#and your entire family is dead or missing

[peasack]

Lowkey wrote this while I was on a road trip with my family and felt like I had to write this. My nephew kept trying to take my phone but luckily he got scolded by my aunt.

Hope you guys enjoy!!!

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Road Trip Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Alexei Shostakov ✦

Thinks he’s the natural driver.

Immediately calls shotgun driving duty but is actually a terrible driver (way too fast, overconfident, has beef with GPS).

Blasts Russian rock music the entire time.

You’ll have to fight him to connect your phone to the aux.

Eats loud snacks and leaves crumbs everywhere.

“Alexei, stop eating like a raccoon.”

“I am fueling the machine!”

Stops at every weird roadside attraction.

“Come, come! Look, world’s biggest ball of yarn! Very important!”

Annoys you by trying to give long-winded life advice while you’re just trying to nap.

But secretly it’s sweet because he just wants to bond.

✦ Yelena Belova ✦

Definitely takes the aux and plays absolute bangers.

Half chaotic Russian pop, half dark indie playlists. But she’ll let you DJ sometimes.

Brings the best road snacks.

You’re covered in chips, candy, and energy drinks thanks to her snack runs.

Forces everyone to stop for photo ops.

She takes thousands of pictures, mostly to embarrass Alexei and John, but she gets cute ones of you too.

Relentlessly roasts whoever’s driving.

“Wow, John. Amazing. Truly a masterclass in missing the exit.”

Terrifyingly fast but somehow never gets pulled over.

✦ Bucky Barnes ✦

Prefers to drive to avoid motion sickness.

Grumbles about it but he’s actually the safest driver in the group.

Keeps the windows cracked because everyone else’s music is ‘too loud.’

But he secretly bobs his head to your playlist.

Always has gum, water, tissues—he’s weirdly prepared like a tired dad.

Falls asleep immediately when he’s not driving.

You and Yelena take funny photos of him napping with his arms crossed.

Ever since Alexei put the wrong kind of gas in the car he insists on paying for it. Anything to Prevent it from happening again.

✦ John Walker ✦

Takes driving way too seriously.

Hands at 10 and 2, obeys every road sign, will lecture Alexei about seatbelts.

Plays dad rock playlists.

“John, please, no more Bon Jovi.”

“You need culture, kid.”

Pulls over for every bathroom break even if you just stopped 10 minutes ago.

“If you gotta go, you gotta go. Hydration’s important.”

Takes WAY too long at gas stations.

After 2p minutes he'll just comes back with 7 Gatorades, 4 granola bars, and a car air freshener.

He’s weirdly sweet about making sure you’re comfy.

✦ Bob Reynolds ✦

You wouldn't expect it, but he's the most chaotic passenger.

Constantly changes the radio station and loses his phone under the seat every 5 minutes.

Terrible navigator.

“Wait, was that the exit? Oh, my bad.” (He’s done this like 3 times now.)

Keeps talking to you about random stuff out of nowhere.

“Hey, do you think clouds have feelings?”

“Bob, what?”

Brings homemade snacks that are actually delicious.

Loves those deep, late-night road trip convos.

He's not really one to sleep in the car, so he'll just watch the trees pass by as he stares outside.

✦ Ava Starr ✦

Sleeps through half the trip, sunglasses on, headphones in.

Somehow always wakes up just before an exit to give perfect directions.

Doesn’t pack snacks, but steals everyone else’s.

Steals your chips, denies it, then steals more while looking you dead in the eye.

Will just sit in silence with you, watching the trees go by. You simply enjoy each other presence.

Gives you her jacket when the AC’s too cold. Buys you meds if you get carsick.

Will absolutely call shotgun and then fall asleep instantly. “Wake me up when we’re there.”

Hope you guys liked this one, cause I loved writing it.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Requests are always open! <3

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

me: did hori COMPLETELY forget about the eugenics text or was that all a collective fever dream

my beautiful loving spouse pez dispenser debris: what do you mean? there was a cathartic and honest discussion through the lens of mirio, remember

my unfortunate shadow self: HE BECAME A TEACHER AND EVERYONE WAS HAPPY FO-*gunshots*

pez dispenser debris, smelling strongly of gunpowder : it’s okay, they cant hurt you

(Genuinely in bafflement tonight; thank you so much for your very informative crash out)

me, with a gun: and in this chapter of pez—

I think dropping the line on discrimination was one of the most disappointing parts of my hero for me. It’s fundamentally one of the core conflicts back dropping the universe and implied to be a driving factor behind the central origin and it just like. Was treated as a nonissue.

The world is shown to severely struggle with quirk based discrimination. We have Izuku’s childhood, we have the fact that Aoyama’s family made a deal with AfO just to keep him from being Quirkless, we have people like Shinsou with “villainous” quirks facing social outcast, and we have people with mutation based quirks being literally chased out of shelters and onto the streets. But narratively it’s never addressed. Izuku never deals with the messy, complicated feelings that would be absolutely inherent with going from a maligned minority to suddenly being one of the most valued of the majority. The narrative never confronts it as a real issue, just treats the symptoms. And it only remembers that this discrimination exists when it’s convenient.

World’s first Quirkless hero Izuku? Everyone loves that guy. They’re thrilled. He shot up through the ranks at an unprecedented speed. And yeah, he had the benefit of being a major participant in the final battle. But that is inherently only going to help you with some of the people who would otherwise detract against you, not all or, if we’re in society that hasn’t addressed its blatant issues with discrimination.

People really love to pretend that discrimination is something society just kind of grows out of, but it isn’t. Discrimination is an invasive, aggressive plant species. It’s fucking mint and kudzu and knotweed and every other thing you see in the front yard of the new listing you’re touring and run for the hills. You have to root it out and keep beating it back until that shit stops growing. It is painful and bloody and and laborious work. Society does not just collectively wake up one day and decide it’s done being a piece of shit. Things get better when you don’t give it any other option. And Izuku knows that, and that’s why he’s never given an inch when it comes to Mirio.

Izuku in pez is shown to be aware of his own image and the world’s expectations for him when he’s in public. He’s the confident, smiling Deku and makes sure to maintain the demeanor of a calm, collected, and kind hero. It’s a mask, and one that most reliably slips when Mirio is involved.

Izuku is notorious for being an absolute nightmare to interview when someone’s coming after Mirio. He has every single receipt. He’s confrontational. He will call you a piece of shit to your face.

And that doesn’t exactly fit with Deku. Deku will save the day and then give the villain career counseling on his way out. He’s good with kids and kind to them even when they hit him with a life ruining quirk. He’s as steady as a rock and not really the abrasive type.

Until you try and talk shit about Mirio to his face. Then he’s having to be bodily carried away by Iida.

Izuku in pez knows what discriminatory assholes are like, because he grew up as their target. He knows that if he leaves any equivocation or doubt, if he tries to be gentle or placate people, they’re going to read in some kind of “Deku agrees with us but he’s just trying to be pc” bullshit and use it to make a bunch of other Quirkless kids feel like they’re worthless.

Izuku is actively trying to make people uncomfortable, because they should be. They should be uncomfortable because they’re saying some atrocious shit.

You choke out discrimination by refusing to pretend like what they’re doing is acceptable. You make them so uncomfortable and ashamed of their position that they have to confront why that is or at least stop sharing it openly. A room where a Nazi gets to comfortably talk is just a room full of nazis.

Izuku in pez is an angry, fucked up, traumatized kid who never got help and is repressing like a champ. He’s ten pounds of issues in a five pound bag. He’s got obvious problems with his own Quirklessness.

But it is undeniable that he loves the Quirkless. It is undeniable that he’ll fight for them.

And he makes sure that there is no fucking room for doubt, because he knows that people look up to him. He knows there’s a terrifying amount of kids out there who think of Deku the Hero the same way he thought of All Might. And he knows that those kids may not grow up telling their Quirkless classmates to kill themselves if they think Deku the Hero would be disappointed in them.

At the opening of pez, Mirio has been a hero for less than two years. Society has centuries of fighting and discriminating about Quirks that is baked into its collective consciousness. So Mirio is under extreme fire right now, but I like to think that he and Izuku are making change happen. Lemillion had a line of little kids who wanted his autograph. They didn’t give a shit about his Quirk. They thought he was a cool hero and they wanted an autograph to remember him by.

Those kids are more likely to go to school, to not talk shit about the Quirkless, to be kind to kids who are Quirkless, and to influence their peers to do the same. Because they know Lemillion, and he’s Quirkless, and he’s cool.

Mirio could equivocate about this. It’d be easier on him. There’s plenty of people on the internet who want to say that he’s inherently better and strong because he was born with a Quirk and he’s not really Quirkless, he’s just got a non-quirked human’s capacity. But he’s refused to at every turn. No. He’s Quirkless. He calls himself Quirkless. Quirkless people can be heroes, just like him. And he is out there at the forefront of the worst fucking fights, Quirk or no.

He’s not pandering to people who would be willing to accept him as long as they could still exclude the rest of the Quirkless population. He is under enormous fucking fire endlessly, and he is standing strong. He’s not even trying to make himself more palatable, because that would mean leaving the rest of the Quirkless behind.

It’s hard to see right now, but they’re making a difference. Things are getting better. But it’s not because one day the world woke up and decided they were thrilled for the world’s first Quirkless hero. The world is different because Izuku and Mirio changed it.

[metamatronic]

Can we have Phone Dude content, pretty please?

this is it. this is the entire AU.

[whattraintracks]

30. Wrestling - TMNT 1990s

"You are unique among your brothers, for you choose to face this enemy alone. But as you face it, do not forget them, and do not forget me. I am here, my son."

Splinter breathes deeply, allowing the flow of air to guide the outside world to the forefront of his awareness. Stale subterranean scent, cushioned armchair beneath him, dim candlelight, footsteps. Someone has drawn him out of meditation. Perhaps his sons are home earlier than expected.

"You may enter, Raphael," he offers to the hovering shadow. The turtle creeps inside, halting but a moment before bowing deeply.

He smiles warmly, "Have you and your brothers returned?"

"The guys are still out." Raphael's shoulders hunch; from what emotion, he cannot tell. "I, I didn't go with them."

The scattered candles flicker. A great darkness seems to cross Raphael, and he glimpses someone very much unlike his passionate son. Someone exhausted, worn down, nearing the brink of collapse.

Raphael's voice brittles, "Can I stay with you?"

Splinter's not sure what is more alarming, that Raphael has declined an opportunity to go to the surface—with his brothers, no less—or this weariness so evident in him.

"What troubles you?" He implores.

Raphael shakes his head mutely.

He insists, trying to keep his disquiet at bay, "I cannot help you if you do not tell me what is wrong."

A coarse whisper, "It's nothing."

"This is not nothing," he creaks to his feet, "You must—"

"Dad."

The sudden plea stills them both.

"Master Splinter." His heart wrenches at the self-conscious amendment. It is not one he needs to make. Not about this. Not ever.

"Please, can I just," Raphael cuts himself off, breathing shallowly. Another flicker of candlelight and Splinter catches the sheen of tears in his eyes.

"Oh," he breathes. What a fool he is. His son has come seeking comfort and company, not interrogation.

"Yes. Yes, come." He beckons, reseating himself. "Sit with me."

Raphael shuffles deeper into the train car, kneeling stiffly. Splinter clucks softly, reaching for his arm to pull him against the chair. He curls forward without resistance, breath hitching.

"My son," he says, soothing with hands and words. "I am sorry. You may always come to me. You need not tell me what is on your mind to do so."

He is unsurprised but nevertheless heartbroken as Raphael releases a heavy sob, giving in to whatever weight he has been carrying. Tears prick in his own eyes at the openly hurting sound. He internally chides the parts of himself that demand answers over acceptance with open arms. Wrapping them now around as much of Raphael as he can, he mourns with his son so clearly wrestling with a great burden. He sends a prayer of gratitude to his Master Yoshi for guiding Raphael to him when that weight grew too large to bear alone.

Much time passes before the rest of his sons return. Long after Raphael cries himself past exhaustion into sleep. At some point, concerned at the angle of his son's neck, Splinter maneuvers out of his chair to rest them more comfortably on the floor. His ears prick at a whisper of movement. Ah, three movements.

Michelangelo peers into the train car, his brothers close behind. "Oh," he blinks, "he really did stay here."

Protectiveness flares within Splinter. "We should not begrudge Raphael's need for comfort or rest," he reproves.

Michelangelo's eyes widen in dismay, "Of course not!"

Donatello shakes his head, "No, we're not— We don't think Raph—" His eyes dart as they do when he's searching for the most precise explanation. "We're just worried about him."

"He's been having a rough week," Leonardo murmurs.

Oh, his sweet sons. He should not have been so quick to assume they meant anything uncharitable when they are but concerned brothers. As with Raphael, he wishes they had come sooner instead of struggling and worrying alone. He can be grateful they are here now.

"Tell me," he invites, resting a muffling hand on Raphael's tympanum.

They glance between themselves as they kneel, silently urging one another to speak first. He is careful to display only calm patience despite his inner turmoil.

Michelangelo finally bursts, "He's not eating." The other two look at him, befuddled.

"Okay, he's not, not eating," he revises, "but he didn't even finish a whole pizza at April's on Monday!"

Splinter trusts this is a remarkable incident, given their identically serious nods.

"I think he's having nightmares," Donatello contributes. "At the very least, he's not sleeping well. I keep finding him awake at odd hours, and sometimes he's pretty freaked."

Splinter huffs fondly. "Should I ask what you are doing awake at 'odd hours', Donatello?" The turtle shrugs cheekily.

He ponders these insights, soothing Raphael as he twitches. Do dreams haunt him now, even surrounded by loved ones?

"Leonardo?" he prompts, drawing his final son from deep thought.

Leonardo begins slowly as if unsure, "He's been more focused during training." As they all have. With their many hardships, each of his sons has increased their dedication to learning ninja, whether they realise it or not.

He listens keenly as Leonardo continues, "But when we're out, he hesitates. I've never seen so much slip past his defense."

He hums, "You are concerned he is a danger to himself and your brothers?"

"Never," Leonardo swears.

He tilts his head, not unkindly.

"Well, yeah, I guess," Leonardo concedes. "But not like that. Raph usually loves fighting." His eyes resonate with confusion and grief and fear. "He doesn't seem to enjoy it much lately. And he's always so tired, Master Splinter. It has to be more than him not sleeping."

"Maybe they're connected," Donatello suggests, "Maybe whatever's going on is affecting his sleep, and improper sleep is exacerbating the symptoms, on and on in a vicious cycle of—"

Michelangelo groans, "We get it, Donnie."

"Shh, quiet," Leonardo hisses.

They shush each other back and forth as Splinter watches Raphael slumber with a heavy heart. Holding up a paw, they fall silent. "You are right, my sons. Raphael is wrestling with something very grave indeed."

He reaches out to them. "My turtles, you have been through so much in your young lives." They lean in, allowing him to rest a hand on them, one by one.

"How do we help him?" Michelangelo asks.

Moved as he always is by Michelangelo's generous spirit, he is loath to admit he has no answer. He is stopped before he can.

"By following Master Splinter's teachings," Leonardo pronounces, looking at him eagerly. "Ultimate mastery comes not of the body but of the mind. Through mindfulness and unity, we draw each other up."

He is humbled to hear his own words in his son's voice. Warm with pride, he inclines his head.

"A break certainly couldn't hurt," Donatello rubs his chin, "A little downtime to focus on rest and healing together."

Michelangelo brightens. "Like family time!"

Donatello and Leonardo share a fond glance. "Yeah, Mikey," Leonardo says, tucking the turtle under his arm, "like family time."

"You guys are the sappiest suckers I've ever known." Splinter chuckles as Leonardo and Michelangelo startle at Raphael's sudden utterance.

Donatello laughs, "Please, you know like seven people."

"Yeah, an' the other three are normal," Raphael grumbles. Yet he unabashedly proves himself equally "sappy" as he shifts to nuzzle Splinter's hand.

Recovering from their shock, Michelangelo exclaims, "Raph!" as Leonardo yelps, "You're awake!?"

Raphael yawns widely, opening one eye briefly to check the room. "Hard to sleep with the lot of you yappin'." He appears, if only for this moment, at ease. It is a gift to see him comfortable and unguarded. More so, Splinter acknowledges, because these things have been absent in him for too long.

"I won't say no to a break," he mumbles. He lifts a hand to swat at Leonardo blindly, "But I refuse to participate in anything called 'family time'."

Leonardo evades the wild arm, a mischievous spark in his eye, "Fine then, we'll call it team building."

Raphael scoffs, "No. That's worse."

And as the four bicker good-naturedly Splinter knows they will find peace, as surely as he knows the love that binds them. However much healing Raphael needs, he will not do it alone. His family would not let him if he tried.

[skillzissuez]

Depression is all fun and games until your skipping school even though you’re weeks behind because you quite literally can’t get out of bed

[imperiuswrecked]

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian babies that were left to starve to death then rot in their beds by the IOF.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian doctors surrounded by bodies of dead children begging the world to stop the slaughter.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian children who held a press conference in English to beg the world to stop murdering them because they want to live.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Priest who said "We will not accept your apology after the genocide" to the world.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Imam who used the speakers of the Mosque, not to call people to prayer but to call out to God while the world around them was burning from American supplied Israeli bombs.

I'm never forgetting the grandfather who held his dead grandchild in his arms. Or the father carrying the remains of his two children in plastic shopping bags. Or the mother holding her dead child in a shroud. Or the father sitting among the rubble after he lost his whole family. Or the girl trapped under a broken building begging for people to save her family first. Or the boy who cried when he saw his brother alive. Or the girl who asked if she was still alive after being pulled from the rubble. Or the boy who carried the remains of his brother in his backpack. Or the old man the IOF used for a photoshoot before they shot him dead after getting pictures. Or the little boy wearing plastic gloves to pick up the remains of his family. Or the graves desecrated. Or the body of that small baby girl left alone in a tent because no one knew who she was or if her family was alive, small and alone and not one person who knew her name to bury her. Or the young boy who was shot in the street while his sister watched from the window. Or the men and boys who were stripped naked in winter. Or those tortured. Or those made to stand in open graves. Or the people who were raped by IOF soldiers. Or Palestinian workers kidnapped by the IOF and then labeled with wristbands, each one reduced to a number, then made to walk back to Gaza to be killed in the world's largest open air concentration camp. Or the people of Gaza starving because Israeli Zionists are blocking aid trucks. Or the Israelis dancing and celebrating the death of Palestinians. Or the lies spread by Zionists and their supporters. Or the people profiting off the oppression and deaths of Palestinians. Or the people of the West Bank being killed or kidnapped by the IOF. Or old woman who was older than the creation of the terror state of "Israel" who was shot by snipers for saying that. Or the Israelis dressed up as Palestinians to enter a hospital and kill three Palestinians in their beds. Or every single Palestinian currently kept in an Israeli prison. Or the journalists, doctors, poets, men, women, children, and the unborn all massacred. Or the fact that WCNSF exists now. Or the woman who refused to wash the blood from her hands. Or the dead, unburied and unmourned.

I'm never forgetting those who chose silence in the face of a genocide.

I may not know all their names but I will not forget the over 30,000 Palestinians dead. Or the over 60, 000 people hurt. Or the unknown number of people missing, still lost under the rubble. Or the 12,000 children slaughtered. An entire generation crippled or murdered.

I will never forget these things when Palestine is free.

[abbotsanatomy]

Jack x reader

Possessive & Protective Jack. Reader is the hospital social worker. Jack finds out a grieving family member has been stalking and harassing reader.!

⨳ (I’LL BE WATCHING YOU)

pairing: jack abbot x social worker!reader warnings: age gap (28, and 49), depictions of stalking, grief, child death, epilepsy (seizures), verbal assault, physical assault. author's note: this was a rough one to write tbh! hope u like! title’s totally inspired by ‘every breath you take,’ i love double meanings lol

“Good morning!” you greet, strolling into the ER break room.

You set aside the coffees you bought for everyone. It's your turn to bring everyone their fix tonight. They're nothing fancy, as can be expected from someone who earns almost half of what everyone else around here does.

You pick one of the brown coffee cups up from the paper cupholder on the counter, “Or, Y'know. Good night?”

“Live-saver!” one of the second-year residents yells. She's quick to grab one of the coffees, too.

The few people in the break room do the same, thanking you along the way. They slowly filter out, presumably going to tell everyone the break room's stocked up again so they can get their own before it's all gone.

It's just you and Dana Evans in the small room now. She's never been one for rushing home the moment her shift's over. She always lingers, you feel like you might know her even better than the night shift's charge nurse. The affinity you have for her can also be attributed, in huge part, to the fact that the veteran charge nurse reminds you of Dr.Abbot.

“Hey, kid. I heard what happened yesterday,” she starts. “Are you good?”

Wow. Word gets around much quicker than you expected. What happened yesterday should've been less than a blip on someone like Dana's radar.

The situation in question was just a grieving parent who'd said some pretty nasty things to you. He was in shock. You understand. You have to; it's your job.

His anger was justified. You were partially responsible for him missing his kid's last few moments. The memories kept you up all day.

The girl was barely two. When they came in, she was having an epileptic seizure that wouldn't go away. Upon further investigation, the doctors, with a neuro consult, told her father there was a surgery that could reduce her seizures. He'd heard about it before, but he was skeptical.

Apparently, having had his seizing daughter in his arms, unable to do anything but wait for an ambulance changed his mind.

There was one minor problem, though. Before they could get his daughter prepped for surgery, the hospital needed his insurance documents. She was stable; this wasn't emergency surgery. So the financial aspect was, unfortunately, a priority.

“Her mother's out of town. It's just me. I can't leave her alone,” he'd told you.

“Well, she still needs to be monitored for a while. And I understand you want the surgery immediately,” you'd reasoned with him. “Maybe you can make it home and back quickly, before she wakes up.”

He was hesitant at first, but you were determined. You'd help where you can.

“I'll be with her the whole time. I promise. Our doctors will do the best they can to make sure she's comfortable and safe.”

Safe. What a stupid word to use. She wasn't safe when he came back. She was dead.

She'd had another seizure minutes after he left. The entire medical team tried their best, you know that. You were there, holding her hand through it all. Begging her to stay strong for her dad.

When he came back, he was held back by security as he shouted all kinds of evil truths at you.

“You bitch.”

“You all killed her.”

“I could've been here if it wasn't for you!”

It was all true.

His words have replayed in your mind ever since. So, no, you aren't good. But there's nothing a charge nurse you're sure has been through worse can do about it, so you won't tell her.

“Mhm, I'm fine. Don't worry about me,” you lie, straight to her face.

You have a feeling she doesn't believe you, but she's also smart enough to recognize when someone doesn't want to talk about something. So, she drops it.

“Alright. Be kind to yourself, okay? Take some time off if you need it,” she advises, and you trust her judgement. It isn't like you'll listen to her, though.

“Okay. I'll try.”

Dana walks out of the break room, but not before giving you a long hug. On a good day, you'd be soaring with happiness. Today, it makes you feel just slightly better.

You're mid-sip when your favorite attending walks in. Jack looks shocked to see you. He'd given you the exact same advice Dana just did. You'd obviously not taken it.

He walks towards the counter you're leaning against. You feel like he's about to tell you off. He just stands there for a long moment. Then, he's searching your face for something. A sign of distress, maybe?

He doesn't find whatever it is he's looking for. You smile at how ridiculous this staring habit of his is.

“Are you good?” he parrots Dana.

Your brows crease, “Have you and Nurse Evans been talking about me?”

Jack looks confused.

“I'm fine. I'm great, even. Okay?” you demand.

He nods, but it's very hesitant.

“I have a shrink. I'm seeing her after work. You don't have to worry about me,” you reiterate.

Everything he could say was said yesterday. He reassured you for thirty minutes after, brought you water and food in between patients. There's nothing more he can say right now.

He just grabs one of the coffees you brought, “Thank you.”

His tone's a little too sincere for what this is. You'll take it.

You both exit the break room and part ways to get on with your shifts. His eyes are front and center in your mind the entire time, especially when you need some comfort.

You've been on edge lately. You're flinching at things you aren't supposed to. You close your curtains whenever you're home alone. You just can't shake this feeling that you're being watched.

The 90$-an-hour therapist you visit once a month says it's a symptom of your PTSD. That's of no consequence, because the anxiety feels as real as can be. Your nerves are fried all the time.

You need a break. There's one person in particular you want to spend your time off with. He's been invited to your apartment for dinner tonight. Thankfully, Jack hasn’t embarrassed you by rejecting your invitation.

He's just texted you that he's on his way now. You're in the kitchen with your cooking playlist playing in the background. It's the kind of mellow moment you haven't experienced in weeks. You're bringing the wooden mixing spoon up to your mouth to get a taste, when the moment's rudely interrupted.

Someone's pulling you back, with their arm tightly wrapped around your throat. This isn't psychosis, paranoia, or PTSD. This is real.

You try to hit back with the spoon in your hand, but it quickly clatters to the floor, splattering soup everywhere.

Your next line of defense is clawing your way out. Literally. You scratch and pull away at the stranger's arm. It's minimally effective. You're trying to scream out for help, too. It barely comes out as a squeak.

Your vision's getting blurry, when you feel someone tackle the intruder, bringing them to the floor. You can hear an altercation happening on your floor, right next to where you're coughing up a storm, just trying to catch your breath again.

Someone's landing more than a few punches, in the distance. The sound becomes much less distressing when you realize it's Jack who has the upper hand in this fight. His eyes lack the tenderness they usually have when you’re staring back at them.

“Jack...” you croak out, trying to pull him out of it.

He stops, pulling the guy under him up by the collar. That's when you realize it's the same grieving man who was shouting at you in the middle of the PTMC’s emergency room, less than a week ago.

Jack slams him against your kitchen wall, his arm pinning the man in place by the throat. On the floor, beside you, is a set of pictures. They must've fallen from the man’s pocket mid-brawl. They're all of you. At your therapist's office. At home. At work.

He's been watching you, following you. The realization fills you with dread.

You pull your phone out and dial 911 immediately.

“Are you okay?” Jack asks, his eyes still set on the man in front of him.

“Yes, I'm fine. Be gentle,” you tell him.

He shakes his head subtly. He'd be smiling a little too, if he wasn't so angry at the man in front of him. Of course, you'd want him to be gentle with the man who was about to kill you. You've always seen the best in everyone.

He can’t ever deny you a thing, so he's as gentle as he can be, with how furious he is right now.

“911, what's your emergency?” you hear on the other end.

Jack takes care of it all. Tells the officers what happened, shows them the pictures, escorts them out. All you could manage for now was a few hums in agreement to the questions the officers asked you.

Once they left, Jack came to sit beside you on the couch. Now, he’s been staring at your neck intensely. You can tell he wants to take a look.

“Do you mind?”

“Nope,” you answer, pulling your hair to the side.

His fingers are gentle on your neck, as they graze the bruise forming there.

His voice is tight, like he's still barely containing his anger, “It looks alright. It'll just be slightly bruised.”

You nod, “Thank you. For everything.”

Your hand finds his, interlocking your fingers. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, to place a chaste kiss onto the back of your hand. You grin, and finally look up from the spot on your carpet you’d been staring at.

There's a cut on his cheek, still bleeding. You bring your other hand to rest on his cheek, pressing your mouth to the skin beside the cut.

“Let me take care of that for you,” you offer.

It's almost like he didn't even hear you, though. “You probably shouldn't go to work tomorrow.”

You nod in agreement, “Yeah, probably.

“Can you stay?” you propose, barely louder than a whisper.

You're asking because it'd make you feel safer. He can tell. He agrees, immediately.

You pull your hand away to go grab the first aid kit in your bathroom cabinet. You're also rehearsing how you're going to convince him to sleep in your bed with you, instead of the couch. He ends up being very easy to convince.

[lovemomhatepolice]

i'll make it fit - rafe cameron

navigation taglist requests

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: sexual overtones, established relationship, fingering, teasing, unprotected sex (PROTECTED YOURSELF), this damn tiny polo!!, English is my second language!, NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER!

type: totally smut (this is the first time i've written something like this, which has practically no plot at all, just sex itself. keep my fingers crossed that it didn't turn out badly!!!), small plot but really small

word count: 1,8k

summary: rafe cameron likes things too small for him.

more content: obx masterlist, rafe cameron masterlist

Mornings in Tannyhill were mostly quiet. Since Ward Cameron was dead and his entire family had moved to a house in the Bahamas, it was quiet there. Hearing of Sarah had disappeared - she was probably somewhere with her friends, again putting her life at risk, nothing new. And the only one who lived there was Rafe, who had taken over the company from his father and decided to return to the “old garbage.” Well, and you lived there too, by the side of your beloved. You couldn't have dreamed of a better life.

You were awakened by the bright rays of the sun, which rudely crept through the slightly parted curtains into your shared bedroom. You dragged yourself lightly and glanced at the clock, which was on the bedside table and, as usual, was making that unbearable sound.

After muttered under your breath, you slipped out from under the warm quilt, which, to say the least, wasn't all that necessary - after all, it was summer. But by the fact that you were in just a lace petticoat, it definitely enveloped you with a warmth that was missing.

You didn't know what time it was, but by the fact that Rafe wasn't next to you, you knew it was probably after nine o'clock. You didn't have to look for him for long, because as soon as you stepped out into the hallway from your bedroom, you heard his voice. You looked out the balcony door, which was gently open, and smiled at the sight. Rafe, in a freshly stitched buzzcut, was sitting on the couch talking on the phone. In front of him on the coffee table he had papers spread out and a laptop in which he was busily tapping something. As soon as he noticed you he sent you a slight smile, but he was so engaged in the conversation that he did nothing more. And you couldn't be passive, after all, he was wearing a beautiful blue and damn tight polo that exposed his perfectly shaped biceps. You laughed quietly, seeing him nervously tweak them as they rolled up higher and higher each time, not covering as much of his arm as they should.

Despite his serious tone on the call, his eyes would flicker toward you every few moments, his smile softening just enough to let you know he was glad you were there.

Not one to resist temptation, you decided to have a little fun. You strolled over to him, moving slowly, letting your fingers trail along the back of the couch as you circled around to where he was sitting. Rafe’s eyes darted up, narrowing slightly in a silent warning.

You didn’t make it easy for him. With a mischievous smile, you leaned over and whispered into his ear, "That polo looks a little tight, don’t you think? You might need help taking it off later."

“Uh, yeah… sure,” he said to the person on the other end of the call, clearing his throat as if to regain his composure. “Send it to the office, they'll take care of it,” he muttered, hanging up.

You moved your hands over his shoulders, gently massaging them. Rafe put the phone down on the table, closed the laptop and leaned his head against the back of the couch, looking at you.

“You know what you're doing, huh?” he parroted under his breath.

“Maybe I do,” you whispered, letting your breath tickle his skin. “Just trying to make sure my man relaxes after handling all that business.”

“And what am I supposed to do with you?” he muttered, covering yours with his hands. “Whatever you want,” you muttered, going down with your palms on his chest. “Oh, but this polo is really too small for you.” Rafe laughed under his breath and gracefully helped you past the couch so that you were now standing in front of him, between his legs. You were in just a white lace slip that didn't cover much underneath, so Rafe could immediately see your hardening nipples.

You let out a soft laugh as Rafe’s strong hands gripped your thighs, pulling you effortlessly onto his lap. You straddled him, your knees sinking into the plush cushions of the couch on either side of his hips. The way he looked up at you—like you were the only thing in the world that could hold his attention—sent a warm rush through your veins.

"So needy" He muttered, stroking your hair and putting it behind your ears. “Who would have thought that you would beg for my attentions so much?”

“I'm not begging,” you muttered, swallowing your saliva loudly.

You could have sworn that in that moment Rafe heard your loud heartbeat. And even though you had been together for more than a year, he continued to trigger the same feelings in you. “No?” he asked ironically, his hand touching your pussy, which was covered only by a thong. “I would say something else.”

“Rafe,” you muttered, gently pushing your hips out to meet him as his nimble fingers pressed your clit harder. “So wet,” he mumbled, moving your panties aside and nimbly sliding his ring and middle finger into you.

You brought your face closer to his and grabbed his jaw, bringing your lips together in a sweet kiss. It was still quiet around you, the only things you could hear were the birds and your moans, drowned out by your boyfriend's mouth.

His thumb moved to your clit, the touch was light, teasing, his fingers tracing slow circles that sent tingles up your spine. And his fingers didn't stop moving up and down, each time hitting the exact same spot. Rafe knew what the fuck he was doing, he always knew how to make you in heaven in a moment by his precise movements. He knew your body like no one else, just like you knew his.

“Cum for me, baby,” he said, moving his lips to your naked neck. You felt you were close - Rafe did the same, following the feeling as you pulsed on his fingers. You didn't have to wait long until your body shook with pleasant and familiar reflexes, and you came on his fingers, burying your head in his neck.

Rafe took his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth, sucking on them. Oh this sight and Rafe in his damn tight blue polo, was something too strong for you to go through. You moved against his lap, letting him know that this was not what you wanted. “Still eager, huh?” he laughed throatily, but you didn't have to wait long. Rafe always knew what you needed and you got it right away. "You taste so good, baby"

“Rafe please,” you muttered, clasping your small hand over his large cock, which was getting harder and harder under you. “Anything for you,” he muttered, quickly getting rid of his pants.

Without much warning, he entered you. Slowly at first, because you knew very well that he was big. And even after so many times together, you continued to feel a slight discomfort at first. But Rafe always made it fit. He couldn't resist your tight pussy, which was even screaming for his attention. “Fuck, tight as ever,” he whispered, correcting himself on the couch so that you were more comfortable. “But don't worry, I'll make it fit.”

And as he said, so he did. With agility, he began to move inside you, making both of you nothing but moaning messes.

“Wait, I want,” you said, putting your hand on his chest. On that damn sexy polo. “Oh, a princess wants to take control?” he laughed under his breath, catching you under the thighs, but as if on cue he stopped moving inside you, making you feel again how big he was inside you. You groaned involuntarily, but didn't give in. You moved nimbly on top of him, practically taking him out of your pussy every now and then, and then lowering yourself all the way down again.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rafe groaned, his head falling back against the couch, exposing the strong line of his throat. His eyes were hooded, his lips parted as he watched you, completely entranced by the way you were moving, the way you were making him feel.

You could tell he was trying to hold back, trying to let you set the pace, but the way his fingers flexed against your skin told you just how badly he wanted to take control.

“Not yet, Rafey,” you muttered, moving even closer to him. “You deserve the best. Especially, when you're in that slutty polo"

You increased your pace, but Rafe couldn't stand it anymore either, and came against you, entering your pussy from below. At that moment your bodies were merging at the perfect moments and places, so you were already not far from orgasm. And with that, he captured your lips again, his kiss rougher this time, more urgent. There was no more teasing now-just the raw, unfiltered need that always simmered between you both, threatening to spill over the edges.

“I'm so close,” you whispered into his mouth, clamping your pussy against him every so often. “I know, baby, I can feel it,” he muttered into your mouth, gently biting your lip to reach inside again. "Mmm, so good for me"

Rafe grabbed your buttocks and with even more force began to pound his cock into you. Your tongues fought for dominance, and your hands couldn't find room on his body, clamping down on the collars of his shirt.

"Shit" he murmured into your lips, feeling as his cum shot into your pussy, making quite a mess.

Not much later you too reach climax, clenching around his dick. Exhausted, you leaned on his shoulder kissing his neck. Rafe stroked your back, still calming down after the orgasm that hit you surprisingly hard this time. You felt him smiling over your shoulder, so you shared his happiness, smiling too. You moved your head off his shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes now. He was still inside you, so every movement, made quiet sighs come out of your throats.

“What's so funny?” you asked, stroking his jaw and kissing the corner of his mouth gently.

“Maybe I should wear that tight polo more often, just to find yourself in your tight cunt again?” he laughed lightly, returning your kiss.

“Oh shut up, asshole,” you muttered, lowering yourself on top of him once more until he groaned and settled his head on the back of the couch, pulling you against him.

A/N: I know there's a lot of Rafe or Drew here lately, but I swear, when I see this man, I feel so ungodly that oh jesus, i hope you enjoyed this

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dolly IV

~ part 4 of the Dolly series

pairing: lee know x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, horror/sci-fi

synopsis: the human body is the most fascinating thing and you know all about the intricate anatomy of it. ever so curious you purchase a human-looking doll and your life changes forever.

wc: 7.9k

warnings: death & dead bodies, reader is a mortician, mentions of needles and scalpels, sorry if there are any mistakes

nsfw warnings: multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, blood play, knife play, creampies, spanking, oral (m)

~ divider by @bunnysrph

It's eerily quiet around you but that doesn't bother you. Not tonight, not ever. Sometimes the silence is comforting and helps you concentrate on the intricate work you do.

You've always been fascinated with death, ever since you were a child. You weren't scared of it, you welcomed it with your arms wide open and it was your father who exposed you to it since you were young.

It wasn't really on purpose, but having a funeral home inside your house and a curious child was not a good combination.

Your father was a good and warm man, offering a friendly tap on the shoulder and a few consoling words to grieving family members, the ones who sat in his office discussing details about funerals, their noses runny and eyes red from crying.

Not all of them were like that; some just sat there with a numb look on their face, a kind of silent sorrow etched inside their features while there were those that seemed completely emotionless.

You'd always lean behind the wall and listen to them discuss until your father would notice you and send you back to your room. The only room in the house that looked somewhat... alive.

Your father was pretty fascinated with death and any art that surrounded it, prints of Francisco Goya's black paintings adorned the walls in your house; Saturn Devouring his Son, Witches' Sabbath, Two Old Men, Judith and Holofernes, Two Old Ones Eating Soup, Atropos...

They captivated you in a way you couldn't put into words and sometimes they gave you torturous nightmares, but you weren't scared.

You welcomed the darkness into your heart completely; in fact you thrived off of it.

It was one quiet and calm evening when you tiptoed down to your basement. The moonlight cast a glow through the windows as your shadow passed by the paintings staring at you with their freakish eyes.

The door was ajar and you pushed it, the creaking sound cutting the silence of the dark night as your heart started beating in your ears.

There they were on the table. A person who had succumbed to Death itself.

Silently, you treaded towards the sheet-covered body but before your little hand could reach it, your father grabbed your wrist gently, scaring you out of your wits.

"What are you doing here, y/n? You know you shouldn't be here." he said, taking you away from your curiosities.

"I- I just wanted to see."

"I know, sweetheart but it's not the time yet. One day, hopefully, you will take over this business just like I took over from your grandfather. Now, go back to sleep."

"Okay." you nodded, albeit feeling a bit sullen that you didn't get to see the person under the sheet.

It's been years since that night, and now you were the one who offered consoling words and friendly pats on the shoulders of grieving family members.

Your father had succumbed to his illness, leaving you alone in this world, alone with all the darkness and death. Of course, you missed him dearly but he suffered so much in his last years that you were somewhat thankful to Death for taking him.

Wherever he was, you knew he was at peace and watching over you.

Taking over his business was the natural step for you, death was just a part of life, and preparing someone's loved one for their funeral felt honorable and you viewed the entire process as a kind of art. When you were old enough, your father started teaching you bits and pieces about preparation and the embalming process, and of course it was only natural for you to develop even more interest for it and get the needed education.

You worked as his assistant at first and when he got sick you became the caretaker and the mortician.

Of course, you couldn't be the one to prepare your father for his burial, it was too much as you watched him disappear more and more every day while he was sick and you wanted your last memory of him to be as peaceful as it can be.

It's been a few years since then, and you were now one of the most respected morticians in your small town. You kept to yourself mostly, only having one close friend since you were kids, Emily.

But you weren't lonely, you focused on your work and your hobbies, like reading, painting and writing poetry, all in the company of your fur baby, your cat named Shadow. You had rescued the elegant black cat off the street when she was just a small lost kitty and ever since then you became inseparable.

Though, even you weren't immune to the troubles of dating. Most of your partners were a bit put off by your work, to say the least, especially if they'd come around to your house which you had repainted black, the decoration was halloween all year around coupled with the creepy paintings on your walls and the fact that there are dead bodies in your basement wasn't really an aphrodisiac.

It was frustrating because you wished you could share your life with someone who'd be genuinely into the things that interest you.

That's why when you found yourself mindlessly scrolling through social media, an ad caught your eye.

Sex dolls.

You chuckled to yourself as you got more comfy under your blanket, Shadow cracking one eye open to look at you from where she was curled up.

You clicked on it.

One doll in particular pulled you in.

Minho, the dark dolly.

He was beautiful, his hair black and shaggy, falling over his eyes, his features were sharp and perfect, somewhat feline-like and his lips seemed sweet and plump.

You liked the outfit they chose for him, all black like you dressed 99% of the time completed with a choker around his neck.

He was perfect.

You scrolled around looking at the other dolls, they all seemed intriguing but Minho was the one you wanted the most.

Besides, some of them already sold so you decided not to wait and jumped on it, ordering yourself the dark dolly. And it didn't take long for him to be delivered to your house, in a big black box reminiscent of a casket. Shadow inspected the box immediately, sniffing and rubbing against it, she seemed to approve of it.

You opened it up eagerly, finally taking a look at your beautiful Minho and he was even more perfect in real life than all the pictures they had posted.

There was a letter inside the box and you opened it up.

Hello,

my name is Minho and I am your dark dolly.

I love cats, horror movies, yummy food and staying inside.

Please treat me with kindness, even though I like scary things, I have a soft soul so never forget to pat my head.

Hope you'll love me as much as I love you.

"I'm glad you love cats, otherwise I'd have to send you back." you joked, as Shadow put her paws on the box, sniffing around before meowing at you.

"You approve, I suppose?" you asked and your cat meowed once again so you were satisfied.

"I guess you do." you ripped off the rest of the bubble wrap, scaring your cat with your movements as she scurried away to her place on the sofa.

Your doll was dressed in a black button up shirt that was almost see-through, coupled with black leather pants and some fine shoes. He looked so alive, it would've been eerie if you weren't already used to looking at people lying down lifelessly before you.

You noticed a little note sticking out of his pocket so you pulled it out and opened it.

My kitten!

I got ready for our rendezvous.

I hope you like the outfit I chose and I hope you'll enjoy our first night together.

"Kitten, huh? Interesting." you smirked as you grabbed the manual, ready to read it from top to bottom but your curiosity got the better of you so you reached your hand to touch Minho.

"Oh." that definitely felt like human skin.

Something was wrong here and you felt it from the moment you laid eyes on his still body. But of course, you weren't afraid, in fact you were determined to find out the truth.

You read the entire manual carefully, going over it a few times, specifically the part where it said the doll can bruise.

How can the doll bruise if there's no blood inside its body?

"Hm." you threw the manual aside and finally lifted the doll out of its little casket, setting it down on the couch in the sitting position.

It took some time to adjust him but Shadow came to sniff Minho and rub against him, seemingly she liked him very much and you trusted your cat's intuition.

"Give me a moment." you said to the doll before running to get some stuff you needed from the basement.

"I'm sorry for this." you grimaced as you sat down next to Minho.

Just a little prick on the skin is what you needed so you grabbed his hand and brought it closer to you as you held the little needle in your other hand. Quickly, you pricked him and waited for a moment.

Nothing was happening so you sighed putting the needle on a tray you brought. You were just about to get up when you noticed it; a tiny droplet of blood oozing out of your doll's finger. With a gasp you stared at the red liquid.

Your mind was reeling and before you could stop yourself, you brought his finger to your lips, licking at the droplet, the metallic taste of blood was unmistakable. Your doll had real blood inside its body. Something about that frightened you, but that fear ignited a flame within you and you wrapped your lips around his finger, lightly sucking on it, the blood coming out slowly as you lapped at it.

"Oh. Looks like I'm not the only one enjoying this." Minho's eyes were shining and his pants were filling up, the button almost popping off.

He was big and usually you weren't this impatient but it's been some time. Your hand explored his muscular thigh, running up to cup his erection and you swore you could feel him twitch in your hand.

You scooted closer to him, hand tangling in his hair and it was surprisingly soft and it smelled of shampoo like he had just washed it. You leaned in to take a whiff before pressing kisses there all the way down to his cheeks. His soft skin under your lips felt heavenly and you were already getting addicted to him.

You pressed your lips into his softly, then pressed them again a bit harder as your hands roamed on his chest. He was muscle everywhere and you were fluttering on the inside, your arousal increasing the more you touched him.

A loud pop scared you as you jolted looking down to find the source. A small laugh escaped your lips when you realized that the button on his pants had actually popped off.

"Fine, you're eager." you chuckled, sliding his pants down, your eyes on his prominent bulge instantly. Your nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his broad shoulders and strong biceps that were visible in the tanktop he wore.

"Wait. I should undress too." you said and Shadow perked up from her spot before standing up and rushing out of the living room like she had understood what was about to happen.

You took your robe off, letting it fall on the floor, you were left only in the silky black nightgown so slowly you slid that off too, the material pooling around your feet.

Minho seemed to have some kind of reaction, at least his neck flushed a little and you were wondering how it does that. How is any of this real?

That didn't matter after you stripped him completely, your eyes admiring the work of art before you. Hands touching and lips exploring, you didn't care about how freaky all this was.

Somewhere along the way you lost your panties, so you straddled Minho's lap, your hands grabbing his face. He was absolutely stunning and your pussy clenched at the look in his eyes. It seemed like there was a fire inside them, a passion burning wild.

Your hand wrapped around his cock, big and heavy in your hand, making you whimper at the thought of it being inside you. You ran the throbbing tip against your wet folds before slowly sinking down on him.

The stretch was delicious as you took him in, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for support, your hands splayed on his muscular back. When you adjusted, you slowly started to move up and down on his length, the squelching sounds filling up the room as you dripped on him.

It seemed as if Minho was looking at you and you sped up, bouncing on him faster, your moans getting louder as you neared your high.

Your nails dug into his flesh as you exploded around him, your hand running down to cup his ass which made him cum too, the warm liquid filling you up and making your eyes roll back.

"Wow." you gasped. Only when you lifted up and circled the couch, you saw that his back had angry red scratch marks.

"Shit, I'm sorry." you leaned over to look at Minho's face.

He seemed to be smirking just a tiny bit?

"I hope it doesn't hurt." you said, not forgetting to pat and caress your dolly's head. You pressed a few small kisses on his cheek before leaving to get cleaned up.

When you came back, Minho was waiting for you in the same position so you cleaned him too and put some of his clothes back on, the pants definitely needed some mending.

"A sex doll?" Emily looked at you in disbelief, holding Shadow in her arms like a baby, moving the cat left and right.

"Yes, isn't he beautiful?" you smirked, patting Minho's head as he sat in your kitchen, company to you and your friend.

"I mean, he is. It's just a little creepy." she said and you gave her a pointed look which made her laugh. "But I shouldn't be surprised when it comes to you. He really looks human though." Emily added, coming closer to the doll as Shadow jumped out of her arms.

"Here's the thing. I pricked his finger the other day and he bled." you told her, adjusting on your chair as you picked up your cup of tea.

"He what? Now, that's creepy. Are you sure it was blood? Maybe it's some kind of trick?"

"Nope, it was definitely blood." you shook your head.

"Hm. Can you like open him up?" Emily asked, making you chuckle.

"Do you know how much I paid for him? I'm not about to cut him up, besides the manual said not to mutilate the doll."

"And why is that? Because they don't want you to know the doll's secrets? Just think about it." Emily shrugged. "Anyways, I have to go. Call me if you find anything out." she added, wiggling her brows.

You took a look at Minho, it hasn't even been a week since he was in your house, but he blended in perfectly with the rest of the decor, even when he was more than that. Shadow seemed to love him, always rubbing against his legs and sleeping on his lap. Animals had a sixth sense when it came to things like this so you trusted that you weren't in any danger. Still, you were so curious.

-

Come evening, you were in a mood.

There was music blasting from your speakers, the lights were all out except the dimmed moody ones and a few candles here and there. The tv was on too, a silent horror film playing on it. Outside, it was raining hard, almost drowning out any other sounds as big droplets kept hitting your window.

Shadow was tucked away in her room and you were wearing lingerie.

Minho was sat on your couch, you turned him to look directly at you as you downed a glass of wine before you started swinging your hips seductively.

The music took you over and you danced, forgetting about everything around you, including your companion Minho whose eyes were following every single movement, unbeknown to you.

"Oh!" you spun a little too fast, colliding with the side of the sofa and chuckling to yourself.

Your eyes fell to Minho, then the coffee table where you had left some cake and knife to cut it with. You bit on your lip as you made your way towards him slowly.

You picked up the knife, twirling the handle once, twice as you smirked at the dolly.

"Are you scared, doll?" you leaned towards him, your tits almost falling out of your skimpy bra as you pointed the knife at Minho.

He didn't seem to react at all.

"No? How about now?" you asked, leaning the knife on his cheek gently. "Or now?" you added, sliding it down his chest and abdomen slowly all the way towards the bulge that appeared in his boxers.

"Enjoying this? I'm glad." you smirked, putting the knife aside for a moment to unhook your bra and slide down your panties.

You undressed Minho too, spreading his legs a little and adjusting him before you turned your back to him.

"Like what you see?" you ran your hands up your hips to your waist as you looked back at him.

The reflection of the candlelight burned in his eyes as you slowly sat in his lap, his length filling your pussy up perfectly, your feet planted on the floor. A moan escaped your lips when you found purchase on his thighs, bracing yourself as you started to bounce on him. The sound of your ass slapping against his abdomen filled up the room and you threw your head back, enjoying the feeling of his tip brushing against your sweet spot.

"Ah! Fuck, Minho!" you moaned his name, feeling him twitch inside you instantly and you gasped as you came, lifting off of him and squirting all over his thighs. What a sweet mess.

"Oh." you moaned, taking him in once again as you sat down and started moving up and down, your thighs burning from exertion. You reached back to grab a handful of his ass, making the doll fill you up.

You leaned on him, your back flush against his chest as you grabbed his arms and wrapped them around you.

"I kinda wish you would come to life but at the same time I don't know if you'd like me. Right now, you have no choice. Isn't that kinda fucked up?" you looked up at Minho but there was no sign of reaction or movement. "Well, don't move. I'll be right back." you joked as you stood up.

You prepared a bath for the both of you, struggling a little to get him in but as soon as you did, you sat between his legs and relaxed in the warm water.

Shadow appeared in your bathroom, meowing at you.

"What is it?" you chuckled, leaning a little to the side to look at her.

Your cat's tail twitched a few times as she stared at Minho, releasing a few more meows before sitting down and continuing to stare at him. You looked back at your doll but he was chilling, looking straight ahead like he always does.

Eventually, Shadow gave up the staring and left the bathroom. Huh, that was weird, you thought but brushed it off as cat behavior.

After drying yourself and the dolly, you got dressed and tucked him in your bed. After years of sharing your bed only with your cat, it was nice to also have someone fill up the empty side of it. And Minho was warm and soft in a way, you had no idea how they made him like that but in the tired and lonely moments, you didn't care.

It's been almost a month since Minho entered your life and you shared almost every moment with him. He had watched you cook and clean, do your hobbies, play with your cat. But, you had yet to take him downstairs.

You weren't even sure if you wanted to. But you were dragging him around the house all the time like a kid drags their favorite teddy bear so you didn't see the harm in it.

Whenever a grieving family came to talk to you, Minho was tucked away in the safety of your room. Today, a particularly loud widow came in to cry to you about her husband who was now in your basement, waiting to be prepared for his funeral.

You reassured her he was in best hands and that you'll make him look as wonderful as you can, since the accident he passed away in had ruined his face.

You just needed to get some things from a few shops before starting, and as soon as the widow left you went to your room to see Minho.

"I'm going to town. I'll be back soon, honey." you chuckled, giving him a peck and a few pats on his soft hair.

You were done with shopping quickly and as the sun was setting you decided to walk across the main square and have a short stroll since you weren't carrying many things.

You saw a little crowd gathered there around someone so naturally curious, you made your way towards it.

An artist was sitting on a little stool, painting a portrait of one of the onlookers. You peered down to look at the canvas, hypnotized by the brush strokes and the movement of this person's hand.

Your eyes followed his arm to his face and your brows furrowed. He looked somewhat familiar. You were trying to think where you had seen him before but kept coming up blank.

"Do you want a portrait?" his voice broke you out of your thoughts.

"Ah, yes sure." you nodded and he started working on it immediately.

He was talented and quick and you kept observing him as he worked, still trying to think where he was familiar from.

"Here. Done." he smiled proudly and you chuckled.

"Thank you, it's really good." you took out your wallet. "Here." you gave him a 100, and his eyes widened slightly.

"Oh, thank you! T-this is a lot! Thank you so much!" he bowed a little as he took the bill from you.

"What's your name?" you asked.

"H-Hyunjin, miss." he looked a little panicked and you gave him a reassuring smile.

"Have I seen you somewhere?" you asked and he chuckled nervously, and you noticed a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Maybe you've seen me paint here." he said but you still weren't convinced.

"Maybe. You come here often?"

"I'm trying to make some money to buy a gift for my lover." Hyunjin smiled fondly and you smiled back.

"That's sweet."

"Thank you. Your portrait." he said as you stood up.

"Oh, thanks for that again. Bye, Hyunjin." you said as you grabbed it.

"Bye, miss." he yelled behind you as you walked away.

-

Finally, you took Minho down to your basement. You put him in safe distance from all the chemicals as you got ready to begin your work.

Minho sat in the corner, his eyes twitching a few times as he stared at your skilful hands. You worked almost on autopilot as you have done this a hundred times, rinse and repeat.

It took a few hours but the man finally looked at peace, you had reconstructed his face as much as you could for an open casket, the embalming process taking up most of the time after that.

After putting the body away and cleaning everything up, your eyes fell to Minho and you friend's words rang inside your mind.

Maybe you could take a little peak inside him? You stood there contemplating, remembering that he did in fact bleed when you pricked him, so if you cut him it might be even messier. You didn't want to hurt him but as always, you were too curious for your own good.

Minutes later, your dolly was shirtless on your table, a scalpel in your hand. Never has your hand trembled but as you brought the blade closer to his skin, your fingers twitched ever so slightly. Your heart sped up as you took a deep breath, pressing the scalpel softly against the doll's skin.

Suddenly, he lifted his hand and grabbed your wrist, his eyes moving to look at you as you screamed, trying to step back but he held on tightly, taking a deep breath that sounded somewhat painful.

"Don't hurt me." he pleaded, his voice raspy as he took in shallow breaths.

You snatched your hand away, the scalpel clattering on the floor as your wide eyes took in the sight before you. Your dolly was alive.

"I always had this irrational fear that some day one of the dead bodies I was working on would wake up." you chuckled.

"I wasn't dead." he sat up slowly and you rushed to him, seeing he was dizzy.

"I know. You bled when I pricked your finger."

"By the way, that hurt." he gave you a look and you shrugged with a smirk.

"What about the part that came after it?" you asked breathlessly as Minho's eyes softened.

"That was more fun." he smirked, making you chuckle. "Can we go upstairs? The fumes are making me nauseous."

You helped Minho up, taking him to the kitchen where he drank four glasses of water quickly while you heated up dinner.

"So, you were aware of everything the entire time?" you asked and he nodded, his cheeks becoming rosy. "I figured as much. Something was fishy ever since you came here. I knew you were alive."

Shadow appeared in the kitchen, jumping up on Minho's lap immediately and he wrapped his arms around the cat, caressing her. She meowed and started purring as she pushed her head into his hand.

"She approved of you from day one."

"I'm glad she did."

"Here, eat and then we can talk." you said, as if this was the most normal thing ever.

-

"It's so nice to be able to move and be outside in the fresh air." Minho noted as the two of you decided to take a walk in the woods behind your house.

The woods were comforting always and even more beautiful now with all the autumn colors painting the leaves. It was a bit chilly but you dressed well, the fresh air was helping you clear your mind.

"I bet it is. So, what do you remember before being here with me?"

"I remember a lab. Tables like the ones in your basement, I remember I didn't look like this from the beginning. I also remember I could walk and move and talk before they put something inside us. We were plugged to something and suspended in water tanks. There was eight of us."

"Oh, I saw the others on the site! Do you remember them?"

"Yes, I do. We all had our cells before they put us in the tanks. Chan was made first. Then there was me, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and lastly Jeongin." Minho explained.

"Wait, Hyunjin?" you suddenly remembered the artist you ran into.

"Yes, he liked to paint."

"I saw him today!"

"You saw Hyunjin?" Minho's eyes widened. "Like this? Alive?"

"Yeah. Do you think the others are somewhere around here too?"

"Could be. I really miss them. We tried, y/n. We tried to fight the company but there were too many of them and we were kept in such a controlled enviroment. They kept injecting something with these big needles, it would make us sleepy."

"Do you remember anything before the lab?"

"As much as I dig around my mind, I only remember the lab."

"What do you mean, you didn't look like this the in the beginning?" you asked after a quiet moment of taking in everything Minho had told you.

"Well, I don't wanna gross you out with gory details." he said and you laughed.

"Honey, I'm a mortician."

"Right, you poke around dead people." he smiled teasingly.

"What a way to put it." you chuckled.

"Well. If you must know, they added skin later."

"Oh... Oh. So, I'm guessing maybe you're not human? Or at least, not entirely?" you said.

"I have no idea." Minho shrugged with a sigh.

Your hand brushed his as the leaves crunched under your feet.

You took hold of his hand, noticing his shy smile and rosy cheeks as your fingers entwined.

"We'll figure it out."

It's been about two weeks since Minho woke up and you had no idea your dolly would be so shy.

He avoided talking about what he was actually made for and never mentioned you using him for your pleasure multiple times. Minho enjoyed cooking for you and playing with your cat as much as he enjoyed watching you work and being the one to hold you during cold nights.

It was safe. It was comforting. You had found someone who was genuinely interested in what you do. Even when he was a little annoying, asking question after question like a curious child, his shiny eyes staring at you closely as he breathed in your personal space and kept asking stuff like 'What are you doing now?', 'What is that?', 'Why are you putting it there?'.

It was adorable as much as it was irritating, and you loved it.

Outside, it rained hard as you sat on your window bench, reading quietly while Minho sat on the sofa, cuddling with Shadow.

You gave him time to get used to everything, but you were feeling kind of impatient at the same time. Minho was observant, he learned all your little movements, the tone of your voice, what your sighs meant. He loved all the little details that made you you.

So, he stood up and made his way to you which got your attention, and you looked up from your book just in time as he stood in front of you.

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?" he asked and your eyes widened.

"Of course." you smiled then, your face heating up.

Minho sat down close to you, gently grabbing your book from your hands and putting it aside before he touched your face softly. He leaned in and you waited with bathed breath for his lips to collide with yours.

It wasn't what you expected, fireworks and passion, it was more gentle, more profound. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered in this world.

"I'm sorry I made you wait. It's just, I'm scared that somehow I will go back to how I was before. And I don't want that to be in that... prison anymore. Being able to see and hear it all but being unable to react, it was terrifying and I still have nightmares about it." Minho confessed as you ran your hands through his soft hair.

"That's not gonna happen, okay?"

"How are you so sure that it won't?" Minho asked.

"Because... I love you and I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." you said, Minho's lips trembled as he searched your eyes before a sweet smile spread on his lips.

"I love you too, my kitten." he smirked before leaning in, this time giving you a more passionate kiss.

It didn't take long for the kiss to escalate as Minho pushed his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. Your hands tangled in his hair as his roamed your body, exploring your curves and dips like he had always wanted to.

He kneeled between your legs, his knee pressed against your core and you whimpered into his mouth as he smirked against yours.

"My sweet kitten, I've always wanted to take care of you." he looked at you, eyes darkened with lust as you gripped onto his strong arms, your hips moving on their own as you rubbed your clothed pussy against his knee.

"M-Minho." you whined, throwing your head back and his lips attached to your neck and collarbone, traveling down between your breasts as he left hungry kisses everywhere. His hands gripped your waist before sliding down to grab your ass and lift you up.

You squealed as he turned your body towards the window; the view outside was breathtaking, all the leaves twirling in the wind, the rain dragging them down and washing them away just as the sky darkened.

"Here?" you gasped and he chuckled.

"Everywhere." he whispered in your ear before lifting your little nightgown and revealing your lacy panties.

"Very sweet." Minho grabbed handfuls of your ass and you moaned, nails scratching at the bench you were just sitting on. His fingers slid on your folds, your arousal soaking through the lace as he kept touching you, giving you a few spanks with his other hand.

You moaned his name, pushing back into him, your body craving for more; you were so touch starved that you lost your mind immediately, melting into Minho and giving him total control over you.

He wanted you as much as you wanted him so he slid your panties down just enough to have access to your wet pussy as he slid his pants and boxers down at the same time.

"I promise I'll take it slow later. I just need to have you right now." he breathed out as you felt the tip of his hard cock press and slide against your folds.

"Take me, Minho, please!" you pushed back again and he spanked you quickly, making you whimper.

"Stay still, kitten." he purred as he slowly pushed in and the stretch was perfect, your pussy taking him in easily until he filled you up completely.

"You feel perfect around me." he groaned as he started moving slowly, his hands splayed on your ass as you pressed your forehead into one of the decorative pillows on your window, little gasps and moans escaping your lips.

"Ah!" you moaned loudly when he hit your spot, biting down on the pillow as Minho's hand tangled in your hair, lifting your head up slowly.

"Let me hear you, kitten." he said, fucking into you harder, the sounds of skin slapping skin making your ears warm up in embarrassment. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the window, seeing the expression on Minho's face sent shivers down your spine, your pussy clenching around his cock.

You let go and started moaning loudly, and the louder you got the faster he fucked into you.

"Just like that." he whined and you gasped, cumming around his length, making him more slippery and wet as he held onto you.

It only took a few more erratic thrusts before Minho exploded inside you, his warm cum filling you up deliciously and making you cum once more at the feeling of it.

"Oh." he gasped as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly for a few moments. You finally turned around, grabbing his face and giving him a sloppy wet kiss.

"I love you." you smiled as he pulled you into a hug.

"I love you. I'm glad I came to you." he whispered.

"Me too."

The two of you were cuddled up with Shadow under a blanket, watching a horror movie per Minho's request when your doorbell rang.

"That must be Emily." you stood up quickly and Minho looked at you with a panicked look in his eyes.

"You sure she won't freak out?" he asked and you shook your head.

"No, she's literally seen everything with me." you chuckled as you went to open the door. Minho sat still on the couch, cuddling Shadow to calm his fast beating heart.

"Emily, I'd like you to meet someone." you pulled your best friend into the living room and she looked at Minho confusedly for a moment.

"Didn't we meet already?" she chuckled and Minho's lips fell open.

"She's not gonna faint is she?" he asked, making the both of you laugh.

"Not that I know of." Emily said with a shrug. "Look Minho, when you're friends with y/n for years, nothing really surprises you anymore. Plus, she told me in advance. Everything that happened and what you remember." she added as you served some tea for her.

"Minho sometimes has nightmares about the company." you added.

"Did you remember any more details?" Emily asked after taking a sip of tea.

"Not really. Just bits and pieces, it's more like feelings. Fear, dread, isolation. I especially hated when they experimented on us, the tables. I don't know what they did to us cause I couldn't move and look down but it hurt. The water tanks seemed to alleviate the pain though." Minho explained.

"Okay, now that is creepy." Emily said and you nodded.

"Did you manage to find anything on the site?" you asked her and she shook her head.

"I tried hacking it. It has top security on it, it's out of my skill range." Emily sighed. "I wish I could be of more help."

"Hey, you being here is enough for me." you grabbed her hand as she smiled.

"Oh, do you maybe know where the company is?" Emily suddenly remembered and Minho shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to think of the location.

"Ugh. I can't remember no matter how much I try. I don't remember traveling from there to your house." he looked at you.

"It's okay. We can try again another day." you said, caressing his back to calm him down.

It was all so suspicious and you were too interested in finding out more about where you dear dolly came from.

You were enjoying an afternoon nap when a loud clatter jolted you out of your dreams.

"What are you doing, Min?" you rubbed your eyes as you walked into the kitchen.

"Oh. I'm making dinner for us. It's been exactly five months since I came here so I wanted to do something special." he said, his cheeks rosy.

"Aw, you are so sweet." you melted instantly, making him chuckle shyly.

When you sat down to eat the delicious meal he prepared, you got to thinking.

You've never been so happy or felt so seen. Living with Minho, sharing the day and night with him came easy to you. Everything seemed more lively since he came into your life, even death became an afterthought when you spent time with Minho.

"Thank you for the wonderful dinner." you smiled.

"Of course." he stood up and you followed quickly, almost knocking your chair down.

"Wait here a sec." you told him before running off to your room. If he had made an effort with the main course, you were going to make effort with the dessert.

Minho decided to tidy up as he waited for you, his heart beating hard in anticipation. While you were sleeping, he saw the lacy set you had put out in your closet earlier and he was so excited to see you in it... or take it off of you.

"Min, come here!" you yelled from the room once you were ready and Minho all but tripped over his feet, the carpet and Shadow who was lounging in her spot before he came to you, looking as cool as a cucumber. He leaned on the wall and smirked at you.

"What do you think?" you asked, giving him a little twirl. The lingerie you wore left nothing to imagination.

"I think you look stunning." he said, somewhat breathlessly as his face heated up.

"You gonna do something about it?" you taunted and he made his way to you, his eyes filling up with lust.

His hands landed on your waist as he pulled you in, his lips pressing against yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as you pressed your body as close as you could to his and his hands slid down to grab your ass.

You moaned into his mouth as he started massaging it, then giving it a few loving spanks.

"Fuck, let me take care of you, my love." you pushed him towards the night stand and Minho's eyes widened as you got down on your knees.

"Oh." he let out a quiet sound as you slid his pants and boxers down, not wanting to waste any more time. His cock was already hard and ready for you to play with and you were just too eager.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his length as you leaned in closer, giving a few kitten licks to his tip, collecting the drops of pre cum on your tongue.

Minho breathed in sharply, his hands grabbing at the night stand behind him. You smirked, swirling your tongue around the tip, occasionally dipping it into his slit and trying to tease him as much as you could.

"Kitten." Minho moaned quietly, his hand tangling in your hair as you started sucking on the tip gently.

You were sure you couldn't take all of him but you were even more sure you were going to try anyways, so you slid down, taking more of his length in and trying to get used to it.

"You look so beautiful right now." Minho smirked, gripping your hair and holding you against him tightly. You moaned around him, sending vibrations through his body as you slid down more.

You bobbed your head up and down, wetting his cock with your spit and gagging around him multiple times and Minho couldn't help his desire as he slowly started to fuck into your warm mouth.

"Ah, y/n!" he groaned, accidentally pushing harder and making you gag. You slid off of him and he looked at you with panic in his eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, his palm gentle against your cheek.

"No, I'm fine." you said, biting on your lip. "Just very needy right now."

"For what?" he smirked and you whined.

"You."

"Get on the bed, kitten." he said and you stood up immediately, lying down on the bed.

Minho climbed in after you, kneeling between your legs as he pushed your panties aside.

"This what you need?" he smirked, sliding the tip of his cock against your wet folds.

"Mm, yes." you moaned, already arching your back at the slightest touch.

"Hmm, I'm not convinced." he smirked.

"Please!" you whined desperately, making Minho chuckle.

"Okay." he said but you saw the mischievous glint in his eyes and you knew he was going to tease you some more.

He pushed in just the tip, fucking you slowly with it.

"Ah, Min!" you whined as he kept smirking, giving you a minimal amount of stimulation.

Your eyes teared up in frustration as Minho kept fucking you only with the tip, your pussy clenching and begging for more.

"Please, please!" you cried.

"More?" he teased, pushing a bit more in and staying still.

"All of it."

"As you wish darling." he said before pushing all of his length in and fucking you slowly.

You moaned as you wrapped your arms and legs around him and Minho held you close as he kept rocking his hips into you.

You reached bliss together, wrapped up in each other, completely content.

"Wait." you giggled as Minho started getting up so he can get a cloth to clean you up.

"What?" he asked and you pulled him closer, patting his head gently.

"Oh." he giggled cutely before standing up and almost running off to the bathroom.

While you laid there waiting for him, your phone started ringing.

"Ugh." you groaned and rolled over to grab it.

"Hello?"

"Miss l/n?"

"Yes, this is she." you sat up, thinking it was someone calling for your funeral services.

"We are calling regarding our dolly collection. We understand you have purchased our dark doll, Minho." the cold voice on the other end said.

"Yes, I have."

"We regret to inform you that the collection will be pulled back from the public and we will be taking all the dolls back to our company due to a malfunction. You will get your refund of course. We will come pick the doll up tomorrow morning." they said right as Minho came in.

"Okay, thank you for calling." you said politely before finishing the call.

"Who was that?" Minho asked.

"It was your company, apparently they are taking all the dolls back to the lab due to a malfunction."

"What? Please, don't let them take me! I can't go back there!" Minho looked angry and scared instantly.

"Oh they can come here. But they won't find anything. I have a plan, my love." you smirked.

You were not about to let anyone take away your happiness.

The doorbell rang at 9am sharp and you took a deep breath before opening the door.

There were six men in black suits and emotionless faces standing there and looking at you.

"We've come to pick the doll up."

Suddenly, you hiccuped and started crying.

"He is gone! My dolly is gone! I woke up this morning and looked for him everywhere. But there is no trace of him. I-I put him in my bed like always but he disappeared!" you cried and the men exchanged a look.

"Mind if we take a look around?" one of them asked.

"Please, go ahead." you let them in and they started snooping around immediately. Shadow hissed at them, running away as soon as one of the men came anywhere near her.

They were definitely dangerous.

"W-what kind of malfunction happened to the dolls?" you asked, blowing your nose in a napkin.

"We aren't allowed to discuss that." they answered.

"What's downstairs?" one of them asked.

"My preparation room. This is a funeral home." you said and they gave you suspicious looks.

"Can we take a look there?"

"Of course." you nodded and opened the door.

Then men looked around as you followed them, still crying silently and hiccuping a few more times.

"Well, he is not here. Don't worry about it, miss. You will still get your refund and the doll will be found." they finally gave up after checking every nook and cranny, or so they thought.

"Okay, thank you for coming." you said as they left.

You waited for them to get into their van and drive away before you ran back downstairs.

"They left!" you quickly opened one of the caskets and Minho sat up, taking a deep breath in.

"Gosh, I almost suffocated. I could hear them walking around here, it was so scary." he said as you grabbed his face gently.

"But they didn't find you." you smiled.

"No, thanks to my genius lover." he smiled back at you as you leaned in to kiss him.

"What do we do now?" he asked when you parted.

"We wait to get the refund. And then we'll see what our next step will be."

"Are you sure they won't come looking for me here again?" Minho sighed.

"They can try. But I won't let them take you away from me. I promise."

Minho wrapped his arms around you tightly, putting all his trust into your hands.

You knew you were running a risk as long as you stayed here, but there were preparations needed to be done before you could get away.

And you wanted to make sure there was no trace left for the wrong people to find you.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

SOMEONE TO STAY

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: when rafe’s girlfriend doesn’t show up to his safe house during a hurricane he fears the worst, and wonders if he’ll get to tell her that he loves her.

based on this ask !! i hope this is what you wanted anon :) i wasn’t sure if you meant pogue!reader or actually meant pogue!rafe so i kept this open as to not interpret it incorrectly !!

A/N: my drew starkey & characters masterlist is here !!

WARNINGS: cursing, hurricane, fear of loved ones dying, crying, panic attack, arguments, angsty love confession, angst to fluff !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SECOND PERSON +

The storm came fast and without mercy. What had started as a mild tropical storm rapidly intensified into a Category 4 hurricane barrelling toward the Outer Banks. Mandatory evacuation orders were issued for the Pogues and parts of the Cut, but for the Kooks in Figure Eight, the luxury of reinforced homes and private shelters meant hunkering down. The air felt thick with panic and pressure as everyone prepared for the worst.

Rafe had been at his father's old office on the more secure side of the island, trying to sort out some financial mess left behind by Ward, when the weather reports turned grim. His phone buzzed incessantly with texts and calls from people checking in or offering refuge. But Rafe didn't care about any of them.

He cared about one person.

"Y/N, just listen to me for once!" Rafe snapped, pacing the office as the storm began to howl outside. His voice was sharp, desperate even, as he tried to reason with his girlfriend. "Don't try to be a hero. Don't stop for anything. Just get in your car and come straight to the safe house. I'll meet you there."

"Rafe, I'll be fine," you said over the phone, your voice calm but firm. "I'm already on my way."

"You're sure? I can come get you. I should come get you," he pressed, running a hand through his hair. "This storm's getting worse by the second. I don't want you driving in this."

"I've got it under control," you reassured him, a smile in your tone even though he couldn't see it. "I'll see you soon."

But the second the line went dead, unease settled deep in Rafe's chest. He tried to tell himself you were capable, smart, and resourceful—qualities he loved about you. Still, that didn't stop the gnawing anxiety that clawed at him as he headed toward the safe house.

—

The drive was hellish. Rain lashed against your windshield, the wipers barely able to keep up. Floodwaters licked at the sides of the road as you maneuvered carefully toward Figure Eight. It wasn't long before you lost signal entirely, your phone cutting off mid-text to Rafe. You cursed under your breath but pressed on.

You'd been almost to the safe house when a thought struck you like lightning. Earlier that week, Rafe had been pouring over some old financial records and papers that he needed for his next move with the family business. He'd spent hours meticulously going through them, and you knew they were stored in his father's house.

Your chest tightened. If the storm destroyed everything, Rafe would lose all that work. Against better judgment, you turned onto the road leading to Tannyhill. You told yourself it wouldn't take long—just in and out.

By the time you made it to the safe house, it was well past dark, and the storm had intensified. The wind howled like a living thing, rattling the reinforced windows and slamming against the door as you stumbled in, soaked to the bone.

"Rafe?" you called, setting the plastic bag containing the saved papers down on a table. "I'm here."

It took less than ten seconds for him to appear. His hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled from hours of pacing. The moment his eyes landed on you, relief flickered across his face—but it was quickly replaced by something far darker.

"Where the hell have you been?" he shouted, storming toward you. His voice was a mix of anger and panic, his chest heaving as he stopped in front of you. "I've been calling you for hours! Do you have any idea—" His voice broke, and he ran a hand down his face. "I thought something happened to you."

"Rafe, I'm fine," you said, trying to placate him. "I—"

"You're not fine!" he snapped, his voice rising again. "You think this is fine? Driving through a hurricane, ignoring my calls—what were you even doing?" His eyes darted to the bag on the table, and something clicked. "You stopped for papers?"

"Rafe, I know how important they are to you—"

"Papers?" he interrupted, his voice incredulous. "You risked your life for some stupid papers?"

"They're not stupid!" you fired back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "You've been working so hard on this, and I didn't want you to lose it all."

"I don't care about the damn papers!" he yelled, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "Don't you get it? I don't care about any of that fucking shit if it means losing you!"

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off, his breathing growing erratic. His hands trembled as he backed away, pressing his palms to his temples. "I can't—God, I can't do this," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you were dead, Y/N. I thought I lost you out there.”

"Rafe—"

"You're all I have," he said, his voice breaking completely as tears streamed down his face. "You're all I have, and I can't lose you. I won't survive it."

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the raw vulnerability in his voice leaving you momentarily stunned. You stepped toward him cautiously, reaching out to touch his arm. "Rafe, I'm here. I'm okay," you said softly. "I'm right here."

But he didn't seem to hear you, his breathing growing more rapid as he sank onto the couch. His chest heaved, and his hands gripped the edge of the cushion like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You knelt in front of him, your heart aching at the sight of him falling apart. "Rafe, look at me," you said firmly, taking his hands in yours. They were cold and clammy, shaking like leaves in the storm outside. "Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe."

He tried to match your breaths, but his body refused to cooperate. Desperation clawed at him, his gaze wild and unfocused. "I can't—I can't—"

"Yes, you can," you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. You guided one of his hands to your chest, pressing his palm flat against your heartbeat. "Feel that? I'm still breathing. I'm still alive. I'm here, Rafe."

Something shifted in his eyes as he focused on the steady rhythm beneath his hand. He gripped your shirt like a lifeline, his breathing slowly evening out. "You're here," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "You're here."

"That's right," you said, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The storm raged on outside, but inside, the only sound was the quiet rise and fall of your breaths. Finally, Rafe pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it almost hurt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into your hair. "I'm sorry for yelling. I was just so scared."

"I know," you said, your voice muffled against his chest. "I'm sorry, too. I should've just come straight here."

He pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his blue eyes searching yours. "I don't say this enough—or at all—but you mean everything to me, Y/N. I don't know what I'd do without you. You’re my whole world. Not work, not money, not anything; you. I love you, so fucking much.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they were from something far warmer than fear. "I love you, too," you said, leaning into his touch.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms as the storm began to lose its fury. Whatever chaos the hurricane had brought, it couldn't touch the calm you found in each other.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i hope this is what you wanted anon !! this was such a cute one to write and i love me some angst to fluff😫

pls request some more angst guys !! i absolutely LOVE writing it :) and as always, likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[acid-ixx]

Lmao a&a reader sticking pics of all her milestones and events her family missed and unreplied texts all over the house (a father daughter day at school pic sticked twice on Bruce's door) out of anger and pettiness (srry abt the bad English I just had this idea suddenly)

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

oh my god anon, you are so brilliant because this will happen eventually. like as much as i want a hurt, constantly aching pain to happen to the reader, i also portrayed them to be still bitterly petty towards their family. that translates to shoving it in all their faces about just how much they - specifically bruce - lost so much years of bonding with them just because they chose to be ignorant enough.

just picture this: an entire manor, with hallways filled with printouts of all of dick's unreplied texts, picture frames upon picture frames stacked on every corner where it's just you and alfred against the world, leaning on to the old butler in every image, reminiscent of a father figure more than bruce could ever be.

there're also pages of ripped diary entries stuffed under the couches' mattresses. pages which documented all the years and moments where you write and rant about your bitterness towards the family— how 'dick never looks at me, jay won't even spare me a glance whenever i talk to him, i think tim genuinely doesn't think i exist, and maybe damian just wants me dead'.

and all those entries, despite causing you more burden of having to confront bruce in his office about your mental health, about how it's unhealthy to dwell in the past; it genuinely gives you a sense of control within your trapped cage— if you could even call it that.

yet the more you shove it in their face, the more they smother you with attention: trying to overcorrect.

then suddenly your petty plans turned into a ploy, an excuse for them to bond with you even more because of course! of course those bitter reminders are just you wanting their attention individually! of course, it's your stubborn call to them that they do have a chance of reconnecting with you!

just let them spare themselves the heartbreak and instead replace the hurt upon seeing you so adamant of denying them the love; turning it into a way to become closer to you— a genuine apology in their part if you will, despite your refusal to call it that.

whenever you mention how dick never looks at you eye-to-eye, suddenly, his eyes are all over you, like he's burning the memory of your entire form under his eyelids. every time you mention his dismissal towards your request of hanging out, suddenly, it's him inviting you to every small thing. hell, his attention became too much to the point he suggests that you just sleep in his bedroom because, "it's only right that we spend all the lost moments together, right baby bird? now, don't we have another movie we have to catch on? and don't worry, it's only gonna be just the two of us."

he says, with a saccharine sweetness to his voice, masking the overly possessive undertone in the last sentence, as if there never was those past years filled with yearning, as if it was never you who chased after him. the more your diary entries are read, the more dick takes note in every missed invitation he never entertained. it doesn't even matter if you've already watched the movie, you'll rewatch it, with him, and only with him. because in his eyes, your requests to spend time with him specifically means that all your future moments are exclusively spent with your eldest brother.

with just how much he takes your time every day, you almost feel like it's his attempts of filling that void thirteen years without him.

then there's jason, who once knew what your boundaries were. and although he respects it now, he couldn't deny just how heavenly it is to have his angel in his arms. and could you deny all those diary entries rambling about what it's like to be in your big brother's arms? those documentations of your feelings at its purest form just means to jason that you still want, no, yearn to be embraced by him. the second eldest never really initiates contact first unlike dick, but whenever he does, it's always with you. the first time he hugged you, in his lonesome apartment, he couldn't really bring himself to let go despite your complaints— so what could stop him now that they have you in their grasp?

"hey angel, don't you think it'd be nice if i read you 'little women' tonight?" jason asks you, because of that one day where you filled his vacant room with copies of all the books he recommended and promised to read with you - but never fulfilled doing so - it kind of backfired on you. and now you're wrapped around his muscled arms, beside him in his supposedly cozy, yet suffocating bed, his hair pricking the skin of your sweaty forehead, damp from the sheer heat - despite the air-conditioning - because he straight up refuses to give you space. if you just lean back a little more, then you could almost feel the tremor of his voice narrating the entire story, the warmth of his breath hitting against the nape of your neck.

for a book so lighthearted, all you could feel was the heaviness of your heart.

unlike dick and jason, you never once spent a moment with tim. that in itself is what made him motivated to learn all about you on a more personal level. in his eyes, (or rather, through his delusional reasonings), he reckoned that because he never once had any memories with you— your hatred towards him would be the least harrowing thing to deal with. he's always been a mystery to you, you've been a mystery to him, too. through your empty texts with him, entries spanning from not even knowing anything about him at all; he figured that now's the chance to take you away in the least expected moments, cauterize his words with promises for escape from other more smothering members of the family. unlike the others, since he's never once had personal moments with you, he knows your objective prefences, your boundaries and what makes you tick.

"ah, (name)... mind moving your hand to the left? yeah, that's way better." yet despite the fact that you have more freedom when you spend time with him, doesn't mean that he'll spare you the space of being alone when he's just like all the others still: obsessively taking note of every little movement, swooning in secret with a small quirk in your lips, kissing his teeth when he's exceptionally pleased the more your emotions are vividly displayed in front of him. except now that you willingly chose to be his model - you're unaware that he plasters the polaroid's all over his own version of a diary mirroring yours... - for just a moment of respite from the other's overbearing physical affection, it doesn't mean that tim isn't an obstacle himself; he just... knows you more than you know him, more than you know anybody else actually.

in fact, the longer his cryptic stare is pinned only on you, the more you notice how he never really takes his eyes off of you for more than a second.

"who says it's your turn to be with my sibling, todd?" your youngest brother, the one who you unwillingly spent the most time with. your tormentor, the one who you almost despised. damian hates it when you smother him with hints that you're closer to anybody else but him. he hates it when his older sibling generally spends more time with others. and although he's countlessly apologized to you, you never quite find it in your heart to fully grasp his sorry's. even if he offers you friendship bracelets, emerald green stones matching the shade of your favorite ones, whilst looking away with a puff in his cheeks— you just can't see him in a different light anymore; constantly reminding him of the threats he threw your way back them, shoving papers upon papers stained with salty tears and smudged ink; all piled with texts ranting about your endless pain because of him.

but just like dick, your youngest brother just sees it as your stubborn way of calling out his name. he may look like he bites, and yes he does bite, but not at you, never at you. at least, not anymore— but to everybody else who threatens his so-called precious bonding time with his older sibling. weirdly enough, despite his smaller frame, he's the most suffocating, the one whose hold on your body tightens just a bit more every time you move away from him. he's arguably the most possessive, the one who'll fight tooth and nail just because he wants you, his older sibling, to be his beloved muse for a portrait he imagined.

as much as he tormented you in the past, you can never deny how his life centered on you as much as it did now.

lastly, bruce, your father, a figure that was never there, just a silhouette to you. and even until now he still is. you can't comprehend his care, a type of fatherly love you never felt all those years ago. after all this time, you're more petty now than you were in the past; sticking picture frames of you and alfred spending memories where it's supposed to be you two, in hallways you know he frequents. it hurts him, it truly does pain him every time you look at him distantly. but he knows patience is the key, even though guilt devours him at every passing glance— he still loves you so. he should've shown his care early on, but what can he do now that it's too late?

"(name)," he calls your name all too fondly, accurately even — like he's practiced calling your name every night, afraid you'll be gone in his arms — and for a moment, you can almost hear him mouthing the endearing term 'dear' under his breath. as the world's greatest detective, the first thing he does is wanting to entertain the sick idea of reenacting the memories plastered all over those picture frames. just to make the regret lighter, to find a reason to be closer to you than he already makes himself out to be. don't mistake him, he's grateful that alfred was always there to aid you, but he's your father, first and foremost, and just because he missed those birthdays, that graduation, your prom and so much more— it doesn't mean there's no more room for him to still spend time with his beloved child, no? he'll find a valid, yet almost desperate excuse every time; to make a grander celebration. your missed birthdays will be replaced with countless vacations, your graduation picture smiling together with alfred nailed right at the front of his door will soon be a frame with you and the rest of the family. he'll find a way for you to never write those wretched entries about them anymore— he swears, with all his heart, you'll love him as much as he loves you.

and maybe, just maybe, you should've never presented your bare heart in front of them so willingly after all.

a/n: leave comments because why not lmao. idk half of what i wrote here but i'm back to answering asks and anon, i hope you like this because i used your ask to make a drabble 😁 this is the batfam after they become yanderes and how they enact upon their obsessions so ykyk. again, i forgot whatever i've written here.

[lighting-and-shadow]

Ikigai, Part 4

Summary: You’re desperately in love with a man who already belongs to another.

Ikigai (n.) (Japanese): "A reason for being," the thing that gets you up in the morning.

Part 3, Part 5

She’s holding a gun at him.

Normally the sight of someone pointing a gun at Sylus wouldn’t floor you so much. It might make you a little worried. Sometimes it’d be humorous. Right now isn’t either of those times. No. You were flooded with a concoction of emotions, a sick and twisted storm that came up from the depths of your stomach.

Anger. Fear. Jealousy. And strangest of all, relief. Relief that maybe, just maybe, your eyes might be wrong for once. That the string from Sylus doesn’t lead to her. How else would you explain this?

Soulmates don’t do this to one another. They don’t spend days trying to force the other to cooperate. They don’t perpetuate lies to one another. And they certainly don’t press guns against one another’s chest and scream about how they murdered their family.

You want to intervene. To stop this nonsense right now. But Sylus’ gaze tells you otherwise. His very soul says otherwise. So you wait. You wait for something good to happen.

Bang.

Who knew such a familiar sound could make your blood run so cold? Never did one sound cause you so much turmoil. Everything goes blank at that moment. One second you’re standing a fair bit of distance away from the pair, the next you’re at Sylus’ side, pressing down on the wound that strangely won’t heal like it normally does.

Miss Hunter is one the ground, unconscious once again like the first time you saw her. You don’t hear her breathe. In fact, you don’t hear anything but your pounding heart and:

”My dragon is dead.”

It’s her voice. A voice so full of grief and rage that it puts what you heard shouted earlier to shame. A voice that weighs on you, drapes itself across your shoulders in a cold embrace. Your skin prickles at its touch. Bile wells up in your throat.

”My dragon is dead.”

There’s flashes of a different Sylus overlaying the one before you. One with horns, a gemstone in the center of his chest, and a long tail. You’ve seen this Sylus before. It happened the first time you two met. So the sight of him doesn’t change anything for you at all.

What does change things is that he seems paler. Pale from blood loss, something anyone from the N109 Zone would recognize immediately. He’s more ragged than you remember the former dragon being. Beaten. Broken. Defeated. So unlike the Sylus you know from both timelines. You can’t bare this image any longer. You look to a familiar sight: his eyes.

Whatever emotions and thoughts that swirl in those eyes evade you. You can’t look at them for long because that red doesn’t give you comfort. That red eats at you, devours you like the fiend he once was probably would’ve done to you. So you look elsewhere.

That’s when you see it. The thread, his and Miss Hunter’s thread, transforms before your very eyes. Standard red, the red of all threads, warps into the red of Sylus’ eyes. It shines and shakes until letters begin to dance out of both of their hearts. Those same letters curl along the thread, spiraling up and down it. You know it means the second you see them.

Messages on each other’s skin. How fitting.

Soulmates are never apart. But the fact that universe decided to give these two a way to communicate no matter the distance makes your heart burn. Even worse when you think of the applications: secret love notes on one another’s forearms, little doodles on the hand that remind them of each other, entire discussions taking place on their skin (discussions you’ll never be privy to)…

Wells of feelings, of emotions, churn in your threadless heart. You stare at Sylus’ with contempt, pain, and grief. The same sensations from your talk with Sylus on Miss Hunter’s first day come back. And it’s all because of some stupid thread. That thread made you this way, so you decide to gaze even further down.

You already knew you’d be getting glances of the old Sylus the further you looked down. Any dragon parts should not faze you.

The giant claymore through his chest does.

_”There’s so much blood,”_both you and the Miss Hunter from the past think.

Rational thinking is out the window.

“It’s stuck…” you hear yourself whisper. You don’t feel your voice come out from you when you do. You don’t feel your lips mouth the words. You don’t even feel the vibration of the sound in your skull.

It’s all overtaken by the weight on your chest. An elephant in the room that made its home right on your heart. Sitting there, waiting. For what, you don’t know. All you know is that you want that blade gone.

Your hands move on their own. They try to catch the imaginary blade, to yank it away from the chest of your beloved. As if that would do any good. Your hands meet air, and your tripped up brain still isn’t convinced to abort this useless mission.

“I-it won’t come out…” your voice comes out broken at first. “It won’t come out!”

Now you’re screaming. Large palms latch themselves to your shoulders, and you’re forced to face the dragon before you. Blood drips from his mouth. Yet, the same mouth seems to be forming words.

“Gamayun,” they read; it’s still not enough to bring you back. At least not to the present.

You hate your job as an auctioneer. Standing on a grand stage in front of sleuths of people who’re eager to buy whatever it is you’re selling with their blood money as you spin tales about this and that. Jewels, relics, weapons, protocores, and other such things are presented by you as you barter for the highest prices imaginable.

It’s terrible. But manage through it with a plastered smile and beautiful suit as you egg the nouveau riche on. They were, of course, your only real entertainment during work. Seeing flocks of people with too much money raise paddles to try and upstage their rivals never ceased to make you smile. They spend their money on such useless things.

You found joy in the little moments to survive. A man buying a prized jewel for his wife. A child’s eyes lighting up at some obscure antique. People happily finding that one missing piece for their collection. Those are the moments that keep you going; they’re what get you on stage.

That, and people watching. Some days you’d have the same crowd; other days an entirely new one. The auction house was just that kind of place. People come and go like the tide.

Because of that, it took a lot for anyone to truly catch your eye. So as you prance on that stage in your tailored suit, you pray for someone, anyone, to end your boredom. Today hasn’t been a good day for people watching. Nor has there been any of those sparse happy moments.

”Now, before we get to the real stars of the evening, I bring forth a more humble prize, an unassuming masterpiece. A rare gem not all get to have their eyes on, let alone own.”

As you spoke, you stand in front of the display case, blocking the object from view. Your gestures are dramatic, your voice is loud, and everything about you screams at the crowd for them to look at you and only you.

You play upon their greed, upon their pride and need to feel special. Because this next piece is yours. It’s something you crafted and begged for your boss to let you put it in. All the profits will go to you.

”Now, this piece has quite the history, ladies and gentlemen. A diamond rumored to bewitch and curse whoever is foolish enough to wear it.”

A different sort of a silence falls over the crowd. But you smile to yourself. You’ve planned for this exact scenario, the moment where weariness and fear begin to set in among the superstitious gang members of the N109 zone.

”What I have behind me is the infamous Hope Diamond, plucked away from the ruinous cage a silly museum once held it. Now, it rests in a crown of great value once again. Jewels are made to be owned, after all. Who in their right mind would listen to rumors of a curse when they could own such a beauty? Why do they let it rot in storage when it should be owned by the most powerful, rather than seen by the eyes of the poor?”

As you speak, you allow the guests to fully see the necklace you’ve crafted. It’s some of your finest work. It had to be, given what you were selling. 

”Why would anyone allow such silly thoughts to stop them from owning such a gem? Who would be foolish enough to pass over such a beauty because of a little fear? Life is all about the unknowns and adventure. Perhaps previous owners didn’t know this, and fell because of their weakness.”

You add flare to your words, putting your heart and soul into selling this crown.

”And who knows? Maybe our lucky buyer will be the one to break this curse?”

You play to your audience well. Everyone here is full of greed, whether that be for money or power. And what better display of power is there than proudly wearing a cursed diamond?

Your ploy works. Guest can’t take their eyes off of the beautiful necklace. You mentally pat yourself on the back before calling out prices.

”Can I get 100 million for it?”

The resounding gasps warm your heart. Exactly what you wanted. Low-balling a gem as famous as the Hope Diamond, beginning bids at less than a third of its value, gets people to sit up. It makes them hope they can win. And it makes them spend like there’s no tomorrow. After all, even the criminals of the N109 zone love a great deal.

”150 million!” One familiar guest yells.

That’s all it takes for chaos to unfold.

”200 million!” Goes another.

”300 million!” And another.

”500 million!” And another.

You go all over the place, calling number after number, until the price reaches 800 million. A price higher than the original value of the gemstone.

”Going once,” you call. “Going twice…”

You let yourself pause, long and dramatic as you walk around the stage. You lock eyes with all those who had previously bid, but they shrink back in shame. The price was just too high. And you open your mouth to seal the deal.

That is until a new voice calls, “1 billion.”

You barely keep your composure.

”1 billion from Number 109.”

Silence. You call once, twice. More silence.

”Sold!”

The display case is wheeled away behind you. You barely notice the crew moving. All your attention is the man who just bought your piece. Because the amount it sold for was beyond your greatest dreams.

But there’s little time to dwell on it. There’s more things to be sold. So you resume your job, calm and collected, as you weave stories to the ignorance and prideful people.

The new guy continues his streak, showing off his wealth by spending an exuberant amount of money on practically nothing, or coming in and snatching away someone else’s prize at the last minute with a ridiculous bid. The reactions he gets each time almost causes a smile to cross your lips at inappropriate time. And he could tell, judging by how he stared at you.

Despite how far you are from the man, many details stand out to you. The first is how he, for some reason, seems to flicker. Back and forth his appearance shifts. From human to something more. Something with horns, scales, claws, and a tail. A dragon. He stays that way for a moment before returning to what you assume to be his normal look, a human.

The next thing you notice is his hair. The bright silver contrasts the darkness of the auction room, and his own black/red attire. It’s a beacon of color, matching well with his pale skin.

You can’t see his eyes from here, but you do feel them on you as you leave the stage. You don’t quite know how you feel about that.

As soon as you slip out of a view, you drift to your little private room and instantly deflate. You’re alone now. Away from prying eyes and soulmate threads that shake you to your core. You can be you here. You don’t need to pretend anymore.

The slight bit of reprieve is enough for you to regain your strength. Because you know your boss doesn’t like for you to hang around when you have a client as big as the new man. He hates when you go anywhere near them. And since you’d rather not be fired, you quickly move out. Only to be greeted by a strange sight.

The same man is backstage. Now, you can see him in full detail. He smells a bit of gunpowder and cologne. A perfect face, broad shoulders, and beautiful eyes. Oh how his eyes make you stop for a moment. That red; that blazing red. He had the red of soulmates, the red of fate, in those eyes.

You can’t help but stare. The only thing that gets you to rip your eyes away from him is the call of your name. Your boss. He says something about giving the man a tour and a few special gifts. The usual treatment for someone who spends so much at your auction house.

What’s weird is that you’re doing it. You employer values your orator skills too much, but he also trusts you too little to let you do something like this.

”And why ever would it by my responsibility to do this? Tours aren’t my thing.”

”I was curious about the crafter of my crown.”

The first words the strange man say to you give you pause. You turn away from your boss to look directly at him. Your crown, the Hope Diamond, sits precariously on his head. He stares into your eyes as he crooks it more with one hand, teasing you.

”You told him I made it?” You address your boss this time, weirded out even more.

He never gave you credit for your past creations and contributions to the auction house. Your boss only cares for the pretty words you spout. Not the endless nights setting and resetting jewels. Not the countless hours of researching and scouring the world for the perfect gem. None of your other work goes noticed. Why would that change now?

Looking at your boss again, he’s nervous. Cold sweat on his face. A subtle shake in his shoulders. The way he leans away from your guest in fright, something he’s never done with anyone else. You pretend not to notice. He opens his mouth to speak, but another voice cuts him off.

”I asked him about you,” the mystery man interrupts. “I was curious about the person bold enough to sell a cursed jewel. Who’d willing want anything to do with such misfortune.”

”Strange words from the man who bought it for such an exuberant price.”

He lets out a breath; not a laugh, but not a scoff. Just some acknowledgement of your words and the boldness they carry.

”Besides, I for one like to see things with my own eyes. Only I myself can make such a judgement with my own knowledge and experience. Whether that be about curses or people.”

”And why’s that?”

”Because people love to twist the narrative. A pretty lie always garners much more love and affection than a bitter truth.”

That seems to resonate with your guest. He smiles at you. And in that smile lies something you’d rather not dig into. In the N109 Zone, you know better than to dig into things that don’t concern you. It’s how you’ve survived this long.

Knowing that, you keep your guard up as you stare at the stranger. He stares right back, scanning you. He looks at you as if it’s only now that he truly takes you in.

”Mr. Qin?” Your boss breaks the odd tension between the two of you.

”Ah, yes. The tour,” Mr. Qin turns to you and offers his arm to you. “I’d like to get started now, if you don’t oppose.”

”Why ever would I?”

You turn to your boss, trying to hide a smug smile when he reluctantly presses the key to his private stash in your palm. You never go down there; other staff do, but you’re different for some reason. Maybe because you’re not originally from the zone? Or maybe because you have principles, line you won’t cross, unlike them?

The two of you leave, and descend below the stage. You arm still rests on his as you walk down the familiar stairs. You’ve walked down here dozens of times. But you’ve never been able to enter the treasure trove that laid in it. Today was different.

”You seem awfully chipper,”

”I’ve never been allowed near his majesty’s treasure room,” you smile up at him. “And now you’ve allowed me to do so.”

That seems to catch Sylus off guard. But he quickly recovers.

”You’ve worked for him for how long now?”

”About a year."

”You’d think you’d have earned more trust by now.”

You shrug.

”I’m just a simple spokesperson. A seller, if you would. And trust isn’t a thing here.”

Sylus lets out a chuckle. It sends delightful shivers down your spine.

”A spokesperson who crafts crowns made of cursed gems?"

”Crowns? I believe you mean crown. I’ve only even made one crown out of a rumored to be cursed gem.”

He laughs a bit as you finish descending the stairs and begin to maneuver down the winding hallways.

You speak again, “I used to be a jeweler before I fell out with my past employer.”

”Fell out? That’s not what I heard.”

”Fell out? Murdered? Same thing,” he chuckles a bit before you continue. “We had irreconcilable differences and moral standings.”

The rest of the walk to the room is silent. But something to had shift in Sylus. He looked at you more now, glancing every once a while as if he was trying to figure you out. But you just focus on the key in your hand and what was in store for you.

The moment the door appears before you, made of dark wood and carved with designs dotted with protocores, you almost pause. But then the sensation of Sylus pulling his arm away from yours snaps you out of it. You insert the key, turn it, and walk inside.

Your boss’ treasure room isn’t what you imagine it to be. It isn’t covered in jewels, or antiques, or protocores. Rather, a single desk with chairs on either side sit in the room. And on it, lies a single notebook.

Sylus doesn’t stop for a moment. He makes a beeline for the notebook, reads it, and his expression changes again. This time to something darker. But it’s only for a moment before he puts on the same cocky look before leaning against the desk.

As Sylus sits on the desk, something begins to peak out from his pocket. But it’s enough for your heart to drop. A detonator switch. You look at it for a bit before forcing your eyes to snap upwards. Sylus smirks at you.

”He knows,” you think. “He knows you know.”

Your survival instincts kick in at that moment. And you talk. You talk about your skills. You talk about your past. And you talk about your hatred of your boss. Then, he takes the bait.

”Sounds like you’re in desperately need of a new employer.”

_”You offering good sir?”

_He looks at you with eyes that say he knows what you’re doing. Eyes that know your words are just that of a person desperately trying to survive. Those eyes scan you, dig into you to try and discover something. You don’t know what that something is, but you hope they don’t find it.

_Then they suddenly change.

”You don’t know, do you?”

”Pardon?”

It wasn’t just his words that gave you pause. It’s his tone, the gentle and tame look in his eyes, and the overall sudden shift in his demeanor. But before you can ask questions, he shows you the notebook.

Suddenly, your blood is cold. You’re cold. Full of dread and fear and bitterness. You want to throw up. You want to scream. You want to cry. But you can’t do anything of those things. Because none of that would measure up to the feelings that that notebook gives you.

There are names inside of the book. Pages and pages and pages of names with numbers next to them. Ages. Victims. A log of people your boss didn’t want you to know where dragged here

You left your previous job because of trafficking. You burned that place to ash and strangled your old boss to death with her own thread of fate because of the children she kept chained up below her establishment. You told your current boss the day you signed on that if he did the same, you’d be out.

But he did it anyways. According to these records the man, Sylus, gave you, he’s selling people on your days off.

”I’m bit surprised I’m not on here,” your tone is bitter, and it surprises Sylus, judging from the way his eyebrow raises and his eyes shift. “He’s willing to break the terms of our deal, and yet’ll keep me free.”

Neither of you can speak after that.

”Do you know where they are?” You force the words out of your mouth.

”My people have already taken care of things. All that’s left is the aftermath.”

You both stare at the little device in his hand. Your heart pounds in your chest.

”Would like to do the honors, my dear diplomat?”

You stare at his open hand for a moment. You could take this and run. You could ruin his entire plan. You could betray him. Your eyes flit back and forth between his hand and his eyes. There’s no weariness in them. No worries or judgement. Just curiosity.

Then you replay his words in your head. _His diplomat. You were hired. And because of that, you take the device from his hand, cautious and watching. But, at the same time, anticipating your new future._

”It would be my honor,” you fiddle with the device for a moment. “But one more thing."

”And what would that be?”

”My benefit for this deal. It’s hardly a good one if one party isn’t satisfied.

Sylus laughs at you and summons his Evol to pull you close to him. You don’t struggle. In fact, you embrace the red energy swirling around you.

”Name your price.”

You’re a bit surprised at his nonchalance. But you take it.

_”Don’t betray me. Don’t lie to me.”

”And I ask the same for you.”

”How do you know I’m not lying to you like your former boss?”

You smile. “I don’t. Just as you don’t know if I’m lying. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

He shakes his head at you playfully.

”If I do, will you add me to your roster of murdered employers?"

”Absolutely.”

”Then I look forward to it.”

”As do I,” and the you press the button.

Explosions ring out. Rubble falls around the two of you, people dying left and right with screams. And yet, you feel so at peace. It’s serene and lively here with Sylus, his Evol shielding you as his grin widens when he sees your expression. Are you smiling too? You can’t tell because all your senses are drowned out by the pounding of your heart.

Something touches the top of your head, and you look up. It’s Sylus. His hands situate something onto you and you touch your head. It’s your crown. He adjusts it carefully, cautiously, and a wide smile crosses his lips.

”There,” he mutters. “It suites you.”

You just stare into Sylus’ eyes. You look at his red, and you love it. For once, the red of fate isn’t so lonely.

And you snap back to the present. You wish you hadn’t. You wish you could stay in that time and place before your life got complicated. Before you fell in love with the wrong man. Before said man’s soulmate appeared and wrecked your life.

Your vision steadies. But you wonder if you’re still stuck in some weird medium between another time and your present. Why else would Sylus look so scared?

Author's Note: Also, please go to the original blurb to ask to be added to the taglist (it's impossible for me to keep checking every part every time I update).

Taglist: @eolivy, @rafayelridesfisheatsfish, @animegamerfox, @jasperjokester, @schrodingerskimdokja, @just--crys, @snowdynasty, @shi-thats-kiera, @mansonofmadness, @dwuclvr, @ameilli, @katiedoesstuff101, @everythingistaken00, @napa-the-yappa, @hanaluxx, @lovesick-sylus, @tenaciouszombiewombat, @ladyparamount, @applepi405, @midnight-reverie, @69-gojos-wife-69, @bellagrayson-wayne, @phisen, @idkmanimjusthorny, @munchychuusy, @autumn2534, @poptrim, @sillyfreakfanparty, @zaynesfirefly, @flamedancer13, @thissmartdumbass, @mrsllawliet, @jeondyy, @ssetsuka, @dels-page, @that-lost-one, @johnnysactualgf, @mariquitas-en-verano @toelady, @sinnamon-bunn, @yesbiaswrecked, @doggyteam2028, @little-rays-of-darkness, @albatrossblue, @vyntheria, @silverianni, @browneyedgirl22, @tiklestar, @beaconsxd, @pepperushia

[misteria247]

I think one of the most tragic things is Caryn Pines and motherhood.

Like when we see her, it's quite obvious that she loves her sons. And that like many families, has a soft spot for Stanley. Because he's the possible baby of the family, her little surprise, her free spirit. Out of everyone other than Ford, Caryn was someone who loved Stanley. And who was in his corner. An example of this was when her husband and Ford were excited about the school and she immediately cut in to ask-

"What about Stanley?"

Just from that little bit we can see that she loves him. That she's always thinking of her son. So imagine you're her, and then you lose your son because your husband kicked him out. A teenager who can't face the world yet, and yet you're powerless to do anything. So you have to wait for your boy to reach out to you, and every day you wonder if he's somewhere safe. If he's someplace warm, and if he's eating a hot meal and sleeping in a warm bed. And for awhile that gives you some sort of comfort, because your baby's still out there somewhere. Not with you, but still in this world.

And then you hear about it.

The firey car crash.

And the person in that inferno was your son. Your free spirit, your baby.

Can you imagine, how devastating that'd be? To learn that your son is dead, and had died alone and in pain and fear. And the kicker?

There wasn't even a funeral held for him.

It's almost as if Stanley never existed. Like he was never important. And that probably ate at Caryn Pines in ways that cut deeply. Because Stanley was important to her, was important to Stanford and now he's gone and she didn't even get to say goodbye to her boy. She'll forever have a hole in her heart, a piece missing because her Stanley is gone. And she'll never be able to fill it because no one can replace her baby. And we don't know if Caryn's still alive or not, so there's the horrifying possibility. That she died believing that Stan was dead. That she died in her grief that only a mother can feel. That she died, unaware that the boy she grieved for was next to her the entire time. Forced to pretend to be his brother, in order to save him from his own creation and fix mistakes that he believes he made that hurt Ford.

So close to her son, yet so far away.

A tragedy.

[neuvistar]

Biker! Dan heng, Sunday and aventurine?

Sfw and NSFW

Like I'm brain dead for them

DREAM RIDE. biker! honkai star rail men part one

— featuring ┊aventurine, sunday, (il) dan heng x fem!reader (all separate)

— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual! sfw + nsfw, feminine terms used (she, girl, etc), cunniligus (aventurine #1 pussy eater strikes again), orgasm denial (sunday), jus a tad bit of subby dan heng, semi-public s3x? (sunday), blowjob (dan heng), use of vibrators (sunday), riding (dan heng) use of nicknames, multiple orgasms, bath s3x (aventurine), sunday is a MENACE here, reader implied 2 be a lil smaller than them, v4ginal fingering (aventurine), more tba! | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— a/n ┊NOT PROOFREAD ! might correct tmr if i’m not sleepy! <3 anyways hi guys writers block stopped biting my ass anyways guys i’m SOOO attracted 2 aventurine it’s acc insane he needs to be jailed from how majestic he is.. erm! whoever keeps sending asks abt biker! hsr men god bless u and ur entire family | reblogs r appreciated

⊹ 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would take you out for late night rides! he’s a total drama queen, let’s get that out of the way. he loves you, yes, but he’d get so pouty whenever you turn him down for your daily night rides with him, he sulks and sulks.. clinging onto your figure until you finally say yes! jokes aside, aventurine really does enjoy your company, he really does value quality time as he would go as far to even take you out to see the stars, feel the breeze and have some fresh air, or just have a midnight snack!

“come on, baby.. 2am is nothing! just come and ride with me for a bit, i promise i’ll have you back til 3?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who always finds himself buying you gifts before visiting you and such! sometimes he’d just be riding around on the road and all of the sudden his hands are full of bags and gifts just for you before he gets to your place! he’s a huge gift giver, spoiling you to the brim.

“would [name] like this one.. no no, maybe this one. hm.. maybe both.”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who can be insecure at times, sometimes he thinks about whether he’s truly right for you or not. like, usually he wouldn’t give in to these thoughts but there are times where he’s just riding around at night n he suddenly stops n goes.. “what if [name] is bored of me?” even though he might not show it, poor thing needs A LOT and i mean A LOT of reassurance from you, please tell him he’s good enough for you!

“my darling.. are you sure i’m right for you? i mean, you know. i’ve just been.. thinking. you’re not gonna leave, are you.. hm? ‘gonna stay with me, right?”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE absolutely loves having sex while you both take bubble baths, i mean.. it’s essential to have good hygiene, isn’t it? aventurine pumped his fingers within your pussy, circling his thumb over your clit as he licked his lips, nuzzling close against your neck. “mmh.. you like that?” his voice, husky and low as his fingers reached the deepest parts of your cunt, a sharp gasp caught in your throat as he held you firmly against him. watching you struggle to stifle your moans made him feel a combination of pride and surprise. aventurine gripped your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "damn, sweetheart.. are my fingers that good?" he murmured, his voice low and steady.

aventurine growled softly, pleasure coursing through him at your reaction. his fingers deeply thrusted in and out of you, feeling your tight walls spasm around his digits. with a lick of his lips, he added another finger within your drenched pussy.. the sound of water splashing against his fingers, his speed rising more and more.. stretching you delicately. "missed this," he groaned, adding more speed to his rhythm. "missed the way your body responds to me, my darling girl..” his eyes locked onto yours, seeing the desire mirrored back at him. he wanted to make you cum, that was his goal for the night.. to hear you scream his name again. the roughness of his fingers grew, the sounds of water splashing against his hand was enough to embarrass you, aeons.. he was going fast alright. “c’mon, sweetheart.. it’s been ages since i made you squirt. mmh.. these fingers are good enough to make you squirt, right?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would eat you out almost all the time, whether it’s on his motorcycle seat while he holds your body, or maybe his table filled with tools, or just a plain old bed. aventurine is willing to eat you out literally anywhere, his tongue piercing made it even better. aventurine savoured every second of this, allowing his senses to be consumed by your intoxicating flavour. your body trembled above him, carefully laid on the seat of his motorcycle as he chuckled against your pussy.. your hands buried in his hair as he delved deeper into your depths. the blonde’s tongue danced expertly, exploring every hidden crevice while his fingers played with your swollen bud. “you taste divine," he murmured against your sex, causing you to arch your back sharply. "just like the finest wine, only better." his words hung heavy in the air between them, fuelling your rising passion.

aventurine attacked your cunt hungrily, devouring your folds with complete vigor. aeons, he was obsessed with your pussy, and your taste. the way your wetness spilled out onto his tongue, mixing with the warm atmosphere surrounding the both of you drove him crazy. his large hands held you firmly against the seat of his motorcycle, hands roamed freely over your body, tweaking one of your nipples roughly while diving deeper inside your drenched pussy. your boyfriend groaned into your folds, feeling your walls tremble around him. “good darling.. such a good girl taking my tongue so well.” “.. ‘turine.. you’re gonna make me fall on here.. j—just eat me out on the desk..” you murmured, wincing when you felt a slap on your pussy. “whoops, sorry angel,” ugh.. this tease. “mm.. no-can-do, sweetheart. i like seeing you like this. just imagine, my cum leaking out of your pussy and right onto my bike.” he licked a single stripe on your cunt, chuckling when he noticed your legs quivering. “oh how fascinating would that be.”

⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who has a habit of grabbing onto your waist, or just snaking his arm around it! i mean, he does this for many reasons.. one, to show you’re taken, and two, mm.. he just feels like it! sunday would do it on random occasions, whether he’s talking with his biker friends, at the cashier, anywhere! he loves grabbing your waist and he makes that very clear, maybe if he’s in the mood.. he’d slide his hand beneath your shirt as well wink wink

sunday glanced at your form, a small smile forming on his face when he saw you examining your surroundings. he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling your body firmly against his.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who’s jealousy is intense. sunday would get angry at you, give you the silent treatment, or just bluntly ignore you if you were found talking and laughing with another guy other than him. he refuses to believe that you can be happy with other guys other than him. he would glare at other people he catches staring at what’s his, he was.. possessive. and whenever you catch sight of it, he would try and manipulate you to thinking he’s doing it for your own good! because all those men that were staring at you were bad! (wow, he’s a bastard) saying this, he’s a huge manipulator.. it can be a handful dating him.

“trust me, my love. can’t you see how those men were staring at you?” his voice was soft, dangerously soft. the malicious glint in his eyes didn’t hide anything. “they’re after you, angel. they’re after what’s mine. i’m only trying to protect you. why are you so doubtful of me, hm? do you not love me anymore? are you perhaps.. bored of me?”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who loves being in control, this can be taken in a sexual or non sexual sense <3 sunday is assertive, and he knows what’s right for you. (most of the time!) he can be a bit controlling at times, but he means no harm! he just wants to keep you safe, promise! sometimes sunday would give you that look whenever you would try n defy him, he means business.. trust me. because of this, he can be cold and stubborn towards you at times without even knowing, geez.. he really needs to work on that.

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY loves being in control, as i’ve mentioned.. but especially in bed. besides that, he’s so damn mean.. he doesn’t let you cum unless he tells you to, kissing your tears away with his lips. “ah ah ah, darling.. what did i say about cumming?” his eyes devoured your small frame, taking in every curve and angle of your body. sunday couldn't help but feel a surge of dominance and control over you, chuckling lowly. you was his, every fiber of your being was his, and he'd take care of you properly. his thrusts were hard to take in, his size and speed.. aeons. the way his cock slides in so easily had him biting his lip, he’s so mean and strict whenever you both make love, spanking you a few times whenever he sees you dozing off!

his eyes never left yours, even when he would immediately pull out when you were on the verge of orgasming, earning a sweet whine from your lips. “please.. please let me cum! sunday, baby please.. i can’t hold it anymore!” oh, how if only you knew how much he loves it when you beg. “oh baby.. i love it when you beg like that.” sunday groaned deeply from pleasure, landing another smack to your ass.. grinning at the sight of you swirling beneath him, “it only makes me wanna do this more.. it makes me wanna keep you here, stop you from cumming all over my cock. do you want that?” “n—no please.. please let me cum, sunday.. i need it—“ “keep begging, my angel. maybe i’ll let you cum if you keep begging and whining for me. come now, speak up.”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who absolutely loves using vibrators on you whenever you both go out together, it’s amusing to him! (stupid bastard) he would increase it’s speed at random times to catch you off guard.. for his own amusement. listen, you really love your boyfriend but sometimes you just wanna slap that stupid smile off his face. you were casually picking out some candy in the candy aisle, a soft smile on your face before you felt that same old sensation within you.. causing a gasp to leave your pretty lips. “mm.. what are you looking at here, my love?” sunday murmured softly, chuckling at your vulnerable state. “sunday.. lower the speed please..” you begged, aeons! you were stupid to even think he’d decrease it’s speed!

your boyfriend smirked, the vibrator’s speed only grew more by the second as you could feel the wetness of your pussy seep through your panties, filling you with humiliation and embarrassment as you could barely walk, holding your hand over your mouth. “fuck.. sunday please..” you knew begging wasn’t gonna get you anywhere.. you knew you would have to have that stupid thing inside you for hours on end, overstimulating your pussy and entire body while your boyfriend watched and held you with pure amusement. to your bewilderment, there were times where sunday would go as far to fingering you by a nearby alleyway, his hands drenched in your juices. this man.. you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t bring yourself to be. sunday’s pretty fingers dug deep into your drenched pussy, knuckles deep while he had that same stupid sadistic smile on his face. “i should put that thing in you more.. look how wet your pussy is. it’s practically drooling for me, angel.”

⊹ 𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who is more of a private relationship typa guy, he prefers to keep his relationships private! despite this, he still shows his love for you in many other ways, it’s easy to say that some people are even surprised he was dating you, because of how reserved he is when it came to personal matters <3 he values his and yours’ privacy, you can trust me on that!

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who struggles putting on his helmet because of his horns (lol), you find it really cute! whenever he leaves your house, sometimes he takes 10 minutes trying to figure out how to wear a helmet because of his horns. he found this so annoying to the point he probably had a custom helmet made for him and his horns!

you nearly let out a giggle when you gazed at him, struggling to wear his helmet over his head. dan heng’s tail swished against his leg, glancing up at you with a slight frown. “[name], it’s not funny.”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would teach you how to ride a motorcycle so you and him can ride around together, i mean.. you can’t blame him! he doesn’t show it much, but he really does hope to spend more time with you, and he thinks this is effective and efficient! dan heng would guide you through it slowly, keeping his hands on your waist while he helped your practice with the brakes and all you needed to know! to be honest, this was really just an excuse to touch you, but can you blame him? his large hands would brush against your hips, helping you adjust and sit properly, it’s a good thing these things take awhile to learn!

“mhm, i got you.” his thumb rubbed circles on your hips, humming. “you’re a fast learner, [name]. you never fail to surprise me.”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who just loves having your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock after an exhausting day of biking all day and night. soft gasps and whimpers left his lips as he showed a completely different side of him that night, full of pure desperation and need. “am i.. doing this right?” your voice was muffled against his dick, sending vibrations to his nerves as his hand was carefully placed atop of your head, body aching for release. “yes.. keep sucking me off like that..” with a grunt, he closed his eyes briefly while savouring the warmth of your tongue tracing circles around the sensitive slit.

"more please, baby..“ dan heng begged, arching his back slightly as your warm, wet tongue caressed the head of his cock, teasing him mercilessly before sliding down its veiny shaft. the sensation was foreign yet familiar, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. unable to resist any longer, he reached down, gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts his hips upward, pushing deeper into your waiting mouth.his breathing became heavier, the sound of each labored gasp echoing in the otherwise silent room, punctuated by the sloppy sounds of your mouth working him over. your tongue swirls around the base of his cock, teasing the sensitive area underneath his balls before returning to suck and stroke him feverishly. “you’re so good to me.. s.. so good to me..”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would let you ride him just like how he lets you ride his motorcycles! he just wants to put your pleasure first, really. dan heng’s mind raced as he watched you ride him. he was going to lose it, he knew it very well. the sight of you bouncing on his cock, your pussy coating his cock with pure white juices, the sound of your gasps, and the feeling of your breasts against his chest created a whirlwind of emotions. he watched you struggle to stifle your moans while gripping your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "you’re doing great, love. fuck.. take your time and do what feels good," he encouraged, his voice low and steady.

he hoped his presence provided comfort, guiding his precious girlfriend to enjoy the sensations without feeling pressure to perform. their bodies moved in harmony together, lust fuelled by the thrill of victory as dan heng’s breaths grew ragged. his face flushed at the sight of your breasts bouncing, biting his lip at how overwhelming this was.. the sound of skin slapping against each other was all that came through, their moans punctuated the intensity of their shared moment. your hands grabbed everywhere.. his biceps, his chest, and oh.. even his horns. he was absolutely losing it. “sh—shit.. use my cock, use my cock for your own pleasure, beloved.. you’re doing so well..”

@ NEUVISTAR. do not plagiarize, claim my work as your own, translate or share my posts on any platform outside of tumblr.

[miss-artimis-has-thoughts]

A thought that's been bouncing in my head this post but dead tired.

-

As Dick was walking back to the zeta tubes in the watch tower after meeting with Wally, he did not expect his entire world view to be flipped on its head. It started with hearing the voice of one of his brothers and deciding to mess with him. Tim was in one of the lounge rooms talking with Diana, which gave Dick the perfect opportunity to pull him into the ongoing sibling prank war that he had somehow been avoiding. He waited outside the door, listening for the right moment when he heard the question.

"The league's family day is coming up. Will your husband and the twins be attending?" Dicks first thought was that he must have missed a third person in the room before he heard his brother response. "I don't know, the twins would love it, but Phantom is still wary about taking them too far from home in case they have a destabilization episode or a development in their powers."

Dick knew that the conversation continued, but he had stopped paying attention. Tim was married. He had kids. Did anyone know? Obviously, Wonder Woman did, but did anyone in the family? He needed to figure this out. He sent a message calling for a family meeting sans Tim to figure out what was happening

-

Tim had been stressed the past few days. He didn't say anything, but Danny could tell. So, when the twins went down for their nap, he made his husband a nice cup of tea, decaffeinated because a stressed Tim was a Tim that had been awake far too long. As he gave his husband the cup, he asked what was wrong. "The bats have been acting weird the last couple of days. It's made patrol really awkward. But I'm pretty sure it's a family thing, so it feels wrong to ask." Danny laughed "Ah the age-old dilemma of being the only nonfamily member working at a family business. Happens all the time in small towns like Amity. What do you think you'll do?" Tim sighed "Normally I would just ask Oracle, but she's being weird too. And I can't just ignore it because it's throwing us all off during patrol and that dangerous. I guess I'll just have to call a meeting to address it."

Danny hugged his husband, "I'm sorry, work is stressful, Starlight. You're not supposed to patrol tonight, right? How about you call in at your day job tomorrow and we have some family time? I've been researching this nature trail about half an hour from my parents' house. It's got some great outlooks that I think you would love to get pictures from. We could go through the zone and be at my parents' first thing in the morning."

*continued in reblogs

[salemlunaa]

success story!!!!

OMG SALEM SALEM SALEM, U AND UR WISDOM LITERALLY SAVED ME

idk if you're going to see this because you don't seem as active anymore but i literally revised my entire school life thanks to you!! this is like the first really huge thing i manifested (even though there's no such thing as big lol but you get what | mean)

this success story is gonna be superrrr long but it’s worth it i promise!!

For context im from the UK, and in the last 2 years of school is called a sixth form or called a college (16-18) and you can either transfer schools or stay in the one you were already in for 5 years.

I decided to move (like 80% of the people in my year/grade 💀)  i wanted change and to meet new people, but my entire friend group and so many people i love stayed in my old school.

I found out the grass wasn’t greener on the other side and let’s just say i really did not like the change, i felt fomo from my friend group and all of them expressed how deeply they missed me and how much i should’ve stayed and so i started to feel regret. 

And if you’ve ever felt regret to a significant amount, you know it’s the worst feeling you can ever feel, it’s like your insides are twisting, it’s like beating yourself up over and over again. And it got really bad. It lead me to a deep depression where i barely focused on my studies, and it showed with recent test scores. But I read your post and so many others and realised: i’m not stuck, and never will be, I can go back if i wanted. And so that’s what I did

No one really speaks about revision, not as much as i’d like as someone who now owes revision her life lol, so i was a bit nervous and super doubtful, but i looked at revision success stories and told my self if someone can revive someone back from the dead, someone can revise a serious diagnosis and another can change their age, you can revise the fact that you ever moved. 

I really hung on to your posts that drilled it into our heads that it’s already done and there’s nothing to do. And tellafairy’s posts about how we can change our lives from the comfort of our own beds. Even in my darkest moments i repeated that mantra and it calmed me down. 

I wanted to use the void but realised i probably would’ve have put it on a pedestal and most likely would’ve gotten so hung up on it, so decided to use SATs and choose the reality where i never moved schools and school life was so perfect.

I fell asleep on the first few nights, but then one particular night, i felt really fulfilled and floaty so I just kept visualising a day at school with my friends. AND I SWEAR TO WHOEVERS UP THERE I WOKE UP AND I FELT LIKE SOMETHING SHIFTED, LIKE I REGAINED ALL THESE MEMORIES

I LOOKED AT MY PHONE AND MY SCHOOL EMAIL WAS MY OLD ONE WITH ALL OF MY OLD TEACHERS AND I WENT TO SCHOOL IT WAS LIKE I WAS ALWAYS THERE AND NEVER LEFT

it felt weird when i woke up, like i felt a change, but it felt like i was supposed to be here, like i was at peace with what happened. 

I also used blanket affirming and manifested some things on the side too:

appearance changes

being sooo good at school

school rules being more lenient

change in subjects and more new friends

a school fine shyt Imao

more money +desired family

I really wanna thank you and and @tellafairy @itsrlymine @pineapplepr1nc3ss888 @scentedpeachlandcreator @sugarplumfairy777 @catherineaboutlife @authenticbunni @empyrealoasis @joc3lynn+ youtubers Rita Kaminski, Sammy Ingram and a youtuber called The Power of I AM (he’s sooo underrated but a literal gem) ik at the end of the day it was all me BUT THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW HAPPY I AM WITH MY LIFE RN

If you’ve made it this far, please i’m telling you don’t give up, I was at the lowest of low, like seriously i didn’t even know if i wanted to be here, remember this: you are not stuck , you can manifest absolutely anything, yes, even that thing that seems impossible, and please remember that revision is real and it’s not only for small things like erasing an embarrassing memory or something, you can use it to change the trajectory of your life and i can swear by that as you can see!

you are so powerful you can change the past, please believe me when i say you shouldn’t give up, trust me if i, a D1 procrastinator, someone who was a super doubtful person can do this YOU CAN TOO AND I CAN PROMISE THAT.

it's already done, think as if you have it, and for those who are going through a lot mentally, you. are. not. stuck. that's something i had to remind myself. you can change anything and everything instantly and at any point in time, these circumstances aren't your home.

you don’t have to be a passenger of life, you are the author and creator, please remember that if anything.

i love you so much sai okay byeeeeeee 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

i was lurking through my asks for post ideas and oh my lord. i think this is one my favourite success stories, like ever. I rarely answer asks due to repetitive nature but i had to share this success story

YOU FUCKING DID THAT BABY!!!!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU AND IM SO HAPPY YOU’RE HAPPY 💘💘💘

i honestly love a massive revision story because these just show how powerful we are and how nothing is real except the now. and we REALLY CAN change ANYTHING

please please please listen to anon and keep going and and listen to them when they say you aren’t stuck, think as if. there is no such thing as failure.

you can change your life with loa. mark my words