#trigger warning mobbing

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

A sweet kiss, please.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Persephone has a miscarriage and Hades! Simon sends her back to “ the land of the living”

He drops the bags into the trunk of the vehicle and slams it shut, the sound of the latch clicking drives a knife deep into his chest. Simon’s eyes burn as he stares through the rearview mirror, the driver of the vehicle waiting for you.

“Simon please, I don’t want to go back! Don’t make me go back! Simon!” His throat burns, he wills himself not to show emotion as you come running from the house, barefoot. “Don’t make me go back!”

He turns and looks at you, fists clenched and his jaw set tight. His teeth grind while he watches you crying, begging him not to make you leave. The loss of your baby is raw and painful, it’s breaking your heart and you want to cleave to him.

He knows you do.

“You have to go home-”

“No! I am home! This is home!” You plead with him, desperately advocating to stay. “I’m sorry I lost our baby, Simon! I’m sorry I had a miscarriage, please don’t make me leave!”

It breaks him to see you like this, it’s devastating to see you so hurt. You blame yourself and it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anything you did. Someone did this to you, someone killed your pregnancy when you were only 10 weeks long.

“You need to leave, you’re going home.” Simon pulls away from you, he brushed your hand off and opens the door for you to get into the vehicle. “Go.”

“Simon don’t do this, please!” Your legs shake, they nearly give out. You’re a mess, you’re pleading with him while sobbing, while clutching his sweater, while desperately trying to cling to the hope that he’ll change his mind. “Please, I love you! I’m sorry-”

“You need to leave.” He forces himself to speak coldly, to snap at you. He forces himself to be harsh and cruel, he makes himself throw you into the backseat, to secure you in the vehicle.

You were 10 weeks along when you had your miscarriage, it wasn’t your fault. Someone slipped misoprostol into your food and drinks, an abortion pill that was fed to you. Someone killed your future baby, and Simon wouldn’t allow you to stay here.

He needed to protect you; you had to go home.

“Don’t let her come back.” He slams the door shut, giving his men strict instructions, making sure they understand the severity of his decision. “She does not come back.”

“Simon!” You’re banging the window, a mix of angry and sorrowed tears streaming down your face. “Simon please!”

He turns his back to you, he feigns ignorance to your crying, pleading and begging. He’s emotionally shut down, trying to avoid feeling his own heart breaking.

You need to go back to the land of the living, far from this hell that keeps hurting you.

[nerdieforpedro]

Her smile was worth it

Pero Tovar (modern AU) x plus size female reader (La jefa)

Word Count: 1882

Warnings: DARK FIC, mobs and their enforcers, mentions of general violence and graphic violence, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of injuries, solving problems Tovar style, comfort food and tea

Summary: Pero Tovar only has a few people he chooses to interact with willingly. The bookstore owner is one of them. Someone made a very stupid mistake, Tovar will handle it and still have his tea.

Notes: This was written for @iamasaddie ‘s writing challenge 2.0. My color was Mob Enforcer and the prompt was “Hurt/Comfort” and “Who did this to you?” We're longer than a Drabble again, we dribbled quite a bit. Such is Nerdie.

I may have leaned too hard into the ‘hurt portion’ but we’ll see. 👀

Main Masterlist/ Pero Tovar Masterlist/ Writing Challenges

The only good thing about doing collections, was that most of the time, Pero wasn’t using violence. Just intimidation. The shopkeepers knew why he was here and knew the amount they needed to pay to The Family. It’s been the same amount for the past six months, in was raised temporarily for some needed repairs on the club the Valentino family owned. The actual story was that a few of the younger members had been ordered to torture a few members of a rival family and went overboard. The walls, floors and everything needed to be scrubbed. 

Tovar’s been with the Valentino family for fifteen years and as one of their premier enforcers for the last seven working his way up from errand boy. His height and broad frame discourage crossing him, and even if someone is dumb enough to do so, they find themselves bloodied, battered and with at least one thing broken. 

Today’s last stop for collections was planned and one that Pero normally did by himself. The bookstore owner also functions as the town’s librarian since the town doesn’t have one. It’s a smaller town and to get to a library you must drive two towns over. She normally offers him tea and some type of baked goodies. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s grown to have a slight sweet tooth. Maybe. Really, he could care less about the sweets, he usually chats up the owner and barrows books. Considering he is collecting money from her, he felt he should pay but she always said no. He got the sense it wasn’t out of fear, she liked knowing his thoughts on different books. At first, he didn’t like the idea of discussing them. The enforcer wasn’t sure if he could really talk about different themes, symbols, characters and the like he often heard people talk about when discussing these books. 

La jefa (the boss) as he often greeted her didn’t judge him on his answers or lack of them. He’d talk the best he could about what he read, even if he didn’t understand it all. She listens and sips her tea, then asks him questions to draw more answers out of him. It fustrated him at first. But he grew to enjoy the bi-weekly sit downs with her. 

The chime of the bell goes off as he opens the door. The sun is at Pero’s back as he enters the bookstore. He comes early in the afternoon around two. She’s not at the counter, though the shop is listed as open. Calling out for her, she doesn’t answer, and he sucks his teeth. It isn’t like her at all. There’s no tea out either. There are no books that appear out of place and making his way behind the counter, nothing appears to be wrong with the register.

The enforcer goes into the back of the shop, he only knew where the bathroom was back here. He was looking for anything that resembled an office, as he walked down the hallway, there was a sniffle. As he kept going, they got louder. Taking a breath while he stood in front of a door that was slightly ajar, he tried to prepare himself. Maybe it was a bad day, maybe she got a papercut or was reading a sad book or something. Tovar instantly knew none of those were the case when he opened the door. 

Sitting behind the desk, her shoulders were slumped, and her hands were covering her face. He saw the scabs on the back of her hands, defensive marks. “Jefa dejame ver. (Boss, let me have a look).” Her sniffles stop for a moment as she shakes her head, turning her body away from him in the swivel chair. His eyes widen at the mark on her neck he spies it when she turns, it looks like it could be from a palm. Moving to her side, Pero places a hand on her shoulder, “I need to see cariño (sweetheart) or just give me a name. Who did this to you?” She finally drops her hands, but she turns her face away.

“I don’t want you to see. The envelope is on the desk Pero. Please.”  It is on the table, and he’ll put it in his jacket shortly - it is why he came here in the first place, but he can’t just leave like this. On top of her being one of a small number of people who he wants to be around, it could get around that the protection money the shops pay isn’t worth a damn because you could get beat in your own shop, and nothing will happen to whoever did it.

“Then tell me a name.” It’s sterner this time, but he’s released her shoulder and instead picked up her hand, his thumb tracing the scabs on her knuckles. She’d tried to fight back at least. She’s biting her lips when she finally looks at him, most of the discoloration is on the left side of her face though there’s a cut on her chin and one on her bottom lip. A large bruise is on her chest across her right clavicle, partly covered by her shirt. Pero’s able to keep his face motionless. “Por favor cariño (please sweetheart).” He doesn’t recognize the name she says, but he kisses her forehead and wraps an arm around her. “Gracias (thank you). I’ll be back princesa (princess).” 

Pero puts the envelope in his jacket pocket and heads out of the office. “Close the shop now and have the tea ready when I come back. Between eight and nine tonight.” He’s going to be quick about dropping the money off and he’s texted one of his associates with the name she gave. Within fifteen minutes, Pero has a picture to go with the name and a location. Marcello talks way too much, but he’s the best Tovar knows at tracking people.

Pero finds this man himself and tells Marcello to tell the higher ups that he needs to demonstrate a lesson in messaging with the family. He’ll need the basement and he’ll keep the clean up to a minimum. It’s not that there wouldn’t be blood. There might be too much blood so the powers at be approve the basement use but ask that Marcello and a second enforcer be there so that the man isn’t killed. There’s only murder when necessary and it wasn’t they viewed in this case. Pero sucked his teeth for the second time today but would make sure the man in question lives. Just not with all functioning limbs. 

After the submission of the money and subsequent torture was complete, the man’s body was bandaged by one of their doctors on the payroll and dropped off at his home, during a time they knew his family would be home with the message, “The Valentino family suffers no fools.” Pero carved it into his back to emphasize the point. He was still alive but would not be the same. Not after, as Tovar saw it, he’s violated one of his favorite places. 

La jefa has long closed her shop and made herself dinner. Now that she thought about it, she’s never made Pero any of her food, just cookies, brownies and the like. Since he said he was coming back, she would make extra. The worst that would happen would be that he would say he didn't want any.  It also dawned on her that she has not made a book recommendation today. She should pick one out before he comes, straightening out her mint green dress. Turning off the stove, she went downstairs to look for a book and saw Pero standing at the door ready to knock. It was a quarter after eight, he was glad he’d taken the extra time to shower. He didn’t want to be late, but he didn’t want to be dirty either. 

“Ah! Mi princesa del librios es bonita (My Princess of books is pretty). You have our tea ready tonight?” His question follows the chime of the bell above the door as she unlocks it and lets him in. She then locks it again and nods.

“I have tea and I made some extra for dinner. I didn’t pick out a book for you yet.” She seems a bit brighter than this afternoon but still trying to make sure she was facing him with her right side. Pero takes her left hand and tugs it a little, not hard, just enough so she faces him fully.

“Hermosa (gorgeous) you don’t have a bad side. Don’t worry about the book. I haven’t finished with the other one yet. I want my tea and I want to see what you made for dinner.” The corners of her mouth curve and finally she smiles, squeezing his hand and leading him up the stairs. Pero watches her walk up and into her living area. It’s cozy as it has books scattered about as well. 

“I don’t know if you like stew, but I made that and heated up some rolls. There’s butter too. I have water, apple juice, coke, and some rum.” The last option surprised him as he didn’t picture her drinking at all. Maybe she had a glass or two when she sat up here before bed. She poured herself a glass of water as Pero pointed to her glass and held up an empty bowel on the table. She filled both and they sat down across from each other. “I hope you enjoy Pero.”

“I don’t doubt that I will cariño.” The food went quickly as they ate, and she asked what other kind of foods he liked. Pero felt he might be getting greedy. Perhaps he’s been gluttonous of her attention each time he comes here. She gives it so willingly. 

Tonight’s tea is mint like her dress which makes Tovar chuckle as he takes up half of her loveseat sitting down. She takes up the other and they sip tea, speaking of past books they’ve read and things he may want to read. 

Even if he got an urgent call, he’ll ignore it because he’s having his tea. Pero Tovar doesn’t feel like an enforcer or a conduit for violence. He just has an arm around one of his favorite people as she places her head on his shoulder. The tough pads of his fingers touch the injured side of her face while he tells her that it’s been taken care of. He won’t tell her details. Tovar figures she can put it together. If he can just have moments like these where he’s just a man with someone he cares for, Pero can use that to sleep. He prays she can rest without crying or being scared. 

The loveseat has his feet hanging off outside of the blanket he found on the back of it. So far, he hasn’t heard her sniffle again. Pero carried her to bed after she fell asleep in his arms. The faint scent of mint mingling with the earthy smell of the books lulls him to sleep. He had blood on his hands again today, but it was fine. It was for her sake, and she hasn’t cried again.

It was worth it.

[wishingly-mesh]

”murderous intent”

every time I rewatch mob psycho and I get to this scene in season one, I always end up wondering for awhile what would happen of Reigen didn’t stop him, how would the story have changed. anyways if anyone’s got a fic about it I’ll give you a big juicy kiss if you give it to me :3

[justatiredghost]

No Freedom from Knowing ch9

The general mistrust of magic as well as dangerous people in his past kept Jonathan Sims isolated, hidden away where he hoped he might finally be safe. Until he met someone who might be worth shattering that peace for.

ao3

-

John woke slowly, the fog of sleep dissipating as the solid weight beside him slowly came into focus, as well as the warmth emanating from there, seeping into his bones. Somehow, he woke feeling content in a way he was completely unfamiliar with, the knowledge that Martin was with him preventing him from panicking at the foreign feeling. 

Waking up beside someone else was not something he was used to. Any previous relationships felt like a lifetime ago, like they happened to a completely different person. John let himself indulge in the feeling, in the warmth that would quickly become stifling, in his arm that was slowly going numb from the awkward position, and the absolute relief and fondness that swepped over him at how perfect it all was. 

He knew there were things he needed to do, concerns and fears he needed to contend with, but when Martin’s eyes fluttered open and eventually focused on him, a sleepy smile tugging at the corner of his lips, it was the only thing John was capable of caring about. 

John leaned in and kissed him, because he could, because he was allowed to. Because it made Martin smile. He knew his expression had to be one of self satisfaction when Martin did exactly that. 

“Good morning to you too,” Martin said, placing his hand on John’s arm, smoothing his thumb against his skin, and he looked so fond, it made John melt. 

This closeness was still so new, John felt himself somewhat overwhelmed despite how much he wanted to indulge in it. He wanted to stay here forever, but the agitated need to walk was greater and won out. 

“It’s still night, I think,” John said, squinting towards the window. “How about some dinner?”

Martin had barely opened his mouth to agree when John climbed over the top of him. It was either that or climb to the foot of the bed, and this way won a surprised laugh that filled him with such pride and fondness, he decided he’d chosen correctly. 

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Martin muttered, covering his burning red face until John had climbed off of him and the bed, before following. 

It was inevitable that they’d eventually have to talk about next steps. The place was still a mess, but Martin righted the table and chairs so they could at least sit down while they ate. Instead of sitting across from Martin, John elected to sit beside him, which neither of them commented on, although John could tell he wanted to given the pleased and amused smile Martin tried to hide behind his tea. 

“Maybe we can train the chickens,” Martin joked. “They can act as guard… um, chickens.”

“Guard chickens?” John repeated, deadpan. “I’ve been living with them for years and I can’t even get them to lay eggs in their nests like they’re supposed to. I think they’re beyond training, which is a shame, because I for one would love to see Elias attacked by chickens.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Martin said. “I don’t know how useful they’ll be, but I did get some weapons while I was in town.”

“Weapons?” John asked in alarm. While being able to defend himself was certainly an appealing idea, he didn’t actually know how to use— well, anything. He had to admit to himself that he was more likely to stab himself than anyone else.

“Look,” Martin said defensively. “I may not have any proper training with a sword, but I’ve made a few in my time and that includes testing the strength of the blade. I can work out the basics. Unless you’re going to tell me Elias is also a renowned dualist.”

“Not that I know of,” John said. “He’s likely far older than he looks, though, so who knows.”

“Great, that’s just great,” Martin griped, and John hoped it wasn’t obvious how endearing he found it. “Well, what about—“

And then all hell broke loose. 

It sounded like an explosion, rocking the house to its core, sending spiderwebbing cracks up the wall and ceiling, and knocking John to the ground, where he landed hard. His entire body felt like it was on fire, his magic ripped out of him as it tried to strengthen his wards against the unseen magical bombardment, but it was pointless, there was no way he had enough strength in him to combat that sort of power. 

It felt like he was being flayed open and ripped apart, everything he was torn out of him, leaving a ragged hole behind. He couldn’t even cry out, paralyzed by the agony. And worst of all, he could feel the exact moment his protections gave out. Everything that had shielded him from the outside world was stripped away and he was left vulnerable and broken in its wake. 

He tried to gasp, but he couldn’t get enough air in him, leaving him wheezing on the ground, grabbing at the neck of his shirt as if that would somehow alleviate the crushing weight on his lungs. 

“John? John, can you hear me? Please say you can hear me!”

He was vaguely aware of Martin over him, trying to support him. It was all he could do to reach out and cling to him, every movement a tremendous effort, his hands shaking too much to properly hold onto him. 

John could feel tears running down his face. He wanted to tell him to run, that all hope was lost and he needed to get as far from here as possible, but no words would come, only a strangled sob. Martin heaved him into his arms and carried him to the couch, staying close to hold him, to whisper reassurances that John didn’t know how to tell him meant nothing against the horrors of the world. The horrors that were coming for him. 

He could feel the full force of the Eye, of Beholding, glaring down on him now. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be such a target of that scrutiny; the at once intoxicating and horrific power that he was too weak to fight. He didn’t like who he was with it, the people he had hurt, the people he would likely hurt in the future. It had never been this intent on him, and he didn’t want to know what that meant. 

He cried for a long time, there in Martin’s arms, taking comfort where he didn’t deserve it. He should have pushed him away when he had the chance, at least then he would be far from here, where he might be spared whatever was coming. Martin was smoothing his sweat-dampened hair out of his face, trying to talk him down, when he finally got enough breath in him to speak again. 

“Elias will be coming for me,” John said, gripping Martin’s hand where it had been resting on his shoulder. He thought he might have been holding on too tightly, but he was so weak, it was likely Martin barely felt it. 

“Like hell he will,” Martin said, determination and a protective fury in his eyes that both warmed him, knowing someone could care for him so much, and also froze him to the bone, because he couldn’t get hurt, John couldn’t watch that happen. Elias wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he wanted. 

“Please don’t try to fight him,” John said, still gasping for every word. At least the pain was lessening, the tight grip on his chest slowly growing slack. 

“I’m not just going to stand by! “

“Please, I can't protect you from him,” John begged, and he felt the tears in his eyes again. 

“Tough! It’ll be him that needs protecting.”

And, fuck, he loved this man so much. “Help me up,” he said, and Martin did just that, grabbing his cane and handing it to him as well. 

“Come on,” Martin said. “Let’s at least get somewhere more defensible.”

“Oh,” John said, and any remaining shred of hope he had fled from him completely. “Oh, god. They’re all coming.”

He could feel it. He could feel the unnatural tremor through the earth as they came, the fury and hatred whipped up into a supernatural frenzy, and he knew Elias was somehow the cause. He never did like to do his own dirty work. John shouldn’t have been able to see it, feel it, without his wards, but maybe this was one last gift from Elias. 

“What?” Martin said. “What’s going on? John?” 

“Martin, Martin I need you to listen to me,” John said, grabbing his arm tightly once again, desperately, as he spoke as quickly as he could. ”I need you to go out the back. They can’t find you here.”

“Is it the monsters?” Martin asked, and the set of his jaw told him there was nothing he could say to keep him safe. He’d fight them with his bare hands if he had to. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“No, it’s not, it’s—“

“Come out, witch!” A voice yelled from outside, followed by another. “We know you’re in there, sorcerer!”

“Oh. Oh no,” Martin finally saw what he could; a crowd of people from the town, whipped into a frenzied mob, stepping out of the forest and into his clearing, armed with whatever weapons they could find. 

“They’re coming up with new things to call me all the time,” John said, almost hysterically, catching onto the absurd amidst the horror. 

“Maybe you can sneak out the back while I de-escalate,” Martin began. 

“No, no,” John said, stopping him when he made to walk towards the door. “Something isn’t right, I think Elias has done something, they can’t be reasoned with.”

“Are you sure? We have to at least try!” Martin insisted. 

“Look, if you at least stay here, stay hidden, I might be able to do something,” John lied. “It’s just, my magic won’t protect you, you have to stay safe.”

“I can protect myself—“ Martin began, indignation clear on his face. 

“Martin please, we don’t have time,” John said. But even as he begged, he knew there was no chance. Neither of them could leave the other in danger. They just weren’t capable of it. 

“You’re right, we don’t have time,” Martin said, a steeliness in his eyes. 

“Okay,” John relented, trying desperately to think of something, anything that might get them out of this alive. Or at least get Martin out. He didn’t know what was even happening, really, which made it impossible. 

And then, impulsively, Martin pulled him into a burning kiss. John wasn’t sure if the tears were his own or Martin’s. He wanted the moment to last forever, but a crash caused them to jerk apart. Someone had thrown a rock through a window.

Martin tried to position himself in front of John as they heated outside to confront what was happening. There was no way John could let him do that. He was going to face this head on, he was not going to cower. And he certainly wasn’t going to let Martin risk himself like that. It made his chest ache, knowing he would try to shield him from all of this and the pain he would suffer for it. No, they would face this side by side at the very least. 

A few people were at the head of the group, no doubt the spokesmen. This entire thing was beginning to feel surreal. This was the most organized mob he had ever witnessed. That was probably thanks to Elias, though. He always loved order and bureaucracy. 

A roar went up through the crowd when they spotted them and he suppressed a wince. He didn’t have his cane on him and he did his best to walk without limping, refusing to even lean on Martin. If nothing else, he wanted it to be said that he met his end with dignity, not groveling and crying. He would stand tall until he couldn’t anymore. 

There were shouts, demanding to know what he had done, but he couldn’t answer because he hadn’t done anything. He and Martin were left bewildered, trying desperately to figure out what was happening, what they were being accused of, until one of the lead figures called out louder than the rest. 

“We know this isn’t you, lad,” an older gentleman said to Martin. “Step away from him.”

“What are you talking about?” Martin asked. 

“He’s bewitched you.”

“What?” Martin said, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Of all the stupid—“

“Just step away from him, it will all be over in a moment.”

“No! This is absurd, he hasn’t done anything.”

“He’s a monster!”

“What are you even—“ Martin said, furious and completely at a loss. 

“Actually,” John tried to whisper, because on some level he probably was a monster, they all seemed to get their power from the same place, but Martin just glared at him because now was not the time to be joking around. John personally thought, if not now, when? 

“He’ll kill us all given the chance,” another heckler called. 

“He’s been trying to help. He saved my life, probably plenty of yours, too!”

Martin continued to talk, to defend him, but that was when John saw him, out of the corner of his eye. Very casually lighting a cigarette, watching the entire thing unfold from the shadows of the trees, was Elias Bouchard. He was still dressed in his immaculately pressed suit, a strange contrast in the middle of the forest, a slight smile on his face, and John wondered how he ever could have looked up to this insufferable, cruel man. 

Realizing he was being watched, Elias waved briskly, his grin widening. Then, he looked out over the crowd and back at John, and it was clear exactly what he was thinking. Things were moving too slowly, perhaps he could liven things up a bit. 

A shout went out in the crowd and a rock suddenly struck John in the shoulder, causing him to stagger. He looked around in alarm, but Elias was gone and Martin was grabbing him, pulling him behind him, and then all chaos broke out. 

John was thankful, in a way. When the crowd surged forward, he and Martin were both grabbed and ripped apart. At least that meant whatever happened to him, Martin couldn’t be caught in the middle. He didn’t know what he would have done if Martin had taken a rock for him.  

“Stop it, stop! Can’t you see he hasn’t done anything?” Martin was yelling somewhere to his right. “Leave him alone!”

He caught sight of Martin, being restrained by several men, and he breathed a sigh of relief that they weren’t taking this out on him as well. If they truly thought he was being controlled, maybe they would let him go when they were finished. He hated that Martin was here for this at all, he couldn’t imagine how terrifying it would be to have their positions reversed, but at least he would live. 

He had a feeling where this was going, and while beaten to death wasn’t exactly an ideal end, if Martin was safe, he wouldn’t use his magic. He couldn’t. The idea terrified him so much more than the violence of the crowd. Once he started, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. He would rip open their minds, expose knowledge and secrets for the Eye to feast on and it would be horrible to see. 

He doubted Martin would be able to look at him the same after that. He wouldn’t be able to look at himself, either. Assuming, of course, that it didn’t consume what was left of him in the process, until there was nothing but the thrill of power, making him as cruel as Elias. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to recognize Martin anymore if that happened. He wasn’t sure he could protect him from the Eye, or from himself. 

Through the throng, he managed to catch Martin’s eye and he tried to smile, tried to reassure him that everything would be okay, that he was okay with this. That just made the tears begin to flow down Martin’s face and his chest ached to see it. 

Then, someone punched John in the face and he couldn’t see anything anymore as he was sent sprawling. A sharp kick dug into his stomach and he did his best to curl into a ball, covering his head, as another caught him in the back. 

Out of the corner of his eye, back towards the house, he saw movement and managed to turn in time to see someone opening the door and slipping inside. Elias. It was Elias. And as their eyes met, he had the audacity to wink. And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, and John was brought back to the current situation by a kick to his ribs

He always seemed to end up back here, under the boots of the people around him. He’d wanted to help them, but he’d failed at every turn. He’d done nothing but hide away and protect his own skin, while they fought and died to the creatures lurking in the darkness, the creatures he should have been able to work out, protect them from. 

Maybe this was the end he deserved. Elias had been right, he was a failure. He could do nothing for anyone, living off the work Gertrude had put in while contributing nothing of his own. He would die unmourned and forgotten. Hopefully Martin would eventually see him like that too, so he could move on and forget him like he deserved. 

John was fine with this, with keeping their focus on him, to let them take their rage and hatred out of his body, hoping it would be enough to satisfy them so they wouldn’t turn it on Martin or anyone else. It was a familiar oppressive terror, the hopelessness of knowing no one would save him, as they demonstrated just how far their hatred for him went. 

Somehow that was always more frightening than the physical pain; knowing for certain that whatever self loathing he possessed, their hatred for him was exponentially worse. It was unfathomable in its cruelty, that it could blind them until they couldn’t even see him as a person anymore. He was just a monster. Lower than a monster. And the world would be a better place without him in it. 

Someone stomped down on his ribs, causing him to cry out and flinch from his position, leaving his head exposed and he caught a kick to his forehead, dazing him. It almost made him miss it. There, an oppressive weight, fear and a bloodthirsty intent. But it wasn’t coming from the crowd, at least not completely. It was so much worse, so much bigger than all of them, and it fueled them all in their violence. 

Oh god. They were coming. More monsters than should have been in the forest, pressing in on all sides, feeding off of all of this. He tried to scramble to his feet, to cry out a warning, but he was knocked down immediately, brutally, and he had no breath for words, unable to even protect himself from the assault coming from all directions. 

And then the screaming began. 

First to arrive was the Slaughter, feeding off the long-festering anger of the townspeople and amplifying it, a horrible visage of a man, twice as tall and towering over the crowd, with too many heads and too many limbs, that sliced through those closest with swords and spears and knives. Then the Flesh, and John was grateful for his angle, unable to truly see the form they were taking. The last one he’d seen was hulking and bulging and dripping and he didn’t want a comparison. 

Then there was the fog. 

The crowd had backed off somewhat, distracted by the chaos, and John took advantage of the moment to search for where he’d last seen Martin, but he wasn’t there. Unhindered by the press of the mob now, as they began to scatter, John began dragging himself across the ground, desperately casting about. 

Martin had to still be here. The Lonely couldn’t have taken him so quickly, surely. But if it had, it would all be John’s fault, forcing him to watch all of this, leaving him helpless to stop it. John of all people knew what helplessness felt like, what it could do to a person, and he hated himself for putting him through that, for not even thinking. 

John could feel himself on the edge of desperation, near tears, when someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him roughly to his feet. He staggered, forced to lean on the man holding him to stop himself from falling or being choked by his own clothing, his bad leg unable to take his weight. 

“Give them the witch,” a man shouted, and they dragged John forward a stumbling step. 

They were going to feed him to the monsters. And Martin was still out there, he needed his help. He tried to object, to explain it wouldn’t do anything, they didn’t care about him, but he knew it was useless before he’d even begun. Everything was happening in a blur around him, he could barely process any of it, the screaming of the injured and dying drowning everything out, his panic making it all into an incomprehensible wave of noise. 

He was vaguely aware of something hitting the man holding him and it was almost a relief when John was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, where he could press his face against the cool grass. But then he was looking up at Martin and he thought he might weep in relief. 

Martin was trying to check his injuries, but John grabbed at him and pulled him close enough to wrap his arms around his neck, pulling himself closer to give him a desperate hug, more relieved than he’d ever been in his life. 

“We need to go,” Martin said, and he tried to nod along, even though he didn’t know if he could. 

Martin pulled his arm across his shoulders and hauled him up. John bit back a cry of pain at the sudden movement and just tried to hang on, moving one foot in front of the other, dizzy from the movement. They were jostled several times, but Martin stood strong, determined. As they reached the perimeter, the fog grew thicker. 

“Martin,” John said, voice hoarse and painful, still barely able to get breath into his bruised lungs. “It’s coming, we can’t —“

“It’s okay,” Martin said, and the smile he gave him chilled him to the bone. He imagined it looked a lot like the one John had given him before the first blow had been struck. 

“No, Martin, please,” he tried to protest, but he was much too weak. 

And then they were swallowed up by the white, drawn into the depths of the Lonely, by Martin himself. John thought there was a chance he himself might be protected by the Eye, he might be able to retain his sense of self in that oppressive forsaken place, if it could even still reach him there, but Martin had no such protection. And yet Martin was welcoming it in like an old friend. And he was doing it for John, to get him somewhere safe, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

[undergoing-mitosis]

just found out that the wonder the myth the legend Phantomrose96 author of A Breach of Trust has written many bnha fics.

oh boy it's time to get angsty.

⚠️WARNING⚠️: if you're gonna take this rec and read their fics, please be aware they're probably not suited for everyone. there's a bit more information in the tags. stay safe guys <3

[thatdeadaquarius]

About your language brainrot. I see your "Reader's writing can't match tyvat's long and flowery writing" and bring you "Tyvat isn't used to books over 50 pages long so a short story to the Reader is a whole dictionary to tyvat readers".

Seriously, have you seen how thin the books are? They don't wrote novels, they write short chapters formatted in the way really old stories are. As in, summarizing all the events down into one smooth story then adding a few quotes. Fanfiction writers are insane. They will willingly sit down and write hundreds of words at a time. To them, a proper modern day story of maybe, oh 10k words or so, would probably be like the Oddessy itself.

If we were to combine the two headcanons. It would end up as many historians being intimidated by this insanely long written scripture in the language of the forgotten.

I'm going to take this a step further and say that if the creator asked some people to proofread their things, it would establish a hiarchy of who is able to actually finish the book the creator read and who isn't.

NOW THIS, THIS IS MY FUCKING JAMMMM

I'm so sorry this is so old!! u probably all know this by this point that I've really slowed down as the year has gone on, but I graduated university and then got my first job so its been pretty crazy!

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: dash of all the book/nerds of Genshin, heavy on Sumeru?

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing, 16+ Mature Audiences, Spoliers for Sumeru Archon Quests/Scaramouche, & Trigger Warnings: mention of shipping/characters shipping themselves with you.

Comment if any missed, please.

☆

FULL STOP.

THE AKADEMIYA, FONTAINE RESEARCH INSTITUTE, HAVE BEEN WAITTTINNGGGG ON YOUR ASS LMAO

You fall from the fucking sky like a 5 star, or pop out of the Irminsul or whatever

and immediately are mobbed by scholars. LMAO jkjk (not really, bc that's what it’d feel like)

can you even imagine the dread older stories(”the classics” to them), that was instilled in the poor students around Teyvat??

id like to think ur works are the most preserved over the thousands of years of Teyvat archeologists excavating them, in comparison to other authors (teyvat just likes you more, suck it William Shakespeare)

also, bc I cant resist language differences/world building I'm sorryyyy 😭 😭

the vocab of Genshin lang vs. ours, has significantly less vocabulary like their actual dictionary is 1/3 the size of ours type of energy

(Omfg all ur fanfics being considered like insanely long realistic romantic classics or tragedies like Jane Austen-level, and only the richest and biggest play companies put on plays about ur stories bc the script goes on for hours)

(ur plays only get put on for rlly big events bc of this, like Lantern Rite or like a Summer/Winter festival/your birthday, which is, yes, an international holiday)

dude the sheer power move of anything you’ve written being essentially “Journey of the West” to them, like Damnnn.

endless like adaptations, plays, Teyvat-short stories condensing it, (THEIR OWN FANFICTION ABOUT UR STORIES)

the power is, in fact, going to your head every time another scholar both deflates at how long ur stuff is, but also lights up bc they get to read it

speaking of scholars… you know who snatched you up first. you know. you don’t even need to read the next line.

Alhaitham.

sneaky bastard he is, absolutely manipulated, mansplained (and manwhored bc he knows he’s handsome, cheeky little shit) his way into getting you to sit down with him and interview you about both translating other classics, your own, giving your own analysis of others works and ur own, and picking ur brain apart of how/why you wrote urs, etc. its fucking endless,

Kaveh had to come rescue you bc u were starving to death after getting stuck with the Haravatat scholar in his office for nearly 7 hours of interrogation discussion about literature

and Alhaitham wasn't even nearly done, he’d informed you as you left that he already had another appointment for later conversation scheduled (how?? you don't even know ur own schedule??? you have a schedule???) and was looking forward to more of your “creative and enlightening input” :)))

(you’re never going to escape him, not even Nahida herself can save you from his stubborn ass)

On another note, Xingqiu is quaking when you agree to autograph his copy of your stories (of which he has all hard covers of the first edition translations)

Zhongli/Rex Lapis is known for having a near-lifelong passion for searching for your works specifically, and learning how to translate them better into Teyvatian vernacular

like the same way he can absolutely speak on Rex Lapis facts/rocks/adepti info, is the same confidence he speaks about knowing ur work lol

(yes he did also ask for several autographs and another sit-down talk about the works, tho a lot more sneaky then Alhaitham bc he just casually gets u guys into it during dinner)

Barbatos/Venti has written some of the most famous songs based on your stuff, he has his favorites too,

but he always claims the best songs are any that have been written in the story, like either when a character sings something, or there are like quotes from songs ur fanfics are based on lol

(he also demanded to hear what they actually sound like from you, yes, you have to sing them for him lol)

Venti also can surprisingly drunkenly ramble the entirety of at least one of ur stories, like, word for word lmao

(Diluc gave in and did give him a drink on the house for that one, just once, Venti doesn’t remember it lol)

(I forgot to mention, u guys still speak the same language, just like, different versions of it)

ur works being one of the few things all the Archons can freely talk about with each other, like it’s neutral ground bc they’re all fangirling about it lmao

Furina and Neuvillette have had like,, fierce debates over the decades about character dynamics and the general drama of ur stories, they’ve gotten into it enough they’ve stopped talking to each other for a couple days a few times lol

Albedo, Sucrose, Kokomi, Yae Miko, Ei, Raiden, have read every single work they’re gotten their hands on in Teyvat (it took them like a literal year or longer)

Albedo drew you fanart for every single story, bc he’s hyperfixated on everything related to you ngl,

Kokomi had commissioned smaller pocket versions of ur works (which later got popular thanks to Yae Miko) both the OG and the Teyvat shortened versions

THE HARBINGERS ARE THE MOST DOWN BAD LMAO

Childe has literally tried to recreate battle scenes from ur works lmao

and gets especially riled up about fighting someone who resembles any characters from them (esp villains, what a cutie)

You cannot fathom the amount of research throughout Teyvat that has been secretly or indirectly funded by Pantalone/Tsaritsa

from the experts to analyze them, to funding play companies to act them out, to actually excavating places to get more of ur stuff unearthed

(the Harbingers absolutely are the first group of people that got to read several of ur stories first bc of this, like the world’s most exclusive secret book club lol)

Scaramouche used to clown on Childe all the time about how he was too impatient to even “sit down and read the King’s classics”, and he was downright insufferable when he found out about Tartaglia’s habit of recreating battle scenes/that being what motivated him to fight sometimes lol

that being said, Wanderer surprisingly never forgot ur stories.

Even when his memories were wiped for a bit, he found comfort in these fantastical epics still sticking around, even when his old names did not

(he mayyyy or mayyy nottt have secretly namedhimselfafteroneofthetragicprotagonistsherelatesto- )

oh btw, Nahida also found joy and comfort in ur stories when she was trapped, they also helped her literally grow as a person bc she had ur stories to help her sort of process the world/what life was like outside of her dreaming prison 🥺💔❤️‍🩹

◇

OMFG

ANYWAY FULL TONE SHIFT LMFAO-

the ABSOLUTE SPIRAL-RED-STRING-CONSPIRACY-THEORY-BOARD ENERGY IF THIS WAS A BLUNT LANGUAGE AU LMAOOOO

like specifically how Teyvatians like to give all the context ever thru their words, but older deities/beings like you just do simple phrases that can have deeper meanings (whereas teyvat just explains all the meanings behind their words)

STOP there’s like an official display at the Akademiya and Fontaine Institute of red string theory boards 😭😭 (look what you’ve done to themmm LMAO)

for like every story of urs, INCLUDING THE FANFICS STOP

IMAGINE THE SHIPPING WARS IF U EVER WROTE ONE THAT WASNT EXPLICIT OR LIKE ONE OF THE MAIN ROMANTIC INTERESTS HAD CHEMISTRY WITH OTHER CHARACTERS HAHAHAHAA

that's actually what Akademiya scholars argue about the most viciously, it’s like politics you can’t just bring up ships from ur stories casually in regular convos 💀

(poor Cyno has to deal with a shipping war once a year bc someone always makes the mistake of reading ur work for the first time (without being told to not talk to others abt ships lol) and it starts an all out brawl in the cafeteria every time LMAO)

Also yes.

Cyno is a fanboy.

(he has read Creator x Reader-insert fanfiction.)

(As have most of the characters mentioned, and those not lol)

…

(I'm gonna make a whole Creator x reader fanfic post one day i stg lmao)

☆

an iced coffee? for me?? :0

ok but real talk…

wtf do you guys wanna see for new years!!

i didn't do a inktober/october days thingy bc i felt too unprepared (and bc id wanted to post that 1000+ followers eldritch au for Halloween)

but now i kinda wanna, at least for a few days :o

ill post a poll in a minute, so check it out!! but still, please feel free to comment some ideas here! :)

Safe Travels Deafening Dreamer,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you're desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

Adrenaline buzzes in your ears and sears through your veins. You shouldn’t be here. Yet this place is no more treacherous than your home. Thing’s can’t get much worse so you may as well try to make them better. 

Or maybe you’re so desperate for it to end, that you don’t care how. 

You stand before the two men in their dark suits. They mutter as if you can’t hear them, “Warren’s girl.” 

“One of them,” the other intones. 

“Boss said not to bother.” 

You sway, your hands twined up behind your back. You expect to be turned away but you’re not ready for it. You chew the tip of your tongue. 

“I can wait,” you say. 

The don’t acknowledge you. They turn to block you out with their shoulders and lower their voices. One glances over his shoulder at you, Walker? Or something. 

“Your daddy send you?” He asks. 

You shake your head. You should probably lie but you’re no good at that. The throbbing in your swollen lip assures you of that. 

“So why should we let you in to see the boss? You out here at midnight looking like a tramp,” he challenges as he faces you again. 

“Hey, she looks like she’s had it bad enough. Don’t be a dick,” the other man reproaches. “Look, sweetheart,” he steps forward. “Man’s busy. With important business. Whatever you’re looking for, ask your daddy.” 

You could sob. Your father has no idea you’re there. If he did... if he knew why... 

Your shoulders slump and you hang your head in defeat. Why did you think this would work? It’s a fantasy. That same escapist wish you make every night when you cry yourself to sleep. 

You close your eyes and see Adrienne’s teary-eyes and Kitty’s helpless expression. You can’t let your sisters down. You can’t stand to see them suffer any longer. You can take it all, but it’s seeing him raise his hand to them that guts you. 

“I need to see him,” you raise your head. “I can wait.” 

You say you can but if your father realises you’re gone, if he finds out where you’ve gone, or even manages to guess why... 

Walker sighs. He elbows the other man. “Go tell him so can come back and tell her to scram on his orders.” 

The other man returns a dark look but goes inside. You hug yourself and shiver in the night air. You have only your quarter-zip sweater and a pair of silky pajama pants. You’re not surprised the men can barely keep from laughing at you. 

You wait. It takes longer than you expect. If anything, you would think they would only pretend to tell the boss. That’s what they all do. They lie. They ignore you. They just don’t care. So why are you here? Why would this go any other way? 

Before you can wave the white flag, the door opens. 

“In,” the man holds the door as he steps out.  

You flinch and Walker sneers at his partner in confusion. You’re just as surprised. The other man huffs. 

“Well, he said you got five minutes, so get.” 

You waver on your feet then scurry forward. You step inside the dark brick building, another man waiting just inside. He’s silent as he points you down the hall. He directs you with the terse gestures; upstairs, to the left, around another corner.  

You stop before a door with another duo standing vigil by the door posts. The left one knocks, tilts his head to listen, the opens it. You’re pointed inside.  

Your nerves flurry and wrap you up in a billowing storm. What are you doing? That question doesn’t matter. It’s too late. 

You drag your feet inside. The door slams at your back. The room is dim, lit only by a lamp with a glass shade on the large desk across from you. Behind that, sit a man. The man. Bucky Barnes. The boss. The king. 

He sits with his elbow bent over the armrest of his chair. He watches you calmly. You stand in silence by the door. He beckons you closer with two fingers. 

“Can’t see you back there, doll.” He says. 

You hold your breath and come forward. You gulp as you stop within a foot of the carved desk. Your eyes scour the vintage print of the wallpaper and the wooden paneling. This place is steeped in history. 

He raises his hand, cradling his face as he brings to fingers to his lips. He watches you patiently. Waiting. You stare back at him. You’ve never seen him this close. You don’t even know if your father has. 

“Why are you here?” He asks at last. 

Your eyes narrow on the gold sheen on his pinky. It’s the only safe place to look. You feel like you’ll melt in the blaze of his oceanic irises. You exhale. 

“I need someone dead.” 

He doesn’t answer. Your words dangle in the air as he mulls them. You purse your lips and wince at the pain in the split along the swollen flesh. 

“A man. The one who did that to you?” He sits up straight and points at you. You follow the glint of his ring. You nod. “Low life. Let me guess, daddy doesn’t know you been sneaking around.” 

You shake your head, “he doesn’t know I’m here. Or that I’m asking.” You take another breath as your eyes water. You bring your hand up to your cheek as it pulses. Your father’s knuckles left a nasty welt. “Because it’s him. He’s the one who did this. And I want him dead.” 

He scoffs, more amused than disbelieving. 

“Warren’s a soldier of mine. You're asking me to off him?” 

“I’m begging,” you finally make yourself look him in the eye. His is formidable man. Dark hair, dark beard, a touch of grey here and there. Even at this hour, he wears a nice suit and sits with authority. “Please, my sisters--” 

“And how are you and your sisters going to make up for his cut. He brings in money. What can you give me?” 

“You can take everything. We just want to be free,” you say. 

He clucks, “what he has now is nothing compared to a lifetime of what he can get.” 

You lower your lashes. That’s it. At least he didn’t laugh because you almost did when you said it out loud. Your father isn’t going to die. He’s so rancid, even death doesn’t want him. He’s not human, he’s a curse. And this man you’re asking for mercy, he’s the same kind. 

“Sorry for the bother,” you eke out. “I was mistaken.” 

“So you were,” he agrees. “Go home. Put some ice on it.” 

It’s like another punch in the face. You nod, “thank you, sir.” 

“You can go,” he dismisses. 

“Yes, sir.” You put your head down and drag your foot back. 

“Ah,” he tuts. 

Your eyes flick up. He extends his hand across the desk. Right. He is still who he is. You step closer as he holds his hand steady. You bow down and kiss the sigil on his ring. An outdated and demeaning gesture. 

Before you can stand straight, his large hand frames your chin. He pushes your head up as your eyes round. You stare at him as his gaze drifts down to your neck. The bruises by the zipper of your sweater tingle. 

“You were never here,” he lets you go. 

“Understood,” you retreat, “sorry again for wasting your time.” 

[karaeilish]

FREAK SHOW ˎˊ˗

۶ৎ — in this godforsaken city, everyone knows her name. everyone knows what will happen if you cross her. but no one had any idea what would happen if you touch her queen.

｡𖦹°‧ mob!billie eilish x fem!reader

ꪆৎ trigger warnings — kidnapping, violence, blood and (detailed) descriptions of such things, sexual content.

ꪆৎ summary; one day you won't come home, the next she'll walk over heads until she's finished with everyone who dared to touch you.

ꪆৎ a/n — this idea’s been in my head for months, i just need a dark romance fic.

ↀ — moodboards

ↂ — intro

Ⅰ — chapter one.

Ⅱ — chapter two.

Ⅲ — chapter three.

Ⅳ — chapter four.

Ⅴ — chapter five.

Ⅵ — chapter six.

will be updated soon. . .

[fushigogo]

content warnings: gunplay, like literally descriptions of making a blowjob to a gun, mafia boss toji x reader.

the muzzle of the gun is hitting your palate. you can tell by its position that if that mother fucker pulled the trigger your brains will be scattered on the fancy, velvety wall of the opulent room the scene was taking place.

but strangely enough, you are not afraid — you don’t know whether it is because the kind of dudes you mess with, but at least today (if you survive) a mob is crossed out of your list.

you stare at him, firmly. you are daring him, piercing your gaze.

the man in front of you, toji fushiguro, at first, seemed to be rejoicing in this twisted power play. he expected a woman to be at the verge of tears, begging between desperate gagging to be left free, to be a good girl, not to let any slip-up like this happen again.

no, you’re not like that.

“that’s all you got?” despite the difficulty it presented to form coherent words, he could understand those blurted words.

at first, he couldn’t believe it, however, he doesn’t quiver. his face remains dominating, as if he’s the one who’s in control of the situation.

he gulps. his index finger, goes up and down the trigger, deciding what to do with your life.

this seems to be so thrilling. you have nothing to lose anyway. if he wants to play with something valuable as if it is someone’s life, that’s what he’ll have.

“crazy bitch.” he barely mutters, and with a piercing stare, daring his next movements, you shove into your throat the barrel of the pistol, opening your mouth as you breath raggedly through your nose.

your eyes are in tears, not because you are afraid, it’s mostly that it's hard to breathe when any kind of object (cock, gun, whatever) is making you choke with your own saliva. even with that in mind, your throat manages to open a little bit.

he could’ve have you dead right now, he could’ve...

even a man like him knew how fucked up this was.

and that made a bulge in his pants grow bigger

[wandanatsgf]

I Can Fix Her (No Really I Can)

Pairing: Mob!Natasha x Reader

Word Count: 1568

Summary: Your girlfriend catches you talking about how soft she has gotten in front of her gang members. She has a reputation to protect, so she’s determined to prove you wrong

Warnings: this contains daddy kink, gun play, strap usage (r receiving), praise, degradation, blowjob, boot humping, boot licking, slapping

Natasha is sitting in a chair opposite you in her home office, a cigarette in one hand and a gun in the other. Despite her being a notorious mob boss, you know she wouldn’t actually hurt you with the gun. It’s merely to show off her power over you, reminding you how dangerous she is.

She brings the cigarette to her mouth, inhaling deeply. She breathes out and the smoke billows out her mouth.

The tension of the room is palpable. She’s seething. Most wouldn’t notice because of how well she can conceal her emotions, but you know her too well.

“You really think that was a smart idea honey?” She asks, referencing your actions from earlier.

You had been talking to some members of Natasha’s gang. They had been discussing how much nicer Natasha had been since she got with you. How you seemed to change her for the better. You had agreed with them, urging the conversation on. Unfortunately Natasha had heard the conversation and quickly put a stop to it, pulling you to her office afterwards. And here you are now, receiving a punishment.

“Come here,” she commands. You had been standing by the door, but now you’re making your way over to the chair Natasha is sitting in.

“Straddle me baby.” Natasha stamps out the cigarette and tosses it in the ashtray on the table beside her. You sit down in her lap, the hand that once held the cigarette now holds your waist.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for daddy?”

The word yes softly slips through your lips. Once you had uttered the words, Natasha’s hand moved from your waist to your hair. Her fingers tangle themselves up in it.

“So what is it you were saying earlier baby? You think I’m soft?” The hand that has been in your hair slaps your face, leaving a bright red handprint. She slaps you again and again, until you feel a tear running down your cheek. The rough action turns you on, making you want more. But she retangles her hand in your hair, as if it had never left your hair in the first place.

She moves her other hand, the one with the gun, up to your cheek. She brushes the gun against your face, the action making you hitch your breath.

“Still think you can fix me baby? You think you can tame me? Make me a good person?” Her words are taunting. They’re a stark reminder of the precarious position you have put yourself in.

Her gun drags down the side of your face, and further down until she positions it under your chin. A soft whimper involuntarily comes out your mouth.

“What is it baby? You want daddy to pull the trigger?”

“No daddy.” Your body shakes, despite knowing you’re safe with her. But the feeling of the cold steel against your skin still sends a shock through your body.

“Then be a good girl and let daddy use you.” She tosses the gun on the table next to her and untangles her hand from your hair. She rips off your top and bra, leaving your chest exposed to her. Her lips attach themselves to your chest, sucking and biting, adding more marks to your ever growing collection.

She marks you up, as if she were an animal marking her territory. The bites sting, but it sends heat straight to your core, making you needier for Natasha. You try to grind your hips on her thigh, desperate to relieve the growing pressure. But Natasha stops you before you can feel much pleasure.

“You’re acting like a needy little slut, trying to get off on my thigh. You like daddy marking you up? Letting everyone see how much you get off on the pain?”

“Yes daddy I love it please,” you beg, but you’re not sure what you’re begging for. You don’t know if you’re begging for her to touch you more or hurt you more. All you know is that you want her in whatever way she will take you.

“Such a good little slut for daddy,” she says. She stands you up and slips your shirts and underwear off. She pushes you down to your knees and slips her strap on out of her business suit.

“Suck,” is all she says. You get to work, eagerly sucking on your girlfriends strap. Your head bobs up and down, your spit sliding down the strap and pooling in Natasha’s lap.

You try to slip one of your hands down to play with your pussy, but Natasha notices and pushes your hand away with her boot.

She slips her foot in between your thighs, the end of her boot roughly rubbing against your needy clit.

“Fuck my boot baby. Since you wanted to touch yourself and get off, you can get off on my boot like a little whore.”

You grind yourself down on her boot, the leather becoming slick and wet the longer you grind. The black boot quickly becomes darker.

You continue to suck on her strap, occasionally choking when you take it too deep. Your moans start becoming louder and louder the closer you get.

“You gonna cum baby? You getting all worked up fucking daddy’s boot?”

You nod your head yes around her strap, begging her with your eyes to let you cum. She pushes your face off of her strap, looking you in the eyes as she talks.

“Be a good girl and cum on my boot baby.” The second those words leave her mouth you’re cumming, drenching her boot in your juices.

“That’s a good girl,” she says. She pushes your face down.

“Clean my boot baby. You got it dirty so you gotta clean up.”

You lean down and tentatively lick her boot. It tastes like your pussy but slightly earthier from the leather of her boot. You keep licking, cleaning up the juice you had gotten all over her.

You look up so you can look at Natasha and you see her touching herself. The sight of you licking her boot clearly sends your lover into overdrive.

“You’re doing so good baby,” she praises. The praise makes you needy for her all over again. Her fingers rub her own clit, teasing herself.

“Come here,” she says pulling you up. You can feel a wetness on one hip, having gotten on you from Natasha’s hand. Natasha allows you to take her hand and put it in your mouth, sucking it clean. She pulls her fingers out of your mouth, her hand placing itself on your waist. Her strap lays in between you two, the tip nudging your core.

“You want daddy to fuck you?” Natasha grabs her strap and runs the tip of it along your pussy, making you moan.

“Please daddy fuck me.”

Without any words Natasha pulls you into her strap in one fluid motion. You scream out, the feeling of her entering you is a delicious burn.

She fucks herself up into you, thrusting in and out. One hand is on your waist the other tangled in your hair. She eyes all of the marks she has left on you, some from today and others from a few days ago. They turn your skin shades of red, purple, blue, and green.

“You look so pretty with my marks all over you baby.” Her voice is breathy as she speaks, a result of her putting all of her energy into her movements. The more she moves the closer and closer she pushes you to the edge.

“Daddy please,” you beg.

“You want to cum again baby?”

“Please please daddy,” you cry out, just so desperate to cum.

“Cum baby. Cum for daddy.” You cum all over her strap, soaking the two of you in your juices.

As you cum down from your high, Natasha holds you, gently petting your hair. Your body falls against hers, too tired to hold yourself up.

“I love you but no more talking about me going soft.” Her words sound teasing, but you know she means it. “You know I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Ok Natty,” you say against her chest. She softly kisses the top of your head.

“Now let’s get you to bed sweet girl.” She gently slides the strap out of you and tosses it off. Then picks you up, walking the two of you out of her office and to the bedroom across the hall. She opens the door and gently sets your naked body down on the bed.

“You wanna wear this baby?” She asks, holding up on of her old oversized t-shirts. You nod yes and Natasha slips it over your head. The black shirt is comfy and smells just like her. She ticks you into bed and then climbs in behind you, holding you from behind.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” She gently whispers, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere.

“No you were perfect Natty,” you say, turning around to give her a kiss. “I love you so much Nat.”

“I love you too baby. Now rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.” You curl into her and exhaustion overtakes you. Her warm embrace lulls you to sleep and you quickly fall asleep against your lover. And true to her words she was there when you woke up, pampering you and showering you with love.

[thatdeadaquarius]

College be kicking my ass but we continue on like Scaramouche (alive and kicking, but still crabby about it all lmfao)

Random idea but what happens when the acolytes got hold of Creator that is able to squeeze into small places (like a cat would but less liquid) and knows how to escape? Think of sagau but instead of all the deaths, its just they got overexited and chased the Creator the moment they see them which scared them shitless seeing a mob just appear out of nowhere.

I mean who wouldn't after seeing your favourite person in your favourite game just appear right in front of you? (I apologize in advance to the poor unfortunate sucker)

Imagine a world-wide search that keeps getting them heart attacks. Venti just flying by with Dvalin ony to see you on top of the floating pillar above Dragonspine LEANING PRECARIOUSLY OH MY ARCHONS GET AWAY FROM THE EDGE---

Zhongli walking around trying to find peace and quiet only to sense your presence which led him towards Azhdaha's domain and nearly shouted in terror seeing you hanging by one of the limestones above the slumbering dragon your grace what and how the in the fucking name of teyvat did you---

Yae Miko screaming in surprise seeing you inside one of the cupboards of your grace's house (you made a small temporary one in each country in case u need more rest) that she and Ei found in one of the remote islands.

Nahida and the entire Forest Rangers having one of the most intense, frustrating and most challenging game of hide and seek in the entire freaking forest.

You hiding underneath the sand like a fricking snake everytime Cyno spots you from a disrance.

-Vine Boom 🧨

I am no longer apologizing for lateness simply bc atp its basically assumed Im terribly sorry 💀 /so gen

  

Content under -----------------✄

☆

Sun: Reader, (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Imposter SAGAU? Imposter SAGAU Reversed Ver? unclear (NOT DARK)

Stars: little here, little there

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: reader/you thinks everyone is hunting them down, dark sagau fake-baiting lmao, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

No but the traumatic experience of you cautiously wandering into Mondstadt after realizing ur in Genshin like, ✨👄✨

and every single street/alleyway you try to go down to even avoid it is just people all looking at you like: 👁️👄👁️ ???

and ur over here equally just like: 😃 tf u lookin at????

u get up near the cathedral and finally see a playable character, Barbara, and she just fully GASPS and POINTS at you like she’s getting paid to be an actor for this

shouting sm nonsense like: “My Creator??? King of All???? IS THAT YOU?????”

and after which a few nuns check the commotion, Rosaria and Barbara’s Visions are glowing, and all join in heckling you

Venti coming (literally) flying around a corner on a breeze, saying he was trying to catch up to you, and ohhh now ur Convinced:

None of these bitches must be happy to see you, you did forcefully control their bodies if by the sounds of it they knew you/they must’ve been aware during the game, aw damn looks like u gotta run for your life now

You just book it out of Mond, Venti/Barbara yelling after you to come back, and meanwhile you’re leaving a shell-shocked Jean/Diluc/Kaeya (with Visions glowing) in ur wake on the way out

Not one being, mortal or otherwise, convinces you to stay in Mond, and you finally get to Dragonspine- the only place u know they wont follow

(well maybe the pyro characters but ur betting if u can make it up the mountain theyre not committed to,, running you down? arresting you?? ur not sure)

u make it all the way up and luckily everythings all solved like u did in the game, the traveler must be well into teyvat by now, and u decide to say “for the already achieved achievement” and fuck around and find out near the nail

U thought as u finally got on it u heard a scream somewhere in the sky, and u spotted Dvalin carrying Venti/Barbatos, and once again book it out of town (damn u cant believe theyre so committed they got the dragon in on it…)

so u haul ass all the way down the mountain, traveling only at night, living like a vampire, holing up during the day when u see Mond citizens/knights/gods/etc. walking around presumably looking for you

but u make it, finally! sweet, sweet Liyue, ur 2nd home (besides Mondstadt)

Only to immediately, like right outside the fucking gates to Liyue Harbor, run into Zhongli.

and he’s standing there like this mf knew u were coming, and the first thing out his mouth is some BS like, “…Darnell, that you??”/ref LMAOO

but instead of laughing abt it u just scream and run for your life haha

oh jesus h christ- he’s sending the adepti after you fuck- how hated are you??

sure u maybe hate Celestia a little, and sympathize with the traveler, but this seems a little extreme?!

you go to the one place u know he/any other adeptus doesnt like to come often, Azdaha’s cave

and after a night (well, day bc ur sleeping during the day now) of Azdaha sleeping peacefully, he wakes up fully coherent and u actaully have a rlly pleasant conversation with him about Liyue food lol

he also kept mentioning some kind of god? but like in reference to you?? are u connected to them, u kinda know a lot of gods atp so ur not sure which he means, a god to rule them all??? Celestia?? yeah u guess u know those fucks-

Cue u looking down from ur perch in the stalagmites above, u found a ledge and Azdaha helped you,

only to see a very concerned and borderline nervous Zhongli down below, Azhdaha just greets him like nothing’s wrong, but as soon as he sees you’re uncomfortable, helps you escape (more like teleport) away

(the old geo archon was probably nervous just be around Azhdaha u assume)

and now ur on the islands of Inazuma

u know exactly what islands are all but abandoned, the ghost one, the electrocuting one, and the scary bird one, all great options 👍

Raiden and Yae Miko manage to find you on every single one, with Yae getting more and more exasperated, and Ei getting more and more concerened with every position they find you in

hanging out on the banks of the electro river that would kill you if it weren’t for the little electro trees fending it off (thank fuck u maxed that shit out while in game)

bc u assumed they’d hate to be around it, plus lots of ronin- nope Ei is almost… scolding you?? oh but she’s got her Musou no Hitotachi out fuCK-

(she was slaying ronins that were getting too close to you)

she also is constantly jumpscaring you on tsurumi island/ghost island bc while the ghosts are gone, the creepy atmosphere isn't, and it makes her all the more terrifying as The Raiden Shogun comes walking out of the fog into the cave you've hidden in, stuff of ur nightmares for weeks as u just bird box style try to be silent and stealth around the island to get to an abandoned boat,

literally her scary ass purple sword glowing silhouette wandering around in the fog as you paddle away 💀

getting to thunder bird island and Yae Miko is literally both running/teleporting as quickly as she can to you, as you jump from floating rock to floating rock to escape her, god its so unnerving to watch someone so lazy running after you

she keeps getting in this weird “praising the heavens pose” sometimes when you jump, oh shit she’s aiming hER ATTACKS AT YOU THATS WHY-

oh good- she missed and deflected some stray debris coming ur way, u gotta get to the bird area and see if you can glide away (u managed to get a glider at some point thank fuck)

the bird is luckily on ur side against all these mfs trying to hunt u down (for controlling their bodies u guess) and flies u back to mainland teyvat

sumeru u thought would have the most mercy on u tbh, maybe fontaine bc Neuvillette only rlly cares if u break “fontaine” laws, maybe he wouldn't care to chase down a mortal like u over this

and nahida bc shes just nice

which is somewhat true, as you are acting like tarzan swinging around on vines and shit to escape the forest rangers

but she does show up in ur dreams, but shes just all foggy or distorted, u guess bc ur not of this world or smth??

and so it just unnerves u more, and u try to make it out to the desert, where at least there's no gods to worry about

mf ur hunkered down in a pyramid and see the shadowy shape of Cyno walking thru a sandstorm at you 💀

U dont kno how u got out of that one tbh, smth abt “king deshret made a plan for this” and left it behind for ppl to use to escape underground, sweet

And while Nahida and other eremites, scholars like Alhaitham/Kaveh/Dehya were looking around the desert sands, u slip by them

And u make it to the oasis at the edge of the desert, and steal an old rowboat to cross to fontaine (if i had a nickel everytime u needed to escape a god via old rowboat, youd have 2 nickels- )

and getting to Fontaine is not much better.

U literally get to the clockwork tower, foggy, ominous, uninhabited except for treasure-seekers occasionally, its perfect

until Neuvillette himself just strolls in abt 3 nights of u making camp there

u nearly shit urself as he just fake-knocked on a wall, meanwhile ur like hanging from the ceiling (four limbs out suspending you type of fictional shit)

luckily, mostly bc u were trying to wait him out (which wasn't possible ur limbs hurt so bad) he was, finally, the first person around u long enough to be genuinely kind and patient and answer questions

(Neuvillette acc couldn't figure out where u were at first, and was very confused how u got ur voice to boom around this chamber of the tower, after a minute of talking u trusted him enough to tell him to look up lol)

just in time too, he was able to hide u from the archons a little longer bc u were nervous

(u were already intimidated enough by Neuvillette being irl himself, talking to you, let alone all the other gods/vision users, as u realized afterwards thinking abt all the ppl trying to “hunt u down”, that if they all counted as ppl actually wanting to see you, that was a rlly overwhelming amount, esp if their first instinct is to run at you??? what are you, a fan-abused/disrespected kpop idol????)

☆

trying to be fancy and schedule posts once i get enough free time to actually wrangle my adhd to actually partake in my favorite hobbies 💀

well as long as I'm not getting slammed with lots of shifts again

hope u guys had a great weekend and have a good week! Happy late Valentine’s Day :)

Safe Travels Vine Boom,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the Beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[navybrat817]

Bucky Barnes Masterlist - 2

Welcome to my 2nd Bucky Barnes Masterlist, lovelies, and I hope you enjoy! Here you will find some of my darker fics. These may include triggers such as noncon, dubcon, violence, dark themes, etc. Please heed the warnings. Header and banner by @sgt-seabass​ and dividers by @firefly-graphics​. Check them out! ​

Main Masterlist | 1st Bucky Barnes Masterlist

I have discontinued my tag list. Please follow my sideblog @navybrat817-sideblog and turn on notifications to see new fics! I will only post fics, writing ideas and updates there.

🔥 smut 💓 fluff 💔 angst 💞 AU 🛑 dark content 💙 Navy's faves

Mini-Series and Universes

Soldat and Sparrow Universe (Ongoing)

Your fire burns for the Winter Soldier. And one day, you’ll be free. Both of you.

Winter and Fire  🔥💙

Summary: You didn’t choose to be with Hydra. Neither did the Winter Soldier. 

War and Peace 🔥

Summary: Your first mission together brings inner war...peace.

Soldat and Sparrow  

Summary: No one touches his Sparrow.

Night and Day  🔥

Summary: Will you be another one of the Soldat’s lost memories?

Dark and Light

Summary: You learn the real reason why Hydra wants to keep you.

Black and White

Moon and Sun

Past and Future

The Pakhan and the Printsessa - Mob Newlyweds Universe (Ongoing) 💞

You’re married to Bucky Barnes, one of the most powerful men in the world. And all he wants is you.

Harmonious  🔥

Summary: You may think you’re a pawn in Bucky’s life, but you are his queen.

Hollow  🔥

Summary: Bucky touches on memories from the past and wants to start a new tradition with you.

Husband and Wife  🔥💙

Summary: Bucky has to have you before you get to your wedding reception.

Honeymoon Suite 🔥

Summary: Bucky takes a call during your honeymoon, but you should know that you always come first.

Home Again  🔥

Summary: Your husband opens up to you about his past as you fall more in love.

Honesty and Lies

Honor and Obey

Hope, Faith and Love

Vampire Mob AU (Ongoing)

Power and money mean nothing to the powerful vampire ruler if you’re aren’t by his side.

Around Your Throat  🔥

Summary:  Bucky has the perfect accessory to go around your throat.

Lay Me Down  🔥💙

Summary: You look to the past and future on your last night as a human.

Disturbia - Dark Suburbia AU

You have a beautiful home and a loving partner. So, why does it feel like something is wrong with your neighborhood?

A Plum a Day  🔥🛑

Summary: You wake up beside Bucky, but you don't know how you got there.

Winter and Kisa - Mob AU 💞

The mobster doesn't care that you're an agent. He wants you to be his.

Give Me a Name

Summary: Someone put their hands on you and Bucky can't let it go.

Almost Like Home

Summary: Bucky told you his place would be your home one day. You see it firsthand with his closet.

Dark Club AU (Tagged as Turn It Up AU)

Hold You Tight  🔥🛑💞

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

There's Something in the Water - Coming Soon

One Shots and Imagines (over 1k) *Some fics may get additional parts

Run Like Hell  🔥🛑

Summary:  You weren’t supposed to see the Winter Soldier that day. So you ran. The Soldat loves a good chase though…and you’re not getting away from him that easily.

First and Last  🔥🛑 💞 (a/b/o)💙

Summary:  Masquerading as Beta was an easy choice. Too bad Bucky Barnes had other plans for you.

You’re My Obsession  🔥🛑💙

Summary: You’re the light in Bucky’s darkness. And he doesn’t want to share you with anyone, including Steve.

Best Man 🛑

Summary: Bucky found the girl of his dreams and Steve couldn’t be happier.

Remind Me  🔥💙

Summary: The apocalyptic world is crumbling around you and you need a reminder of who you belong to.

Push and Pull  (features Nick Fowler x Reader)🔥🛑💙💞 (Club)

Summary: Nick wants what Bucky has.

Prized Possession  🔥🛑 💞 (Librarian)

Summary: You’re Bucky’s rare treasure, his most prized possession.

A Debt to Pay  🔥💙💞 (Mob)

Summary: Bucky isn’t a man to be crossed.

What Goes Around  🔥💙 💞 (DBF/BFD)

Summary:  Bucky is your friend's dad and your dad's friend and nothing more. Until he isn't.

Send Me an Angel  🔥🛑 💞 (Bartender)

Summary: Bucky thinks you’re an angel.

Follow You Home (Stalker)

Summary: Bucky just wants to see you smile when he visits you at the flower shop.

Two Sides of the Same Coin🔥 (Bucky and the Winter Soldier)

Summary: A night of passion awakens something beneath the surface of the man you love.

What Happens in Vegas  🔥🛑 💞 (Fae)

Summary: You get more than you bargained for when you decide to get married in Vegas.

Within You  🔥🛑

Summary: Bucky shows a different side of himself when you venture into a corn maze.

Ficlets (under 1k)

Read Between the Lines ~ (threat not by Bucky) 

Summary: Things are left unsaid with Bucky during your recent mission.

Loyalty  🔥 (features Dark!Andy Barber x Reader)  

Summary: Loyalty is something you’ve learned to both loathe and appreciate.

Collateral Damage  🔥🛑

Summary: You pay the price when the Avengers try to undo the snap.

Long Night

Summary: Bucky is waiting for you when you come back from a night out.

A Hero’s Reward  🔥 🛑

Summary: Bucky is a hero and every hero deserves a reward.

100 Word Drabbles

Secret Admirer Secret Admirer - Part 2 Secret Admirer - Part 3 Secret Admirer - Part 4 Forced Bond 🔥🛑 Last Call  🔥🛑 His Sparrow  🔥🛑 Stalked

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 18

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Steve doesn’t stop. Your head lolls and your hands explore his chest. You moan like a wild animal as he pumps into you. Beneath the pleasure, there’s a dull pain. You’re going to feel this for a while. 

You arch your back, pushing your heels into the floor as you latch onto his head. His hair falls forward and tickles your face as he bows to nibble your neck. He grunts and groans, biting until you squeal. 

He slips his hand beneath your back and drags it down. He scoops your ass off the floor and sinks deeper into you. You gasp. How much further can he go? 

You dig your nails into his scalp. He pinches your skin between his teeth. You puff shallowly as you push your chest up and yank at his thick hair. He sucks on your flesh until it throbs, his fingers curling under the curve of your ass. 

You slap your other hand down on the floor and drone. His thrusts are long but deliberate. He breath dampens the fabric of your dress. You writhe and push your fingertips into the floor. 

He reaches over blindly, not breaking his pace, and grabs your hand. He guides it behind him and down to his ass. Your fingers brush against his pants as his rhythm picks up. His skin is warm against your palm. The heat between you swirls through your veins and prickles up your back. 

His pelvis rubs against yours. The friction burns. You mewl and squirm as you feel bubbling just beneath the surface. 

“St-Steve--” 

He fucks you harder as you babble his name. You squeal and thrash your legs. Your toes curl and your calves strain. Oh... it’s happening again. 

You cum with a fluttery moan. You spasm and shake around him but he doesn’t relent. His incessant invasion has you weak and willow. 

He growls against the crook of your shoulder and brings his arm higher, hooking it under you. He lifts you as he raises himself to his knees. He moves you in his lap, pushing his hand in front of you to toy with your clit. You whine again. 

You hand your head back as his lips once more dance over your neck. He bounces you on him, his fingertip flicking until you’re a quivering mess. Your delight smears across his pelvis and stains the open front of his pants. 

Your eyes feel loose and your brain is speckly. You blink and heave, your chest is heavy. Oh, oh, no. As another orgasm swells in you, so does a wave of dizziness. Your body slackens at once and you hang limply in Steve’s embrace as your eyelids droop. 

You wake as if you’ve only blinked. The only things that changes is your position. You’re back on the floor. Steve’s hands are on your thighs as your legs extend up his torso. The loose tails of his shirt flap with his frantic tempo. He kneads your flesh and snarls. 

You brace the floor as his pelvis claps against your ass. He bites his lip and his eyes meet yours. He smirks and rams into you harder. 

“You’re back, sweetheart,” he rasps. 

You murmur dumbly as you tongue sticks. You lift your head, pushing yourself up on your elbows, and look down at yourself. You feel him stretching you. It’s even more intense as you watch his veiny length dip in and out. You squeak. 

“Oh, Ste--” 

The world flickers again. As you wade up from another fog, he looms over you, bending your legs to their limit as he cradles your head in his hands. He rocks into you, brushing his nose against yours as he laughs. 

“Alright, baby, I’ll let you rest...” he purrs through scratchy breaths. “Almost... almost...” he puffs and rests his forehead against yours. 

He ruts into you, slamming down so hard your ass bounces against the floor. He stretches his thumb to the corner of your mouth and shoves it inside. You bite down as his strength reverberates through your bones. 

“God--damn!” He rams into you several times before slowing. The gush squelches around him as his hips roll. He lets your legs splay around him and falls limp onto you. “You still awake?” 

“Barely,” you answer. 

He chuckles and pets your cheek. He pushes into you until you wince. You clasp onto his thick arm and he rumbles. 

“Think we understand each other now, huh?” 

You nod. You can’t speak. You understand exactly what he wants now but you’re not too sure about giving it to him. 

🌼

“Ow, ow, ow,” you waddle with your thighs apart across the bedroom. 

You woke up disoriented. Again. You’re not sure if it’s whatever’s been going on with you or that glimmer of disbelief that lingers, but you just can’t remember how you got back there. All you know, is that you have to pee. Now. 

You get to the bathroom door, cupping your cunt, skirt pushed up, and wiggle the handle. It’s locked. You don’t think, you just hammer on the wood. 

“Please, open up! I gotta--” 

The door opens from the other side. Oh shoot! This has to be a nightmare! And you really have to pee. You can’t go in bed. You have to wake up. Wake up and you can go. Wake up and there won’t be a stranger staring back at you. 

“Ahh! Who are you?” You exclaim and back up, wobbly on your feet. Wake up, wake up, wake up. 

The man tilts his head and snorts. You stare at him and slowly your mouth falls open. Staunch jaw, clean shave, freshly trimmed hair... how can it be him? 

“Steve?” You gasp. 

He laughs. “Really?” 

“I...” his voice is jarring coming out of that face. He doesn’t look that different but different enough. No beard, short hair. It’s just not right. 

“Oh, I feel weird,” you say. 

“Don’t pass out,” he warns. 

You pout. “Steve, I... I need to go.” 

“It’s a bit late--”  

“No, I mean I need to use the—the bathroom.” 

“Oh,” he steps out, his arms and chest flexing beneath his white tank top, “all yours, sweetheart.” 

“Uh, sure,” you hobble forward, hissing as your thighs brush together. 

“Figure this’ll take care of the rug burn,” he drawls. You stop short in the doorway and look back. He rubs his bare cheeks and winks. “You keep walking around like that, and people might think I’m knocking you around.” 

You frown and quickly turn away. Your cheeks are on fire but more importantly, your bladder is going to burst. You swing the door shut and race forward. You can figure out what the heck you’re going to do once you can think straight. 

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part two: hush hush, baby

word count: 1.5k

warnings: just shock symptoms i think? creepy stranger vibes, that's abt it i think

one | two | three

Lando could tell she was in shock—he’d seen it before. Eyes wide, breath shallow, body trembling as though her very bones had been rattled. He took a tentative step closer, careful to keep his movements slow and non-threatening.

He had no interest in hurting her, not yet, not when she hadn’t done anything wrong. He never was a fan of collateral damage – meant you had messed up, gotten sloppy. It was unprofessional, if you asked him. However, it didn’t change the fact that sometimes, it was necessary. She had seen something she wasn’t meant to see, and while it was nothing personal, it had to be handled. He would handle it.

No need to rush things.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly, his voice smooth as he studied her. He offered her a hand, and though she hesitated, something made her instinctively reach for it. Her fingers trembled against his, cold to the touch.

“I know you’re scared, yeah?” he murmured, his tone soothing. “S’alright. Just breathe, m’kay? Can you do that fo’ me?”

He guided her back toward the mouth of the alley, where the streetlight’s soft glow illuminated the contours of her face. She crouched down, unable to keep standing, instead hugging her knees to herself as if trying to hold herself together in more ways than one. Her expression was distant, like she was in a place all on her own despite being right in front of him, lost in the vertigo.

“You’re in shock,” he says softly but firmly. The words are sure, certain– stable. “You’re going to feel dizzy, maybe a bit sick. It’s normal, yeah? But I need you to listen to me.” He knelt down, bringing himself to her level. He slowly reached a hand out, careful not to startle her, before he used a curled finger to tilt her chin up so her eyes could look at his. “Can you remember anything you saw?”

She stared at him, watching multicolored irises swirl with indiscernible colors in the low light. Her lips parted but no words came. She shook her head slightly, her eyes still unfocused.

“That’s okay. You don’t need to remember all of it. Just… just breathe with me, yeah? Deep breaths.”

She followed his guidance, barely. Her chest rose and fell in jagged, uneven intervals, and her skin was ghostly pale, but he could see the slight easing of tension in her face as she focused on her breathing. It was a start.

His lips pressed together, like he was debating something. "You shouldn’t be walking around here alone at night," he said, slipping his hands back into the pockets of his jacket after helping her up. "Bad people come out after dark."

Bad people like you?

The thought flitted through her mind, unspoken and unfounded. She didn't see the shooter’s face, not really. There was only saw shadows, movement, a vague shape pulling the trigger—but not enough to be sure.

She was sure of one thing, though: she had to get away.

"Thanks for the advice," she said, taking a shaky step back. "I’ll be fine."

But he didn't move.

"Look," he exhaled through his nose, glancing down the empty street before looking at her again. "I know you don’t know me, and I probably just scared the shit out of you by grabbing you, but I really don’t think you should be out here alone."

His concern was so convincing. So effortless.

And she believed him.

Because why wouldn’t she? To her, he was just some random stranger in the wrong place at the right time, someone who saw a terrified girl and stopped to make sure she was okay.

Not the man who had just executed someone in cold blood. Certainly not the reason she was shaking in the first place.

"I’ll walk you home?" he offered with a small, disarming smile on his lips.

She should have said no.

Every instinct she had—every book she’d ever read about murderers, crime, and the dangers of trusting strangers—told her to refuse. But fear made her irrational. The thought of being alone on this street, with the echo of that gunshot still ringing in her skull, made her stomach churn.

And this man—was warm, steady, safe. Green and grey irises that reminded you of green tea and graphite. And he smiled like everything would be fine, like it was all gonna be okay.

Maybe it would be. So she nodded.

"Okay."

“There we go. That’s it,” he encouraged. Once her breathing became less critical, Lando stood and moved to her side, wrapping his arm around her waist and supporting her weight. “Let’s get you home.”

Slowly, Lando guided her toward the nearby street, one hand lightly resting at the small of her back to keep her steady, the other carefully ensuring she didn’t stumble. Her steps were unsure, her mind too disoriented to make sense of the world around her. He could hear her breathing, still ragged and uneven. 

He didn’t rush her.

When they reached the end of his street he turned to face her, evaluating her condition. One strong breeze would probably still have her keeling over, with the way she trembled like a leaf in the wind. The silence was thick, almost suffocating. He could feel the tension in her shoulders, see the flicker of dread in her eyes every time they passed a shadowed corner, a streetlamp. But he kept his tone even, his voice low as he asked her, “I’m gonna walk you home, alright? Can you tell me where you live?”

Her voice was hoarse when she answered, barely above a whisper. "Just a few blocks... I—I just need to go home."

And so he took her there, slowly and patiently, glancing over at her every so often to make sure she wasn’t slipping too far into herself. He needed her steady. He needed her compliant.

When they arrived, he didn’t let her leave right away. With a reassuring smile, he followed her up the steps to her apartment, making sure she had steady footing as she fumbled with the keys. She dropped them —once, twice— before Lando was kind enough to take it from her shaking hands and twist the key into the lock with ease.

Inside, the apartment was small —humble, plain, barely furnished— but she didn’t seem to care about any of that. She collapsed onto the couch, still shaking. Lando didn’t waste time. He moved quickly, making her tea, setting the kettle to boil. The kitchen was modest, the place smelling faintly of fresh paint, pages and something sweet, something she probably liked to bake in better days.

She barely noticed him moving around, her eyes fixed on the floor, her hands still wringing the hem of her sleeve in a subconscious attempt to ground herself. He fumbled around with various cupboards, searching until he found whatever it is he was apparently looking for. When the tea was ready, he brought it to her, the warm mug cupped in both of her trembling hands.

“Here, drink this,” he said quietly, his eyes scanning her face, looking for any sign that she was about to crack, any slip that might reveal her thoughts, her suspicions. But she just stared down at the mug, nodding blankly. He slipped two pills into her palm as well – for the earache, he gestured.

Lando sat across from her, watching. Patient. Calculating. 

He’d done this before—comforted those who’d witnessed something they weren’t meant to. He could tell from her dazed, hollow expression that she wasn’t thinking about the death she had just seen. She was in survival mode. But what she didn’t realize was that she wasn’t just a witness. She was a potential threat. A loose end he couldn’t afford to leave untied.

“Hey,” he said after a long silence, leaning forward just slightly. “You’re not in trouble. It’s not your fault, okay? You don’t have to tell anyone about what you saw.” His voice was gentle, laced with what sounded like sincerity. "You don’t have to do anythin’, alright?"

Her eyes flicked to his, her gaze vacant, but she nodded—softly, almost imperceptibly. It was enough for him.

He didn’t leave immediately. He stayed long enough to ensure she was too shaken to remember much of anything—long enough to watch her fingers loosen around the mug as the tea worked its magic on her mind. “You’re going to be just fine, sweetheart. You can forget about tonight, get some rest. You’re alright,” he said softly, the words sweet, even reassuring. And when he finally stood, he made sure to give her one last look—just to be sure. Her eyelids began to droop with exhaustion, the adrenaline finally wearing off.

“Take care,” he whispered. And then, with a final glance, he left. Quietly, like he’d never been there in the first place.

But as he walked out into the chill of night, he knew. No one would ever hear what she'd witnessed tonight.

The final sound in the neighborhood that night is the click of the closing door of a sleek black sports car before it drives into the darkness of the night.

[nomoreusername]

Hallucinations

Pairing:Gally x female reader

Summary:The attack from WCKD left deep mental scars only Gally knows how to properly handle.

Blood.

Blood was the only thing that really made sense that night. Blood was the only thing around. It was the only thing that connected me to reality, the only thing I knew was there, the only thing I knew was real. I had felt it pumping through my veins, the same way I smelt it when I shot Chuck, the same way I saw Y/N fall on the floor clutching the side of her face as it poured through her hands.

Blood.

Blood was the only thing to exist.

We both exist now. She made it through the Maze after a freak accident with a Griever ended with a knife to her eye, I made it through the Maze with yet another sting and a gun, and we got picked up by what was at first just masked weirdos who I wasn't totally convinced wouldn't kill us or do some more weird WCKD klunk.

They didn't though. Right Arm found us, her unconscious from the adrenaline crash and me from having a spear a mere two inches from my heart. She unsurprisingly doesn't like to talk about it. To be fair, she never gets to forget it. When she wears her patch over her eye, people question her about why, if they can see what her eye looks like, how it affects her, if her other senses are good, and every invasive thing they can think of. If she doesn't, they gawk at her like she's their personal entertainment. They act like she's not a person and doesn't have one working eye.

I’m not sure if it's what she experienced in the Maze, the loss of vision in that eye, or a mix, but she experiences all these things that I can't even begin to explain. Night terrors, paranoia, hallucinations, and more. Sometimes she tells me what they are, sometimes she doesn't. Sometimes she lets me know when they're happening, and sometimes she's frozen as she stares at something that isn't real or breaking down on the floor.

She has to avoid certain things more than others. Stress, surprises, sudden big changes, and probably other stuff we haven't figured out yet.

We know about violence though. Violence and loud sounds.

“Absolutely not,”I said firmly.

“We need an extra hand-”

“Then, find one,”I dismissed. Still, Brandon insisted on following me, trying to justify why I should tell Y/N she had to come with us to the city.

“Please? I can't find her-”

“Good.”

“Come on. It's just for a few hours. It won't be-”

“Yeah? Well, a few seconds is all it takes to trigger something. Do you want to risk hurting her like that? And if you're too much of an egomaniac to care about that, you're going to have to answer to me if something happens to her,”I warned, not bothering to look at him. I also didn't have to as he walked off, grumbling something under his breath. Not that I care what. He can call me any name he wants as long as he leaves Y/N alone.

♡ - - - ♡

I was right about having her stay behind. Because they're back. I certainly didn't go into the city with the intention of finding the Gladers, but I didn't plan on a lot of things that have happened to me. I didn't plan on trying to sacrifice Greenie and Teresa. I didn't plan on leaving the Maze. I didn't plan on killing Chuck. I didn't plan on almost dying. I didn’t plan on being in Right Arm. I didn't plan on falling in love with the only person I had left. I didn't plan on sharing a bed with her every night.

I have though, just like I have found connections to our old life that I was sure were as good as gone.

Surprise surprise, Brandon. There were angry mobs, there were bombs, and there were kidnappings. It's almost like taking down a powerful organization that murders people isn't a peaceful thing. Shocker.

She stayed behind, working on the creation of the operation. Planning what the next move would be, finding out what WCKD was up to, thinking of any obstacles, all of it. She's the brains, and I’m the brawns.

So she's not here.

She's not here, and I already know how this will end.

She's not here so I took my mask off and waited for the inevitable.

Thomas stared at me with pure hatred. The rage in his eyes was like nothing I’ve ever seen, chilling me to my core. Not even when I hurt him, did he look at me like that. It was nothing dramatic. No exaggerated wide eyes or open mouth. Just a shocked rage.

As the shock faded, the second he found the ability to move, he grabbed the collar of my shirt and punched me square in the jaw, knocking me to the floor. Staying still, I allowed him to tightly grip my shirt while holding his fist to my face. If he punches me again, he punches me. If he doesn't, he doesn't.

Until I heard familiar soft cries that would haunt my dreams now, that I want nothing more than to be safe and well. But she’ll never be well again. Not completely. She can only do so much.

Not caring about it it made him angrier, I shoved him off of me, pushing him to the ground before carefully yet swiftly sitting with her in the far corner. Not yet noticing, she had both her eyes covered as her sobs grew louder, making her words incoherent.

“Y/N, it's not real. Okay? None of it is real,”I coaxed. Shaking her head, she started rocking back and forth while holding her head in her hands.

She hates it when I do this. She really, really does.

But she needs to see as much of reality as possible. So far, it's been one of the few things that grounds her faster.

Gently grabbing her face, I pulled her head out of her knees, making her look at me. She started shaking while holding her head harder, her palms pressing the back of my hands. Not wanting her to hurt herself, I slowly pried them away while still whispering soothing words.

“Gally,”She just barely murmured before saying something else I couldn't understand.

“Yeah. Yeah, it's Gally, okay? It's me,”I said gently.

“Gally,”She repeated through shaky breaths before throwing her arms around me, burying her face in my neck.

“I know. I know,”I assured her, rubbing her back.

“Thomas. Thomas isn't real,”She insisted. Knowing better than to feed into the delusions and to add something big to her plate when she was in the middle of panicking, I just kept holding her. “It's bloody. The wall’s bloody,”She said through heavy breaths.

“I don't see any blood.”

“I’m not crazy,”She said in a more steady but still barely audible voice.

“Everyone knows you aren't crazy.”

“They think I’m crazy. They don't see the Grievers. They don't see it when they don't have a body. They don't see it.”

“The Grievers are back at WCKD. Remember? They made it to hurt us. And people couldn't be alive if they didn't have a body.”

Gripping my shirt, she sniffled as her breathing started getting a little more even. Knowing she had tired herself out, I kissed her temple before picking her up, pulling her to my chest. Curling up, she gently wrapped her arms around my shoulders as I carried her out the room to get to ours.

Thomas can do whatever he wants when this is over. I don't care if he beats me to the brink of death. As long as I’m good enough to comfort her when she needs it, it's okay.

Walking past the door we leave cracked for exactly this reason, I then shut it with my foot before slowly setting her down on the bed. The second her head hit the pillow, she was out.

I’ll sleep beside her. I always will. I’ll hold her as she takes a nap.

I just need to sit for a moment and keep thinking about the best way to make her better. For real this time.