a new job, got a hobby. But no matter what you did, you couldn’t escape the blame and nightmares.

Now you were running through the house as fast as you could, trying to find the child before your lungs won’t be able to handle it anymore. Your radio cracked with statics, the stern voice of your commander pushing its way through the thick air.

“Y/l/n, we have the child, get out of the house,” you could barely understand him over the cackling. “I repeat, get out of there!” you didn’t need much more convincing to flee the scene, trying to maneuver your path out of the burning hell. Your eyes were burning and you could hardly see your own steps, lungs nearly collapsing filled with smoke and ash. You could almost see the light from outside, when your vision turned black and your racing thoughts silenced your mind.

The first thing you’ve heard was machine beeping. Some regular, some unsteady. You leveled your breathing to the signals. Then you felt with your fingers and toes, the scratchy fabric of bedding. Slowly you opened your eyes, adjusting to the sharp light of the room. You were in what seemed to be a hospital room, surrounded by monitors and enginery. You lied in bed and your chief was just coming through the door.

“You’re up, good. You gave us a pretty crazy scare back there Y/l/n. Really we thought you’d be into pieces.” he shook his head assessing all the improbably scenarios how you survived. “But look at you, all up and in one piece. It’s like a miracle. You better not try that again.” with that he went back out to the hall, talking to a nurse.

You’ve spent the rest of the day being checked and questioned things from which you didn’t have answers to many. How did you survive a whole house collapsing onto you without as much as a scratch? How did your lungs and body just not give up? You couldn’t answer those questions even if you tried. Maybe it was God’s doing, deciding it’s not the time for you to go yet. Maybe you were gifted a second chance to save more lives and make things right.

You woke up to a consistent pinching to your leg. The room was darker and you could see the night sky out the window, clear indication you shouldn’t be awake at this hour. But the lady standing next to you had obviously thought differently.

“Get up,” was all she said throwing a pile of clothes on your bed.

“Excuse me..?” your sleep clouded mind had trouble processing all of this. “What..?”

“You think you survived by some miracle? You didn’t. You died, now you’re immortal and they know. We need to get out,” she clearly had a very low patience as she started aggressively shoving you to move when you didn’t get up immediately.

“What are you talking about!?” you mimicked her hushed tone, not really sure why you’re whispering in otherwise empty hospital room.

“You want to see for yourself?” she invited you to the door window, shoving you a pair of army officers in the hall, apparently investigating or guarding something. “Now, if you’d please get dressed so we can get out of here it’d be much appreciated.”

You did as she said, not really having many other choices. If it was any other situation, you’d argue with this stranger, but you’ve experienced so much weird stuff today you didn’t even question it anymore. Or maybe you were just too sleep deprived and groggy. Once you got dresses she took you by the hand, guiding you out to sneak around the guards through different hallways and corridors.

But it wouldn’t be your cursed luck someone didn’t notice you as you were exiting the building and didn’t call after you, successfully making everyone on the floor aware. Soon you were being chased by five security guards across the parking lot, hopping into a car parked nearby.

“Get in!” the woman commanded and you happily obeyed. She sped onto the street, maneuvering through the traffic.

“What’s going on? Who are you?” you questioned trying to catch your breath.

“Andromache the Scythian. But you can call me Andy.”

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck Week 2024

Day 7 - A Song You Associate with UU: This Is Your Sign by Citizen Soldier

I said that Favorite Arc was the hardest and cruelest choice among these prompts, but that was shortsighted of me. This is the hardest choice I've had to make this entire week. My Undead Unluck playlist on Spotify is over 140 tracks of songs that in some way made me think of UU, either thematically with the series as a whole, with specific characters, with specific events, etc.

However, I was able to make that decision about 90% easier by narrowing it down to a single band: anyone who's been following me for a while should be unsurprised that I knew from the beginning I'd be going with a Citizen Soldier song, but I've got 14 of them on that list, and they're all great as UU songs. Despite how much I've talked about it, though, I don't think I've ever explicitly shared what about them works so well

Citizen Soldier's lead singer, Jake Segura, is a clinical therapist, and views his music as a form of group therapy. Many of his songs deal with themes of depression and suicide, either from the perspective of someone crying out for help or the one responding to the call

UU literally starts with Fuuko attempting suicide, and the overarching goal of the story is Andy's elaborate assisted suicide. Tatiana's request for Billy to send her to see her parents, Chikara's wrestling with whether his parents would want him to atone for their deaths, Rip permanently wounding his eye during his botched suicide attempt; nearly every character contemplates, desires, or attempts suicide at some point or another

But they are all also saved from their lowest moments. Andy appears as Fuuko stands on the ledge, Billy gives Tatiana a homemade treat, Fuuko showed Chikara that his life had purpose, and Latla stopped Rip just before the blade hit his neck. Even Andy's desire for death has clearly faded since meeting Fuuko, learning that his real desire is to live surrounded by people that he loves

If you're standin' on the ledge and you hear this song play I'm tellin' you, this is the evidence If these words find you alive and it's still not too late I'm tellin' you, it's no coincidence

This Is Your Sign is about those chance meetings, that feeling that the world is against you and that you might as well give up only for something to suddenly change and give you the push that you need to hang on a little longer

This is your sign, a shootin' star, a satellite in space That who you are is so much more than all your darkest days This is your sign, it's just the start, and everythin' could change This is the moment you'll remember you decided to stay (you decided to stay)

The people, the sights, the experiences that make life worth living are the privilege of the living. Choosing death means giving up on possibility, trading everything that could be to escape what is. If Fuuko had successfully committed suicide, she never would have befriended Tatiana or Mui or Chikara. She never would have had her whirlwind romance with Andy, she never would have gotten to wear beautiful dresses, she never would have gotten a second chance at attending high school, and the world itself would have been destroyed. Juiz would have failed to loop, and the Union wouldn't have made it to the final world. UU takes the concept to its logical extreme, but the ending of Fuuko's world would have literally been the end of the world

If you're wishin' you were dead and hear my voice, this is fate 'Cause this is meant for you, yeah, every single word If it seems nobody cares and you're alone in your pain No matter where you are, this is the miracle that you deserve

Citizen Soldier's songs want you to know that something better is coming, that if you keep going you'll eventually find something to make it all worth it. Sometimes it takes a miracle to remind us of that, but ultimately it's our decision to fight on. Someone or something can come into our life, but we have to be the ones to save our lives

Barely holdin' on and scared to death There's a reason that you're hearin' this and you're not dead yet If you're waitin' on a reason why (the reason why) This is your sign to save your life

Andy was Fuuko's inspiration, but she was the one to embrace her Unluck for Andy's sake. She was the one who decided she didn't want to die anymore. She was the one who decided to loop to do for everyone else what Andy did for her

Undead Unluck and Citizen Soldier both helped me through hard times. They both equipped me with tools to cope when I was down, with weapons to keep fighting for the life I want

There are so many other songs I wanted to talk about today. Irreplaceable, Through Hell, Stronger than My Storm, Hallelujah (I'm Not Dead), and many more. If you need a soundtrack for Undead Unluck, you really can't pick a better band than Citizen Soldier

If I've convinced you to give them a listen, I hope you'll find at least one song that helps you the way they've helped me. I hope whatever you're going through right now, that this will make it easier. I hope that anything I've said in this post, this week, or even the last four years has helped you in some way. If you yourself have been waiting on a reason why, then please let this be your sign

Thank you to everyone who participated in Undead Unluck Week. Thank you to everyone who helped show me that my current favorite is as well-loved as I always knew it could be. Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed my posts this week. You've all helped me to enjoy life, and I hope I've done the same for you

As I said yesterday, and in every chapter review for the last several months: until next time, let's enjoy life

[fizzigigsimmer]

i wanna hear about all your fics!! so bachelor au, blinding baby like city lights, news paper au and love aint fair at all!!

Ahh bless you nonny. Some of these are still just outlines but a few have chapters posted.

Starting with OUTLINES

The Bachelor Au: This is still one of my favorite ideas lol, born of my love of the insanity that is the bachelor franchise and the poorly concealed producer plants who are clearly just there for the drama. You can't tell me Billy wouldn't make a perfect Chad. The gist is Steve is the first Bisexual bachelor contestant. An icon, An American sweetheart looking for love. Robin and The Party are crew members and all the stranger things teens are contestants (Nancy, Chrissy, Eddie, Jason, Argyle, Heather) vying for his hand and represent various types of typical bachelor contestants. The funny ones, the good guys, the people there for clout, the people who somehow think they can get away with going on a dating show while still involved in a situationship back home, and the people who decide to do a reality show instead of go to therapy for their bag of issues. Billy is an instagram model hired by producers to be the seasons 'villian' and be hated by the audience. It's just supposed to be a free vacation where he gets to make some extra cash to be his most extra before he's finally sent home. But oops, they fall in love. Leaving them to figure out how they build a life together after the show when there are NDA's involved and they are the most hated ship in America.

Newspaper Club Au: This is a no upside down college fic featuring Billy/Nancy friendship, nerd!billy and jock!Steve. I haven't decided yet whether it's modern, 80s, or an ambiguous setting but the basic gist is the boys meet in college. Steve is there on a sports scholarship and chose California to follow Nancy, now his ex-girlfriend. Billy's an English major who works on the school paper with Nancy (one of his electives). He's pissed when she puts him on the sports column as it means he actually has to attend the games. He starts using the column to flirt with/aka harass swimmer Steve through increasingly ridiculous and suggestive commentary. The campus thinks it's a riot. Steve thinks Billy's an asshole and making him the butt of a joke just because he's a "dumb jock". Nancy plays matchmaker and also saves the integrity of her paper by finagling Billy into helping Steve write an essay for his English literature elective. Billy takes the opportunity to show him he was 1000 percent serious about wanting to know if his dick is even bigger out of the speedo.

Onto the POSTED fics

Blinding Baby Like City Lights: Is a dom/sub au where everyone is either a dominant, submissive, or switch. Basically some people need to dominate to stay balanced and others need to submit, or some mix of the two. And everyone responds differently to different things, creating many different 'types.' Naturally not all types are good for each other. Billy is a masochistic sub, has known it for a long time but wasn't safe to explore it growing up with an abusive sadist for a father. He's managed to claw his way out of his abusive home and become a successful business man who is often mistaken for a dom. He found family in Heather & Chrissy, but never a dominant he can trust enough to handle him and give him exactly what he needs. Steve's a recovering sadist. Too much privilege and neglectful parents lead him to some pretty unhealthy and toxic tendencies in his relationship with his first love Nancy. Losing his sub nearly broke him, but he broke good and has been rebuilding his life with his best friend Robin for the last few years. He just wants to take care of people by making good food, and find someone he can take care of always, without having to be afraid of his own desires. Steve might just be perfect for Billy, and Billy might just be what Steve needs to finally embrace who he is.

*** EDIT

When you have so many WIPs you confuse two of them.

Love Aint Fair At All: Werewolf au + a/b/o dynamics. This is a retelling of Snow White that takes place in an alternate version of Hawkins where magic exists. Some peoples magic makes them Wolf Shifters (people who are born with the ability to turn into wolves) and others use their magic to bend the external elements, these people are called Hags. Steve lives in the Cold Zone, a portion of the country that is suffering under a powerful Hags curse. Billy is a Wolf Shifter, exiled from their former pack in California, he and Neil make their way as huntsmen for hire. But everything goes to shit wen Neil brings the family to Hawkins to serve Steve's cousin Elsie, a powerful and mysterious Hag whose obsession with beauty and power threatens to cover the world in ice. The only thing holding her at bay is an old curse that limits her powers and a prophecy that promised one day an omega child would be born who was fairer than her. Good thing Steve is a perfectly normal bland beta boy - until he isn't.

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

I... I went through a LOT in therapy today.

Basically, a month before this session, my father sent a cease and desist letter to my therapist via lawyer, and harassed her and her assistant for information he legally could not obtain because I never put him on my release forms, knowing well that he would go to extreme lengths for information I was not comfortable giving him. And he REFUSED to stop until he got that information, even though he literally could not get it in any way, shape, or form. And I didn't want him to have it.

Well. After that month, I went and met with my therapist today finally for a much needed session. And my therapist said exactly this: "I believed you before [about your father], but I think this situation is worse than you've been describing it." She told me, "You hear about patients' lives, but you rarely get to experience them. And I've gotten a glimpse into yours. Your life is hard."

That really struck me. The fact that she confirmed my situation is horrible, and that I possibly am still not confronting the entire situation but rather holding back some because it really is *that bad*... Gods. That was... a huge relief.

In short, she and I concluded my father struggles to keep meaningful relationships. People don't actually like him all that much, if at all, they instead, are held on by a string of fear that he controls, and are constantly walking on eggshells with him, wondering what will set him off next. Nothing will ever satisfy my father. Nothing. At all. Last time I confronted my father, I said exactly, "I feel like I'm walking on eggshells with you." I never said that to my therapist, and she used the exact phrase, as though she knew.

My therapist straight up told me as well, "If you wanted to put [your father] on the release forms, we'd be having a serious discussion. I don't think that's good for you."

Before I even realized I was being controlled by my father's fear, I subconsciously knew I had to take control over myself and my life by excluding him from private matters like therapy.

And as an adult, I am making decisions for myself. To satisfy myself. To keep my well-being in check rather than satisfying my father. I am not giving him any information about my private talks in therapy, and I am going to save up to move away from him and live on my own. I am focusing on what will make me happy, not my father. I've spent my whole life trying to make happy a man who's never once been happy.

But me? It's real easy to make me happy. Give me stuff to create, write, print, whatever. Take me to a concert. A LARPing event. Play a game with me. Give me a small gift. Show me an animal of any kind. Share a snack or drink with me. Be kind to me in the smallest way. Literally anything, big or small, means the world to me and makes me smile to the moon and back. I've been happy so many times, despite the anxiety my father causes me. I've known true happiness in a way he will never know, and has never known. And that's sad. I wish he will find happiness someday. But clearly, I'm not responsible to help him find it. I'm responsible for my own happiness, and that's just about it. I matter. My well-being matters. I don't have to spend a lifetime trying to satisfy someone who is impossible to satisfy. But I can spend a lifetime satisfying myself.

And I will. By moving out someday soon.

[shauntamae]

Hey yall, Hey! This may possibly be a difficult blog to follow with so a bit of a disclaimer. Some of my family history with mental illness, drug addiction and abuse will be mentioned. Please protect your heart and mind and proceed with caution if you so choose to continue reading.

I sit almost daily with my thoughts. One in particular, "my life was/is a shit show. There's no way people are going to believe I went through all of this." While I am an open book, some stuff I hold close because of this very thought. In all honesty, this thought is encompassed with fear and protection. I'm afraid that some of the deepest darkest things I've experienced won't be believed. Sure, who cares? Well, I do. If I'm not believed, then Little Me is silenced again. AND THAT THOUGHT is still what needs healing!

I came into this world swinging. My biological mother was addicted to crack/cocaine. She hit before I made it earthside, and I was born addicted as well. I used to be ashamed that I was "Crack baby." Especially growing up in the 90s. The many foster homes I jumped around to had no problem bringing it to my attention. I was slightly bullied for being a crack baby, a foster kid, and having a mother who was addicted to it and known for sleeping around town to get it. I say slightly because I learned how to fight early, and I didn't play those games. I also knew my mother was going to come back for me, and if you said anything that didn't align with that, I was meeting you on the blacktop or the streets... imagine little 5 year old me scrappin. Yeah... I know... Plot twist. She never came and that was the best thing that could ever happen. Save this for another blog.

I fought away from home because I could never fight at home. I say quite often that my memory from childhood is a blessing and a curse but mostly a curse. I remember my first assaults happening while I was in pull-ups. I didn't understand what was happening, clearly, but I remember being told that it was okay, because this is how "dads show their love" My biological father was nonexistent but my foster parent at the time had a boyfriend... And we were to call any man she had "dad"... I was potty trained fairly early, however, I'd have accidents quite often... sometimes they were true accidents out of fear and other times once I caught on... they were intentional. Somehow, I felt a whooping was far greater than "dad's love" and other times, well, both were equally unbearable.

I became too much of a problem for this foster home and eventually social services came and got me. I moved to another foster home but I never escaped the assaults and the abuse. Each home I went to became worse than the one before. The physical, emotional, mental, sexual abuse I endured is unfathomable at times. I also sit and wonder how I really went through this all and managed to make it to this day to write about it all. The simple answer is God! I'm a firm believer that He covered my heart and mind for all of these years because He knew there was a purpose far greater than I could have ever dreamed for myself and nothing... NO THING OR PERSON was going to stop that. To say I don't struggle mentally about it all would be a lie. I have PTSD, depression and anxiety. Looking at me, you'd have no idea but baaaaaby it's rough. However, I do the work to heal and find healthy coping mechanisms to get me through on the hardest days.

Peloton plays a huge role in my mental fortitude. On days when I am unable to get into a therapy session, I check in to therapy on my bike, mat, or treadmill. Movement is really medicine. I say all of this to say that we all have stories. We all have journies, and while they may not all be the same, one thing we all hold in common is our truth. We all hold autonomy over them, and there isn't a soul on earth that can take it from us. So, while my story (this is a TINY fraction of what I've endured) is absolutely horrid and unbelievable to someone out there, my truth is mine. I KNOW there's someone out there who is living or lived, maybe even a fraction of what I did who needs to hear it and may find solace in knowing they are not alone and that there's so much beautiful life to be lived beyond the confinment of our Trauma. For that very reason, I will continue to honor not only the things that have made me the person I am today, but I will forever honor Little Me, who deserves to be free and validated... BY ME! May you find the courage one day to do the same!

[ae-neon]

I have so many unpopular opinions!

I don't believe you necessarily have to be a terrible person to get blocked. I blocked an anti-Feysand (my people) just because she hated Nesta too and kept posting anti/critical posts of her.

Tamlin is literally not that bad. Anything he's done, the faves have done it more and done it worse, laughed about it over wine, never apologized for it, and patted themselves on the back for it.

Feyre being locked in a literal mansion where her every need was met to protect her is so unserious to me. Like honestly, I get where SJM was going with it, and I get all the other stuff, but THAT I roll my eyes at. The girl spent half her life (or three years, depending on which piece of canon you prefer) putting herself in danger just to scrape by with no one saving or protecting her. She spent the last three months going through horrifically dangerous and traumatic shit with no one to save or protect her. The idea that someone she loves says "don't go into danger, stay here in the lap of luxury not worrying about anything for a few months while I make sure our court is safe" gave her claustrophobic PTSD but almost getting trapped when stealing the Book of Breathings didn't? Recreating UtM in the Hewn City didn't? The Weaver's Cottage didn't? As someone who used to be homeless and starved on more than one occasion, I'd personally take temporary imprisonment in a mansion where I knew my next meal was guaranteed and people were there who cared about me anything else (and can we all realize that it very much was temporary? Tamlin was worried about things that he was ACTIVELY trying to take care of so he and Feyre DIDN'T have to worry about anymore).

Even GOOD people on this side of the fandom go too far with all the abuse talk. I've seen maybe four blogs telling people to dial it back. There is no way to make a supernatural fantasy story not "abusive" by our standards. We talk about it too much. Certain things (SA, grooming & manipulation, all of ACOSF), yes! All of the deep explorations of Calanmai and SA? Dial it back!

I have so many more but this is getting too long. I just really feel like I'm the only one with sense my line of thinking in this fandom (that was a joke if it wasn't clear).

Hello anon

I actually agree with wanting to pull off the abuse label on certain situations. I'm tired of moral grandstanding to justify why I like who I like Vs who I don't like.

It's fine to point out when doing critical analysis but why are we alwaaaays analysing. I don't want to sound anti intellectual but while it is that deep, we don't always have to engage at that level.

Maybe I just don't like Rhys not cause he's clearly an abusive manipulator but cause he's boring? He's just incompetent and I find that unattractive? Maybe I don't care that Cassian needs therapy, I just don't like his aesthetic? Frankly I think that should be reason enough.

Feyre locked away in the mansion is so real. It's not like she was torn away from her preferred property like Nesta. Like you're in your own house, just for the day, until he comes back and you can tell him to fuck off.

And of course nothing else in the next weeks where she was manipulated into humiliating or life-threatening situations would also trigger her PTSD. It's subjective. As subjective as SJM decides to make it.

According to SJM herself, her faves trauma is just not that deep. It disappears in weeks. It only ever comes up to remind the readers not to pick anyone else's side in an argument where SJM is losing against her own characters.