#I have to build my shit back up and that will take forever cause of twitters shitty algorithm

[heesmiles]

TAKE ME FOR A RIDE ; l.hs ׅ 𐙚 ׄ .

SYNOPSIS ──── heeseung takes you on a ride in his new car. ( warnings ) ──── ㅤノㅤ𓈒ㅤlee heeseung x fem ! reader 765 word count. 彡 not proof read, smut mdni, pwp, recording, chain pulling and biting, dirty talk, kinda subby!hee & dom!reader?, handjob..... pure filth ✧:･ﾟ

It was silent save for the rattle of your shaky breath, lips glued to Heeseung like your life depended on it. His hands explored your body with virtue — his tongue ever so slick against your lips. His brand new leather seats clings to your naked thighs with discomfort. The air in his Mercedes was thick, your heaving breathing filling up the car like smoke in an already burning building, but you were in too deep to care. Too intoxicated on the feel of his lips against yours; the heat pooling between your legs was almost unbearable. You needed something, anything — to satiate the desperation you felt; wanted feel him, wholly. 

Your lower half was naked, as was Heeseung, your hand pumping his cock with a slow precision — enough to drive him absolutely insane; just how you liked it. Pre-cum beaded at the tip of his cock, your hand rounded it using the sticky substance as lubricant as you moved your hand faster up and down his shaft. “Holy fuck.” He groaned, a guttural sound deep in his throat. It served as your encouragement. You continued your movements, searching his face for pleasure. A slow smirk spread across your lips as Heeseung kept his eyes screwed shut, his hand gripping the center console so hard his knuckles were white. You loved this side of him; the side that allowed himself to give way to the pleasure completely. The Heeseung who groaned and moaned like no one was listening. 

“I love your new car, baby.” You smiled, a sweet smile that would otherwise turn Heeseung to mush. You had him right where you wanted him. “It’s perfect for times like this..” You trailed off, your hand yanking at Heeseung’s silver chain around his neck — pulling his face closer to yours. His eyes were heavy lidded watching your every movement. His heavy breath fanned across your face. Your lips wrapped around the chain, biting down on the metal like an animal in heat. 

“Oh my god.” Heeseung’s eyes were wide as he watched you. “You’re so fucking hot.” His hands lifted from your waist to paw at your clothed breasts, squeezing them in his hands softly. “You have the best tits, baby.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, letting his chain fall back down against his chest with a thud. “I’d say you’re the hot one….” You reached your hand down while still keeping a slow languid pace on his cock. “I need to keep this moment forever, Hee.” You grabbed your phone that sat perched in the car's cup-holder before turning it on and opening the camera app. “Can I do that, baby?” You asked, “Can I record you?” 

Your hand quickened, rising and falling so fast your fist smacked against his thigh. He jerked forward, grappling at anything nearby to center himself; bring him back down to earth. “S-shit.” He gasped, “Y-yeah, yeah you can.” You smiled a small smile, cooing at him before pressing the record button on your phone. Your hand was shaky causing the camera to tilt a little but you didn’t mind. The video was for your eyes and your eyes only anyway. You lifted your phone catching Heeseung’s face in the frame, his eyes once again heavy lidded with the pleasure coursing through his veins. 

“Do you wanna cum?” You asked, your voice low and sultry with need. Heeseung only nodded, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. “I said…” You trailed, tanking your hand from his cock, “Do you want to cum?” 

Heeseung reached for your wrist “Yes! Fuck, don’t – don’t stop.” Your hand found his shaft again, working him up and down like he asked. He was whining, damn near with tears in his eyes. It was a sight to behold; one you were glad to be capturing. 

“I want to see you cum on camera, Hee.” He was close, his breathing quickened; his head thrown back against the seat of the car. He groaned, low. It had your core throbbing at the sight. You couldn’t believe he was yours. 

“I’m gonna cum.” He nodded his head — his eyes screwed shut. You angle your camera just right; ready to capture the moment like it were a cinematic masterpiece — You the director and Heeseung the shining star. “Don’t stop, I'm gonna cum.”

“I’m not going to stop.” You cooed as you watched the show. Heeseung came with a groan, low in his throat. His spend coating your hand and dripping down your arm. 

“Like I said.” You smirked, watching him come down from his high. “I love your new car.” 

(♬) - @beomiracles @biteyoubiteme @hyukascampfire @dawngyu @izzyy-stuff @1-800-jewon @xylatox @firstclassjaylee @teddybeartaetae @hoonjayke

[schemmentisimpasours]

Monsters In My Head- It's Not Your Fault

So sorry for the delay. Life sucks is the short version.

Summary: Couple therapy is now here for you and Melissa. Nightmares are clogging your morning and emotions have bubbled over for Melissa leaving you both hollow. It is up to you and Melissa to figure out if it is going to rip you apart or build you from the ground up.

Warnings: Nightmares, alluding to past domestic violence, belts in reference to abuse (vague), alluding to parental neglect, alluding to physical violence, Melissa! Fighter, Therapy setting, Couples therapy, crying, hurt/comfort (FEAR NOT MORE FLUFF AND LESS ANGST IS COMING SOON... maybe)

PS- I am currently working through a lot of personal things in my life right now with my future layoff, trying to find a new job, handling normal life, and working double time to make roster for my next derby game. I am stressed. And it shows in my writing. Prepare for a lot of angst with a sprinkling of fluff and hope. Middle picture is absolutely from Pinterest no regrets

Thanks to: @writerspirit for bouncing ideas with me and giving me so many good things to add to this chapter. I couldn't have done this without you. <3

@saradika-graphics provided the divider.

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Masterlist

Thunder cracked in the distance, and you flinched, pressing yourself further into the couch cushions. It was only a matter of time before she would be home, her boiling anger filling every space in the apartment. You couldn’t even remember what had made her so mad, only that she texted you earlier in the day to sit on the couch and wait. After two years together, you realized what she wanted. Dressed in nothing but a bra and underwear, you were shivering but too scared to grab for a blanket. You had tried that once, and it had only caused more pain and missing a week’s worth of classes while you waited for the bruising to go down. So, instead, you waited for your girlfriend and plotted a way to get out of all of this. 

Twenty minutes later, the front door bounced against the wall, and you bit down on your lip to stop from screaming. Kylee stood in the doorway, a menacing grin highlighted against her raven colored hair.  She reached for her brown leather belt and the buckle loosening sent a shiver down your spine. The welts from the previous time still were a red against your back and thighs and you could feel them stinging as she stalked across the floor towards you. With the belt in hand she pulled it taught with a snap. You lost composure and screamed this time and the snapping didn’t stop as the sound of the leather mixed in with the sound of the thunder outside. The rain that you once loved turning into a nightmare that would forever haunt you. 

You woke with a jump the sound of your alarm breaking through the dream. You glanced at your clock and swore when you realized that you had slept through all but your holy shit we are going to be really late alarm. Running to your closet you threw on a pair of black slacks, a plain black tank top and grabbed the first jacket that you could find to pull over it. There was no time to think about the outfit only to get dressed and go. The denim of the jacket wrapped around you as you reached for your bag and rushed through the door. 

 By the time that you pulled into the school there was only a couple of minutes before the bell rang. With your whole morning routine off kilter you looked frazzled by the time that you got to sign in sheet. You were about to take off towards your classroom when something red caught your eye. Sitting across from Ava’s desk was Melissa her shoulders shaking slightly. Typically you would have guessed it was from laughter. The two women bantering back and forth any chance they got but you had learned to read every minute detail of your girlfriend. It was not laughter that spread across her but sadness. Your worries were only confirmed when Ava handed over a tissue and Melissa wiped away at her eyes. 

Another beat past before Melissa pulled at her blazer as if to reset herself. She stood and with a nod to Ava she was out the door. You locked eyes with her and she immediately stopped. Her eyes were puffy and a small sag was pressing down on her shoulders. Yet as she saw you a smile spread across her face. Her whole mood lighten by your presence alone.

“That is my jacket,” She grinned walking towards you, “I have been looking for it and you. Rough start to the morning?”

You looked down at the jacket for the first time all morning and realized it was hers. The one she had worn to help you and Janine learn how to cook. When it had became clear your crush was not going to be going away anytime soon. A week later Melissa had asked you out on your first date. You had stolen the jacket from her one day when you spent the night at her house and had never returned it. Wrapping up in it when the world seemed to be closing in on you. It was like being held by the redhead herself even if she was not in the actual room you occupied. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that after your most recent nightmare that is the one you had gravitated for. Even if the smell of Melissa had long since faded from the blue fabric.

“Yeah, I guess I should give it back. It doesn’t smell like you anymore. Wore it during too many emotional crises,” You joked but there was a sadness to your tone.

“Are you okay?” Melissa asked reaching toward your hand.

“I should be asking you that,” You deflected squeezing her hand gently the cold metal of her rings grounding you temporarily the sound of the bell saved you from more questions, “I’ll see you later Mel.”

You took off towards your classroom and Melissa watched a furrow in her brow displaying her concern for you. Something had clearly thrown you off your balance and a little part of her wondered if it was you regretting the second chance you had given the older woman. However with her jacket wrapped around you hope was still present amongst the monsters running in her head. Pushing these thoughts from her mind she moved to take care of her little eagles. Their smiling faces reminding her that she could make it through this. Another day of being sober and another day of working to win you back. 

Your thrown off morning turned into a crazy lunch period. Just as you were about to enter the breakroom a fight had broken out in the cafeteria that Jacob had needed back up on. Once that had been settled and the kids sent to talk to Ava incident reports were plopped on your desk by Dia that had to be taken care of immediately. You filled it out through small bites of lunch that Melissa had left with a note on your desk. 

That jacket looks better on you than it ever did on me.

You had hoped to catch some glimpse of the older woman but by the time that you had finished the reports and turned them in lunch was over and the chaos in your classroom started again. It kept you pre occupied through the rest of your day the final bell coming as a relief to your frayed nerves. All you wanted to do was go home and curl up in your bed when you glanced down at your calendar. The couple therapy appointment was written in bold letters and everything clicked back in. Gathering your things you stopped by Melissa’s classroom but it was already dark with the redhead nowhere to be seen. A pit formed in your stomach as you worried about if she was going to show up at all. 

However when you opened the door to Ouida’s waiting room she was in a corner chair leg bouncing up and down as she pretended to read a magazine. She looked up noticing it was you and immediately tossed the pages down rushing towards you. Unconsciously you had already extended your arms allowing her to press close to you. Your senses overloaded with Melissa actually holding you for the first time in weeks. Not drunk. Not just grabbing your hand. But fists curled into your jacket. Head nestled into the crook of your neck. Chest pressed close to yours. 

“I haven’t seen you all day,” Melissa said voice muffled as she refused to move, “I fuckin’ missed you.”

You knew that things weren’t mended in your relationship. There were still holes and cuts that put everything in an uncomfortable patch. But in this moment you didn’t care, “I missed you too Angel.”

“Well this is a good sign,” Ouida said, making you jump.

Melissa let go of you dropping her hand to take yours, “Hey doc, It’s been a long day but it’s better now I got her.”

Ouida smiled and a little piece of you melted at Melissa’s words. The therapist waved you into her office and Melissa led you onto the small couch in the room. You had been in this room over a hundred times at this point but something was different about it every time you came in. This time there were two journals laid on the coffee table. One a velvet green with a golden sun etched into the cover. The other a dark purple with a moon etched in silver. 

“For you both,” Ouida said pushing the sun towards you and the moon towards Melissa, “Every night I want you to write in these journals. But I want you to write to each other. Everything that you are to afraid to put into words or what you did during the day. It doesn’t matter. At the end of our time together you will swap the journals.”

Melissa ran her finger over the corners of the journal, “Y/N has always been a better writer than me.”

“Well now you get the chance to practice. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be,” Ouida reassured her, “How was your days? Y/N you go first.” You knew the routine of therapy by now and knew what she was looking for but the thought of sharing the details with Melissa had you frozen. Her hand now absent from yours the only thing you could do was pick at the sleeve of the denim jacket. Curling into a ball in the corner of the couch you tried to find a way to ground yourself. 

“I had a nightmare,” You started eyes focused on the ridges of the journal’s sun, “It made me late for work and I felt like I couldn’t catch up.”

You could feel both of the other woman look intently at you but didn’t elaborate. Ouida was the first to break the silence, “Since she seems a little hesitant to share I feel I have to ask. Melissa have you been witness to Y/N’s nightmares before?”

Melissa stumbled over her words before she found her groove, “Uh.. I.. Yeah. I have. Almost every night when we first started spending the night together. Then a little less before. Um before the incident.”

You looked up at her shocked that she knew about the nightmares. You swore that you never had experience them around her before. At your confused expression she continued, “You would never remember when you woke up if I asked. At first I thought you were trying to play it off but you genuinely would not remember. As if it was so difficult you erased it from your memory. Then I realized when I started asking it made you really uncomfortable so I stopped alluding to it at all. Learned ways through trial and error on what to do. Asked Janine to fill in the gaps if I could.”

Tears formed at the corner of your eyes as you took in what she said, “You asked Janine how to help?”

“I was scared and figured at some point she must have dealt with it to. Some nights you would wake up screaming. Stop. Please not again. I won’t do it again. Just stop hurting me. I learned really quick not to touch you during those nightmares. You would devolve into shaking that went on for such a long time. I had to talk to you. Quiet and slow. Remind you who I was until you woke up. Janine taught me how to spin you stories to replace whatever would be going on. There would be a little cloud in your eye like you were there but also somewhere far away. Think the screaming exhausted ya so much you would just fall back asleep once I calmed ya down,” Melissa took a deep breath before continuing, “Other times you would start punching and thrashing. You would throw yourself off the bed if I let you. I used to have to hold you to me. Let you hit my shoulders and arms until you got it out. I would curl myself around you and hold you down till you stopped. It felt like torture watching you and having to hold you like that but it was like you couldn’t hear me. Not until you calmed down. Then you would just go completely still. Back asleep without even really waking up.”

You were crying now thinking of how scared Melissa must have been during those moments. Entirely alone and not understanding what was going on. You even remembered her trying to ask you a couple times what had happened from the night before. But you always pushed the fact you had nightmares back. As if ignoring them would make them go away. Instead it had made Melissa suffer in silence.

“Now Y/N,” Ouida said as you wiped away the wetness that rolled down your cheeks, “Tell Melissa why you never talked about these nightmares. What are they about?”

You went to reach for your normal stress ball that Ouida kept on the coffee table but remembered you had shattered it at a previous session. Melissa noticed your panic and extended a silver ring out towards you. An anxiety fidget ring that you had given to her as a gift when class had been overwhelming her. You took it from her gently the smooth metal spinning allowing you to catch your breath. 

“I don’t talk about them because they are all about her.Kylee. I have the nightmares because of Kylee,”You finally managed to get out and Ouida nodded for you to keep going the ring spinning faster in your fingers, “Most of them are about the belts. If I did anything. Spoke to loud, forgot something at the store, misplaced a fast food order, even breathed out of turn. She would beat me with a leather belt. There was one hanging in every room. A fear tactic to keep me following the rules. But the catch was that the rules changed second by second. There was not winning with her. There was only pain.”

A gasp could be heard from Melissa as you subconsciously rubbed your shoulder blade as if a welt would appear underneath your finger tips, “I can still hear the snapping of that belt to this day.”

“And what does the sound remind you of?” Ouida pushed and you could see the connections she was starting to draw.

You didn’t even look up as you spoke, “Thunder and…”

“A hand slapping on a counter,” Melissa finished and there was a crack in her voice, “I am so sorry baby. I am so sorry. I should have never done that.”

Your eyes finally met hers and it broke your heart. Her shoulders were shaking and tears were rushing down her face. The older woman’s hands were clasped together so tight that the tips of her fingers were starting to turn white. 

“Mel,” You said reaching out your hand but Melissa only buried further into herself. You could read all of the thoughts racing through her head. Punishing herself yet again for how she acted that night and how she had driven a wedge between you both. Your heart cracked and you scooted closer till you could wrap your hands around Melissa’s fist, “It isn’t your fault Angel. If I had told you… any of this we could have worked through it together. How were you supposed to know what triggered me when I kept it all from you?  It wasn’t fair. I pushed you away and forced you back into drinking. It is me who should be apologizing.”

Melissa was working to control her breathing as she unlaced her fingers and held your hand tightly, “I was scared that day we fought so I was really yearning for a drink. Something to give me a little courage. It was how I coped with everything.I was going to ask you to move in with me. Start creating that life we always talked about but I was scared to ruin everything. Like I always do… turns out I was right just in a different way. It’s my fault.”

You stilled at her words pieces starting to click together of the night everything crashed. She had been so on edge barely talking to you when you entered the house. Typically she took a couple of minutes to relax before cooking. Always asking how your day was but this time she went straight to the kitchen. Pulling out a large wine glass and then starting on the meal. You had tried to get her to open up and calm down but the more closed off she got the more in your head you became. It was why the glass had slipped in the first place. You were so worried that you hadn’t been paying attention. 

“It seems like all of this really started from lack of communication. Y/N for not wanting to open up about triggers and Melissa for not wanting to talk about her drinking,” Ouida pointed out, “My hope is to work on that communication in our sessions here and for it to come out in your journals as well. Y/N talked about some of her triggers so now the ball is in your court Melissa. Tell us more about your drinking. How did it all start?”

Melissa gulped and pulled herself closer to you as if your side could absorb her in, “Well I uh…had my first drink when I was ten maybe? It’s um. Okay. I have to. I need a second.”

You wrapped one arm around her the other still holding tight to her hand. Melissa took deep breaths trying to calm herself down. No one pushed her to talk Ouida only reached her hand across the table and rested a light hand on the redhead’s knee. When Melissa finally settled she patted Ouida’s hand and leaned her head against yours. 

“I guess the easiest way to explain it is that I’m not a Schemmenti. Not technically. My mother lied to my dad about how she got pregnant with me. I grew up with him as my Dad but really he was my step dad. She adored my step dad. Had been pining after him for years and was trying to win him over. She trapped him with his Catholic values. Saying that since she was pregnant they had to get married. When I came out a redhead he knew she was lying. My birth father was irish and everyone in his family has this burning red hair. There was no hiding it and divorce wasn’t an option. Not in the Schemmenti family. Instead he choose violence. Beating my mom into submission but he never laid a hand on me. He tried once and my mom almost cut his wrist off with a butcher knife. So instead he found a different way to beat me down.”

“He trained me to fight. Said that to earn a place among his favorites I had to win in the fighting ring. So I started training at 9 years old in the boxing ring. Anytime I messed up the boxing pad would knock me to the ground. He would hit me over the head with it. Knock my knees out. Body slam me. I learned really quick that I had to get it right or at least die trying. I was in the ring on my 10th birthday. Mom was at home with my two youngers siblings at the time but she encourage this whole thing. Told me it would build me character. That no daughter of her would walk the world without knowing how to fight back. My step dad told me if I didn’t win he would toss me out the car on the way home and make me find my way back.”

Melissa paused for a moment to wipe the tears from her face, “This wasn’t normal fighting. This was an all out brawl. The only way to win is if the person gave up or passed out. The girl I faced my first time was twice my size. But I was fighting for my life. I won that match and 60 more after that until I went to college. I was called Firecracker for my fierce temper and how I could always be a sure win for the bets. My father placed bets from the first game to my last. After that first game my dad shoved a beer in my hand and told me I earned a little relaxation. It hit hard taking me to a place where I was utterly numb. No emotions. No feelings. Nothing. Which I craved more than anything else. I just wanted to escape this life I felt so trapped in. Soon I was drinking even when I didn’t have a fight. The only reason I graduate was because high school was easy and any time I came home with a grade below an A my dad scheduled me for more fights. I learned really quick how to stay away from fights.”

“Right before I went to college my Aunt Anne was really drunk and told me the truth behind why I was fighting. That my dad really wasn’t my dad and he said I had to earn my Schemmenti name. My Aunt Anne told me I would never be a real Schemmeti no matter how many fights I did. He was gonna fight me till I died in the ring. At my fight that night I set out to prove everyone wrong. I fought like I had nothing to lose because I didn't. Either I won or I died in that ring. I beat that girl until they pulled me away from her. She didn't wake up for two days. I looked at my step dad waiting for him to be proud of me. Asked if I was a Schemmenti now. He said I would only be a bastard bitch.  I stopped fighting after that. I would have flashback of that girl pleading for her life…I still do. They echo in my head every time I don’t drink. If I let myself think for one second I see her face and the damage I caused. I had to get out so I moved and lived in my car till I moved into my dorm. ,” Melissa let out a choked sob, “I have never been anyone. Not a Schemmenti. Not a McLaren. Not even a Smith. No one has ever wanted me for me. I don't even know who I am anymore or if I ever knew to begin with. ”

You looked over at Melissa thinking of a million things you could tell her. That you saw her. The real her. The woman who showed up early at school to make sure her classroom was set up just right for her kids with neurodivergent needs. The woman who listened to every gospel song Barb had to practice for a big show. The woman who learned Gregory’s food aversions and made him a week’s worth of nutritional but safe meals. The woman who had helped Jacob find a new apartment after his break up and visited weekly to play board games. The woman who went toe to toe with Ava but kept it humorous and brought out the best in the principal. The woman who listened to all of Janine’s wacky ideas and tried to find ways to incorporate it into the curriculum pulling strings when needed. The woman who had looked at you and your broken pieces and saw more. Who chose you and never stopped. You saw her.

You went to tell her but she continued on, “I tried to get sober after I cut ties with my step dad. I was doing well out on my own till my dad came along. The real one. His name Len McLaren. An Irish pub owner who stepped out on his wife to sleep with my mom. He came to meet me once. Look at me and spilled his heart out about how he should have done better by me and loved me. But it was all a lie to get me to donate a liver to his daughter. With my history of drinking… I couldn’t do it. I tired but they wouldn’t let me. He called me disappointment and told me to never talk to him again. I thought he loved me..”

“At that point drinking was my only way through. To numb everything that felt so… all consuming. It all felt so pointless to be sober when my life was already ruined from it,” Melissa sighed leaning further against you, “I found Joe at the bar. And with one shred of kindness I gave him everything. No questions asked. He never hit me. Never yelled. But he was never there. Always with another woman. Finding himself somewhere else. I forgave him over and over because I knew that I deserved that pain. Then when we got married he told me no bitch like me would ever take his name. So I stayed a Schemmenti. I didn't feel like anyone… just a feather in the wind till I found you Y/N. You made me feel like someone. Like I was more than just this thing existing in the world but a real human being. One that mattered and could be loved. Until that day you told me to find someone better…I can’t find find someone better than you. There is no one else for me and losing you. I can’t.”

“You aren't going to lose me. Ever. I promise Mel,” You said through tears turning to wrap Melissa in a crushing hug. You placed your forehead against hers, “I see you Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti. I know who you are.”

Melissa  let out a choke sob before burying into your shoulder for a couple of moments letting the comfort of your words rush over her. Ouida waited till a calm seemed to come over the room, “Look how strong both if you are. To overcome all that has been put against you to find each other. It is no one’s fault for what happened. Blaming yourself is not going to fix it. But maybe this will. All of this honesty and vulnerability. It isn’t going to be easy but that is why we are working through it together. One day at a time.”

You leaned back to wipe the tears from Melissa’s face and for the first time in your whole relationship you saw the woman underneath the amber liquid. All the way to the little girl who from the first moment she opened her eyes wanted to be loved. And you loved her. Every single line, moment, scar, and memory. Hoping to express everything without sayin the words you placed your lips to her temple.

“One day a time,” You both whispered. 

Melissa didn’t let go of your hand as the next therapy appointment was scheduled and your journals were collected. Placing them in your respective bags Melissa gave Ouida a swift hug with one arm whispering something in her ear. Ouida smiled a watery look coming over her eyes but she only smiled in response. From there the redhead lead you from the building making sure that her side was always pressed against hers. 

“Are you okay?” You asked Melissa as you both stopped outside of your car, “Therapy has a way of being helpful yet draining everything out of you at the same time.”

“It’s been a long day that is for sure,” Melissa chuckled darkly, “My sponsor had me talk through all of this during our morning meeting to make sure I prepared myself. That way it wouldn’t be as triggering to talk about it. Talking about my drinking is hard but with you… it doesn’t seem as scary.”

“Ava is your sponse,” You said barely above a whisper a lightbulb clicking in your head.

“That easy to guess huh?”

“Only because I pay attention to you. After I saw you in her office I thought something was up,” You shrugged, “Is it helping? The meetings with Ava? AA?”

Melissa smiled, “It really is. Still have a long road ahead of me but I got you to help me along the way right?”

You nodded before kissing her cheek gently, “You got me every step of the way Angel. Can I call you later?”

“Of course,” Melissa said immediately and then stood back to watch you climb in the car. She shut the door gently and gave you a small wave as you pulled out of the parking lot and down the street. 

She walked to her car slowly letting the setting sun and cool breeze that came with it calm her racing heart. Therapy had taken everything from her. Remembering all those old memories and watching your reactions had cracked her shell. Vulnerability had never been her strong suit but if that is what she had to do to get you back she would. Never again was she going to let you slip through her fingers because she was afraid to speak. 

When she entered her home the silence seemed to suffocate her so she quickly open Spotify clicking on the first song that popped up. The music filled the space around her and the lyrics played back in her head as she had made her way to her room.  Well it’s not your fault that someone came // into your life and messed up all your plans // and it’s not your fault that you were kind // and nice enough to give a second chance // and it’s not your fault that you were strong // and had to be when everyone forgot. 

Melissa showered with her phone sitting on the sink playing the song on repeat. The hot water washed away from the grime of the day and the emotions that still seemed to seep from every pore. When it had turned cold she got out looking into the mirror. Something she hadn’t done in days afraid that the monster would be waiting on her. Instead tired green eyes looked back at her. A semblance of the woman she used to be not the monster she had become and it made her smile. 

Once in her closet she riffled through her clothes finding the last shirt that you had left and pulled it around her. Then she pulled up all the drawers until she found every single belt she owned. She threw them in the trash can taking a deep breath, “Never again will she be triggered in my house. Not by this.”

As the final words fell from her lips her phone began to vibrate. Your face looked back up at her with a Facetime notification. She answered and there you were wrapped in your bed buried amongst the pillows and blankets. You were exhausted that was plain a heaviness to your soul before you even spoke.

“Hey that is my shirt,” You joked but your usual smile was absent. 

“Says the person that has my jacket,” Mel grinned in return, “If you give it back I will wear it for you. Get that Melissa smell you wanted back.”

“I want it back in three days,” You said seriously, “It’s mine by common law.”

“I promise I'll give it back baby,” The older woman joked and then softened when you didn't even smile, “Why did you call sweetheart?”

“I just… It’s been an exhausting day. I needed to hear and see you,” You admitted, “I know we just saw each other. But I.. I need you.”

Melissa almost offered to come over. Wrap you up in her arms and kiss away your worries. But she hesitated, torn on where the line was. So instead she put the decision on you, “I am right here,how can I help?”

You paused for a moment, “Can you read to me?”

“Of course,” Melissa grabbed the book on her nightstand sliding on her glasses, “This okay? I'm working through it with my kiddos but I like to read ahead.”

“Tristan Strong,” And your smile finally appeared, “When did you start that?”

“Over the last week. Someone told me that I should be reading more diverse books to my children so they know superheroes can look like them,” Melissa winked making you laugh, “Now relax, I got you baby.”Within minutes you were asleep but Melissa kept reading until the chapter was done. Your snores filled the space around her and she watched you over the phone. Curled into the pillow an ease to your presence finally. As if Melissa alone could scare away whatever was haunting you. She laid down on her own pillows propping you up against her stack of books. Leaving the light on so you could see her if she woke up she settled down to sleep. She blew a kiss towards the screen and whispered I love you baby.

-

Taglist

@writerspirit // @casualfoxwitch // @panerasbox // @babytakeittothehead // @milfjuulpod // @yoyo-w // @cupldscntrl // @milfslvr // @liliapleasesteponme // @marvel210 // @derpyavocado // @morgana-larkin // @tsuki-brujita

[youredyingthatsallthereis]

simon the harrowed watching simon riley degrade further into insanity and when hunter gary sanderson shows up in the nightmare he warns him to watch out for a skull masked hunter annihilating anyone who gets near him with a beasthunter saif

warnings of “in another lifetime maybe he could have been your ally…but i doubt someone as far gone as he is can be reasoned with anymore” doesn’t stop sanderson from trying; he didn’t get the nickname roach for giving up easily

even as riley tries to obliterate him with the deadly precision of a practiced hunter coupled with the unhinged blood lust of a hunter intoxicated by the hunt sanderson keeps fighting back until he has riley flat on his back, his threaded cane pressed down tight on riley's throat to keep him still, looking into the covered eyes of the unhinged man that he knows can still see him, quietly reminding him of the hunt he abandoned before he gave in to his clear grief and agony; telling him they can take on ludwig together, take the research hall and the astral clocktower together, free the poor wizened child from his suffering together, if only riley would come back to himself, remember who he is and his purpose as a hunter; they could transcend the hunt together, gain true insight together, if only riley would remember who he was and could still be

[shmokeymoe]

So my Twitter account got suspended and idk if I’ll get it back cause elons a BITCH

So im really happy about that :]]]]] I am going to end his life

[eureka-its-zico]

Residuals Pt 3

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

A/N: Screaming at the top of my lungs because you have all been so incredibly lovely and sweet. I appreciate every single one of your comments, reblogs, and your excitement over this spur-of-the-moment series idea. Honestly, I can gush forever. Thank you! This chapter is centered around a little extra backstory on their relationship (briefly). I noticed it's around ep. 4 when everything starts popping off in the show (and I have scenes already pre-written cause I’m excited!) so I hope the story stays entertaining and true to showing slow insights into characters, their flaws, and being human. As always, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. Much Love. Jenn

Thank you to the bestie @viridian-dagger for humoring me and checking all of my work. Thank you for helping keep me sane.

Words: 7208

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You remembered with agonizing clarity the last day you’d seen Robby. You could recall down to the very marrow of the hour how you’d watched him grab his backpack and head out the door. 

If you weren't careful, your subconscious loved to dredge that particular memory up in frequent rotation. 

If you weren’t careful, always on mental high alert, the memories came violently to the forefront demanding that you remember what it felt like to walk the halls of your home in nothing but his shirts. It had you up late in the middle of the night writing a list of all the achingly obvious differences between the empty bed you now slept in and the one you’d shared with him. How his large frame curled against your back or how his nose pressed into the crook of your neck before he woke you, trailing kisses down your collarbone. 

Sometimes, Robby held you so tight you’d jokingly ask if he was trying to morph together like The Thing. 

You’d gotten used to the quiet in your home. The lack of security knowing another person was there. You’d learned to portion down your meals, so you didn’t make some on accident for two, or three when Jake was home for the week. You did laundry less and didn’t have to fold as much. There was no one to help you build furniture or tear it down. The trash was handled by you and only you. Dishes sat questionably for longer in the sink than they should’ve. There were no hands on your hips to keep you steady as you demanded to be an independent woman and use the step ladder to change broken fixtures and lightbulbs. No car rides with blues gently playing through the speakers with his hand on your thigh. 

No. You were reminded every minute of every day since you’d left of what you lost. What you chose to leave behind.

The day you left you’d waited in the hall. In the past, before the pandemic, before the world went to shit and stopped making sense, Robby waited for you to send him off. You’d bring him his backpack full of protein bars, a homemade sub sandwich (if he ever got to it), and instant coffee packets when he didn’t. The moment you were close enough for him to grab - to touch - Robby would reach for you. 

Before Robby, you didn’t know what it felt like to be worshipped; to be craved and wanted so badly that they couldn’t wait for the moment they could touch you. The safety of trusting someone because they loved you without pretense allows you to be comfortable enough to be good, bad, weird, and everything in between. 

“You’re my favorite person.” He’d told you this randomly, while you’d both been curled up on the couch. Your cheek pressed against his chest. You heard the slight change in rhythm before he spoke. It was an answer to a question you’d asked weeks ago. One he refused to answer because “What are we in junior high?” 

You didn’t believe in fairytales or the idea of perfect relationships. You believed in what someone’s actions said about them when they tried to cover them up with words. You didn’t know what it was like to have someone choose you, all of you, until Robby. 

Whenever he had the chance, Robby was always touching you - light traces of fingers that drew aimless doodles in your skin while he read. His hand glided across your back as he passed you in the kitchen or the hallways at work. Once Robby learned how much you loved having his hands on you, he found ways to use them all the time - in ways that made you feel secure and others that were far from innocent. 

But out of everything, Robby always made sure you were taken care of and, most of all, loved. 

Usually, when Robby departed from the house, he used his large frame to crowd into your space. Possessive hands snaked around your waist to pull you flush against him. Every time, like clockwork, you eagerly respond to his touch. Your neck already falling back just enough for his mouth to slate over yours.

Those memories of better days, days where you didn’t have to question if he still loved you, are what made the last day so hard. You stood there, silently hoping that he would turn around. That Robby would just stop putting in his air pods, looking everywhere but at you, and finally acknowledge you. You didn’t want your last fight to be what you remembered - the words you’d hurled at one another with tired vehemence the final thing you heard. 

You just wanted him to love you like he used to. But the problem was, you weren’t sure if you could love him how you used to anymore either. 

“I think you should take Kiara up on her offer, Michael. You need to speak with someone even if it isn’t her.”

“Jesus,” he huffed. A hand scrubbed at his face before latching behind his head. His eyes screwed tight as if he could simply blink the conversation away. “Here we fucking go again.”

“Yes, here we go again. We wouldn't have to keep doing this merry-go-round around the issue if you would just admit - “

“Admit what?” His voice rose in challenge, and it took every ounce of you not to return it. “You seem to want me to say I’m broken so you don’t have to be the only one.”

“That’s bullshit,” you scoffed, pushing your dinner plate further down the table. 

You weren’t hungry anymore.

“It’s not bullshit! I’m not the only one in this room who won’t be honest with themselves.”

“That’s real rich coming from you, Michael. If you think that’s true, look me in my eyes and admit you don’t feel some type of way since he passed. And I never once fucking said that you were broken - “

“That’s the point! You don’t have to. I can see it in the way you look at me. The way you talk to me. It’s like no matter what the fuck I say you don’t believe me. You just want me to be depressed like - “

“Like what, Michael.”

The room went glacial cold. Your eyes turned to slits as you waited for him to finish his sentence. A piece of you prayed he didn’t because you didn’t know how much more you could take before you finally broke. 

“Like you,” he sighed, voice defeated as if he hated saying it as much as you hated hearing it. “You haven’t been the same since -”

“Shut up.”

“- it happened and I’m sorry. I - I wish I’d been there - “

“I said shut up! Jesus, just stop talking!” 

The venom in your voice was toxic. It had your arm lashing out and shoving the plate of food off the table. The sound of tableware clattering and glass breaking dimmed the flash of anger enough to be embarrassed at your outburst. You hadn’t meant to do it. Just like you hadn’t meant to do a lot of things since Adamson passed, since the pandemic, and…since you received the news. 

It was written plainly in the silence held between you. The unspoken depression from two different spectrums left you both unable to help the other. Neither of you knew how to bridge the gap your stubbornness bred.

Doctors were historically the worst patients because of that very reason. Pride. You used to believe Robby and you didn’t share an ounce of it between you, but you’d been wrong. You forgot you were both human and flawed.   

“I just want to help you, Michael. Please. Ever since Adamson passed and - and what happened - “

“He doesn’t have anything to do with what happened! What happened fucking happened because it’s nature. It’s - it just wasn’t our time. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up for something you have no control over. How many times have we told our patients this?” Robby looked up from his hands and you wished he hadn’t. His watery eyes were close to spilling; the tsunami of pain was all-consuming and when he whispered your name before he spoke again, you wanted to shatter. “You’re killing yourself from the inside out with this self-hatred.”

How many times have you been told that exact thing? It was an unfortunate natural process. It just ‘happened’. Every word is sterile and scientific which makes you feel less and less like a person. And what about the news that came after? Was that natural too? 

Maybe you were the one who was broken.

“Adamson happened too, and you haven’t been the same since we lost him. You’re on edge more, Mike. You snap at work and home. You’re closed off. You’re so desperate to put it under the rug that we only focus on me? Bring up my faults so we can bury yours.”

A sneer pulled up his lips as he turned away from you. His eyes scan over the shelves and furniture in the room - looking everywhere but at you. 

“You just want to help me? That’s what you keep feeding yourself but in reality, you just want me to be who I was before this. I don’t know if I can be that man again and when I tell you that, you act like a fucking child going around slamming doors.” Shame flushed up your face, turning your cheeks red with embarrassment. You’d done that and worse. You thought you could wait whatever this was out until it got better. But it wasn’t better. It was worse and you were so, so tired. “You want to focus on me but what about you?”

“You aren’t the only one hurting - that lost someone. You left me! You fucking left me to deal with it all on my own. Where the fuck were you when I needed you?”

“I’ve been right here with you!” Robby shouted back. “I’m right here with you, baby, but you don’t fucking see it. You won’t let me in.”

The tears you struggled to contain escaped in one shaky exhale. You carried around so much of your shame and guilt - tried repairing the cracks with quick fixes so Robby wouldn’t see because the last thing you wanted was pity. You didn’t want the confirmation that you were irreparably broken. 

“But you’re not here. Are you? Not really.” 

The earlier flash of rage was extinguished with each word. This job was a marvel and a curse. It took and took without forgiveness. Sometimes you’re fighting to save people who don’t want to be saved; who’ve never known the support and love they needed to believe they were more than their demons. Who wanted to succumb to a brief drop of loneliness in the ocean of a lifetime. Or you saw the ugliness that people did to one another and left you having an existential crisis if someone’s bad choice made their life unworthy of saving. 

Robby dealt with all of these things daily. He shouldered them for every friend in the hospital. For every patient who needed the strength of his resolve and the care he delivered. He gave all that and more during the pandemic and now he’d given so much that there wasn’t much left to tend to himself. 

Robby used to lean on you for just about everything. Sometimes, your talks were gradual - opening up little by little until everything was exposed. Other times, they came in bursts. A rush of words said too fast because if neither of you just ripped the band-aid off and said it, nothing would ever get fixed. Now all of that came to a screeching halt. You didn’t know what he was feeling anymore or thinking. He shut you out in so many ways. You tried to break through and failed. 

You both stood at separate spectrums of grief and neither of you knew how to reach the other anymore.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You hadn’t meant about your relationship. You wish you could’ve said that - informed him that the despair and betrayal of your own body left you in a place of purgatory. The pandemic stripping you bare and raw pressing salt into every wound. How was Robby supposed to love you if you didn’t know how to love yourself?

But it’s not how it sounded leaving your lips. It’s not how he took it as you watched his shoulders deflate. The emptiness that hollowed out his eyes in protection and left them empty as you felt. 

“No one is forcing you to stay.”

You never did get to tell him you saw him - saw that he’d been there waiting for you to open up. He wasn’t who he was, but he’d still tried the best he could in whatever ways he could. In the end, you believed you deserved punishment. 

Maybe that’s what losing Robby was - the universe's way of dishing it out for a wrong you never knew you committed. 

It felt suffocating; your chest caved to create a black hole of grief that felt never-ending. You watched as the pandemic tore him down piece by piece - shredding him to ribbons. So many lives were ravaged by the virus with no way to combat it. You remembered the overwhelming, crushing feeling of seeing dozens of patients lining hallways because there were no more beds. Every doctor, nurse, RTs, and CNAs struggled to care for every patient and be with those in their final moments because the families couldn’t. It was chaos. It was frightening. It felt like it would go on forever. The last thing anyone expected was for Adamson to get sick. For the virus to infiltrate his body and claim his life. 

Robby had run outside, tearing off his hazmat suit. Unable to breathe around the soul-crushing grief that constricted the air from his lungs. He’d crumbled like a house of cards as you held him in your arms, but he wasn’t allowed to grieve. He was a doctor, you were still a fucking doctor, and neither of you were allowed to grieve. You needed to compartmentalize; sew up the fraying edges of your grief and go back inside and be the doctors everyone needed.

It was agony watching what came after. The way he struggled day and night to get any amount of rest while wrestling with his demons. The guilt kept him up at night and woke him screaming covered in a cold sweat. Eventually, he stopped sleeping in bed with you all together. Slowly, you saw him less at home and only at work. You watched while the anxiety ate him alive and transformed him into someone you could barely recognize, and you felt helpless against it. At any moment, the pain in your chest would swallow you whole.

And just when you thought, given a few months, you’d be able to find new joy in your life, it all came crashing down again.

So, you waited in that hallway. You waited for any sign that you should stay. You waited to see if you’d change your mind and begin to be honest with him. You waited for him to at least turnaround and look at you - for the recognition of the life you’d had months before to flash in those beautiful brown eyes. You waited in the hallway even after he’d left - waited for your tears to dry before you went upstairs to pack up your old life and find a new one. 

You’d expected a lot of possibilities when Gloria brought you back down to the Pitt. You considered all the variables and the endless amount of what-ifs. It felt inevitable for you to end up in this very situation; him being the attending, in charge of the Pitt, and overseeing a case. The only thing you hadn’t accounted for was how the heat of his body pressed against your back made you forget how to breathe. Your mouth suddenly dry and your heart pounded violently against the ache in your chest. 

Was Robby even aware of what he was doing? You could practically feel him take a breath he was so fucking close. Fuck, you wanted to scream and you almost did when you felt his gloved hand move across your lower back as he stepped around you. The old desire to touch you every chance he could was a surprise to you both when the reflex made its appearance. It must have been a mistake - a subconscious tick because old habits can die hard. It was the only thing that made sense. You fought the urge to mouth a, ‘What the fuck?’ at him. Did he even realize what he’d done? If he did, he was damn good at hiding it. 

You needed to get your shit together. You brought him in here for your patient.

“Allan,” you began to introduce him and found you had to clear the warble from your voice. “Allan, this is Dr. Robby. He’s the attending doctor here in the emergency department. Robby, this is Allan and his mother, Rebecca.”

“Pleasure to meet you both. Now, Allan, why don’t you tell me what brings you in today?”

Once Robby agrees to your use of wire cutters to remove the key rings, conferring on medications during and after a take-home prescription, you immediately go to work. It took a few extra minutes of explaining to Allan (and his very traumatized mother) that you would be as gentle as possible, but the longer the key rings stayed on to cut off circulation, the higher the chance of necrosis would occur. You also promised him lidocaine to numb the area. Lots and lots of lidocaine. 

You’d just signed off on discharge paperwork and spoke with him one last time about maybe just buying what he wanted to try next time. It was not only the safer option but probably more fun and less mortifying than having his mom bring him here. 

You stepped out of the room and made your way up to Dana’s desk. While you’d been in the room doing minor surgery to metal keys, you’d heard a couple of new traumas that arrived through the ambulance bay. The one that unfortunately had stuck with you was the nineteen-year-old kid who’d been found unresponsive. Nineteen. Two years older than Jake. 

For years you tried to make sense of how it was possible to become so attached to a son that wasn’t even yours. You didn’t give birth to Jake and missed the beginning stages of his life. You met him at his ninth birthday party and thought he would automatically hate you. Instead, he asked you questions about superheroes and if you had a favorite wrestler. 

The relationship between Robby and Jake’s mom had been hard to navigate. Harder when you came into the picture because all mothers are understandably weary of unknown variables and people around their children. You did your best not to step on any toes and bided your time until Jake’s mom trusted you - felt comfortable enough - with your presence to allow Jake to stay over when he asked Robby. 

You went on field trips as a chaperone when Jake asked, helped him build science fair projects, and tried your best to play basketball with Jake and Robby. You were better at three-pointers and playing horse than the original two - on - two. Jake chose to see you as another parent. His mother decided to let you be a part of his life and knowing Robby, loving Robby, brought you all together. You were forever grateful to both of them for it. 

But seeing cases like this one - hearing about them - caused a cold sweat to spread across your body. Jake was a good kid - a smart kid but even smart kids could make mistakes. 

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket and continued moving towards where Dana sat front and center in all the chaos. She was currently on the phone but her eyes tracked you as you made your way towards her. 

Quickly, you unlocked your phone and went to your messages. You tapped on Jake’s name.

Mom v2.0 ~ Hey kiddo just checking in. Everything good?

You were about to lock the phone and put it away when his reply came back at lightning speed. 

JakeTheRipper ~ Hey! Ya everything’s 👍🏽 I’m coming by the hospital later to get tickets from dad. Be cool to see you.  JakeTheRipper ~ if you can! JakeTheRipper ~ if you have the time!

You and Jake never lost contact with one another after you and Robby split. It’d been his golden rule and who were you to break rules, especially golden ones? But you hadn’t seen him since he was fifteen. The last weekend you spent housed up in the house - his teenage self picking up a dark cloud stole the warmth from the home. 

He’d asked to see you a few times since then but you were always busy. Always unsure if you were overstepping. But you were here now and he said he was coming here anyways so -

“What’s got you smiling all goofy?”

Dana’s question sent you crash landing back into the present. You were standing directly in front of her seated position, phone in one hand and wire cutters in the other while a perfectly arched brow did most of her questioning.

“Ugh, it’s nothing,” you replied, tucking the phone back into your pocket. 

God, you were acting suspicious. Be natural. Be cool. 

“You got a boyfriend or something?”

“Oh, god no, no, no.”

You were throwing in way too many no’s. 

You felt like you were under a microscope when Dana’s eyes narrowed in on you like this. A cold sweat was going to happen any minute now. 

“There aren’t that many things that make women smile at their phones like that.”

“Memes make people smile at their phones because they’re witty and funny. A good deal on a pair of shoes, funny videos of animals, or cute babies…anyway,” you mumbled before handing the wire cutters over the top of her computer. “Ron the maintenance guy should be coming by to pick these back up. If I miss him, can you let him know I appreciate him letting me borrow these?”

“Did you tell him what they were gonna be used for?”

“Oh, god no, and please Dana don’t tell him I used it to cut key rings off a patient's penis.”

“You mean he didn’t know why you were asking for them?” She laughed. Dana fucking laughed and it eased the tension from your shoulders tenfold. “I think at least owe the man some kind of lunch, don’t you?”

“Ugh, well, I disinfected them. Twice? Does that count?”

Another bark of laughter came as she shook her head in disbelief. She was still smiling when she reached out and took the cutters from your hand. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be up in triage?” Langdon asked, sliding in on your right. 

“Did you come all the way over here from your spot in hell to ask me that, Langdon? Are we slacking off today or willfully choosing to be lazy?”

Langdon shot you a sarcastic smile before he reached over to grab a tablet and handed it over to the med student who’d been with him before. Her dirty blonde hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail and her glasses gave her an almost childlike demeanor that was only enhanced by the excited way she bounced on her heels. Her hand shot across the counter in way of introduction. 

“Melissa King - everyone calls me Mel.”

She was so eager - sweet - that you almost warned her to be cautious in the Pitt. It tends to eat the good ones alive. 

“Dr. Fullerton,” you replied, taking her hand briefly. “I remember you from earlier. Hopefully, Langdon is taking care of you and isn’t showing you what not to do during a residency?”

“Ha, that’s very funny, Fullerton. How long has it been since you’ve been down here? You’ve probably gone soft with all the babying they do upstairs.”

“Out of the two of us, Langdon who is still in their last year of residency and who is a board-certified doctor?”

“You know what I smell?” 

“I don’t smell anything,” Mel interjected, thin lines of confusion creasing around her eyes.

“No, I don’t mean - it’s metaphorical, Dr. King.” 

“Okay, kids that's enough. Robby sees you two both standing here bickering, you'll both be in trouble.”

“Is that your way of telling us to go back to taking care of the board?” You asked. 

“No, it’s my way of telling you both to get the hell away from my station. Now shoo both of you,” Dana retorted, using a stack of patient demographics to swat at Langdon and you. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” you surrendered, backing away. 

You were mid-turn when an enthusiastic wave from Dr. King was thrown your way. 

“It was nice to meet you. Again,” she excitedly called after you. 

She seemed too pure to have picked the Pitt. Everyone had their reasons for doing residencies here and, hell, you believed med students should be mandated to work at least one full rotation in an emergency department to truly learn. Mel, however, made you just want to protect her from the harsh realities of a place like this. It could be soul-crushing and there is no way to prepare yourself for when it happens.

“Likewise, Mel. If you ever want a break from ER Ken you’re more than welcome to come find me.”

“She’s good where she’s at, Fullerton.”

You didn’t bother giving a retort; you and Langdon could keep up the verbal back and forth the whole shift. You were only a couple feet away when you heard Dr. King state, “She seems nice.”

“Yeah. She’s alright. A little unhinged, but alright.”

Each word had been pulled like teeth from him; admitting you weren’t the absolute worst thing in the world, or at least inside this hospital, you knew made Langdon grumpy. Those few words left a sour taste in his mouth admitting anything nice about you, but it was enough for you because it meant one thing for you. There was hope that today wouldn’t be a total disaster after all. 

It was a busy morning but mornings were always busy in the Pitt. There shouldn’t have been a reason the hum of panic constantly buzzed behind his ears. It only grew louder the closer he got to the pediatrics wing of rooms. The bright colors blazed out into the hallway; all greens and blues. Animal motifs meant to instill comfort instead summoned what he’d struggled to keep buried. 

Dana already caught him helplessly trapped outside the room. The memory of that day - the last day with Adamson - flashed vividly like every nightmare he’d had of that day since. Robby had been so engrossed in the recollection of monitors blaring and Princess shouting for him to do something, “Robby we’re losing him,” that he wasn’t able to shake the feeling of dread off. 

He knew Dana noticed. The way her eyes craned over his shoulder to take in the peds room was the only confirmation he needed. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. When do I ever make you worry about me?”

“Are you kidding?” Dana chuckled. “All the time.”

They both knew he was lying. Robby never did confirm it when Dana asked, but he didn’t need to. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be fine or even close to simply being okay. Even after four long years, Robby found he still sought Adamson’s advice. Moments in the Pitt he swore he could hear him directing the room; asking questions to challenge Robby because “a doctor never stops learning.”

He missed being able to confide in him. The expectant look on Adamson’s face when Robby asked about situations in his life where he was at a loss of what to do. 

Robby needed to change the subject - and lead Dana down a safer path of questioning that he could handle. If he could keep himself away from that room he should be okay. He could handle you being here and everything else if he didn’t have to step foot in that room. He should’ve known there was no safe space where Dana wasn’t going to bring you up. Robby could see the hard exterior she tried to keep up to defend against your presence was beginning to crack. 

Maybe so was his. 

“The two of you looked cozy earlier.”

“Dana, you know I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Her voice oozed a playfulness that edged towards teasing. 

“But there is no universe where you and I talk about this.”

“I was just making an astute observation.”

“I would appreciate it if you maybe observe somewhere else. We have eleven more hours of this shift to go and I’d rather not have to spend it talking about her.”

“Yeah, because you’re allergic to talking in general.”

“Well, that’s just not true. I’m allergic to people I don’t want to have a conversation with,” he pointed out.

She tried to shake the smile off her lips. Her palm lightly smacked at his shoulder which caused his smile to rise in response. 

“You’re such a smart ass.”

“I try my very best,” he mumbled as he leaned down towards the computer. 

He’d just grabbed his badge to swipe past the electronic monitor to unlock the computer, placing his arms to brace on either side of the keyboard when he felt her presence eclipse to his right. Dana was leaning over the counter divider. Her arms hanging over waiting for him to look back up at her. 

“Something else I can help you with, Dana?”

“Just wondering if you’d be more talkative if you knew Fullerton was all smiles earlier. She had her phone out. Seemed to be textin’ someone.”

Robby could feel his eyes narrow in on her position. He shouldn’t care - he shouldn’t fucking care - because you were the one who left. What did he care if you were dating anybody? It’s been two years. The chances of you dating were astronomically high; shit, he’d attempted it a while after you left. Instead of taking care of himself because, “You look like shit,”, as Dana lovingly told him, he’d done what 95% of the population does: he ran from it. 

Heather Collins was an R2 at the time. She was funny, intelligent, witty, beautiful, and he’d fucked it up in record time. All the things you’d thrown at him about being shit at taking his own advice, hiding from his problems, were true. When things took a turn he’d lock up. Collins noticed the cracks and mentioned them enough he countered with argument after argument. The worst part was he was harboring a love for someone else that was gone. You can’t love someone else, give them the love they deserve, when you’re buried ten feet deep for someone else. She deserved better than to be a rebound - better than what Robby could’ve given her because no matter how amazing she was he still thought of you. Heather deserved more than to be a body to bury his sorrows in. He tried dating again a year later but that had also gone up in spectacular flames. Robby couldn’t keep the ghost of you from haunting him.

He tried to act like he didn’t care - that Dana’s words weren’t threatening his last proper brain cell for the day. By the look on Dana’s face, he did a shit job of hiding it. So what if you were with someone? He shouldn’t even care. 

“Did she say who she was talking to?”

Why the fuck did he ask that? Dana didn’t necessarily answer him as much as she chose instead to grin. A silent, ‘Gotcha’ flashing that he absolutely hated. He’d walked right into it. 

“Surprise, surprise. I thought she’d be one of your allergies.” 

A huff of laughter rushed past his lips that he tried to cover up with a cough. 

“You’ve got a mean streak in you.”

Dana patted his arm before she retracted back inside her bubble. The phone went off in record time to pull her safely away from having to hear him complain. She gave him one last thumbs up before her back faced him, completely ending the conversation and forcing him back to the open file on the screen. 

He enjoyed the quiet for all of a millisecond before he heard - 

“Hey, fruitcake.”

God, take him now. Robby chose to ignore her. Ignore her like every other time - 

“Hey, I’m talking to you, fruitcake.”

“Myrna,” he bit out. “I told you a hundred times my name is Dr. Robby.”

He expected her to argue about nicknames and their usage. It’s usually what happens when he advises her that maybe she’d get better treatment if she’d use real names. That isn’t what he got. 

“Do you wanna see my vagina?”

Robby’s eyebrows ran towards his hairline as he replied, “I've already seen it. And once was enough, thank you.” 

“And what about mine?”

Robby knew that voice. He’d know it in any lifetime, through space and time; Robby would know your fucking voice anywhere. He turned to his left and there you were with your elbows and back resting against the counter. You’d leaned close enough so that your words were for him and him alone. 

Robby wanted to humor himself that it had to be his imagination. The flash of something dark, ravenous, and achingly familiar he saw in your eyes must have been his subconscious going haywire. It wasn’t until he watched recognition dawn of what you said, the way you’d fucking said it, crest over your face that Robby knew he hadn’t made it up. 

The heat of embarrassment had you straightening up beside him. He could see it in the light tinging of your cheeks, the anxious beat your fingers rapped on the counter. You weren’t looking at him now but he wished you would. 

And then the memory of Dana saying you’d been caught smiling at your phone reared its evil head. 

Mine. 

He couldn’t keep the word from forming in his head. You’d been his for so long and those words of yours meant to tease and force him to give you a response. Robby wanted to tell you that no, once wasn’t enough. It was never enough. 

Mine. 

The last few months of your relationship had ended in flames but the rest. What about the rest of the many years you’d spent together? They’d been spectacular. The best memories he had you were a part of. The attempts at gardening and doctoring up sick animals. The way you’d dance to his records as you danced through every room while you dusted. The sounds of yours and Jake’s laughter mixing from the kitchen table going over homework. 

He could remember the way your hands fisted the sheets as his hands hooked under your thighs to bring you closer to his greedy mouth. Your slick drenching his face, his beard, stubble - whatever phase he was in with or without facial hair. Robby loved it when you began to let go; body melting in his hands as your fingers wound themselves tightly in his hair to pull him closer, deeper. Robby could get drunk off your taste, the soft keening breaths that came ragged and shaking from your chest. How your body trembled as he worked each finger inside you until your back arched beautifully off the bed. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine….

He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t fucking care, but he fucking did. 

“What can I do for you, Dr. Fullerton?”

Robby grabbed the PPE gown from beside the table before he went to his full height. From this advantage, he could faintly make out the dying hint of a flush on your cheeks. 

“I was talking here first, Sugar tits.”

You pivoted to glance around him and waved at Myrna who waved back with her middle finger. 

“Myrna, always a pleasure. I think that’s my third finger wave today,” you muttered the last part to him. 

“Dr. Fullerton.”

“Right, right. I wanted to see if I could borrow one of your med students. Central 3 and 4 have two patients, males twenty-three and twenty- four in age. Both were at the same BBQ and believed dumping liter fluid on a fire was a good idea.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, they look like human marshmallows right now. One has second-degree burns while central 4 has, what I believe, might be second degrading into three.”

“Do you need me to come take a look?”

It felt like a reasonable question. He was attending and usually, all consultations like this went through him for an opinion. He’d just done it with her half an hour ago. It shouldn’t be a big deal - 

“Oh, no, no. Thanks but I think I got this.”

“Oook. If you got it, why do you need a med student?”

“I figure it would be a good teaching moment for one of them on treatments of burns and how to assess the level. I’ve already called surgery for a consultation on central 4. Plus, there’s no available nurse to help me attend to both.”

Robby tried to keep the scoff from coming out. He shook his head and went to move around you, shooting Myrna an irritated glance that hopefully she caught as his nonverbal way of telling her he didn’t want to see her the rest of the day. 

“So, you are saying you need help, you just don’t want my help.”

God, he sounded like a petulant child. By the look on your face, you’d agree with that statement. 

“Robby, I know you’re busy - “

“I’m not busy,” he cut in. 

“Robby, the parents of the OD teen are here.”

Dana came from behind the station, her eyes glancing between the two of you. 

“Okay, park them in Trauma 1. He’s not back from CT yet. I’ll be there in a minute. You can borrow Whitaker,” he directed at you.  

He had to move. There was still the floating face patient in trauma 2. He needed to find out if they’d been able to prep for a safe intubation and if not, they were doing a solid alternative. Langdon was there with both interns. Robby could trust him. He should’ve been more worried about himself because as he passed by you on his way to trauma 2, he felt his body dip towards you. The jealousy rushed up like a lance piercing his heart as he remembered Dana’s words. The idea that you’d moved on, that someone else had taken his place, threatened to remove whatever sensible bit of himself he had left. 

“And don’t pull your phone out on the floor. It’s unprofessional, and I won’t have it in my department. You can step outside like everyone else.”

You didn’t look at him as he spoke. You didn’t even snap at him or give him any hint you’d heard him. Robby knew you’d heard him, but your eyes were solely focused behind him. It was the spot he’d just been standing - the spot Dana now occupied. 

There should’ve been some satisfaction in watching Dana’s face crumble like this. All the earlier anger dissipated back into a playful, if not biting, rhetoric that gave you some hope the day wouldn’t be your version of Dante’s Inferno. 

But Robby’s comment…

Only one person saw you on the phone earlier. One person who’d asked about who you’d been talking to while you’d read Jake’s texts. You’d been so ready to shout at Robby that it was Jake, his son. It might have given you some retribution but why should you have to explain anything to him? He was acting like a jealous significant other, not a damn boss. The way he’d pressed himself against you earlier; touching you as if half-possessed. 

You weren’t helping, were you? The minute the words had leapt from your mouth you’d wished you could take them back. You shouldn’t have said it and yet, you did. You fucking did and now the wanton look he’d given you was forever etched into your brain. 

You were an idiot. 

An even bigger idiot for thinking Dana would’ve left anything between you. 

“You just couldn’t help yourself. Could you?”

“Kid - “

Dana took a step forward ready to explain. You didn’t have it in you to listen. When the phone went off in her hand you found your way out and took it. 

“Do you know where I can find Whitaker?”

“He had a patient around the North-East hallway.”

“Thanks.”

You heard her call your name. Not Fullerton, not kid. Dana said your name and for the first time today, you wished she’d stuck to calling you an asshole. 

You followed Dana’s instructions and moved toward the hallways. You weren’t sure how long you’d be searching for him, but luckily it wasn’t long. On the opposite side of the hall, you watched him wheel a patient out of 17 North and into the halls. Whatever the patient said stopped Whitaker in his tracks - both grateful and surprised all at once. You waited a few minutes longer for him to enjoy a good moment with his patient (because sometimes it didn’t always go like that) before you made your way around to get to him. 

“Whitaker!”

“Uhm, oh yes. Hi, Dr. Fullerton.”

“I have a couple of burn patients in Central 3 and 4; second to third degree. Dr. Robby said you’d be able to assist if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I would. That’d be awesome. Thank you.”

He was so earnest it was endearing. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s go remove some dead tissue.” 

You took the lead in showing Whitaker to the rooms. You were trying to make polite conversation. It only seemed fair to take a small interest in what motivated a young doctor to get into the field of medicine, of saving lives. Basic questions such as those were able to tell you a lot about who someone was and if they held enough compassion to be around people during their most vulnerable times. 

You did try your best to keep your attention trained on the work. It was your turn to be a teacher, and you wanted to do it well. You didn’t have an excuse why you looked toward Trauma 1. No excuse at all why you watched Robby speak to the kids' parents looking defeated before they’d even begun. There was even less of an excuse for when Robby looked away from them, his eyes searching until he found yours, that should’ve made you want to forget these last two years. You hated the old impulse to run to him - to care for him. The last time you’d seen Robby looking desperately close to combusting like this it’d been a few doors down standing outside pediatrics. 

Looking at him now, Robby seemed ready to quit, and it wasn’t even close to 8:30. 

______________

As always, thank you all so much for reading!! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

______________

Tag list: @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange

[bullet-prooflove]

Nightmare Fuel: Frank Langdon x Reader

Tagging: @𝘢𝑛𝘢𝑛𝘰𝑛𝘺𝑚𝘰𝑢𝘴𝑎𝘧𝑓𝘢𝑖𝘳 @𝑐𝘭𝑢𝘣𝑠𝘰𝑓𝘵 @letsgobarbs for the #ADOCTORADAY event.

My prompts were: "You’re okay, I got you." and with the color black.

Warnings: Deals with the realities of SANE nurses but there's nothing in graphic detail. Mentions of bruises, bleeding, sane nurses deal with victims of sa, mentions of death, domestic violence.

Companion piece to:

Hypocrite - Frank struggles to make amends for a past wrongs.

Crash - Almost getting you fired wasn't the lowest point of Frank's addiction.

Rock Bottom - Frank hits rock bottom when he sees the devastation his addiction's caused.

Little Black Dress - Frank starts to spiral when he realises you're dating.

Every Damn Day - A drunk text leads to a confession.

Wet Dream (NSFW) - Frank sometimes dreams about the life you had together.

War Stories - A realisation about your coping habits leads you to Frank's door.

The Three Cs - Frank and you finally discuss your issues and pave away towards the future.

The Wall - A date at the climbing wall leads to a revelation from Frank.

Commitment - You create a fun way of showing Frank your commitment to the relationship.

All In (NSFW) - You and Frank take a big step forward.

Slut (NSFW) - Frank gets a little bratty after a bad day.

Working in the E.D can fuck you up.

You know that better than anyone. The shit you see as a SANE nurse, it’s beyond irreprehensible.

It’s the worst of human misery because underneath the bruised thighs and bloodstained panties, you know that that person is irreparably changed forever. The marks may fade, their injuries may heal but they will still carry the weight of what was done to them like a black spot seared into their soul.

You should be in fucking therapy you had told Frank the first time he took you out, you’re just to fucking stubborn to admit you need it.

The fall though, it’s coming.

All it takes is one bad night and tonight, it’s been off the charts in terms of nightmare fuel. He knows you won’t be sleeping when you get home.

He finds you out by the ambulance bay, sitting on the sidewalk, your back against the building as you smoke a cigarette. You have up a few years ago, he remembers the six months you spent manically chewing nicotine gum trying to kick the habit.

“I heard she died on the table.” He say quietly as he lowers himself down onto the concrete beside you. His scrubs rustle, brushing against yours as you suck in a lungful of smoke, holding it in for as long as possible before releasing it into the air in one long stream.

“Yea.” You say, keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead. “He fucked her up really good. Kinda think that was the point from the injuries I documented.”

“Do they know-”

“Her ex.” You finish, taking another drag. “She moved on, he didn’t. It’s the same old story I hear day in, day out.”

“Fuck.” Frank says, his elbows coming to rest on his knees.

“The shitty thing, and I mean the really fucking soul destroying part of this story is that this isn’t even the first time I saw her. I had her in here two months ago for the  same thing.” You tell him, snubbing out the cigarette on the concrete with an vengefulness he feels deep down in his veins. “It’s relentless Frank, I just…”

It’s then the dam breaks.

He hears your breath catch. A punctuated sob that signals the inevitable collapse just before the walls come tumbling down and all of that emotion jettisons out of you like a geyser, spilling down your cheeks. You clasp your hand to your mouth trying to stifle it but Frank sees it, he sees every little single thing when it comes to you.

His arm settles around your shoulders like a weighted blanket, drawing you close into the shelter of his form. You tuck yourself in against him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, your tears staining his skin.

"You’re okay, I got you." He whispers against your hairline as you let out a shuddering breath. “Don’t worry Ivy, I got you.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[daryltwdixon]

Would you write something for Joel where he is patching reader up after a patrol gone wrong, lecturing her about how she should be more careful and stuff, and eventually they end up kissing?

Joel Miller x Reader drabble

Jackson!Joel, fluff, protective, slightly angry, Tommy cameo, reader is hurt: mentions of blood & first aid notes: Hiii thank you for your patience I know this has been in my inbox for forever 😅 hope you guys don't mind I've been doing blurbs/drabbles for requests lately! the creative juice is on E and keeping them short & sweet lets me have more fun!

Your boot slips on the mess of red beneath you—a smattering of blood you’re trying really hard to forget is your own. Your hand presses against your ribs, your shirt torn and soaked through by the time you stumble through the door of the small shed.

"Sit down," Joel orders, voice rough. It’s not a request. He’s already pressing a hand against your shoulder, forcing you onto a storage bin in the dust covered shelter. The plastic groans under your weight.

"I’m fine," you argue, wincing as the words pull at the wound.

Joel scoffs, shaking his head as he kneels in front of you. He’s still catching his breath, hair damp at the temples, hands stained in blood that’s not his own. His fingers press against your side, peeling back your shirt, his touch gentler than his words.

"You don’t get to say that." His voice is sharp, angry, "Not after what you just pulled."

You don’t answer, don’t argue. He’s right. It had been reckless. You’d put yourself between Tommy and an infected, took the hit so he wouldn’t. There hadn’t been time to think.

Footsteps pound outside, then Tommy’s shadow crosses the doorway. His eyes sweep over you, widening.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters under his breath.

"I’m fine," you hiss again.

Joel exhales hard, muttering something under his breath that you don’t catch, but you know him well enough to know exactly what it is. Something about stubbornness. About stupidity. Probably both.

Tommy steps closer, his gaze flicking between you and Joel, and for once, he’s quiet. He must see it—the way Joel is wound so goddamn tight he might snap.

“You’re losin’ a lot of blood,” Tommy mutters, glancing down at the crimson soaking through your shirt. He shifts his weight, slinging his backpack off his shoulder to dig for something.

“She knows,” Joel bites out before you can say anything, his hands already outstretched to take the first aid kit from his brother. His movements are sharp, precise—borderline aggressive—but his hands are steady. Always steady.

Tommy takes the hint, nodding once before backing toward the door. “I’ll keep watch.”

And then it’s just you and Joel.

The silence isn’t comfortable. It’s thick, suffocating, stretched tight between you like a tripwire waiting to snap.

His fingers press into your ribs, searching for deeper damage, and it takes everything in you not to flinch. Not from the pain (okay maybe a little bit from the pain), but from the way his jaw flexes when he sees the gash beneath the fabric.

“Should’ve let me take the hit,” Tommy had shouted earlier, before Joel had practically shoved him out the door of the building swarming with infected. And maybe you should have. Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown yourself into danger without thinking.

But you did.

Joel pulls a bottle of antiseptic from the kit, cracking the cap off with more force than necessary. He’s quiet, but you can feel his anger buzzing beneath the surface, pulsing like a live wire.

“This is gonna sting,” he warns.

You barely have time to brace before the liquid meets your skin, sending a sharp burn through your ribs. You hiss, gritting your teeth, but Joel doesn’t look up. He’s watching his hands, jaw locked so tight it might crack.

“You got a death wish?” He asks quietly, almost under his breath.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“You heard me.” His hands are still on you, pressing gauze to the wound, but his gaze finally lifts, dark and unreadable. “’Cause that’s sure as hell what it looked like out there.”

Your lips part, but he’s not done.

“I don’t need you throwin’ yourself in front of shit for Tommy, for anyone.” His voice is rough, worn thin. “Damn sure don’t need you gettin’ yourself killed for it.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you admit. “It just… happened.”

Joel shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “That ain’t good enough.”

You should be frustrated. Maybe you are. But there’s something else underneath it—something thick in your throat as you stare at him. Because this isn’t just anger. This isn’t just him lecturing you for being reckless.

This is fear.

Joel’s hands curl against your side, the bandages warm against your skin, and for a second, you swear you feel him tremble.

Your breath stutters, "Joel—"

“No.” His voice is raw. “I can’t—” He exhales hard through his nose, shaking his head, gaze darting away like he’s already said too much. His hands work at the bandage, tying it off to keep the gauze in place. His fingers are rough, purposeful, but there’s something frantic in the way he moves—like if he just keeps working, keeps his hands busy, he won’t have to deal with whatever the hell is breaking open inside of him.

Your heart feels like it tightens in your chest. You want to tell him that you’re fine, but it’s a lie and you both know it. You want to tell him that it won’t happen again, but that’s a lie too.

So instead, you reach out.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, just enough to keep him there, just enough to stop him from pulling away.

He goes still.

Not just his hands—his whole body. His breath catches, his muscles tight beneath your touch. For a second, he just stares at where your fingers wrap around his wrist, like he’s trying to decide whether to pull away or hold on.

And then his shoulders drop, his body slumping forward just slightly. Like he’s exhausted. Like he’s done.

It’s not just anger, not just fear—it’s the man who has spent years keeping people at arm’s length because he knows exactly what happens when he lets them in. The man who tells himself, every single day, not to let this happen. Not to let himself care. Not to let himself love.

But then, for the first time in all the years you’ve known Joel Miller, he finally breaks.

The space between you disappears.

He moves fast, faster than you can process, his hands gently finding your jaw, like he’s trying to ground himself in the feeling of you, in the fact that you’re still here.

“I can’t lose you.” His voice is low, almost too quiet, like the words barely make it past his throat. But they hit you like a hammer, cracking through the wall he’s kept between you for so long.

Then, his lips crash into yours.

It’s not soft, not careful. It’s desperate, raw, laced with something you can’t name. Like he’s spent every moment holding himself back and has finally stopped fighting.

A sound escapes you, something caught between surprise and relief, but you don’t hesitate. Your hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the sharp edge of his breath.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes find yours, his breathing uneven.

“You gotta stop scarin’ me like that,” he murmurs, voice rough against your lips.

You manage a weak, breathless smile.

“No promises.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head, before kissing you again.

[purebarnes]

WHAT SIDE IS RIGHT?

SYNOPIS. an argument between bucky and reader ends them breaking up

TAGS. Angst. Small fluff.

PAIRINGS. Thunderbolt! Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

NOTE. My babies. Marvel is getting my therapy bill atp anywayss please send requests ya guys have/want!!! i love hearing what you guys would like to read and also if you want to be be on a tag list lmk cause im up to create one

You weren’t exactly sure what had happened to you in the last year, to be exact the last 14 months when everything went so wrong. After the whole catastrophe with Thanos and losing many people in the process, you sort of didn’t have an idea on how to cope with that loss. You didn’t have anyone after Tony died.

He was like a brother you never had. But then you had Sam and Bucky, you thought that was enough. You didn’t need anyone else. Things were running smoothly, stable. It was you three.

Sam was your best friend.

Bucky was everything.

You deeply cared about both men so much, you all had lost people and gone through hell in your lives. But in this line of work, you understand what it meant to be a protector and people needed you.

So you had to make a choice. Even though it hurt you to even consider to get between them, you knew what it had to be.

Sam was the right choice. Right?

Sam had told that Ross had wanted him to re build the avengers. Past you would had many flaws and comments about that but it was Sam that would lead them. You knew he would be great. He obviously asked if you’d join his team and you of course obliged.

Then as he told Bucky, you only came to realize that he would be joining a new team called the “New Avengers.” Oh how that stinged.

Sam was distraught and betrayed by his best friend. Ross showed you the media report as he told you two that extreme measures needed to be taken. You groaned internally at this ‘War’ that it would create between each side.

So there you were, on the hard floor laying down. Just gazing up on the ceiling, biting your bottom lip slightly but enough to feel a little blood from your nerves that were pumping.

You felt the steps of a certain someone. He took a seat down on the floor and laid the same way, turning his head to see your face.

“This is about to turn to shit. You know that?”

Sam nodded, his face not changing.

He let out a loud sigh, his brows slightly raised. He understands what was about to happen but he couldn’t help but feel so hurt by Bucky.

“Well, i got you. Don’t I?”

Your mouth slightly raising, “Yeah, always.”

Sam leaned in and gave your cheek a quick kiss, watching him leave to go do business with Joaquin.

Bucky was a mess.

You left him. You couldn’t do it anymore, he made his choice pretty clear and so you needed to do the same. If you chose Sam then that meant you couldn’t be with Bucky anymore.

You were a nervous wreck that night..

You stood in the elevator, waiting for it to ding to show you were there but you were honestly happy that it was taking forever because you didn’t know if you were going to be able to go through with it.

Your heart was pumping, your left hand feeling a little numb. But that was just your nerves and they were shit.

You had a little liquid courage. Maybe that would help. Probably not.

The elevator doors opened and dinged and you saw that it was empty, you took a step forward. Bucky who was standing in front of the island, making a drink for himself as it looked since he was alone.

Sliding the alcohol, he drank it.

His eyes met yours as he licked his lips. He sort of relief seeing you, “Hey, doll.” He whispered gently looking at your emotional presence, your smile faded, eye lids heavy and just looking so exhausted.

“What’s wrong?” Reaching over to grab your hand but you refused him to hold you. You backed up, “Don’t.” You muttered, looking down to refuse to meet his gaze.

Bucky’s brows creasing, a slight frown appearing. Confused, “What?”

“I can’t do this. We need to break up.”

Your lip already quivered, you felt the tears already forming but stay on the bottom of your eyes clearly refusing to fall.

“No. What are you saying? Did Sam put you up-”

“No! You jerk. This is all me, I can’t be with you if you are going to do this. You hurt him.” The tears already streaming, making your vision blurry.

Bucky shook his head. “Please. Don’t do this.”

“You made your choice. You choose others over us. Your family?”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

You wiped the tears with your palm, “I hope they are worth it. Goodbye Buck.”

With that, Bucky grabbed you with all force and smashed his lips onto yours. Pure desperation, he couldn’t let you leave over something like this. The kiss full of lust. For a second, you cave in and started to kiss back with the same desire but you couldn’t do it. You shoved him back,

“No.. no. Stop.”

The second your lips parted, you let out a breathy sigh, earning for him back but you came here to do something.

“Tell me what to do..” He begged you, his eyes glistening with some sense of hope.

Your lips parted, waiting to say something. “If I said to leave, would you?”

“I can’t leave them. Bob needs us..”

You frowned at the older man, “We needed you. You said we were your family, we were there for you.” A permanent absence memory clearly.

“It’s different-”

“Bullshit. Everything I’ve done was for you, I nearly lost Tony just for you.” You seethed, a sob threatening to escape.

“Then I lost him and I had no one. Then I got you both and now I’m losing you again.”

Deep down Bucky knew the right answer. If it was for you then he’d do anything for you, you knew that but everything changed when he went back to New York.

“Please..” He voice faltering,

“Goodbye, Buck.”

You spoke finally and he just stood in place, not knowing what to say to you to help you or himself. There was no fixing what had broken, it was more then just Sam.

You started to walk the other direction as you met the eyes of 5 other people. Sensing they were the new team, your gaze turned into a unrecognizable stare.

You shook your head, that betrayal was worse then anything.

A final farewell, “One last thing. When it comes down and it will. This is a fight you won’t win and I don’t care who I hurt.”

The blonde and Brunette stepped forward, “Don’t worry. We got each other." Giving you a hard glare.

You chuckled incredulously, “How sweet.”

“You don’t have to do this.” John Walker spoke to you, a sort of understanding that he knew.

“See ya. Whenever that is..” you spoke before stopping and seeing one person, “And who are you?”

He looked up, nervously pointing. “Uh, me? I’m Bob.”

“Bob. Huh, see ya Bob.”

lifting up, you soon vanished away.

All eyes now turned to Bucky who had gulped down another glass of his choice of liquor.

Bucky, Yelena, John and Ava all walked out back in the new Avengers tower, “But we are the Avengers. The government said so.” Yelena spoke out.

“How does Sam Wilson not understand that?”

“Well, he does have the shield.” Bucky replied.

“I have a shield also.” John stated.

“It’s not a shield.” He retorted.

“It is a shield- It’s a shitty shield.”

“Great shield, Bucky.” John added before rolling his eyes.

Yelena groaned, “Okay. If he,” pausing before saying your name slowly, “put together a team then they call themselves the Avengers. Then who are the real avengers?”

Ava shook her head as Bucky eyed her since he still was dealing with losing you. It had been so difficult without you.

“Well, that’s the question the internet has been asking. And judging by the nasty memes I’ve read.. they don’t think it’s us.” John sighed sadly.

Yelena turned back to Bucky, “Weren’t you going to talk to him?”

“I already did.” He blankly spoke.

“And?”

“It went poorly.”

“And did you try to talk to her?” She gently asked.

“Yeah, she wants nothing to do with me. Nothing I can do.” Bucky blinked. Averting his eyes towards the floor.

“Great going.” Ava replied, “If you two didn’t have to say anything then she’d probably-”

“She thinks I chose you guys over her and I kind of did.”

“Do you regret being on our team?” John added hesitantly.

“No. I just miss her, like alot.”

Getting many sympathetic looks his way as he looked away, John nodded quickly.

“Look. I can help you find someone- I don’t want anyone.” He seethed shoving him harshly.

“Your track record is pretty awful.” Ava spoke truthfully.

“Shut up. I hate you all.”

Right in came Alexei, wearing an atrocious outfit like he was a nascar driver or something. “Hello, team.” Grinning at them.

Bucky groaned at his outfit, “What the hell are you wearing?”

“I heard about Wilson and your not girl anymore. They are dumb.”

“But, me, I’m smart, I’m smart man. I have smart solve.”

Yelena opened her mouth in disbelief.

“A-V-ENGER-Z! Avengers with a Z! There is no copyright.” Looking to see the approval from the team but no one liked it at all.

“Look- Feel. Like a baby seal.”

Bucky got up abruptly, Yelena looked up.

“Where are you going?”

“To go fix this.”

Bucky had not gotten far clearly as he saw you in the hall. Face clearly upset from possible tears you had fallen,

“Bucky..”

“Doll..”

You ran directly towards him as he opened his arms openly, you wrapped your arms around his neck . You both stayed there until you were forced to move. You couldn’t do it anymore, you were so alone and he was your light.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled in his neck.

“No, I’m sorry. I love you and I’m sorry for making you feel the opposite.”

You sighed, “I don’t want you guys to fight. I love you both.”

He nodded, “I know, baby. I know.”

You leaned back, “Can you please just try to talk to him? He agreed to hear you.”

“Yes.”

You smiled, in response you leaned in immediately peppering him with kisses, on his nose, many on his cheek, jaw, forehead.

“Thank.” Kiss “You.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss. “Love.” Kiss. “You.”

Bucky chuckled at the many kisses and gave you a long and passionate kiss. We’ll make out session as she brought you in a supply closet that night.

-

“Huh. You think they made up?” John asked.

There you were laying on top of Bucky, his breathing easing you up each time. Snuggled up together, Bucky having his arm wrapped around your back as you sighed happily in your sleep.

“No shit.”

“Aw, they are adorable.”

“Shut up. You are gonna wake them.”

“Just one picture-”

“No- my bad.”

You woke up to the shutter noise and started to groan at the loss of sleeping and your man’s warmth.

Bucky groaned. “You got 20 seconds.”

“What- wait Bucky. Too late.”

Bucky then had gotten up and chased them as you sat up and saw Bob who was reading his book.

“Hey Bob.”

“Heyy.” Waving at you so innocently. Oh boy.

[ladykailitha]

Spellbound Part 12

Just two more chapters to go. The climax and the wind down.

Things are really moving along, though to try to sum it up for you it would be easier to say what doesn't happen as there is some much action being packed in a lot of words.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

~

Robin, Steve, and Eddie stepped out of the front door, high above the ground. Below them, Jason was holding Chrissy hostage with a knife to her throat. He was surrounded by his cronies. Not the Watch. Which considering that when Eddie left the group they had both Callahan and Hopper, but now neither of them were there, was a little disconcerting.

He hoped they were okay.

It was just Wayne. Which meant that Argyle had escaped too. This was starting to look worse and worse.

Andrew and Chase, Jason’s closest friends now that Bav had killed Patrick, were looking up at the three of them.

Steve standing in the middle in glorious golden armor, Eddie to his left in his purple and black garb and even Robin looked more powerful then what she had before.

“Get down here, witch!” Jason snarled. “Or I slit your apprentice’s true love’s throat, spilling her blood and binding my family to land forever.”

“Blood magic?” Steve growled. “You dare to dabble in blood magic? Are you insane? Do you not know the cost? What it does to you?”

“I know full well the cost,” Jason snarled. “The Carvers have been practicers of the art for many generations! An angel came to my forefather Demetrius to teach him the art of using the blood of the Lamb of God to bring the world to his bosom.”

“You think you are bringing people to Christ?” Robin hissed. “Through killing and subjugation? Are you an idiot?”

“I don’t answer to you, witch!” he spat. “You better come down here and submit to your punishment and I might let this whore go.” He yanked on Chrissy’s hair, causing her to gasp in pain.

Robin shook her head and jumped deftly to the ground. “So like a man to resort to insulting a woman’s virtue the moment she displeases you. You know full well that she needs to be a virgin for any kind of sacrifice spell.”

Eddie leapt after her and landed even more neatly than she did.

“You better let her go,” he warned, his face a mask of fury. “Just how much damage do you think we can do before and this is a major if, Jason, you take us out?”

Jason tossed her at Chase and Andrew. “Take her back to my father. We’ll still need her for later.”

Chase nodded and took a strangely compliant Chrissy back into town. But as she walked away something fell from her hand.

Steve’s jaw was in a tight line. “Eddie, Robin, I’m going to need you to back away, please.”

Eddie and Robin looked back up at where he was still standing at the front door, then back at Jason who was standing there smug.

Robin grabbed Eddie’s hand and ran underneath Bav all the way to the backdoor. “We really don’t want to see this!”

“Yeah, once is enough thanks!” Eddie agreed. But as they came out from under the house, he paused and pressed his forehead to Bav’s hind leg.

“Take care of him,” he murmured. “Please.”

Then he let Robin pull him farther away.

He looked up at the house and his eyes went wide. Bav who was once a two storey building with gables and bay windows was now a small hut the size of a carriage and was only five feet in the air.

“Holy shit!” he hissed. He turned to Robin. “Did you know she could do that?”

Just then Max and Billy came running up to them.

“I did!” she said proudly. “But this is not the time to waste it how Bav changes shape! We’ve got bigger problems.”

Eddie and Robin looked back at Steve and Bav fighting Jason and then turned back to her.

“What’s going on?”

“Tommy is leading a lynch mob against Steve and you,” Billy said gruffly. “Pitchforks and torches and they’re coming this way!”

“We can’t let them near Steve and Jason!” Robin hissed. “What do we going to do?”

Billy rubbed his chin and then bit his lip. “We need to lead them away from here.”

“The forest!” Eddie said, snapping his fingers. “The Prince of the Forest would be able to protect us!”

“Who’s that?” Max huffed.

Eddie grabbed her hand and started running for the treeline. “No time to explain!”

Billy and Robin ran on their heels.

“Big white angry deer!” Billy bit out. “It’s a good plan.”

“How is that supposed to help us?” Robin growled. “Gore them to death with his antlers until the rest of the mob makes him dinner?!”

Eddie snorted. “I don’t think they’ll be able to pass the treeline!”

Sure enough the four of the hit the tree line and suddenly the white stag stepped out to face the mob that was coming up on them fast.

Witch Hunter Hagan came to a stop in front of the beast. “I banish you in the name of Jesus Christ!”

The crystal blue eyes turned red.

“Demon!” Witch Hunter Hagan cried.

Then a white hind came out of the forest, its back baring two ethereal beings, glowing in gold.

Lord Eanethreal and Lady Melisande slipped off the beast and Lady Melisande patted the hind’s head gently.

“Protect the young ones, your majesty,” she murmured. “My husband and I will take care of the Witch Hunter.”

Then the stag’s eyes returned to crystal blue as he bowed.

It took Eddie a moment. He put Robin on the stag and Max on the hind. Both beast rose to their feet.

“Billy?” Max asked, her lip quivering. “Why aren’t you coming with?”

Billy shook his head. “Virgins only, brat! I’ll be fine!” He smacked the flank of the hind and both deer turned and broke for the trees.

Witch Hunter Hagan held out a crucifix. “High ranking devils! Stand back! You may have dominion over the beasts of Hell, wench! But you have no power over me!”

Lord Eanethreal growled. “You are the thing fowling this place, I will not let your destruction prevail!”

He pulled out a sword made of pure light and Hagan and the mob pulled out swords.

“Steel,” Hagan said with a smirk, eyeing the fae sidelong. “Made with iron. I wonder if it’s enough to hurt you...”

Lady Melisande pulled out a bow made of yew. Her arrows glowed with the same golden glow as herself. “You would have to reach him to find out, filth! Care you to test it?”

“Fan out!” Witch Hunter Hagan called out. “She can’t stop us all.”

Billy picked up a large stick to use as a club and Eddie did a motion with his hand that he had seen Steve do countless times, the black glow of his magic shoot from his fingers.

The mob roared as vines shot up from the ground.

Lord Eanethreal turned to him and then bowed his head. “Witch it is past time for you to come to your power.”

“Blame the Carvers!” Eddie said with a snarl.

“There you go again!” Hagan growled. “Besmirching the names of good folk! You keep their name out of your mouth!”

Then one of the men cried out, “The vines aren’t real! They seek to deceive you!”

And suddenly the mob surged forward, Lord Eanethreal sighed and then waded into the fray, sword swinging and Billy charged in with him swinging the club at anyone who came near.

While the noble fae fought off the mob, Eddie and Billy struggled against the Witch Hunter. Eddie tried to keep his attention off Billy with his illusions, but before he could stop him Hagan ran Billy through.

Eddie’s heart stopped as the blade pierced Billy’s stomach.

Billy grabbed Hagan by the collar, blood drenching his mouth, covering his teeth. “You should have secured your dagger, imbecile.”

Hagan staggered back, taking the sword with him.

At first Eddie couldn’t understand what had happened until the Witch Hunter turned around and he could see the dagger sticking out of his back.

As both Billy and Witch Hunter Hagan stumbled to the ground, out of the out of the woods, Steve came strolling out.

The Witch Hunter looked up at him in all his combat witch glory. A shining beacon of hope to all those who saw him.

All but one.

Thomas Hagan let out a strangled cry, coughing up his life blood, the dark red vanishing against the black of his uniform.

“You were supposed to be the best of us,” he rasped, struggling to reach out to Steve.

Eddie and the noble fae ran to Billy’s side as Steve knelt by the Witch Hunter’s.

“Oh, Tommy,” Steve mourned. “You always did do what your father told you instead of using your own good sense.”

“A witch let my mother die,” he said around the mouthful of blood.

Steve held up his head and drew it onto his lap. “No, Tommy. Your father refused to let Mother see to her until it was too late. She had come by every night, begging your father to let her use the herbs that would lessen the fever that racked your mother’s body. And each time your father turned her away.”

“He lied?”

“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” Steve murmured.

“I hurt so many people and for what?” he rasped. “But no more.” And with that Thomas Hagan, Witch Hunter breathed his last.

~

Steve knew that Jason wouldn’t give up without a fight. That he would strive against him with every fiber of his being and not stop until he had breathed his last.

He stood in front of his home, now the size she was when they traveled to this town, glamoured to look like a carriage instead of what she was. Long since the days of Baba Yaga, witches have had homes that they could take with them and settle in a new place if the old got too intolerant.

But Steve had no desire to leave. He was happy here and he was determined to fight for that happiness.

“Jason,” he growled, light sword in hand. “What do you hope to gain from this? We just want to live in peace.”

“You witches are a plague on God’s green earth!” Jason shrieked. “And we will wipe out your disease with Heaven’s fire!”

Steve let out a slow breath, it catching in his chest. “We were here before your Christ,” he said with conviction. “And we will remain long after you have returned to the dust of the earth.”

Jason let out a gut wrenching snarl in agony and rage. “Why won’t you just die!” he screamed at Steve. “The old ways are dying! Why can’t you die with it?!”

Steve stepped forward with an air of solemnity. “Because witches are the custodians of the Mother and we speak for the lowly brownies. For the noble fae. And yes, even for the wicked redcaps.”

“You’re insane!” Jason cried. “You allow those vile things to exist!”

“No, Jason,” he continued calmly. “Your family did. All it takes is a blessing from a priest and a crucifix and the beast would have been banished. But when your family came to this town, with your blood magic and its spell you allowed the redcap not only to live, but to thrive.” He waved his arm in the direction of the town. “These people knew to avoid the ruins, but you took that knowledge from them. You opened them up to the dangers of the supernatural world.”

“To save it!” Jason insisted, drawing out his sword and waving it around like a mad man.

“For who?” Steve asked. “For its people? They aren’t happy having chunks of their memories gone. For Chrissy? She’s a puppet on a string. She has no mind of her own.”

“She is supposed to be mine!” Jason snarled, pointing the tip of the sword at Steve. “She wasn’t even supposed to know about soulmates or true loves or whatever you freaks call it! You or that Munson boy must have bewitched her!”

“She’s supposed to be her own person, Jason,” Steve murmured. “Humans aren’t meant to be controlled. Eventually they break free.”

“No!” Jason said, wailing. “You must have done something to her. Something to turn her against me!”

Steve shook his head. “She went to the wrong house, Jason. She had gone to Eddie’s house first. If she had met either of us before then, she would have gone to the right house. But she didn’t. She couldn’t have.”

“Enough!” he cried and ran at him sword swinging wildly.

But before he could get anywhere close to Steve Bav knocked him away with one of her forelegs. His sword went flying and he got to his feet. Blood poured from the corner of his mouth and he wiped it away with a huff.

“If that foul thing won’t let us fight man to man,” he sneered, “then I’m going to have to do this the easy way.” He pulled a gun from a holster on his hip. It was a revolver and he spun the chamber. “Iron is iron, after all. It doesn’t need to be a sword that gets you, Harrington. I’ll just have to put you down like the dog you are.”

Steve flicked his hand and out shot a bright light of gold. Suddenly Jason let out shriek of alarm as the wood paneling in the handle of the gun abruptly sprouted flowers. When it landed on the ground, the flowers grew into a sapling.

Jason stumbled to the ground and his hand felt his sword. He grasped the hilt and leapt to his feet, springing forward to attack Steve.

Every time that Jason felt he was getting the upper hand, Bav would strike and he would be sent scrambling for his footing.

He stood panting for breath and covered in sweat. “Even without the help of the foul demon, you are much stronger than before. You were such a weakling. Passing out from just talking to those two devils and their spawn that the Head Watch dares to call his daughter. Your potions and powders having none of the real potency they deserve. But how? How are you able to best me?”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “Well for starters, dumbass, we are outside of town limits and the spell goes to the gate and no further.”

“But even then!” Jason protested.

“Once every one hundred years,” Steve said, a shield appearing in his left hand, “there are a pair of witches born with the power of the gods to take on such evil the world has never seen. And I think it’s you. You and your family has to be stopped.”

“My family will endure!” Jason screamed. “We will rule this country! In another hundred years and the whole world will be under our control!”

Finally a helmet appeared over Steve’s features. “You will die here!”

They attacked at the same time, only this time Jason wasn’t just being pushed back, he was being defeated.

Finally Steve got him turned around and with one final push from Bav, Steve ran his sword clean through the other man.

Jason began to twitch and writhe, his body twisting and folding in on itself.

Steve threw up his shield and just in time for Jason’s form to explode into dust.

Steve’s avatar form vanished and he stumbled to the ground. As he panted for breath, he felt something under his hand. Circe landed on his shoulder.

“Where the hell have you been?” he snapped.

She cawed at him. “You are my familiar. You are supposed to protect me and not run off at the first sign of danger. You’re in trouble, Missy.”

He dusted off his new found object. He tilted his head to the side. “What do you make of this?” He held it up for her see.

She made an odd croaking noise.

“That’s what I thought too,” he said getting to his feet as she fed him some of her energy. “But how did a protection charm come to be all the way out here.”

“Chrissy?” Steve asked. “You sure she was wearing this the day she came to the cottage?”

Circe cried again.

“Well, shit.”

~

Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: TWO SLOTS REMAINING

1- @niniel-karenine @watermelonmite @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @cryptid-system @kultiras @kimsnooks @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006 @yikes-a-bee

5- @awkwardgravity1 @oopsallgender @fearieshadow @stedestielfrattficlover @dragonmama76

6- @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars

7- @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gutterflower77 @just-a-tiny-void

8- @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss @wheneverfeasible @micheledawn1975 @gloomysoup

9- @dotdot-wierdlife @tartarusknight @ollyxar @yesdangerpls @two-vampires-kissing

10- @themoonagainstmers @estrellami-1@steddieislife

[alyswritings]

Scars

Request: hey can you do one with jj x little sister reader where she self harms and just protective big brother jj ik it's a strong theme but i struggle with it and would really appreciate it

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

Summary: JJ finds out his little sister hurts herself.

Warnings: mentions of self harm, please do not read if this could trigger you!!

a/n: this request has been in my inbox for almost a year and a half. so sorry it took me forever to get out, but hope you all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

The pogues had spent the day out on the water, fishing, drinking, swimming. They had been out almost all day, finally getting back to the chateau and planning to cook the fish they caught.

Y/N and JJ are carrying the cooler of fish to the shack.

"Jesus. Did you have to keep all of them?" Y/N groans, struggling to hold her side of the cooler up.

"You wanna eat or not?" JJ scoffs making the girl roll her eyes.

They put the cooler down and JJ notices something on Y/N's wrist. His eyebrows furrow as he tries to tell what it is, but she moves, all of her bracelets moving up her arm a bit.

"Am I done now?" Y/N asks. "I'm not skinning these things."

"Oh, come on, Y/N/N." JJ wraps his arm around her shoulder. "You don't wanna feel all the fish guts and slime and the beautiful smell and--"

"I hate you." Y/N shoves him away, the boy cracking up while she makes her way inside.

While the boys start to deal with the fish, Y/N and Kie are inside and making corn on the cob and potato salad.

"Shit." Kie sighs, looking in the fridge.

"What?" Y/N asks.

"We forgot to stop for beer." Kie groans. "I'll be back in a bit." She grabs the keys, leaving.

After a little while of being alone, JJ walks in.

"I can't believe we forgot to stop for beer." JJ rolls his eyes.

"Well, hydration is always important." Y/N remarks.

"Water's so boring." JJ whines, staring at the inside of the fridge as if a beer will magically appear.

After realizing he's been there for a few minutes, Y/N shuts the door.

"Hey!"

"Are you trying to make John B poorer than he already is? You don't leave the fridge open, idiot." Y/N chides.

"Okay, mom, jeez." JJ mutters making Y/N roll her eyes.

Y/N opens the cabinet that has the plates and reaches up, failing to get them. She stands on her toes, still failing to grab them. JJ notices and walks over, reaching above her, easily grabbing the plates.

"Shorty." He snickers, Y/N elbowing him in the chest. JJ grunts, coughing at the pain. He takes the plates out, his eyes falling onto Y/N's arm, noticing the marks on her arm. He frowns, freezing for a moment.

"Thanks." Y/N mumbles, taking the plates and putting them on the counter.

"What's on your wrist?" JJ asks.

Y/N tries to hide her brief moment of panic before she turns to him.

"What? My bracelets?" She asks, acting clueless.

"No. N-n-no, under your bracelets." JJ stammers, praying to whatever is out there that he was hallucinating.

"My skin." Y/N gives him a weird look. "There's nothing."

"Show me." JJ orders.

"What?" Y/N scoffs, feeling her fear build up, starting to sweat.

"Show me your wrist, Y/N." JJ demands.

"No. There's nothing. You're just fucking weird." Y/N says, starting to leave.

"Y/N, I'm not joking." JJ grabs her wrist, preventing her from leaving. Y/N cries out in pain when he squeezes too hard, right over some of the cuts. JJ yanks her back over to him, quickly moving the bracelets out of the way, despite her fighting against him.

"JJ, stop!" She yells, but it's already too late.

JJ stares down at the cuts on her wrist, his heart plummeting to the bottom of his stomach. He lets out a shaky breath, eyes instantly tearing up. He grabs her other arm, pushing the bracelets aside to show more cuts.

"Y/N/N..." He shakily breathes out. Y/N winces, her guilt swirling in her chest and causing tears to spring to her eyes. "Ple..." JJ harshly swallows, sniffing. "Please, tell me these were kooks or something."

JJ looks into her eyes, immediately knowing the answer.

"Y/N/N..." He whispers, his voice cracking.

"It's nothing." Y/N tries to rip her arms out of his hold, but his grip is too strong. "JJ, it--"

"Why?" He asks. "Why did-- why would you--"

"Forget it, JJ." Y/N sneers, finally ripping her arms out of his hands. "It's nothing. It's not important. Just leave it the fuck alone."

"Y/N--" He follows her through the hall, the girl slamming the bedroom door shut in his face. "Y/N!" He knocks on the door. "Y/N/N, come on. Let me in."

"Just leave me alone!" She screams.

JJ huffs, pulling at his hair in frustration. He paces the living room, trying to calm his breathing down. He punches the wall, quietly growling.

JJ plops down onto the couch, head buried in his hands. How did he not notice sooner? How didn't he see a single fucking sign? Why didn't she talk to him? Why was he so stupid?

---

Y/N avoided JJ the rest of the night, latching herself onto any of the other three pogues, though mostly Kie. JJ kept an eye on her all night, knowing she wouldn't talk to him, but not able to look away from her for more than 10 seconds at a time.

Everybody had gone to sleep, JJ being kept awake by his thoughts and worry. He's had plenty of time to think of ways to approach his sister, mentally prepared for every outcome -- or at least he hopes so.

JJ slowly opens the door, peeking inside, Y/N sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard. Y/N looks up as the door opens, JJ standing in it. She sighs, looking away, curling into herself. She knows he won't let it go.

JJ walks in and shuts the door. He clears his throat as he sits on the bed, keeping a little bit of space so he doesn't overwhelm her much more. The two sit in silence, both dreading the conversation they know they're about to have. Y/N chews on her nails while JJ's leg shakes, both nervous habits they've had since they were kids.

"Why?" JJ quietly asks, finally looking over at his little sister. She seems much smaller in her curled up position, an exhausted look in her eyes.

"I didn't want to." Y/N finally answers after a few moments. "I..." She gulps as the words get stuck in her throat.

"Y/N/N, I'm not mad." JJ tells her.

"You're not?" She frowns.

"No." He shakes his head. "No, I'm... I wish you would've come to me or something. Instead of..." He glances at her arms. "I would've helped you."

"I just wanted to feel something else." Y/N hiccups, harshly rubbing the tears away from her cheeks. "Between dad and-- and harassment from kooks and other kids and-- and I just... I needed some other feeling. Even... it hurt at first, but then it just... it stopped hurting so much. It felt... just felt something else."

JJ's eyes are full of tears as he listens to her, staring at the floor, not able to look at her broken expression for too long. He harshly sniffles, rubbing his face.

"Okay." He mumbles, clearing his throat, trying to compose himself enough to talk. "Okay." He moves closer, sitting so he's facing her. "Hey." He gently shakes her knee making the girl reluctantly look at him.

"I'm gonna help you." JJ tells her. "With stopping this, we're gonna stop. I'll do whatever I have to, whatever you need me to. I'll be here 24/7."

"That sounds really overbearing." Y/N manages to tease earning a short laugh from her brother.

"Well, you're gonna have to get used to it." JJ states, no longer joking. "And, I'm sure you can understand this, but no more bracelets."

"No." Y/N's eyes widen with panic. "No, Jayje, then everyone's gonna see. I-- it-it's bad enough that those three will probably find out, but-- but dad and-and kids at school and kooks. Especially if Rafe fucking Cameron sees it. I--"

"Okay, okay, okay, hey. Hey, hey. Breathe. Shh." JJ coos, resting his hands on her shoulders, rubbing her arms until her breathing slows down. "Okay. You can wear bracelets. But we-- I gotta look sometimes to make sure you're not..." He harshly swallows. "We'll figure it all out. 'Kay?"

"Okay." Y/N sniffles, wiping under her nose with the end of her sleeve.

"And if you ever feel like doing it, come get me. No matter what time of day it is, if I'm asleep, if I'm working, if I'm smoking a joint. Come get me." JJ tells her and she nods.

JJ pulls her legs down and pulls her into a hug, crushing her in a death grip. Y/N quietly cries into his shoulder, JJ stroking her hair, letting some of his own tears finally fall.

JJ kisses her on the head, holding her closer, if that's even possible.

"I love you." He mumbles into her hair. "So, so much. You got that?"

Y/N nods, clutching onto the back of his shirt. JJ scratches her head, continuing to comfort her, keeping her curled up in his arms while she cries.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @mrvlxgrl @star-wars-lover @champomiel @ironmaiden1313

[joeloverture]

comeuppance | qz!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog

pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader summary: [post outbreak] when your recklessness causes an arms deal to go south, joel makes sure you regret it. warnings: (18+ mdni) qz!joel, age gap (late 20s/early 50s), written with hbo!joel in mind but with game!joel lore, guns, mentioned executions, misogynistic names outside (and in!) a sexual context, canon-typical violence as in murder (joel kills a soldier 'on-screen'), reader is a little shit but joel is worse, darkish & dubcon, spanking as a punishment, gunplay, attempted boot humping, degradation, humiliation, one kick to the cunt, mean!joel, orgasm denial [no use of y/n] word count: 2.7k a/n: this is my (admittedly late) submission for @iamasaddie's writing challenge 2.0! my prompt was 'you can't hide forever'. the genre was technically dark but joel himself isn't scarily dark here. thank you so much to aly for, once again, bringing this fandom together with her challenges. it's a steep task but she does a great job every time! and even more thanks to @joelsdagger and @lovesickonmybed for helping me brainstorm! (i have half of a brain without my wonderfully creative friends).

It only takes one deal gone south to fuck everything up.

You know the compass is already ticking that way the moment you and Joel, your longtime smuggling partner, enter the abandoned warehouse. Much like everything else in the Boston QZ, it’s falling apart. The corrugated metal walls are pitted with rust, and old blood is caked all over the floors. In another life, it might’ve been a slaughterhouse, but there’s no real way of knowing. It’s been long enough that any signage has deteriorated. The building’s state of decay, however, isn’t what messes things up.

It’s the singular man that walks in from the opposite side of the atrium.

FEDRA’s favorite executioner. Slitted eyes far apart, thinned out lips, and graying black hair. Rarely seen away from the gallows, only recognizable to you from all of the nightmares you’ve had of his face being the last you see.

If it were drugs, you’d think nothing of it. FEDRA soldiers buy quietly from you all of the time – but they have no need for guns that they don’t already have.

Joel steps forward, merchandise in the duffel bag over his shoulder, none the wiser. A knot ties itself in the base of your throat. You’re too busy trying to figure out what to do, what to do, what to do that you barely even realize that the soldier has a gun aimed right between your eyes until you’re looking right down the barrel.

Your hand jerks to your holster, drawing your pistol in one swipe.

“Drop your fucking gun!” he barks in your direction. It clatters out of your hands. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” Your hands fly up as you take a step back, nearly stumbling into a nearby crate. “Joel Miller and his bitch,” the man sneers. “What a lucky find. You two have quite the bounty on your heads.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Joel says, face completely blank.

“Easy for you to say,” the guard says with a nagging smirk. “Your little cunt here already did. Pretty fucking dumb not to check who you’re selling your merchandise to, huh?”

Joel tenses, ultimately huffing through his nose. “Can we get this over with?”

“I’ll make it easy, Miller. Come with me alive so I get paid, or come with me dead so I still get paid.”

Joel’s fingers twitch behind his back, and after almost three years of working with him, it’s impossible not to pick up on the subtext. Keep him busy. His hand is already reaching for the revolver in his back pocket.

“Turn the other way. I can make this worth your time,” you say. “But you’re lucky if those sons of bitches you work for even offer you half the reward they’ve posted for us. Dragging the bodies from Area 5 to the closest checkpoint… you’d have your work cut out for you.”

“Yeah fucking right,” he spits. “You two have been running around free for too damn long. Causing too much trouble. Not anymo–”

The man’s mouth freezes around the words by the time the bullet soars throat the canvas fabric of Joel’s duffel bag and through the man’s jugular. The soldier’s hands claw for his throat while he gargles on the blood as he begins the descent to the ground. New blood, still pumping directionless from the split artery, joins the old.

Much like him, where he’s slumping against the ground, chest moving until the very end, your hands clutch at your own throat. “We need to go,” you say, knowing the rest of FEDRA will come looking for the firefight at any second now. Joel doesn’t move. “Joel!” You reach out to tug his sleeve, but he doesn’t react. “Jesus– move!”

Joel turns to face you, gun still hanging from his hand. His fingers flex around the grip. “What the hell were you thinkin’, little girl?” You can hear his breathing, amplified from how close he is to you. His once inexpressive face is now red, lips curled, skin tight like a crushed soda can. 

“I– what?”

“Not vettin’ your buyers. First fuckin’ thing I told you all them years ago, wasn’t it? Gotta check so you don’t sell shit to the wrong guy, yeah?” He stalks closer to you – you stumble back.

Not vetting the now dead executioner, whose blood is currently creeping up to the soles of your boots. Your mistake, yes, a potentially catastrophic one that you’ll definitely never make again after this, but he’d been on your ass about finding buyers and after an entire day of burning bodies, the last thing you wanted to do was go asking around about the ‘John’ in search of guns that you’d talked to over the radio tower.

“We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Joel finally jerks his sleeve away from your grip. Your hand falls slack by your side, burning from his fire stoker touch. “And you oughta count your fuckin’ blessings for that. Dumbfuck of a girl, gonna get me killed,” he spits. Spittle flies across your neck. 

You flinch – and not because you’re scared. You’ve never seen him like this before. You hear noise in the distance, the moving of FEDRA trucks, no doubt. “Joel! We can do this later – we need to fucking go–”

“Then you better start running,” he says gruffly.

You don’t need to be told twice.

You sprint out of the atrium, cursing as your bloodied soles carve tracks behind you. A stack of crates blocks the door, which you vault over and shimmy your way through the broken glass panel. The hallway ahead of you is dark, and you have no idea where the fuck you’re going, only that you can’t stop. Each impact of your foot on the ground is like being struck by lightning, carbonating the racing blood pumping through your body. More glass crunches behind you, and a shock of terror pierces you when you hear Joel’s snarls filling the corridor.

There’s a metal cart in your way, which you send whirling in Joel’s direction. He grunts, presumably hitting him in the stomach before it goes clattering on the ground. You make the most of the diversion, hurtling forward and lurching through a cracked door.

Dead fucking end.

An office, by the looks of it. Desks all over the place, leftover tasks still pinned on cork boards from outbreak day, chairs on their sides. You hear Joel huffing and puffing behind you, and fear forks through you. You fall to your hands and knees, crawling underneath the labyrinth of desks and tucking yourself against a wall, carpet-burned hand to your mouth to muffle your breathing. Your chest avalanches with every single breath.

“You ain’t off the hook,” Joel says, voice getting closer with every word. You can hear the thump of his boots against the carpet. See the spread of his shadow roaming across the wall. You squint through the seam of two desks. He's looking over his shoulder when you haul yourself across the room to the next closest desk.

You look around for anything that might get you out of this long enough to slip back out of the door. If you can make it back to the apartment, maybe he can cool off on his own walk back. You reach up for a stapler and take a brief second to peek over a filing cabinet before flinging it against the wall. It snaps open, spilling decades old staples all over the floor.

“Only a clicker’s fallin’ for that,” he tuts at you. His boots land on the floor again, one, two, three steps closer to you. You wince, balling your hands into fists. 

All you can hear is the thrashing of your own heart. You scooch away from the desk – maybe if you throw something small at him, like a pack of sticky notes, it’ll be enough to abduct his attention long enough for you to slip by–

“You can’t hide forever,” Joel goddamn coos at you. You see him bending at the waist, scoping out the undersides of desks, seeking you out–

You crawl out from under the desk and book it to the door.

Stupid. Fucking. Idea.

Joel hauls you back by the belt loop, laughing as you cry out. You try squirming away, kicking at him, but his other arm wraps around your torso. It hits you then that you have no idea what he might do to you. You’ve trusted him with your life before, but what would he do when you risked his? You’d always been too scared to find out. He spins you, slamming you over the desk. You cry out as your chest meets the wood. His hand drags your wrists together, pinning them at the small of your back.

“Let me – the fuck– go!” you yell at him, trying to bend your elbow at the right angle to nail him in the chest.

He tightens his grip so much that you can barely move an inch. “Made your fuckin’ bed, gotta lie in it, sweetheart,” he tuts, shaking his head at you. His hand grazes over your ass, and you stiffen as he looms over you. He is just a man. Your mind spins to the worst-case scenario. No, no, no, no–

“How about an… old-fashioned corporal punishment to set ya straight?” Within the next second, he’s yanking your jeans down your thighs.

Oh. Oh fuck.

“Joel–” you exhale, breath shuddery. “Knock it off–”

“No panties? I was gonna be nice and spank ya over them…” Joel frowns at you. “Poor baby. ‘S gonna sting real bad.”

You snap at him, “What, you want me to go to the local QZ Victoria’s Secret?”

Joel swats, hard, across your asscheek.

You’ve seen how intense Joel’s brute strength can be. You’ve just never been on the receiving end of it. A cry pushes out of your throat, and you hunch over the desk as you struggle helplessly against Joel. Tears spring at your eyes.

Mercifully, Joel runs his calloused palm over the smarting skin. “Shh, shh, shh, shh. ‘S okay, Jus’ gotta teach ya a lesson. Make sure it sticks.” He strokes the nape of your neck as you whimper into the desk.

You tense up in preparation for the second hit, but, if anything, it just makes the impact worse. It prickles your other cheek, leaving your knees shaky. And God help you, your clit twitches. Twitches. Your thighs are already heating up, and you can’t help but squirm in a good way underneath Joel. A single tear slips over your waterline, and you have to tilt your head into the shoulder of your shirt to wipe it off. You don’t want him to see you weak – not that weak.

The next spank makes him grunt from how hard he swings his palm into your backside. “Joel!” you shout, pain nearly splitting you in two. Your feet raise off of the ground as you prop yourself up on the desk, kicking uselessly at his shins. All he does is chuckle at you.

Horror sinks like a cinderblock in your stomach when you realize that your hole, leaking slick, is practically fucking winking at him. You thank the darkness. It’s about the only good thing about this place.

“You don’t like that?” he mock-pouts at you. It’s enough to make you throb. The opposite, you’d say if you could.

A series of spanks follows, but at least these are lighter, and in rapid succession. Still, you jerk with each impact, squirming so that your fingers dance in his grip. “Stupid little girl. Thought you could sell our shit to a FEDRA bitch and get off scot-free? Really thought you could get away from me, huh?”

You try clamming up, desperately attempting to close your legs together. You squeeze your thighs together, relieved at the pressure – and then you hear a resounding click behind you.

You still.

Joel’s gun, still fucking hot from the bullet it’d fired right into the executioner’s throat, traces up the small of your back… all the way to your throat. “Could put one right here,” Joel whispers, more to himself than you. “Show ya what happens to girls that don’t follow orders.” He jams it into your skin, and you hiss at the pain, at the bruise it’s sure to leave. And in spite of it all, you fucking gush. God, you’re fucked up.

He wouldn’t kill you – he needs you more than you need him. But common sense isn’t enough to prevent the thrill, the arousal smiting your body from head to toe.

“I’ll reconsider if ya give it a kiss.” He nudges the barrel carefully against your lips and you stop breathing for a second, maybe two. “Go on. Give it some lovin’. Suck it like a cock. I know you’re good at it. Hear all the guys you bring over.”

You whimper at the thought of Joel listening to you getting your hook ups off – at the thought of him fisting his own cock while he listens. Obediently, you part your lips, slowly, ever so slowly, taking the gun down your throat. It fills your mouth up in such a strange way – all hard edges. It’d be freezing cold if not for the fact that it’s a weapon of death, a scythe in its own way. One press of the trigger, and you’d be just like the guard. You suck even harder at it, eyes rolling back in your skull. Your thighs twitch, stripes of slick running down your thighs. 

Joel reaches between your legs, grabbing at the meat of your inner thigh to spread you open. Instead, he gets a handful of the arousal that’s been pooling between your legs since he first bent you over the desk.

You freeze, pausing your ministrations on the pistol. He himself freezes before he drags his hips over your folds. His finger pads hover over your swollen clit before he properly rubs you once, and then twice. Your hips cant into the closest thing – his hand.

Joel makes a disgusted noise and swats your leaking pussy before shoving you forward and stepping back. You’re panting, properly fucked out even though he’d barely touched you. Cross-eyed, tongue hanging out, face hot. He looks you up and down, brows furrowing with revulsion. “Horny fuckin’ bitch. Creamin’ all over me. That long since you got action that a spankin’ and a gun in your mouth is all it takes to get you riled up? Pathetic.” He shoves the gun back in his pocket, still shining with your saliva.

He wipes your wetness all over your leg, grabs the back of your collar, and drags you to the floor in one foul swoop. You fall on your hands and knees again, ass still stinging from his treatment, lightheaded from how needy you are. Even his brutal treatment makes you whimper. 

You reach for his calf, pulling yourself up to brace your dripping cunt against his boot. You rut against it, not even fully cognizant of your movements as you roll your hips, praying that he lets you have this if nothing else. Your orgasm, wetting his boot thoroughly. Your scent, clinging to him on the walk back to the apartment. You buck into the boot, moaning as the toe bumps against your clit. It might be enough, if you could just do it one more time–

Joel tears his shoe out from underneath you, face pinched with aversion. “No!” you cry, still grabbing for his calf. You fall onto your back, legs spread and panting. Your ass needles from his spanking. The ceiling tiles spin above you. 

The same toe you’d been humping kicks into your cunt, and you yelp, curling in on yourself. Another tear slides down your burning cheek as you reach down to cup your sore pussy. Even that pressure feels like touching a live wire. 

Joel looks down at his shining boot and makes a disgusted noise. “Does humiliatin’ yourself always get ya dicked down?” 

He turns around, already walking away from you without a care in the world. The gun grip pokes out of his pocket, taunting you.

“Pull your goddamn pants up and get a move on. Curfew’s soon.”

[hysteria-things]

PHOTO ALBUM (part two)

read part one here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: soft!dom chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you and chris finally have alone time, you guys want to make the most of it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, fluff, swearing, p in v, sleepy sex, a little praising

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 715

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: the second part for @whoreforchrissturniolo request😜

marylou opens the front door and smiles wide, you and chris walking into his childhood home and placing the car seats on the ottoman. “how are you doing, sweetie?” she greets with a hug, chris unbuckling the twins so braeden and lydia can stretch.

“i’m doing good.” you reply. “just tired.”

“tell me about it,” she says lowly, chris coming to your side. his mother talks to the babies, taking both of them out of the seats and holding them in her arms. she is a pro.

“thank you again, mom. i’m sorry we keep coming over like this, especially when dad’s at work.”

she scoffs, refusing to take her eyes off of her grandchildren. “don’t be silly. go get rest; i got this.”

occasionally, you and chris would come over to his parent's house in the morning to have them watch the kiddos while you guys get some extra sleep. it helps tremendously, since the amount of sleep you guys get is about four hours.

because of the eye bags, it does look like you guys got punched in the face.

once you plop onto chris’s bed, you get under the covers and snuggle instantly, eyes already half closed. “your mom is a lifesaver.” you mumble.

he giggles, facing toward you and taking your hand to peck it. a peck leads to him kissing up your arm, then neck, then to him on top of you with your arms wrapped around his neck. your lips move in sync. it’s slow, but it’s full of need.

ever since the kids were born, you guys have not had time to have sex, which is understandable. right now, you guys are exhausted, but you can’t stop now.

he pulls away, groaning when you reach your hand into his pants and pump his base. “fuck.” he whispers, feeling him getting harder under your touch.

you hum when he pushes your hand away, untying both his and your bottoms before pulling them down. he goes in and kisses you again, this time inserting his tongue into your mouth.

soft moans and pants leave your mouths, keeping in the back of your heads to not be so loud. you guys are supposed to be asleep, after all.

gasping, you grab onto chris’s arms. you haven’t felt him in a very long time, so adjusting to the size again will be difficult. he leans to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “you’re taking it so well, baby. just a little more, okay?”

you whine, chris taking one of your hands and interlocking his fingers with it above your head. once he thrusts softly into you, your eyes flutter closed. you throw your head back, taking in what you haven’t felt in almost a year.

“damn,” he grunts, leaving kisses on your neck and collarbone. he missed this.

“you feel so good.” you whimper, gripping tighter onto his hand that’s holding yours. he moans in response, licking his lips to focus on how well you wrap around him.

you open your eyes, his already staring back at yours. your noses graze each other, mouths open wide with heavy pants escaping them. because it’s been forever, your orgasm already started to build.

his cock moves deep inside you, a high-pitched moan louder than the others falling past your lips before you cover them with your palm. clenching hard, chris’s hips jut. “you’re squeezing so fucking tight. is someone close? hm?”

“y-yes.” you exhale. “i need to cum so bad. i-i miss cumming around your cock.”

those words cause a groan, his hips moving slightly faster to also get to his climax. “sh-shit.” he stammers. “that’s right. cum around my dick like the good girl you are. there we go.”

legs trembling, you continue to moan as your release smears down his shaft. multiple grunts and ruts of the pelvis later, the feeling of chris’ cum oozing inside of you has you thanking god that you recently got back on birth control. you love the babies, but you certainly don’t need another one at the moment.

he lays at your side, arms wrapping around your waist and nuzzling deep into your back. you were tired before, but that got you guys falling asleep in seconds, enjoying the peace while listening to each other’s heartbeats.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Soundcheck..

Dominik Mysterio x Reader

My babymammas that tried to take me to court to pay child support but they soon realized I didn’t have any money cause I spent it all on Jey Uso merch: @spiicii @cheappop @love4brutality @maineventabbey @isabella-2025 @acknowledge-reigns @fearlesschimera @minteagalaxea

special s|o to @cmalass lowkey she been a fan of me since forever.

WARNINGS: backstage fuck, voyeurism kink, moaning behind the curtain, caught in the act, she watched him fuck rhea and couldn’t stop thinking about it, vibrator doesn’t hit the same, pussy drunk dom, “we’ll make it fit” energy, held up like a damn feather, public-ish sex, production crate pounding, “just keep fucking me” moment, rhea walked in and said OH SHIT, jey traumatized, soaked thighs, dom is a menace and a gentleman, post-nut date invite?? boyfriend material, soft aftercare but he still fucked the fuck out of her, round two loading(probably idk), dripping & shaking, dom whispering filth in your ear, yes this is smut, yes this is romance too, “fuck fuck fuck” symphony, 10000000/10 would let him bend me backstage again

The call sheet had been light tonight.

You’d wrapped your last lighting cue earlier than expected, and instead of heading to catering or the break room like usual, you wandered. The backstage was humming with energy, the faint vibrations of music and crowd noise pulsing through the concrete floor. But the hallway you turned into now? Silent. Unfamiliar.

You didn’t recognize this part of the building. No signage. Lights dimmer. No voices. Just crates stacked haphazardly and a stretch of corridor that felt untouched—like a wing no one used anymore.

Then you heard it.

Soft at first. A stifled moan. Then another—longer this time. A sound drawn from somewhere deeper.

You paused, instinctively holding your breath.

Your feet moved before you told them to. Step by step, the noises became clearer. Wet, needy sounds. Rhythmic movement. The slap of skin against skin. A breathy curse.

You turned the corner.

And froze.

There, half-shadowed and caught in the lowness of overhead lights, was Rhea Ripley. Bent forward over a heavy black production crate, her arms braced against it, fingers curling around its edges. Her mouth hung open in a moan that barely made it out. Her knees buckled with each push.

Behind her, Dominik Mysterio stood—jeans pushed down just far enough, shirt bunched at his waist, hips working in a slow, punishing pace. One hand was splayed firmly on Rhea’s lower back, the other gripped her hip like she might float away if he let go. His shoulders rolled with every thrust, jaw tight, breath shallow.

And then—Dominik looked up.

He saw you.

Not just saw—watched. His eyes found yours, and he didn’t look away. His pace never faltered. If anything, he moved deeper. Long strokes. Strokes that made Rhea smile, lustfully drunk on his dick.

Your breath stopped… it fucking stopped

It was like he was still inside Rhea, but suddenly, he was focused on you. Rhea didn’t even notice—now too far gone, whimpering now, pressing back against him, chasing the rhythm.

“Please,” she gasped. “Please let me cum Dom—”

Dominik’s eyes stayed locked on yours. He exhaled through his nose, chest rising. He blinked slowly. You felt it like static in the air.

You should’ve turned around the moment you saw them. But you didn’t. Couldn’t. Not when he looked at you like that.

Then you did leave.

Not in a rush. Not panicked. But definitely shaken.

You walked the opposite direction, head down, heart thundering in your chest.

And even after you turned the corner, even after the sounds behind you faded—his eyes stayed with you.

He’d seen you.

And he didn’t stop.

—

You hadn’t looked over your shoulder once on the way out of the arena.

Not when you clocked out. Not when you handed off your badge. Not even when you walked through the parking lot, the Florida night humid and quiet around you. But your body was still buzzing. Like you were carrying static electricity under your skin.

Dominik’s eyes. That slow, heavy look.

It followed you all the way to the hotel.

Your room door clicked shut behind you, and you leaned your forehead against it, exhaling slowly. The silence was a relief—but it wasn’t enough. You needed to cool down. To clear your head.

You peeled off your hoodie. Your tank top stuck to your skin, your thighs still warm and damp with something more than sweat. You ignored the way your pulse still throbbed between your legs.

The bathroom lights turned on. You stepped out of your jeans, then your underwear, dropping everything to the tile floor. The need had already returned, curling low in your stomach.

You turned the shower on.

Hot water poured down your back as you braced yourself against the wall. Eyes closed. Breathing steady. Trying to forget.

But your mind didn’t want to forget.

You saw them again. That moment. Rhea’s thighs shaking. Dominik’s hands on her hips. The slow drag of his body against hers. His focus. The way his eyes met yours and never left.

You exhaled a shaky breath as your hand trailed between your thighs.

You swore you were just going to settle the ache. Just enough to take the edge off.

Your foot lifted and planted itself on the ledge. You widened your stance and let your fingers slide through your pussy, rubbing there. Your body jolted.

You circled slow at first. But your thoughts didn’t stay slow.

He saw you.

His eyes on you, watching, even as Rhea begged to fall apart under him. And he didn’t stop.

You bit your lip as your fingers dipped inside, the stretch deep and warm. Your hips rocked gently against your own hand.

One finger became two.

Your breath grew heavier. Louder. Steam curled around your shoulders as you pushed deeper, your head falling back, mouth open.

Then your hand dropped away just long enough to grab the shower head.

You adjusted the stream. Moved it lower.

The second the water hit your center, you gasped.

You angled it perfectly. Held it steady. The pressure made your knees buckle a little. Your free hand clutched the wall for support.

Your moans echoed in the small tiled space, soft and desperate.

“Fuck—”

You thought of the way his hips moved. The grip on Rhea’s waist. The tension in his jaw. The way he looked at you like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your orgasm crept up fast—hot and powerful and dizzying.

When it hit, you clenched around nothing, the water catching every twitch of your thighs, every tremble of your hand.

You gasped his name, “Dom..”—quiet, breathless, shameful.

Then everything went still.

You stood there, chest rising and falling, the water turning lukewarm against your skin. You turned the shower off and stayed in the silence.

It hadn’t been enough.

Not really.

Because now, you didn’t just remember how he looked at you.

But you wanted to get the chance to remember how it felt.

—

Three weeks.

Three cities.

Three brutal weeks of pretending you didn’t care.

But your body told the truth.

Every time you were alone, your thoughts circled back to that hallway. To him. Dominik. You’d gotten good at locking your hotel bathroom door, shoving a towel under the crack, and slipping into the shower with your toys—whatever could fill the void, even just for a few seconds. But nothing ever really scratched the itch.

Because nothing compared to that moment.

The way his eyes pinned you. The way he moved inside her like it meant something. Like it was his.

And you had wanted to be her.

Desperately.

It was pathetic, how easily you came at the thought of him. A few little circles. A little pressure. Sometimes just remembering the way he smirked right before you ran.

You turned a corner in tonight’s arena—this one in Cincinnati—and your whole body stilled.

Dominik was standing alone, leaning against a wall by one of the loading bays. His head was dipped, scrolling lazily through his phone. He looked… calm. Relaxed. Like someone who had no idea the amount of damage he’d done to your nervous system.

Then he looked up.

And smirked.

It wasn’t the casual kind. It was low. Lazy. Knowing.

You immediately turned, hoping to disappear into the maze of cases and equipment. Pretend he hadn’t seen you.

But then he said it—your name.

Smooth. Deep. Right behind you.

You stopped walking.

The hallway went quiet. Your stomach clenched.

You didn’t turn around. Not yet.

“Did you miss your show again tonight?” His voice was teasing.

You swallowed.

“Excuse me?” you asked, still facing forward, trying to keep your voice steady.

Dominik laughed behind you, not mocking—curious.

“Don’t play dumb,” he said. “You’ve been watching.”

Your heart skipped. He stepped closer. You could feel it—his heat. That quiet pull again. The one that never really left.

“All this time…” he said, almost like he was thinking out loud now. “And I didn’t even touch you.”

You finally turned to face him.

And he was right there—just a breath away. His phone was gone. His eyes looked down your body like they already knew the parts you tried to hide.

You tried to speak.

He tilted his head. “Still want to be her?”

The answer sat on your tongue, hot and reckless.

But all you could do was stare.

Eventually, you found your voice.

It wasn’t strong—it wavered at the edges—but it came out.

“Don’t you have Rhea?”

Dominik didn’t flinch. He smiled. Crooked. Like he’d been waiting for you to ask.

“Nah,” he said, voice casual but loaded. “She’s with Jey Uso now.”

Your brows pulled together. “Wait, what?”

He nodded, eyes scanning your face. “Yup. That was our goodbye fuck.”

Like it was nothing.

Like you hadn’t replayed that moment on a loop for weeks—him inside her, her voice cracking open, his eyes locked on you. And it was just a goodbye.

Dominik stepped even closer. You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

His tone dropped lower.

“But you…”

His gaze softened—no less intense, but quieter. Intentional. More focused.

“I wanna know,” he murmured.

You tilted your chin a little, trying to guard whatever dignity you had left. “Know what?”

He leaned in.

Close enough that you could feel the whisper against your skin when he said it—right by your ear.

“How many times have you cum to the thought of me?”

The question sat between you. No teasing. No smile. Just a truth he dragged out of you without even touching you.

He leaned back slightly, studying your face like he was reading it in real time.

“You don’t have to answer,” he said, voice still low. “I already know.”

Your thighs clenched without meaning to.

Dominik’s lips barely curved.

“Bet it’s not enough.”

You didn’t speak.

Couldn’t.

Your mouth was dry, chest tight. Dominik didn’t need your answer—he already saw it in your eyes, the way your body stayed frozen, your breath catching at the edges.

He began to move.

Slowly.

Circling you like a pull of gravity. Like a predator in no rush.

“I bet every time you scratch that itch,” he said smoothly, “it doesn’t really scratch.”

He stepped behind you.

You stayed rooted, your body tensing, anticipation crackling in the space between you like static.

“I bet you’re gripping the sheets,” he continued, almost amused. “Begging to be fucked. And all that happens… is a little plastic vibrator pressed between your legs.”

Your cheeks burned.

Your lips parted to breathe, but the air didn’t let you.

Dominik’s voice dropped into a whisper behind you. “All that want. All that need. And nobody’s touching you the way you crave.”

Then—you felt him.

Both of his hands slid to your hips, settling there with possessive calm. His body pressed close—his frame tall and solid behind you, heat pouring off of him.

“Bet what you really needed,” he murmured, “was to be caressed.”

He leaned in.

His lips brushed your neck, soft and lingering—like he was marking a spot only he had the right to touch.

“To be kissed,” he whispered.

His hands slid slowly under your shirt—calloused fingertips dragging up your sides until they cupped your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your pierced nipples, and you gasped.

“You needed to be worshipped,” he said.

And right then, you believed him.

Because in his hands, you felt something more than lust.

You felt hunger.

But you should’ve stopped him.

You told yourself that—once, twice, on repeat—but your body had already betrayed you.

One hand stayed at your chest, firm and tugging.

The other slipped lower.

“You need a good fucking, don’t you?” Dominik said quietly, like he was stating a fact. Like he already knew the answer.

His fingers slid past the waistband of your joggers, and you gasped at the warmth of his palm settling over your clothed center. He didn’t rush. He pressed—slow circles through your underwear, just enough to make your knees shift under you.

You whimpered.

It slipped out before you could stop it, and his lips curved against your neck.

“Someone that’s gonna take their time with you, huh?” he murmured. “Make it mean something.”

His fingers dipped beneath the last barrier. Heat met heat—skin on skin. You jolted against him as his fingers found your pussy waiting.

And he groaned.

“God,” he whispered, almost like it hurt. “You’re so wet… and I barely even touched you.”

Your breath came out in a shaky moan, your body arching toward him without thought.

Dominik’s hand between your legs moved in slow, measured circles. His chest pressed against your back. Every inch of contact felt purposeful.

“You’ve been walking around like this?” he said against your ear, voice ragged. “Waiting for someone to fuck the brains outta you?”

Your only response was another broken moan.

And you were only just getting started.

His fingers moved in slow strokes—circling touches that made your legs wobble beneath you. Every pass over that sensitive spot had your thighs tightening, hips twitching, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a plea.

“Dom—” you whispered, voice barely holding together.

Your knees nearly buckled.

Dominik chuckled softly behind you. “Can’t have you melting out here…”

With one hand still between your legs, the other went to grip your waist and started guiding you. Stumbling, you let him lead, each step heavier than the last. You barely registered the shift in light until you felt the brush of thick curtains against your arms—he was pulling you into one of the long, unused drapery sections meant to block off camera space. The world outside faded to muffled sounds and shadow.

Then he stopped.

And turned you around to face him.

His eyes scanned your face—sharp, warm, unreadable. Then, without warning, his mouth was on yours.

It wasn’t rushed. It was claiming.

All lips and breath and heat. His hand cupped the side of your face while the other went right back to where you needed it—between your thighs, still coaxing moans out of you with every rub.

Your body pressed to his, desperate and warm, your fingers fisting the front of his hoodie.

When he pulled back, your lips were parted, eyes glazed.

He didn’t say a word.

He just lifted you—effortless.

Your legs wrapped around him on instinct, and a second later, he set you down on the edge of a cold metal production crate, the same kind from that night.

Fitting, somehow.

His hands slid up your thighs. He leaned in again, forehead pressed to yours.

“You been waiting for this?” he asked quietly, like a secret.

Your hips rolled toward him without meaning to.

“I knew you had,” he said, his smirk barely there now. “And I’m not stopping ‘til you forget what it felt like to touch yourself.”

His voice was coaxing.

“Lift your hips for me baby..”

You obeyed without hesitation, fingers digging into the crate’s edge as you raised your hips. Dominik leaned in, dragging both your joggers and underwear down in one slow, practiced motion. The AC in the arena kissed your skin, and one leg remained partially tangled—an afterthought, almost.

Your body trembled.

Dominik stepped between your thighs, tugged at his waistband, and freed himself. So longgggg… the kind that touches your cervix with each thrust.

Then he pulled a condom from his pocket.

Your brows lifted. “You always carry those around?”

He shrugged, rolling it between his fingers. “Can never be too safe.”

Your lips twitched. “What, you expect to have sex in random backstage corners?”

His grin returned—lazy, devilish. “Not always.”

Then he leaned in, kissing your jaw, his nose brushing your cheek as he whispered:

“Only when I’ve been hoping to run into someone.”

Your heart skipped. Heat shot down your spine.

He tore open the foil, rolled the condom on with ease. You watched, wide-eyed.

Your gaze dropped—and stayed.

“Wait,” you blinked. “Is that a… Magnum?”

Dominik looked up, cocking an eyebrow. “XL.”

Your eyes widened.

He smirked, stepping closer, his voice rich and low as he said, “Don’t worry.”

He positioned himself against your entrance, the swollen tip pressing right where you ached most.

“We’ll make it fit.”

He pushed in slow.

So slow it almost hurt.

You felt every inch stretch you, your body clenching around him on instinct. Dominik’s hand gripped your thigh, anchoring you, while the other braced the crate beside your hip. His eyes fluttered shut for a second, brows drawing in tight.

Then he dipped his head, lips grazing your shoulder.

“You are gonna kill me,” he whispered, voice ragged and close to breaking.

You smiled, breath catching. “Why?”

He groaned against your skin. “You’re… fucking tight.”

The praise hit deeper than you expected.

You let out a quiet moan, hand sliding up his back. “I think you’re the biggest I’ve ever had.”

Dominik chuckled—just once, low and warm. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?” you asked, teasing now.

“‘Cause then I’ll get cocky and ruin it.”

You giggled—soft, breathless, eyes lidded as your body pulsed around him.

“You can move,” you said, tone gentle but needy.

His gaze met yours—stormy, focused.

“I don’t wanna nut so fast,” he said, almost like a confession.

Your laugh came out light and quiet. That made him smile again, and then—he kissed you.

This one was different.

A real kiss, like he’d been holding it back for days. His lips moved with yours in a rhythm just as unhurried as his hips when they finally—finally—began to move.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your mouth:

“Hold on, baby…”

Then he rolled his hips into you.

And nothing else in the world mattered.

You lay back against the crate, one hand gripping the edge, the other fisting the front of Dominik’s shirt. Your thighs trembled as he pulled your hips closer, angling you just right.

His strokes deepened.

Slower, but harder now.

And you could feel yourself starting to come undone—moans catching in your throat, body arching into each movement. His hands held you steady as you unraveled beneath him.

“Dom…” you breathed.

“Yeah,” he whispered, kissing your collarbone. “Let it happen. Just like that—”

“OH SHIT!”

Both your heads snapped toward the curtain.

Rhea and Jey stood there—flushed, wide-eyed, and very much in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Rhea’s hands immediately flew up to cover Jey’s eyes, even though he was clearly already traumatized.

“Rhea?” Dominik snapped, not even pulling out. “Seriously?”

Rhea’s voice was defensive but unapologetic. “You fucked me here last time! I just wanted to show Jey where it happened so we could fuck here!”

Jey groaned. “I really don’t wanna hear about my girlfriend’s sex escapades right now.”

Dominik rolled his eyes so hard it could’ve been audible. “Privacy? Ever heard of it?”

Rhea waved a dismissive hand. “We’re leaving!”

The curtain rustled again. Footsteps, muttering.

Silence.

You blinked up at Dom, still breathless, thighs trembling.

He looked down, sheepish. “I’m… sorry. Kinda weird friendship we have.”

You shook your head with a soft grin. “It’s okay.”

Then you hooked your legs tighter around his waist.

“Just keep fucking me.”

Dominik’s eyes lit up.

He smiled—genuine, hungry—and leaned down to kiss you again. “Say less.”

Then he picked up the pace.

And this time, nothing interrupted.

The crate beneath you creaked, but neither of you cared. His grip on your hips tightened, fingertips digging in like he needed you to stay right there.

And you did.

You took every thrust, every sound of his breath getting heavier, rougher, hotter in your ear.

“Shit,” you gasped, head thrown back, eyes fluttering. “Dom… d-don’t stop.”

“I’m not,” he gritted out, sweat trickling down his temple. “Not fucking stopping now.”

The brutal pace made your whole body tremble, your legs twitching as heat settled deep in your core, tight and close. Your arms flew around his neck just as he suddenly grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you clean off the crate.

You gasped, hands clutching him, legs locking around his waist, his name falling from your lips like a waterfall.

“Dominik—”

“I got you,” he panted, holding you up like you weighed nothing, still buried inside you. He slammed you back onto him with every movement, each one dragging you closer to that burning end.

“I think—” you cried out, voice shaking. “I think I’m almost—”

“Me too,” he growled into your neck, thrusts growing erratic. “Just hold on, baby.”

Your forehead dropped against his. “Fuck… fuck… fuck…”

And then—everything snapped.

At the same time.

Your body seized, walls clenching tight around him as your orgasm tore through you, shaking and gasping.

Dominik let out a choked groan as he followed, hips stilling, body tensing against yours.

For a long, breathless second, there was nothing but the echo of your moans and the beat of both your hearts thundering in your chests.

Then silence.

Warm, pulsing, satisfied silence.

His arms stayed wrapped around you, keeping you pressed tight against him as your bodies slowly came down from the high. Your head rested against his shoulder, both of you still catching your breath in the haze of heat and sweat and everything you’d just done.

“Damn,” he finally murmured, his voice scratchy and a little dazed. “You really were wound up.”

You laughed, soft and unbothered. “Takes two, Mysterio.”

He tilted his head slightly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a lazy grin. “You work full-time?”

You blinked, still dazed. “What?”

“Here,” he clarified, slowly pulling back just enough to look you in the eye. “Backstage crew. You on tour?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Lighting tech. Every show.”

He smiled, eyes gleaming. “Good.”

You arched a brow. “Why?”

Dominik shrugged one shoulder and said, casual as anything, “Maybe we can go out to dinner tomorrow.”

Your lips curled upward. “Is that a date?”

He smirked and brushed his thumb over your cheek, still holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You bet it is.”

You bit back a smile, still feeling the ache in your thighs and the heartbeat in your chest.

“I mean…” you whispered. “It’s only fair. You did destroy me.”

Dominik chuckled. “You think that was me destroying you?”

You gave him a look.

He grinned.

“Dinner and round two, then.”

[himbohysterectomy]

clinical trial (game) spoilers

firstly before anyone gets mad at me for policing their enjoyment/engagement with a piece of media this is NOT the intention here, do whatever you want forever and have fun ok? keep doing what you're doing so long as you aren't hurting anybody.

Also this is mostly about fanart cause I don't really read fic so idk how applicable it is over there but it still might be, idk.

_

I have noticed an overwhelming amount of sappy flowery fanart of lee and angel from clinical trial just being cute and lovey and it is strange to me. it feels to me like glossing over the actually interesting substance of the game in favour of generic wholesome content instead.

like i 100% understand the appeal stemming from that desire to be wanted and desired so intensely or even obsessively as well as that desire to feel protected by someone, and in turn wanting it to end up being healthy and wholesome and working out for the both of them. but I feel like what that ends up with in most of the fanart i see is just like. a normal ass couple?

of course we are set up to see the characters and their interactions as very cute and wholesome. and they are! it works wonderfully for setting up that gut-punch of a twist towards the end of the game. they spend a very long time building up to it and it works very well and is well worth the wait.

but like. hello. did we all forget the horror elements of this cute little horror game?

lee is obsessed with angel. he kept angels gum. angels blood. angels hair (which btw, when/where did he acquire that much hair?? lol). he made a doll of angel (which to be fair to him when you actually hear him out it is probably the most reasonable and wholesome part of that whole shrine). he for sure fucked that jacket. he took multiple pictures of angel out and about, meaning that be absolutely, undoubtedly stalked angel. he killed for angel and did not regret it one bit even when he was confronted about it.

him keeping the gum from the week 2 appointment means that at the very latest he became obsessed with angel the second time that they ever saw each other. we have no idea how long he was stalking angel for.

there is zero chance in my mind that their relationship would be healthy and wholesome, at least not all the time. even if they work on shit together and lee actually seeks therapy they're not gonna just... fix each other with the power of love.

frankly lee is unwell and does not know how to form healthy relationships. he could mask that side of himself pretty well during their appointments but even still not perfectly. if they move in together it's going to be a lot more difficult to keep himself in check all of the time and not be Kinda Weird about angel sometimes. there were already some red flags when they only saw each other once a week.

ultimately, it isn't that i want people to stop drawing wholesome and sweet accept ending fanart of clinical trial. of course not!

what i'm getting at is that i wanna see more freak shit!!! get fucky with it!!! draw them being obsessive and unhealthy! if you're gonna fantasize about this fucked up couple at least do it the justice of depicting it in the way that it was set up to be sometimes! they didn't take the time to set up that wonderful twist for it to just be ignored!!

draw lee struggling to not be obsessive or possessive or overprotective! draw lee secretly still keeping things that angel throws away, or stealing small things that he thinks angel wont miss! draw angel having to keep him in check and scolding him like a dog!

give that man his red flags back or so help me god!!! they're what make him interesting as a character - without them he's just Some Guy.

the art that actually got me to play clinical trial was this wonderful piece by @ glimfag/hecctwo. it is absolutely amazing and symbolic and perfect. it leans into the idea of angel also being kind of a freak like that, and why not!! in the accept ending angel knows everything that lee did and is capable of and chooses to be with him regardless.

maybe angel's kinda into it!! maybe angel's drawn to this idea of being the prey of a stalker! maybe angel wants a man that can be kept on a leash! maybe angel likes being the center of his whole universe because angel likes to have that power over him, especially after what angel has been through! maybe angel wants a guard dog! maybe angel likes knowing that he would absolutely kill again if angel asked him to!!

by all means keep drawing wholesome shit all day long but please don't shy away from showing the unhealthy side of their relationship, especially on lee's end! i promise that you're allowed to enjoy "problematic" things - you're capable of critical thought, so have fun with it!!!!!

[cottondo]

vox x reader ; please?

Nobody really understood how it happened— it just did one day.

You ended up really hitting it off with the man of Voxtech himself; and wow lookathat, you’re dating him now.

It wasn’t unusual to be waking up in his bed, either. But what something Vox wasn’t used to, was a sunshine personality like yours. Of course you have your devilish charms still, as thats what drew him into you to begin with. But, the small appreciations you had for just about everything? It was weird, right? For a sinner in hell, it was marked as a rare occurrence to see someone like you.

( Other than the Princess of Hell, though she was much more over the top than you were. )

As your eyes opened, surroundings gaining a much clearer focus, you let out a tired little sigh.

There’s a soft buzzing beside you, where Vox was passed out in a deep sleep. It was such a nice state to see him in. Calm, not stressed out and dealing with everyone’s chaotic bullshit.

Honestly, it was nice being awake before everyone else. You could just take in the small beauties of silence before everything got obnoxious.

Your eyes flicker over to the windows, and see a bright neon sign with arrows pointing downward towards its front door.

A brand new building had just opened up, and it was a place you’ve been waiting to check out for a while now. Honestly, you couldn’t contain the excitement. It seemed like it took forever to finish, as most demons tried to overrun it while it was still in a vulnerable state.

With a little gasp, your hand falls to vox’s shoulder, and shake it lightly. “Oh my god, Vox, wake up!”

A static noise enters the air, as a small groan of annoyance leaves the tv screen. “What—”

You smirk, leaning over his shoulder to view his annoyance. “It’s finally open~ we gotta go!”

He heaves out a heavy sigh, turning to lay on his back with a dull, tired expression. “Y/N,”

“Please?” The little pout you made usually got him to do what you wanted, but this time it didn’t. He looked tired and visibly annoyed. Honestly, fair. You did kinda just wake him up in one of the worst ways possible.

“Can you at least let me wake up a little, first?” His lopsided smile made your heart flutter. Fuck, he was just so cute no matter what.

“Okay, fine. Just don’t fall back to sleep.” You fully sit up, crawling over his figure, and hoping to avoid stepping on any part of him in the process of getting off the bed. Standing to your feet on the floor, he **almost** chuckles. “What the hell even is the place you wanna go to, anyway?” His one eye widens out of curiosity over at you.

You roll your eyes, annoyed that he never usually remembered the little things. “The first like, ever, plant shop in hell. Somebody actually got things to grow down here,” you inform, taking a step in front of the mirror. “I think they used, like, human world magic or something.”

Vox sat up, stretching his neck and letting out a little groan. “Since when can anybody just get access to earth?”

You deadpan him briefly, “Does it even matter? I need one.”

He shakes his head, sitting up.

“I don’t know how you can be this happy so early in the morning.” He smiled at you. Holy shit, he actually smiled at how stupid your little obsession with this place was.

“Did— did you just smile~?” You decide to point it out, a smirk curling up to your features.

His eyes widened, body slightly startled at your reaction to him. “What?”

You inch closer to him, a brighter look of excitement as he stares at you in curiosity. “Oh my god you did! I saw you, so there’s no denying it.”

Vox takes on the tv effect to his tone as he looks up at you. “Alright, alright.” He then stands, and you notice how he slightly towers over your idling frame. “Only you can convince me to do shit I normally wouldn’t do.” His screen looks away with an almost embarrassment to it.

Your arms gently slip around his waist, causing him to tense up, arms raising.

“Thank you.” You smirk up at him. It didn’t take much to get him wrapped around your finger.

Vox sighs, lowering his arms, and slinking a hand around your waist. He gently guides you forward into his figure. His little smile comes back, and for a moment, you can actually feel him soften his outer shell with you. “Anything for you, my dear.”

______________________________________

I’m so sorry my writing hasn’t been up to par lately lmao 🥲 Not loving this one rn

[marisandini-chu-blog]

Time for some TBHX episode 8

Last episode was... in one word; depressing

It hurts so much to watch the sudden realization that Yang Chen was made into a puppet.

I made a theory about that I think of the last episode is going for. Yang Chen (who I believe is the E-Soul who won) might be a puppet for Yan Shun. But even misguided, YC had fought E-Soul because he believe he and his team caused Shang Chao's death because of their rivalry.

His assumption push him to the wrong path, but what made it a tragedy is... he made the choice with a good heart.

That he choose to become a hero of retribution that stood against evil and injustice... only to realize too late he was made into a bullet aim at an innocent man.

I have faith that his sense of justice is not gone. Not yet. I think there's still hope for him to do the right choice (and no, I don't think he killed Moon either)

And don't get me started on Xia Qing. My girl deserve better than this 😭.

I swear, I felt the loneliness when watching her seated between two empty seat. Heck, even Shang Chao deserve better

Unfortuntely, we didn't sign ourselves up for a happy-go-lucky story. Instead we choose to obsses over a Greek Tragedy, and we have no one to blame but ourselves.

Now let's see how our first heroine in the series is gonna make us cry next.

Classic TBHX, starting with a tragedy

Liu Zhen. I follow your energy, but I don't know about impersonating into First Responder is really the way...

We do love a renegade journalist. Continue, Sir

BABY CYAN!!!!!

The Director (I don't think we've been introduced their name yet) is... surprisingly a really sincere guy to open an orphanage.

CONSPIRACY!!!

So Liu Zhen believe the plane was deliberately abadoned for some 'unknown' reason.

I can see the Editor's point of view though. As a news publisher, you can't just make assumption without proof. That's a breeding ground for conspiracy theorist. And conspiracy can swing from either be close to the truth or wildly out of the ballpark without collecting the appropiate information.

So simply point fingers from flimsy evidence is really not the way to get people to listen, Liu Zhen

Though this is a different case if there's actual proof there in the story that support, and you got censored — the storytelling is a bit too ambiguous for me tell clearly the intention of it

Oooooh, so you're not the only conspiracy theorist around...

Oh no...

LIU ZHEN ARE YOU GOING TO FUCKING JOIN SPOTLIGHT?! HECK, DID YOU BUILD THEM?! WHAT THE FUCK?!

Also "it was caused by the whirlpool conflict between heroes" is an interesting statement. So there has been a period of beef against heroes that it's causing visible discourse for people to notice. A bit of an Hero Anarch era.

So Lucky Cyan is actually lucky lucky?!

I can only imagine the kind of family she must have had to believe she brings fortune the moment she was birthed

CYAN! BABY! HOW CRAZY IS YOUR LUCK?!

Wait... is Cyan supposed to find an actual treasure? In the middle of the city???

...honestly, I can't lie. This was an expected course of action for an adult to try on her luck next

...and does changing location really helps grow your husband hair, lady? At this rate, this is more supersticion than anything

And not gonna lie, for a girl to ask Cyan to eat the best looking man is funny. It's innapropiate, but funny.

BUT HOLY FUCK?! DO NONE OF THEM HAVE ANY SHAME?!?!

Shit, she's gonna be deified at this rate...

The whole reason for the Commission's existence is to keep people from being turn into a diety. Cyan is concerningly becoming a girl the Commission would try to get rid off...

I KNEW SHE'S GONNA BE DIEFIED!!!

SOMEBODY PROTECT MY GIRL PLEASE! GET THAT MAID AWAY FROM HER!

Oh... OH! So the Director is... not just decent, he's good!

Since this is TBHX, I don't trust this good-will will last forever

But it's great to see at some point Cyan has one adult who truly saw her through her needs...

I TAKE IT BACK! I WAS SO WRONG! HE'S WORST! HE IS ABSOLUTELY WORST OMG!

HOW CAN SOMEBODY BE THIS WORST, OH MY FREAKING GOD!!!

YOU TURN YOUR WARD INTO A FUCKING IDOL, ARE YOU INSANE?!?!?

The most disturbing thing about all this... is that this is his version of "spreading good will and help" to society.

Director, you delusional sick fuck.

QUEEN! MY QUEEN!!! OH MY GOD WE FINALLY SEE HER ON SCREEN!

Oooooh, so her declaration for order is something that's based on the current inter-heroes conflict that's been putting society in a bit disaray

Queen lore already?! So she's adopted by Liu Zhen, while Cyan is the Director's ward.

Hmmm? Interesting so we had a Top Hero Couple before... implicated in a scandal...

It goes to question if the scandal was made to tear them down from the number one spot...

...or the couple has been struggling with a Nice-Moon stituation that ended up hiting a wall.

Like, it makes sense for heroes who failed to climb up would instead try to tear each other down. Scandals would be everywhere at some point in time.

Enlighter must have had some lucrative period at some point

...i'm gonna say it.

BABY LUO! YOU'RE ADORABLE!!!

Good luck and bad luck in the same space? Classic yet interesting recipe going for!

The fact that there's 10 people who believed you're a calamity is so sad...

"Curse of Good Luck" is such an interesting but true concept

A new song you say???

Cyan... darling... sweeheart... are you going to do something that will make me proud?

FUCK YEAH CALAMITY BOY BRINGING IN THE ELECTRIC GUITAR AND HE'S ROCKING!!!!

TEAR THAT FACELESS IDOL AND BE YOUR OWN IDOL, CYAN!!! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!!!!

THEY WERE READY TO RUN AWAY WITH THAT ROLLER BLADES!!!

No...

What the fuck are you, Director?!

...

Okay, okay, I'm gonna have to say this first.

LUOCYAN IS MY OTP SHIP!!! OMG I CAN'T! I CAN'T BE NORMAL ABOUT THEM!!! HOLY FUCK THIS IS THE FIRST SHIP IN TBHX THAT WILL TEAR MY HEART APART? ISN'T IT?! I'M GONNA CRY MY HEART OUT AND I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS DAMN SHIP!!!

Like Moonling and the 3-Soul are interesting ships and dynamic. But they were all more interesting as individuals in my opinion.

This though? This dynamic has shot me straight to my heart like a cupid's arrow, and I am ready to get my heart broken.

Because what do you mean he showed Cyan how to make mistake like a human?

What do you mean he perform with her at her first concert in order to shove a stick up the cult's ass and rebelled together?!

What do you mean he took her hand to free her?!