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bangtanflirt · 8 months

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(Un)natural Instincts (Part 4)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: mention of corporal punishment, mention of forced dieting, one line about distorted body image and character using the word "fat" negatively, references to past dubcon and dubcon undertones (hybrids under the influence of synthetic hormones cannot properly consent) but no actual smut, reader's morals and judgement are very questionable for a second

____

The pack expects the worst when you open the door, getting mentally prepared to see whatever horrible condition you might have their youngest in. Their heart yearns at the thought of their beloved Koo trapped in a cage or tied up somewhere. What they do see however, is not something they know how to react to: Jungkook, lazily rolling on your couch with his eyes transfixed on a giant TV.

No collar, no leash, no cage. But no one has enough time to take it in as he springs up upon seeing his pack, darting into Namjoon’s arms and prompting the rest to wrap their hands around the two. The hug is tight and filled with muffled I missed yousand I love yous. Jungkook envelopes himself into all of their scents—the swirl of orange vanilla soaking into his skin and making him feel whole again. There’s not one wolf without glossy eyes, not even the alpha who’s ditched his stoic façade the instant his pup melted into his arms.

Namjoon only snaps out of it when he realizes you’re still there, carefully prying the wolves off of him and making sure everyone’s presentable for you. The rest get the hint and quickly comply—well, everyone except Jungkook. Their youngest has other plans, as he’s making his way to you and pulling you towards the pack.

“Y/N look, everyone’s here! It’s my whole pack!”

The other wolves feel their blood run cold, Namjoon quickly springing into action, reprimanding Jungkook for not addressing you properly.

“We’re so sorry Miss, he’s young and still learning. I’ll teach him better.”

The Alpha feels his chest get tight, realizing the weight of his responsibilities at the moment: this is a new environment with a new person, and he has to get all of his pack in line to not get punished here.

Your voice brings him out of his head,

“It’s okay, I asked him to call me y/n. I’d actually like for all of you to do the same.”

They don’t know how to react, unsure if this is a test.

“Relax guys! It’s not a test.” Jungkook reassures, reading their minds perfectly as he had the same thoughts a couple days ago.

“I don’t do tests like that; you don’t have to worry. Now, I bet everyone is starving. Jungkook, could you help me set the table please?”

He enthusiastically follows you to the dining room, while everyone else follows much more cautiously, standing awkwardly and watching the two of you place dinner plates and silverware. You’d told Chef Gyu to make larger portions, which is why there’s more than enough wagyu beef to go around.

“My friend, Yoongi, will also be staying with us for some time. He’s having dinner at the office, so we can dig in without him.”

The wolves only half-register your words, as the smell and sight of the steak is taking priority. It’s still hard to believe that they’re sitting here with the heavenly meal on the plate in front of them. If the name thing wasn’t a test, this surely has to be; it’ll be any minute now when you laugh at them before taking the plates away, giving them the same grool they’re used to in the labs—if you even feel like feeding them today.

Even Jungkook, who’s slightly used to the good food, is taken aback by today’s extravagance, feeling uncomfortable eating so well as a hybrid.

This time you’ve had Dr. Gong do the allergy tests with the collar removal, so you don’t feel hesitant in giving the “Eat up” command. It’s the first direct order you’ve given tonight, and the unsure wolves slowly start reaching for their silverware.

Jin can’t help the exclamation that escapes his lips the moment the food grazes his tongue, almost crying at the flavorful sensation. It feels as if the three months of wet, tasteless grool is erased in one bite of the best thing he’s ever had. He’s quick to cover his mouth, apologizing instantly for making noise.

“It’s completely fine Jin, I’m so glad you’re enjoying the food.”

“Th-thank you so much Mis—um—y/n.”

You look around the table fondly, until your eyes drop to two of the wolves: Taehyung and Hoseok, sitting side by side.

Taehyung looks at the food with strong desire but can’t seem to use his utensils properly enough to get anything into his mouth.

“Taehyung, is something wrong with your hands?”

The wolf timidly looks up, meeting your eyes. He doesn’t want to say why his hands are hurting—doesn’t want to give you a bad first impression—but it’s not like he can lie to his new owner.

“I w-was bad a couple days ago, so they punished me…twenty five hits to each knuckle…but I learned my lesson! I won’t be bad here ever!”

Embarrassment takes over as he remembers a child getting hurt under his watch. Jin and Jimin were so good at being caretaker hybrids, watching over the children in the testing labs perfectly, but he seemed to be lacking every time. He was trying to be funny, to make the little girl laugh, which she did…but she laughed so much she missed a handle on the monkey bars and ended up with a scraped knee. Worst of all, he started panicking the moment she cried, causing Jin to have to swoop in and clean her wound.

Eating was manageable when he just had to put a spoon to his lips, but trying to cut with a knife and fork were making his fingers cringe. You’re also cringing yourself, thinking about how much each strike on the knuckles would hurt. The other wolves are cursing themselves internally, being too entranced by the food to see if Taehyung was doing alright.

“May I have permission to help feed him?” It’s Jin who jumps in, caretaking instincts on overdrive.

“Yes of course, do whatever you need to.”

Once Jin starts feeding Taehyung, you shift your attention to the hybrid next to him.

Hoseok’s taking the food to his lips, but there’s no indication of joy on his face, in fact, he looks stressed.

“Hoseok” you speak up, causing the man to sit up straight, “do you not like the food?”

His eyes go wide, “N-No! I love it, it’s very delicious. Thank you so much!”

He berates himself for looking ungrateful.

What if she takes it away from everyone because of me? What if I’m the reason my packmates starve tonight?

“It’s okay if you don’t like it. I can get you something else.”

The rest of them know why he’s not eating, but only Jungkook finds it in himself to speak up.

“It’s not the food…Hobi hyung isn’t supposed to eat a lot…”

It pains him to say it, just as it pains the rest to hear it, but that’s how things worked at the lab. Whatever portion the rest got, Hoseok always got half. The other five used to give him theirs, but that was quickly shut down once the researchers started monitoring meals. Their next attempt at solidarity was to only eat half themselves, but there’s only so much you can fight when commands are given out with the Obedience Collar on. A time came when the hormones were perfected, and there was enough in their bodies to make them care more about obeying orders than their precious, underfed packmate.

“Why not?”

Jungkook shifts in his seat nervously, wanting desperately for anyone else to talk. Hoseok seems far too terrified to say anything, but Namjoon thankfully speaks up.

“Romantics aren’t supposed to eat a lot…they have to keep in shape for—um—sexual desirability purposes.” He regurgitates what the researchers drilled into their brains.

Hoseok’s face goes as red as a tomato. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the topic of sex. It wasn’t always like that: there was a time, before the lab, when he would itch to feel his packmates intimately, but that’s all been drained by now. Months fulfilling the lewd commands of complete strangers can change a person like that—make sex and intimacy feel like an obligation.

You don’t know why you keep getting surprised at the cruelty of Kang and his operation, but every new finding makes you wish Kang wasn’t in a holding cell right now—but rather on the street where you could bash his head into a car door.

But you can’t let yourself look shaken up. Someone’s got to be strong for them, someone aside from Namjoon, who clearly needs a break.

“Eating well doesn’t make anyone any less desirable. You can eat as much as everyone else if you want to. Understood?” You’re tone isn’t stern, but very much firm.

“Yes M--Yes! Understood!”

Rest of dinner is filled with knives scraping plates until there’s no more food left, everyone eating to their heart’s content. Hoseok still looks like he’s battling himself with each bite, but he eats nonetheless.

Jin insists on doing the dishes, springing up and collecting empty plates the moment he’s done eating. You’re about to show them to their rooms when the doorbell rings.

“Oh, that must be Yoongi. I’ll go get it.”

You make your way to let him inside, seeing his tired visage with two suitcases in hand. You can’t help but feel sorry towards him, knowing how much strain is on his workload having to assist the CCO instead of you, and on top of that, you’re taking away his off-work time now too. You hate how much you rely on Yoongi for everything—how much he offers to take care of everything. It makes you feel like you’re taking advantage of him, no matter how many times he assures you he wants to help.

You feel extra shitty on days like this, when you can tell work is draining him completely.

“Thank you again for coming.” You take his coat and briefcase as he walks in, the hybrids all staring and unsure of how to act. Yoongi looks at Jungkook, giving him a smile as he sees the boy for the first time. He tries to smile at the rest, but it’s tight-lipped, as he feels horrible knowing the first time they saw him was when they were being paraded around as experiments. That’s the worst first impression he could possibly leave.

“You should get some sleep; you look exhausted. I can handle wound care by myself for the night.”

He looks confused for a second before catching on. Of course you’d told them he was mainly here for wound care.

“Oh-uh okay, if that’s alright. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you’re already such a huge help.”

He mumbles a “nice to meet you all” before making his way to his room—aka the guest room he always sleeps in when you have your emergency overnight work meetings.

The hybrids follow you as you let them see the other rooms, letting them know there’s three free ones plus Jungkook’s and they can share however they want. It feels funny offering up the rooms; you’d always felt so lonely in this mansion of a house. It was picked out with your father’s money when you turned twenty-one, opting for the most opulent place you could find to throw parties—back before you inherited the business, and your biggest stress was which outfit to wear or yacht to buy.

You look remorsefully at Jungkook, thinking about his life at twenty-one versus yours. You don’t know if it hurts more to look at him or Jin, who’s the same age you are right now but with none of the independence that comes with it.

Namjoon knows what his pack is thinking throughout the tour, so he takes a chance and asks.

“Is it okay if we all share Jungkook’s room?”

You turn around in surprise, not expecting such a request. It makes sense, you suppose, and you can’t blame them for wanting to stick together.

“There’s only one bed in there. I don’t know if that’s enough for all of you, even if it is a king-size.”

“We’ve slept in way worse before. It’s more than enough!” Jimin pleads from behind his Alpha.

“If that’s what you guys want, then it’s fine with me.”

You see them visibly relax a little bit.

And so everyone crowds into the youngest’s room, features in awe thinking of their packmate enjoying such a lavish room. You scan around, thinking of how to give them more room to sleep. You never had the need to get any air mattresses, as five guest bedrooms is usually more than enough. That’s when it hits you to drag one of the futon couches from another room into theirs, with Jungkook doing most of the heavy lifting.

“Alright, this one folds out and can fit two people if the bed gets too crowded. We got that figured out, so all there’s left is bandages plus meds, and we can call it a night.”

You work carefully on each hybrid, going down the line with the wound care kits. Jimin and Jin ask every two minutes if they can help, which nudges Taehyung to ask as well, but you refuse to let them.

The three exchange glances of confusion and fear. It’s not exactly a good sign when an owner isn’t using their hybrids, as the researchers reminded them constantly at the lab.

“But this is what we’re trained for. We’ll do it really well, let us prove it to you.”

“I have no doubt you’d do it well Jin, but that’s not what this is about. You should be resting, letting others take care of you for a change.”

___

“She hates us, doesn’t she? She hates us and she’s going to give us to the state first thing tomorrow.”

Namjoon wants to calm Jimin down and assure him that’s not the case, but he’s not even sure himself. Aside from letting Jin do the dishes and Jungkook helping here and there, you’ve denied their services the entire night. You wouldn’t even let the Alpha guard your door for you, insisting that you had excellent security already.

If you had excellent security, and housekeepers, and a personal chef…what the hell could they contribute to be good for you? How long did they have until they were sent away for being useless?

The atmosphere in the room is strained, similar thoughts going through everyone’s mind. Even Jungkook’s. As nice as you’ve been to him so far, he’s not naïve enough to forget that you’re the owner and he’s the hybrid. He was gifted to you, by the most vile people he’s ever met, and it’d be dumb to trust you fully. Does he obey you fully? Absolutely. But trust? That’s only for his packmates.

He sits up from Jimin’s lap, looking at his defeated face and attempting to boost morale. “We just have to show we’re useful hyung. If we can show that, I think we’d all be happy here!”

“We’d all love to stay Koo, I mean this place is more than we’ve ever imagined, but how are we supposed to be useful if she already has everything we can give?”

Hoseok finally speaks up.

“I’ll go try.”

No one says a thing as they watch him leave the room, with everyone’s first reaction being relief. If Hoseok does this right, then maybe no one will have to leave. They know he doesn’t enjoy his role—it’s the one they’d want to do the least—and if they were in their right minds, they would never let him offer himself up in such a way. But no one’s in their right minds, and all they want is to be good for you.

___

You’re applying moisturizer when you hear the knock on your door.

“It’s me, Hoseok. C-can I come in?”

You make your way over to unlock the door.

“Are you really tired?”

Truthfully? Yes, you are. Today’s been an insane rollercoaster of emotions, with the stress of work and the adoption, but you don’t want to turn him away if he needs to talk about something.

“No, I’m happy to make some time for you if you need.”

He nods, inching his way closer, fluttering his eyelashes in the flirty way he’s perfected. If you weren’t so exhausted, this would be the point you’d catch on.

“So, what can I help you with?”

Before you can register what’s happening, his hands are on your waist and your noses are almost touching. Those beautiful brown eyes have narrowed to a much more seductive gaze, making your breath hitch.

“I’m actually here to help you” even his voice is lower, raspier than before, “just tell me how. If you need me to behave, I can do that. If you need me to take control, I do that well too.”

He says the last part in a whisper, breath fanning your neck as he leans closer to your ear, “Just tell me your fantasies. I can do it all.”

It all attacks your senses at once—his soft vanilla scent, that half-lidded sultry gaze, and those damn heart shaped lips. Your heart threatens to fall out of your chest with how hard it’s beating, and you know he can hear it too. It’s been far too long since you’ve been intimate with anything other than your vibrator, and it’s disconcerting just how quick he can rile you up. His eyes are zoned in on your lips, and there’s nothing you want more at that moment than to just give in and feel good.

But then he bites his lip, and you notice something. Notice that it feels calculated.

The look in his eyes only reinforce this. There’s no real desire there, but rather contrived lust. It’s like the gears in his head are turning, telling him:

Okay bite your lip…now. Perfect.

Flutter your lashes more, they always like that.

Maybe I need to get closer.

It becomes clear that this is just a routine, one that’s not bringing him pleasure at all. And that’s enough to snap you out of the trance—guilt hitting you like a truck as you push him back. You’re not supposed to have these thoughts when you know what he’s gone through. It’s clear he’s not in control of his actions right now, so how could you even think to take advantage of him like that?

God, his bandaged neck is right in front of you, and you still had those thoughts. Are you really that low y/n?

Hoseok’s having his own mental breakdown at the rejection, blood running cold the second you push him away. You don’t want him. He doesn’t get it…your heart was beating fast, and you looked like you were into it. Was his voice not low enough? Should he have winked the way they taught him in the lab? Was dinner actually a test and now you don't want him because he's too fat?

He's already disappointed you just at the seducing stage. Great.

Now it’s his heart that’s beating fast, palpitating at the thought of having to go back and explain his failure to the rest of them. How disappointed will they be once he tells them he can’t even be desirable enough for you—when that’s all he’s been trained to do for three fucking months?!

What am I supposed to do if I’m the reason we all get shipped to a shelter in the morning?

The thought alone causes tears to spill from his eyes.

You’re pulled out of your own head at lightning speed the moment you notice, which is admittedly too late as he’s full on sobbing now.

“I’m so sorry y/n. I’ll be better—” he’s gasping for breath in between the sobs, “I’ll do anything you want— Please don’t push me away.”

“Hoseok…that’s not…that’s not why I brought you here. You don’t have to force yourself to do things you clearly don’t want to.”

Ah. So that’s where he messed up. He made it obvious he wasn’t into it.

Stupid Hoseok. Dumb Hoseok. Can’t do a single thing right Hoseok.

A new stream of tears wet his cheeks and you’re scrambling.

“Sweetheart, please look at me,”

He lifts his head up, trying to look at you through blurry lenses. The affectionate nickname doesn’t go unnoticed, giving him a sliver of hope.

“I know you’re trying to be good for me by doing this, but you’re already so good.”

Confusion is clear on his features.

“But I haven’t done anything useful.”

“That’s not true. You’ve been so polite, all of you have, so polite and so” it makes you recoil saying the next words, but you know it’s what he needs to hear, “well-behaved.”

His ears perk up at that, as if you’re dangling another piece of that delicious wagyu beef in front of him.

“Really?”

“Yes Hobi” you try out the nickname, and it’s obvious by the way his eyes light up that you’ve made the right choice.

“Now, how are we feeling about washing up, wiping those tears off, and getting you back to the others?”

He holds the bottom of your shirt at the mention of going back.

“Wait! C-can I stay the night? Just sleep next to you? If I go back now…they’ll hate me.”

If you were any less physically or emotionally worn-out, you would’ve explained that no one would blame him because there’s nothing he did wrong—but all you want right now is a quick fix to keep him from crying and a good night’s sleep.

“Okay.”

____

A/N: Got this one out sooner than I thought I would since I had some time off work! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always highly appreciated!

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#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #hurt/comfort #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #unnatural instincts

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eldritch-spouse · 7 months

Note

PINNIE I WANNA PUT BELO IN AN AMAZON POSITION, is that what it’s called,,,? I DUNNO DONT CARE I WANT THIS ANGEL BOY BENEATH ME—DOMINATE HIM AA!! Also it’s funny imaging a small human bending a large angel :}

[YOU'RE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE OOOOOHHH-💨 Fem reader. You are not Admin in this.]

TW: Reader is slightly pushy at first but it's entirely consensual.

" I want to try something different. " You muse out loud.

" ... My Lady? "

Sex with Belo is great.

Upon first meeting the angel, you had one or two assumptions in your head that you thought held true. That angels are asexual, incapable of carnal desire. You thought he'd chastise you for expressing attraction to him, that he wouldn't make for a pleasing bedmate anyway.

You couldn't have been more wrong. Belo is none of those things.

In fact, the signs were there from the start. Belo had been struggling with containing his own desires for a torturous amount of time. You simply didn't want to interpret reality for what it was. Didn't want to believe that lingering touches meant more than just a different perception of personal boundaries, that his longing staring wasn't just a tendency of angels to be vigilant... Even as he confessed to finding you the most gorgeous lesser there is, you didn't believe that attraction could hold within itself the selfishness of lust.

Obviously, you know much better by now.

You know Belo craves to please you at any capacity he can, that your approval and ecstasy in bed is something he always seems to put before his own. And you love the sensation of his body atop yours, his sheer size, his warmth, the trembling need barely contained in his limbs when he sinks into you and that unforgettable softness experienced when your hands roam around his furred figure. It's bliss from beginning to end, your own little Eden provided by the angel that somehow proclaimed you his savior.

And yet...

Sometimes, it feels repetitive.

Like Belo is somewhat scared of doing something you would consider inadequate, so he sticks tightly to what he knows. Especially positions and gestures you have initiated in the past. You initially understood this as a sign of Belo's timidity and slight apprehension regarding such intimacies, but as time passes, you're fairly certain he himself is longing to try different things.

And you've been plagued with a certain mental image for a while.

So why not try your hand at it?

The power stares expectantly at your seated form on the couch by the doorway, having previously been in the kitchen, busying himself with chores you didn't assign or request of him- As usual. He dons on his front one of your aprons, the cloth looking ridiculously tiny on him, covered with stains you assume belong to sauces.

He's always wearing that black tight suit, it almost makes you feel bad for preferring to put on loose-fitting and comfortable clothes in your own home.

" I want to try something different, Belo. " You repeat.

There's a humorous pause wherein the angel tries to calculate what you might be talking about, your poker face and neutral tone betraying absolutely nothing. His eyes widen, and the non-human straightens immediately.

" Yes, of course my Lady! I've been looking at those uhm... " Belo gesticulates oddly, searching for words he doesn't necessarily understand. " Those digital cookbooks you have, and I spotted this very good-looking dish- "

Oh. Oh the poor thing.

He thinks you're talking about dinner.

The laugh that erupts from your throat is hearty and genuine, startling your devoted celestial into ashamed silence. Maybe he assumes you're mocking him for trying to use your social media bookmarks to cook. It's a genuinely sweet and loving effort from Belo, one of very many, provided he doesn't require nourishment in the form of actual food like you. You don't want him to feel self-conscious about something so considerate.

Rising from the comforting cushions, you approach the taller monster with a dubious little grin on your lips, hands dipping behind the apron to tug the long open collar of his outfit forward, down, your eyes meeting his two naturally engorged ones. The angel's tilted eyes have always been a touch too intense, but you know that's in his kind's nature, especially since he told you his specific cast specializes in combat and protection. Still, it's ever easy to get lost in those pools.

" I said something new. "

This time, there can be no type of misunderstanding. Even if Belo had the thickest skull in all of existence, the way your lids bat coyly and your head cants leaves zero to the imagination. An index flirts idly with neat clumps of fur as his chest begins fluffing in tension. He has no saliva to swallow down, but you wouldn't blame him if he gulped at this moment.

" Ah- I... I see. "

With a gentler smile, you undo the apron's knot, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of Belo's face, hearing him coo a noise out, before carefully removing the garment in a way that causes the least discomfort possible to his smaller pair of wings.

" Did you leave anything on in the kitchen? "

" No, my Lady. "

He doesn't quite know what to do with himself, hands previously twitching by his sides now holding each other at his front, before he decides the pose isn't appropriate and holds them at his back instead, straightening- As if you needed another reminder of how he towers over humans. Three eyes bounce everywhere in the room, avoiding you as he always does when nervous, yet occasionally fleetingly checking for some type of approval in your gaze.

Cruelly, you allow him to remain in that riled up stasis for a few precious moments, standing on the tips of your toes to further crowd him.

" Good. Leave dinner to me tonight. "

When you take that lightly furred pale hand in yours, Belo follows obediently after you like a lost puppy.

" Undress. " You begin as soon as you're inside the bedroom, not even bothered to look the angel's way as you start arranging the sheets and pillows.

You're going to put him in a position that might be a little stressful for a being with wings, so there's a lot of caution to be exercised here. You figure support for his lower back and neck should help. After all, he takes similar measures with you regularly.

The sound of something soft hitting the floor has you finally looking back, faced with your angel now bare, flexing his wings gently. You've always wondered how he doesn't struggle with taking off clothes given his large wings, you'd certainly consider it a chore, just as many demons hate sweaters that get caught on their horns.

Belo presents himself to you, standing straight and spanning his wings a certain distance -Careful not to hit the walls- And spreading his legs the slightest amount in spite of his ever present slight nervousness. You've always liked that little tuft of fur above his slit, the way it feels against your fingers when he neglects to trim it for a while.

" My beautiful angel. " You praise. " Come, undress me. "

And really, if there was one request you could make of the all-powerful beings Belo so frequently raves about, it would be the ability to see the way his furious flush spreads from his face to his already fur-covered neck.

Supremely gentle and dexterous fingers work at your clothes with the same reverence he continues to extend your way no matter how much time passes. You'll never get used to this level of sweetness, this worship, Belo touches you like with a love so profound you can swear you somehow feel it in the tips of his digits. Even in his moments of seemingly greedy pursuit of gratification, Belo doesn't seem to know how to be anything except devoted. Maybe it's because he's angelic, but you can say for certain that you've never been treated this nicely, and you've never longed for anyone's embrace as much as you long for his.

The power doesn't let his fingers roam too much when he follows your command, intent on getting things done dutifully as opposed to demonstrating lack of self-control. His eyes however, swirling windows to the soul of a celestial, reveal everything he refuses to voice or act on out of respect for you. Belo's pupils dilate immensely as soon as your bare breasts are exposed, his digits acquire a slight tremble as he makes to fold your top and set it down on the drawer, until you playfully bat it out of his hand. Belo sinks to his knees in front of you, and the view is so paradoxical -A holy creature kneeling to its gods' mistake- That you nearly burst out cackling. Instead, all that leaves your mouth is a silent gasp when he catches the hem of your sweatpants and drags it down, hooking over your panties as well. The trip down is slow, measured, and you know it's not an intentional tease but you still shimmy to have it fall faster, catching a twitch in his largest eye, while the one beneath it has fixed itself on your naked pussy.

When his task is completed, Belo remains kneeling obediently, palms flat on his thighs.

" Thank you. " You purr. " Sit on the bed. "

He does, albeit on the very edge, quickly correcting himself when you make a "further" motion.

Seeing the way Belo's eyes widen as you move to almost straddle him is as intoxicating as it was the first time. You remember the luxurious roll of your hips over his own, recall his fingers twitching as he tried to grab onto you without bruising frail human skin. Delightful and memorable.

" Lay, my sweet. "

Ever the glutton for obedience, it's not long before the angel is on his back, and you immediately take the opportunity to flatten your palms to his furred chest, fingers threading between that familiar softness like second nature. Your head soon joins, nuzzling yet careful to avoid the extra eye stationed there. You trail a path of lazy kisses upwards, tracing the edges of his built-in halo you can reach and dragging your teeth across the root of his left pair of head wings.

The response is instantaneous and intense, this sudden cooing moan hopelessly erupting from Belo's throat before he seems to pale even further in shame and muffles the noise. Tsk, it seems he'll never learn to sing freely, no matter how many times you reassure the power that his angelic vocalizations are half the fun. Those smaller wings twitch and flap, the ones on his back fanning out humorously.

" You're adorable. " It's said in a mocking tone, followed by laughter as the angel fails to suppress more noises when you offer the remaining wing equal attention.

You love that he's already matting his own fur in slick by the time you reach down to part it and play with his pretty pink slit. It's engorged, his length already brushing against the fingertips that brazenly dip inside. With a gasp, the power spreads his legs slightly and tenses. You can feel his effort to keep still.

As soon as you begin crawling back to settle your head between snowy legs, he gathers enough wit to start babbling the same old drivel.

" M- My Lady, you need not- "

" I don't need to, I want to. "

Belo looks at you like he doesn't quite get the point. And frankly, some concepts seem to have been drilled so hard into his mind that you worry he will never understand other views of the world.

" You want to please me, right? " You start, kissing at his sheath until the very tip of him shows itself.

" More than anything. " The male pants.

" Then you should know that pleasing you pleases me. "

And with that, you take what's available of his rosy length in your mouth, coaxing the rest of him out almost impatiently.

Belo's choked groan of surprise has you smiling around him, amused by the impulsive horse buck of his legs before he garbles and apology and tries to melt back onto the sheets, poorly. He won't hold your head. Not from lack of desire, but that ever-persistent sense of inferiority, fisting his hands on the fabric beneath him instead. When one of his arms does rise, all he does is shakily pet your hair, inhaling sharply at the swipe of your tongue across his head, before dropping it again.

" Lady... "

He moans pitifully, a delicious sound coming from a creature so supposedly holy.

As much as you'd enjoy keeping him between your lips, your goal this time is much more fun, so you pop off him lazily. There's a moment where he twitches and his fur bristles in what anyone can guess is instinctual irritation, but Belo doesn't say a peep.

Seeing his eyes bulge when you grab Belo's thighs and start bending them up is hilarious enough that you giggle openly.

" What- What are we doing, my Lady? "

" Relax, I promise you'll like it. " Or at least you assume he will, what with his desire to always be below yourself. " Now please, hold your legs up for me. "

The title would get repetitive if you didn't enjoy it so much.

The angel does, grabbing the back of his knees and sliding his legs back with the help of your guidance, until they're basically glued to his chest. He's fit, you're not surprised he can easily hold that position. In fact, you get to see the exact moment it clicks in his bird brain, the nature of the position he's in. His cock bobs aimlessly and his wings move almost as if to cover his figure sides in shame. And, admittedly, the view has all sorts of chills taking hold of your limbs, your own womanhood singing.

" My Lady, this is so... So...! "

Eyes roll slowly at his stuttering, though you relish the tremor of his pupils when you move to hover over him, as if your much smaller body could ever constitute as a minimal threat to his.

" Filthy? Lewd? Scandalous? " You kiss directly beneath his eyes. " Yes, just how I like you, my debauched dove. "

With a soft command for him to hold still, you rearrange the pillows beneath his body properly and take a moment to figure your own position correctly. After all, as much as you've thought about doing this before, you never actually got to make that wish come true, so it'll take a bit of experimentation.

Belo continues to be mildly confused. " No- No offense, Lady, but are you sure this is correct? "

You scoot to line Belo's member up with your entrance, rubbing him against you to spread the angel's arousal and facilitate things. He shudders in anticipation, the lowermost eye on his face already rolling in pleasure.

" Why wouldn't it be? "

He's not given a chance to respond before you gradually sink onto his girth, causing such a reaction that he nearly releases his legs before holding them ever tighter.

" Gghn-!! O-Oh... "

Sparing him the smallest mercy, you're slow to rock yourself on him, letting the first shock of heat flow through him before you're flush to his pelvis. It's a wonderful position, he's hitting you deeper than usual already, ripping a soft mewl out of you as your cunt clenches greedily around the intrusion.

" See? " You huff, slightly out of breath when you experimentally bounce a little on him. Belo whines long and low, unsure what else he can do to ground himself. " It works just fine. "

The first few rocks are entirely random as you try to quickly work out a rhythm and motion that works well enough, settling for straightening up and grabbing Belo's ankles for support, careful not to twist the tiny feathers there. Finally, you're able to get into it properly, a sickly delight on your face as you watch Belo's figure shift beneath your thrusts.

Is this... What you look like to him? Not a bad sight at all.

Belo's eyes, previously closing at the first taste of rapture your walls brought him, widen like the dinner plates at the notion that he's being well and truly fucked by his human. There's a pause where it looks as if his mind has truly been fried, one eye fixed on your face, another on the sway of your tits, and the other memorizing the way your pussy swallows him.

You won't lie, the rush of dominance, of having something so much more than human willingly present themself for you, allowing a tiny human to ride them into submission- It has you beside yourself with want, and your smirk crashes into a pleasured "oh" as you join Belo in his stunned marveling.

You'll be doing this a lot more often, for sure.

" Hhn- Oh lords please- I- " Belo melts and shivers, his chest fluffing itself further and his wings twitching sporadically. " Humans have- Developed such odd mating customs... "

He's talking like he isn't throbbing madly inside you right now.

" Mhm, you need to catch up on a lot of stuff, pretty boy. "

Though of course, you'll be personally helping with that.

When your mind starts blanking in bliss and your body gives its first warning signs of an approaching peak, you look down at Belo, whose head has tossed onto the pillow supporting his neck and whose wings fan out in a tense crescendo of pleasure. His legs and feet spasm periodically and he moans the wetter his fur becomes with your slick.

Another reason you like his fur is the surprising amount of friction and texture it can offer your clit when you're intimate. It's the soft brush of a feather almost, but enough to bring you closer to orgasm all that quicker! Honestly, the only downside to Belo's incredibly soft fur is that vacuuming is a little more frequent and pesky.

In moments, you're bending to be flush to his body, batting Belo's hands away so you can hold his legs back yourself. It's an even more intense angle, making you feel even more powerful as you hold the angel down and piston his cock into you as hard as you physically can, sweating and panting in exertion.

You're sure you must look downright beastly right now, but all Belo does is whine and mewl, still gazing at you as if you were the most entrancing thing to ever exist, a wonder of the universe above him. The power gathers enough motor coherence to brush strands of hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ear, before his arms flop uselessly at his sides once more, fingers curling in delight.

All those lavender eyes begin to roll, his hips rising off the bed yet smacked back down viciously by the weight of your body thrusting him down, in the midst of his mindless crooning noises, Belo utters your name like a plea for mercy and wraps his arms around your back, your breasts sliding on his chest and his legs reflexively fighting your grip so he can presumably wrap them around your smaller figure too.

He's a vision of the sweetest dream like this.

" Gods please don't stop- Please please- I'm sorry I can't- " The angel cries, tears beading in the corner of his three eyes, absolutely helpless and hopeless beneath you.

All of it comes together to send you well over the edge, throwing you into a climax so shockingly strong that you fuck yourself on him one last leg-shaking time before tensing and crying out to the ceiling. He follows instantly, having been holding himself for a while. You relish the sensation of Belo's cum shooting deep into your hole, only to have no choice except to drip back down and stain him, slip between his legs and yours in grossly warm globs.

Seconds of you two catching your breath silently and fondly pass, until you slowly release Belo's legs and rub his thighs in gratitude. He seems content to remain holding you, though avoids your gaze now that the post-orgasm clarity has him bashful again.

" Thank you for humoring me. " You sigh against his neck.

His wings close over the two of you gently. " Always, my love. "

#Belo oc #yandere angel #monster oc #terato #monsterfucker #terato tag #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #not sfw #minors dni #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster

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ohtobeleah · 8 months

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Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Seven: [War Wounds in the Ward]

Summary: When help finally arrives, Jake believes it may be too late. The extent of both your injuries are finally revealed and the both you come face to face with the reality of just how long you’d been held in captivity for.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Word Count: 7.4k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“We gotta move.” How this guy got the key to Jake’s cell he’d never know, but what was important was that he had it and he was here now. “We’ve got about ten minutes to get you both out to the medi-vac.”

You never would have guessed how quickly Jake Seresin could still move in order to put his body on the line for you. At the sight of someone coming into his cell yet again, rescuer or not—he was shielding you with everything he had. No one was touching you, not again.

Once the man was inside Jake's cell he took a knee to assess your current state. At the mere thought of anyone touching you Jake flinched and held you a little tighter. He wasn’t sure who he could trust, wasn’t sure if this was real or just some cruel joke. Another attempt to shatter any kind of hope.

“It’s okay Lieutenant, you can let her go.”

“I don’t trust you.” Jake used his body to shield you as much as he could. He was done letting people hurt you, including himself. The man in the dark mask paused, but then in order to gain Jake's trust, he took that mask off, revealing his identity to Jake as he tried to reach out to gauge your pulse. “Please don’t hurt her, she’s been through enough.”

“I’m not gonna hurt her Jacob.” The man with silver hair and a cocky half smile confirmed. “My name is Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS, I’m gonna get the two of you out of here.”

“Who was the woman, the one who gave me the note?” Jake couldn’t stop thinking about her and her lifeless body. Who was she? How did she get a note from Rooster? How did she know help was coming? There were so many unanswered questions he thought he’d never get answers to.

“CIA—deep cover agent, she had sent out a coded message around the time the two of you went missing. Descriptions matched, your friend Rooster I believe?” Gibbs was still trying to find your pulse. “Yeah he told her to write a note out, give you something to fight for.”

“Hold tight, Stay alive—“ Jake repeated to himself just under his breath, the agent who wasn’t happy with how weak your pulse was nodded too.

“Which is exactly what she’s gonna have to do, let’s get her out of here before it’s too late.”

“Gibbs!” Another man came racing down the hallway. “Gibbs we gotta move!” He was dressed in the same dark uniform as Gibbs was. “They’re angry as shit, like ants! A hive of angry ants.”

“I thought I told you to distract and disturb?”

“Yeah well, change of plans—we gotta get the hell outta dodge, now!”

Jake wasn’t all that sure who to follow or what to think. He only knew two things for sure, one being he had to get you out of here while he still had a chance too. And two? He couldn’t run. He couldn’t come with you. He was damaged goods.

“I can’t go.” Jake confessed with a deep sigh as he handed you over to the man who’s just come racing in. He ran his finger down your cheek and tried to hold it together. Was this the last time he was ever going to see you? “She’s in a really bad way, please take care of her, get her out of here.”

“Lieutenant it’s now or never—“ Gibbs made sure to remind Jake.

“They put a pacemaker inside my damn chest alright! I can’t let my heart rate get above one forty!” Jake explained as the older man helped him to his feet. “The Commander has a remote control for it too, and I gotta be honest with you, I’m not all that keen on the idea of my heart exploding inside my fucking chest.”

“The Commanders dead.” Gibbs tried his best to bluff his way through this. He had to get Jake out of here, there was no backup plan. It was now or never and never wasn’t an option. “He’s gone, ain’t got no way to press that button.” DiNozzo knew as a matter of fact that Dennis Gervais was well and truly alive, because he’d just come from the same room that he was in. “So we focus on keeping your heart rate down and get you out of here.” All Jake did was nod as he looked at you just barely breathing, barely holding on for dear life. You’d been through so much—he owed you this much, to try till his dying breath to get you out of this hell. “DiNozzo you take Y/n, I’ll guard Jake here and we’ll get ‘em on the medi-vac before shit gets too out of hand.”

“On it boss.” Tony acknowledged the plan and knew the risks involved as he bent down to pick you up and pull your nearly lifeless body across his shoulders so that he could carry you. “Okay ma’am, sorry if this hurts a little.”

“We’re heading down the hall, taking the first left and making a run for the stairs that leads up to the ground floor—it’ll take us right out to the loading bay.” Jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Gibbs knew it was going to be a hard pill to swallow as the group started to make their way out of the cell.

“You mean to tell me there’s been an exit door right down the hall this whole time!!” It made him sick to his stomach. Freeform was right there all along. It made things so much worse knowing it was right there.

“We’re gonna get you home Lieutenant, just keep in step and don’t look back.” Gibbs commanded as he made sure his weapon was loaded. “Let’s get these two out of here DiNozzo.”

Jake watched as DiNozzo took off running with you slung across his shoulders. His heart ached on two fronts, one being he knew you were about to be safe, about to be away from all this. The other being he hated whenever you were away from him. When you were with him you were safe in his arms. Apart? He couldn’t help you.

There were guards slain in the hall from where gunfire had recently rung out, Jake tried his best not to get too caught up but he couldn’t recognise a single soul. None of them he knew from his time trapped. They were just foot soldiers.

“Take a left DiNozzo!” Anthony corrected his direction promptly as Jake followed, he was being careful to pace himself. He didn’t want the beeping to start, not now. It couldn’t, he was relying on everything he had left inside him to keep it down. To breathe steady, In and out.

“Right! Sorry!” Gibbs was the last one up the stairs, he was protecting his people, firing the odd shot at anyone who tried to stop them four of them from getting where they needed to go.

“Jake?” It was the softest of whimpers that escaped from your lips as DiNozzo carried you up the stairs. “Jake?” You mumbled again, only this time a little louder and more confused. “What’s going on?”

“You’re okay ma’am.” Tony tried his best to calm you before you had a chance to panic. “Jakes right behind me, I’m special agent Anthony DiNozzo with the NCIS.”

“Oh.” Was all you could say as you dangled over Dinozzo's shoulders. “Oh god someone found us.” It was more like you were trying to convince yourself this was real. “Someone came.”

“We did ma’am.” DiNozzo confirmed as he opened the latch on the door that led out to the loading dock. “We’re not out of the woods yet though, so just stay with us for a little while longer okay?” When he was finally able to unlock the heavy metal door, DiNozzo was delighted to see the medi-vac choppers coming in for landing. “Over there!” He shouted back at Jake and Gibbs before he took off running with you on his shoulders.

The sunlight burned Jake's skin as he stepped out into the light. God how long had it been since he’d felt the warmth of the sun on his usually tanned skin. He’d never been this pal, this skinny, this unkempt.

“There’s someone who wants to speak with you, Lieutenant.” Gibbs smirked as he escorted Jake across the snow and over to the helicopter that would be taking him back to the carrier. He handed him a radio, one of those sat nav ones.

Jake held it up so he could talk just as five F-18 Super Hornets came racing past to pepper the building with ammunition. It was a full takedown if there ever was one. A covert operation to get you and Jake back. The signal had been given and it was go time.

“What took you so long?” Jake wasn’t sure who it was going to be, but he knew they were all up there. All cheering that he was alive, that you were alive. That the pair of you were being rescued. Hey did however have a slight inkling as to who might answer. “What the hell has the Calvary been!”

“Hey Hangman.” Rooster bellowed through the radio as he flew closer to the building just to drop a missile on the southwest corner. “You look good!” Jake couldn’t contain his laughter, this was really happening.

“I am good, Rooster.” He remembered what he’d said all those years ago. “I’m very good.” Jake sighed as he watched his colleagues and friends dismantle the building you and Jake had been held hostage in for what felt like forever. “Now get us outta here!”

“We better keep moving, Lieutenant.” Gibbs ushered Jake over to the other medi-vac helicopter, it had all gone according to plan. Jake had kept his heart rate below one twenty as his watch kept telling him. You were being loaded into the other helicopter, strapped to a medical gurney and fitted with oxygen immediately. Jake watched on as the building the four of you had just come out of went up in smoke and flames. Insurgents scurried out for their lives at any exit they could take. “Let’s get these birds in the sky!”

“Yes sir.” The pilot copied just as Jake saw the man he’d been told was dead appearing out of the smoke, surrounded by insurgents with guns who aimed right for the two medi-vac helicopters.

“Come on probie help me get her strapped in.” Tony grumbled as he fiddled with the straps around the wheels of the bed you were on. He didn’t want it to budge. “How the hell did you get the easy job anyway!”

“Easy job!! I’ve been out here for ten minutes fending off enemy fire!”

“I thought you said he was dead!?” Jake hissed as he eyed off the man who’d put you both through hell. He couldn’t help but to say as he thought about making a break from the helicopter just to get his revenge from n the man who’s done so much damage. But he couldn’t, Jake wouldn’t do that as the helicopter began to rise from the snow covered ground. He wasn’t going to, not for any amount of money, you’d told him when the pair of you were first captured to never play the hero again—but Jake was a villain. A hero would sacrifice anything for the greater good. He’d see anything ax expendable.

But Jake would walk through fire and cross the seven seas for you, he had no such desire to want to play the hero. He just wanted to be safe again, with you. So knowing you were already safe, there was no reason to go back. There was no reason to want to be a hero.

“I lied—“ Gibbs sighed as he aimed his weapon. “Get us up in the air!” Jake knew the moment he saw The Commander standing there watching him escape that he wouldn’t let him go without a fight, without causing enough damage that he might not make it out alive. As the helicopters took off you sat up just to watch the group below you get further and further away.

You were safe. Jake was safe. You were finally getting out of this hell together. And then? Everything you thought you knew came crashing down around you as you watched what appeared to be Jake's lifeless body fall out of the side of the medi-vac helicopter. No. Not now, not after everything you'd been through.

“NNOOOOO!” You cried out from behind the oxygen mask you'd been given. “JAKE!!”

Jake first fell to his knees as his hand gripped at his chest. The pain was all too real, too overpowering for him to stay steady on his feet. The Commander stood grinning ear to ear as he watched Jake fall out of the Medi-vac that was in the process of taking off. It would have been a solid hundred metres give or take a few. But it was surely enough to break Jake's jaw on impact.

“You’re not going anywhere Seresin!” The Commander growled as he and his men ascended on Jake. Two of them pulled him harshly up by his forearms as they forced Jake to look up at the very man who had caused so many people so much pain. “Your girl might get out, but you–you won't ever see the light of day ever again.

“Take us back to the carrier!” DiNozzo ordered the pilot who had carried on his way. You were in complete hysterics. You couldn't leave, not without Jake.

“WE HAVE TO GO BACK!” With all your might you were trying to get up off the bed. “WE CAN'T LEAVE HIM!” You felt like you couldn't breathe, Jake had been your rock this whole time. You'd seen the worst in people but also seen the best in him. You couldn't leave him behind, you couldn’t betray him when he never once let you give up.

“Ma’am, Ma’am you need to try and relax alright, Gibbs will figure it out.” Tony reassured you just hoping that his boss could pull something together. “We’re not going to leave him here, but we need to get you back to people who can help keep you alive.”

“I’m gonna kill you, I’m gonna kill you dead just because I can and for what it's worth? Your name will be forgotten once we are one word and one people, Jacob.” It was the worst kind of pain, a pain unparalleled to no other, the kind of pain that takes your breath away. That kind of pain that stops blood in its tracks, that shortens ligaments and tendons as you seize. “If only you’d just stayed the fuck away.” The Commander spat as he stopped Jake's heart, he fried the pacemaker in his chest past the breaking point and when his finger finally came off the little button in his hand: Jake was just thankful to have gotten to hear you say you loved him. Even if you only said it back to even the playing cards.

Jake knew you could never love him. Not after this, not after you’d gone through unspeakable agony all because of a split second decision he made.

“You’re not, you’re not going to win this.” Jake struggled out as he looked up at The Commander. “Dennis—“ That struck a raw nerve as The Commander reached for a handgun one of his men held. He wasted not a single second before peppering three rounds into Jake's gut.

“Maybe, but you won’t be around to see the outcome.”

Jake Seresin laid dying in the snow surrounded by insurgents as five F-18 Super Hornets laid waist into the building you'd both been held captive in—destroying every crevice, every brick. But ultimately it was just a little too late. You’d be okay though, you had to be. Jake had to believe that as his blood stained the China white snow he laid in.

The expected was always easier to accept than the unexpected.

“Everybody get to the evacuation points, if you see anyone you don’t trust? Kill them.” Jake could hear The Commander ordering his men before he kicked the heel of his boot into Jake's face. “Goodbye Lieutenant Seresin—you really did your country proud.” The condescending tone in The Commander’s voice really drove it home that all this had been for nothing. He was going to die, killed in action his final report would say.

The last thing Jake thought about as he laid in the snow watching as the medi-vac helicopters flew away, one of which had you finally safe on, was that he hoped you went on to live a beautiful life. Got back on your feet, healed from everything you were subjected to, went on to love and experience all the good the world had to offer. He thought about what kind of guy would be so lucky to marry you, have a life with you, raise your children, and watch you thrive. Because it wouldn’t be him. He was okay with that though because you were safe now, Jake Seresin was okay with dying so long as it meant you got the help you needed, that you deserved.

“I love you.”

Because you weren’t ever expendable. Not to him.

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

People have scars in all sorts of unexpected places. Like secret road maps of their own personal history. Diagrams of all their old wounds. Most old wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar, but some of them don't. Some wounds you carry with you everywhere, and although the cuts are long gone: the pain still lingers.

“Where's Jake?” It was the only thing you could say as you fought off unconsciousness. “Where's Jake? Where is he?”

“Lieutenant Y/l/n we need to get you into medical so we can start you on IV fluids and antibiotics–” It was a voice you didn't recognise that replied to you as you were being wheeled off the medi-vac and onto the deck of the carrier. “Someone let the Swaine know we’re on route!”

“Where's Jake?” Why wasn’t anyone listening, why wasn’t anyone answering you? “Please someone tell me he’s okay, that he’s alive? Please?”

It truly was a spectacle on the deck, but in all the commotion of your big arrival no one was listening to what you were mumbling behind your oxygen mask. No one except for one sandy blonde aviator who was pushing past every person he had to in order to get to your side as they wheeled you across the runway. He’d barely shut off his F-18 before he was racing down the tarmac after you.

“Hey!” Bradley beamed as he reached your side, his hand slipped into your as he walked with the team who were in charge of getting you where you needed to go. “Hey, Hollywood, holy shit–” He couldn't believe you were alive, sure none of them had ever given up hope and from the fleeting information they had been given during your time in captivity, he hoped that CIA agent was still alive, but still he couldn't believe you were actually back. It had been so long. “You’re safe now, we’ve got you.”

“WHERES JAKE!” It came out as an agonising scream until Rooster could see your tears. “Where is he Bradshaw?” As far as Bradley was aware Jake's rescue Evac was still in the process. He’d fallen and that's all Bradley knew for sure.

“He’s right behind you, they got him Hollywood, you don't have to worry anymore.” DiNozzo, the Special Agent in charge of escorting you back to medical, looked at the aviator across the gurney from him. He knew that Jake was still yet to be evacuated. He was still on the ground the last Tony saw. “You can rest now, it's alright, Jakes right behind you.”

“Oh–” You sighed as your entire body relaxed, it was a weight you didn't realise was compressing your chest. “Oh good.” It was only then did your body allow you to go into complete rest. You fell into unconsciousness seconds after being told that Jake was okay, he was coming, that he was right behind you.

“We’re losing her, we gotta move.” One of the officers informed Bradley as he stood still, watching as you were wheeled into the carrier. Not knowing if you were actually going to make it out of this hell alive.

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Jake swore the chill of the snow would take him before his heart gave out. He couldn’t move a single muscle as he laid there on his back in the silence—only burning rubble seemed to break through the deafening silence of his last moments on earth.

He thought about you, the entire time. How your laugh would fill up the Hard Deck and how he’d roll his eyes in response. It was stupid really but Jake honestly thought if he didn’t get involved with you personally it would be easier to forget about the way you made him feel whenever you walked into a room.

“Y/n.” Your name sounded so familiar to him, so alluring and all consuming. “Y/n.” It brought him comfort in death. To whisper your name to himself as his life drained from him. “Y/n.”

“Not Y/n—“ Gibbs groaned as he pressed gauze into Jake's stomach and moved his hands to cover it. “Keep your hands on that.” He told Jake with a hushed tone, like he was trying to keep quiet. “Lift on three, one, two—three.”

“AAHHH!” Jake couldn’t help the agonising whelp that escaped his mouth as he was lifted up onto a stretcher. Had they come back for him? Surely not—at this point he was dead weight. Why on earth would they turn back for him?

“Get him on that medi-vac now!” Gibbs ordered as he stood and looked around, it seemed as though The Commander had been able to flee with a handful of insurgents. “Stop the bleeding as fast as you can.”

What's worse? New wounds which are so horribly painful or old wounds that should have healed years ago and never did? Maybe old wounds teach you something, maybe they remind you of where you've been and what you’ve overcome. They teach you lessons about what to avoid in the future.

That's what Jake liked to think. Because as he let his head rest back against the stretcher and thought about how beautiful the embers of that god awful building were, he couldn't wait for these new wounds to become valuable lessons that didn't hurt as bad as they did now.

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Every cell in the human body regenerates on average every seven years. Like snakes, we shed our skin. Biologically, we’re brand new people. It's imperative, change that is. You might look the same, you probably feel the same, but the change isn't visible. At least not for most people.

“She’s waking up—“ You barely heard it, the husk of a familiar voice that came from beyond the darkness. “Do you want me to leave?”

When people say things like ‘People don't change’ It drives scientists crazy, because change is literally the only constant in all of science. Energy. Matter. It's always changing. Morphing. Merging. Growing. Dying. It's the way people try not to change that's unnatural.

“No kid, no—“ Again, another familiar voice echoed beyond the darkness as you were brought back into the light. A steady beeping droned in the background monitoring your vitals. “You stay, I’ll go check on how Lieutenant Seresin is doing after surgery.”

The way people cling to what things were instead of letting them be what they are. The way you cling to old memories instead of forming new ones can be just as damaging as trying not to evolve. The way people insist on believing, despite every scientific indication that anything in this lifetime is permanent.

“Okay, yeah—let me know how he is?” Bradley asked as your dad, Commander ‘Hollywood’ Neven, tapped his shoulder as he sat by your bedside. Watching over you as you recovered from what had been some of the most extensive and exhausting surgeries Rooster had ever seen.

His mother had had a few operations in her battle with Cancer—but none of which came close to what he was told you were going through.

From the complete orthopedic reconstruction on your shattered wrist to the skin graft on your lower back, to the plastic surgery repair made to damage done on your face. Some scars would remain—but your surgeon was pretty hopeful that the swelling would go down. It made Roosters heart break.

“Roo—“ It was the first thing you managed to struggle out. Your throat was so dry as you tilted your head to the side just slightly to see him better. “Hi.” The light hurt your eyes, in a way it felt good to be out of the dark.

“Hey Hollywood.” Bradley smiled as he reached out to grab your hand. “Tell you what you know how to scare us, don't you?” You couldn't help the oh so soft smile that crept across your face when you realised you were home, that you were finally safe. “How you feeling?”

“Uh–” You didn't know what to say. Your entire body ached for various different reasons all the more painful to describe than the last. You were a plethora of injuries, a thesaurus of unspeakable acts of violence. And even though there wasn't a part of you that didn’t hurt, all your mind could think about was Jake. So you lied. You lied straight through your teeth. “I'm okay.” Bradley didn't believe it, not for a second. He had seen the state you were in when they airlifted you back to the carrier. And it seemed as though your number one priority hadn’t changed. “Where's Jake? Is he okay?”

“Hangman's–” You interrupted Bradley quicker than he could explain Jake's current status.

“I asked where Jake was Rooster, Hangman isn't Jake.” The man who had done everything he could to protect you wasn't Hangman. He was simply Jake. “So please, just tell me Jakes alive?” Bradley complied with your very specific request and told you what you wanted to hear first.

“Jakes alive.” He nodded. “But he's critical, he's been in and out of surgery for a few days Y/n.” Rooster had collected a series of coffee cups on the table in your hospital room, ranging in size and kind. He must have been here with you for a while. “Your dads seeing to it that he gets the best care.”

“How long have I been out?” You asked next, everything was blurry. You could remember bits and pieces of being rescued, but not many. You could hear the sound of the helicopter blades in your head, but faces were all distorted in your memory. You could remember Jake holding you, his warmth protecting you from all harm, but then you saw him fall. He fell. Over and over in your mind you watched Jake fall and then you heard your pain filled cries of pure heartbreak. “How long has it been?”

“Since we got back here, a few days–you've been on some pretty strong painkillers and the doctors just kept telling me you'd wake up when your body was ready.” It was nice to fill in the gaps. But there was one gap you weren't sure if you wanted to fill.

“And how long were Jake and I, you know, held for?” Bradley wasn't sure if he should be the one to tell you, but then again, if you wanted anyone else to tell you, you would have waited to ask them and not him. So he told you, point blank.

“Almost Three months.”

“Oh god.” Change is constant, how you experience change, that's up to you. “No, No no no it cant have been three whole months Rooster.” It can feel like death, or it can feel like a second chance at life if you open your fingers, loosen your grip and go with it, it can feel like pure adrenaline.

“Y/n?” Bradley frowned when he heard your heart rate monitor start to beep at a faster rate than the machine was comfortable with. “Are you okay?” You felt like you couldn’t breathe as your brain tried to process the harsh reality that you and Jake had been held prisoners for three whole months. Your airways were tightening, like someone had their hands around your neck and was squeezing, holding you down, choking you. “Hey! Hey, I need someone in here! Nurse!” Bradley jumped up to his feet and hit the panic button as you began to cry, panicking as your body didn't feel like your own.

“Oh god, I can't breathe!” You cried out. “Rooster, help!” Like at any moment you can have another chance at life. Like at any moment, you can be born all over again. Or die from the pure weight of it all.

“She's having a panic attack or something.” Rooster explained to the nurses who were first into the room. “I don't know what to do.”

“It's the Asthma, sir.” One of the nurses explained. “She needs ventolin.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“You gotta wake up for me.” An induced coma, that's what the doctors had told you. That's what they said Jake needed in order to heal. In their words, his injuries were extensive, critical and very much life threatening. But while you watched Jake breathe through tubes and held his hand just to let him know you were there, you had to believe that he was going to be okay. That he’d pull through and you'd get to see his smile again.

“You don't get to leave me now you son of a bitch do you hear me?” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I'll be so pissed if you leave me here.” You snarled right in his ear so that he could hear you. “I'll come and find you in the afterlife and when I get there? I'll rain hell down on you for all eternity.” You weren't expecting a reply, not with Jake being in an induced coma and all. The tubes alone would have stopped him from replying even if he was awake. “Please wake up soon, I really miss you.” With your good hand, you gently ran your palm up his forehead and moved the hair that had fallen across his face away. The bruises were dark and extensive, but Jake was still there under it all. Under all the swollen and bruised skin and bone. Jake was still there. Your Jake was still fighting with everything he had. “I love you, please don't leave me.”

You sat back in your chair, the one you had been in since you were able to leave your own room during the day and visit Jake. You had to take your IV pole with you though, it was a non negotiable. You had to stay hooked up to antibiotics to fight off the infection in your lungs. It hurt to breathe, so the oxygen tank came too.

“How are we doing today Kiddo?” You dad asked as he came to visit you like he did every day. He, like all the other aviators that came to visit you and Jake, had gotten used to finding you up in Jake's room up in the intensive care ward.

“My lungs are on fire but it beats the alternative.” You only took your eyes off Jake for a second to acknowledge your father, who so far, hadn’t pried too deep into finding out details of your imprisonment. You knew he'd have to take off the farther figure hat and replace it with his Commander of the pacific fleet hat soon enough. “The doctors said they’re happy with Jake's stats, said he might be able to come out of the coma soon.”

“That's good to hear sweetheart.” Your dad replied as he stood at the end of Jake's hospital bed, eyes off the man who had kept you alive from what he could tell. “I've uh, i've organised for you to speak to someone, someone who might be able to help you start to process what you went through.”

“I'm not interested.” It was as dismissive as it could be. You had no intention of leaving Jake's side for any longer than you had to. You didn't want to talk to anyone about any of it, they wouldn't understand and you certainly had no desire to explain all your trauma to a complete stranger. “With all due respect, dad, I don't have any intention of returning to active duty, so a therapist signing off on a clearance form that I’m mentally capable of returning to work, isn't needed.” You added the explanation at the end without so much as looking at your dad. You had a sinking feeling in your gut the more you thought about it. The more you were told about the people you had been tasked to take down. To dismantle.

“Baby girl.” Your dad tried to reason with you as a father and as Commander. “You are a highly skilled weapons system officer, the Navy cannot afford to lose you.”

“But yet I wasn't good enough to not be labelled as expendable huh?” The room was cold, but your heart was colder now more than ever before. It made sense but at the same time it didn't. Why? Why would the man you looked up to, respected so much–do this to you?

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you know that I was sent on this mission? Why I was chosen over Bob and Fanboy, two highly skilled, highly decorated WSO that Jake already worked with and had worked with for years?” Your dad was silent. Of course he knew, he had to have known considering the stakes of the mission. It just hadnt crossed your mind until you were sitting at that dining table with The Commander being told details you weren’t privy to prior to your file being selected.

“I–” There was nothing your dad could say to change your mind about the situation. He knew, he had betrayed you.

“I almost died, dad.” You barely spoke above a whisper all the while you kept your eyes on Jake's face. “And you signed off on this mission, knowing that we were going in blind with half a file that contained only basic information.”

“We knew you were capable.” Your dad was firm with you, like a Commander would be. “I knew you were ready for this, and I knew you were capable of understanding the risks involved—none of us banked on Seresin not knowing how to let go.” So it was true. They all believed the same thing, that if push came to shove Jake would save himself, not his WSO, not his Wingman. No one.

“You used me as collateral in case it didn't go according to plan!”

“Darling, you cannot blame me for what happened—I signed off on the mission file, the admirals were given recommendations, your name and file happened to be one of many.”

“I need you to leave!” You snapped with tears streaming down your cheeks. Now more than ever you wished Jake would just wake up. “I need you to leave and I need you to understand that I don’t have any intention of talking to any therapist or physician or anyone!” It was then you took your hand out of Jakes to pick up one of the empty coffee cups on Jakes bedside table, one of the many you had begun to collect, and threw it at your dad. “Get out!”

He did. He did what you asked without a fight, knowing the consequences of his actions along with many others would come back to bite him. You and Jake were not letting this slide, not in a million years.

“Where is it?” You mumbled to yourself as you fumbled around your pockets for your inhaler. You didn’t understand the panic induced asthma yet, but you had been told how to manage it. “Where is it?” When you finally found the little red inhaler in the pocket of your hoodie, you took a single hit of the ventolin and tried to calm down.

“Miss Y/l/n, are you staying for morning rounds?” One of the doctors who had been looking after Jake asked as he came into the room. Followed by his interns.

“Yes please—“ You sighed as you got comfortable and reached out for Jake’s hand again. “And for the love of god Doc tell me you’re gonna wake him up soon?”

All he did was smile in return before looking over to one of his interns. A young female who looked all the more surprised that she was being called upon to present.”

“Uh this is Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, sustained three gunshot wounds to the middle abdomen that resulted in severe blood loss, major cardiac trauma resulting in a heart attack that left his right aorta damaged.” It was nothing you hadn’t heard before, could probably resight it all yourself by now you’d heard it so many times. “A broken mandible as a result from falling one hundred meters and multiple other injuries ranging from minor to major abrasions, bruises and laceration that all seem to be on the mend.” Hearing it every day didn’t get any easier. Until the last part that put fresh hope in your heart. You hadn’t heard that part before today.

“Due to be slowly woken from an induced coma as of today.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Today could be the day Y/n.” The first twenty four hours after surgery are critical. Every breath you take, every fluid you make, is meticulously recorded and analysed, celebrated or mourned. But what about the next twenty four hours? “You just have to remember that both of you went through hell, his body needs time.” Phoenix had brought your flowers. A kind gesture that put a sparkle in your eye for only a few minutes. You were back at Jake's bedside, curled up under a blanket in your chair with your IV poll still at your side. “You need time.”

“I just really need him to wake up—“ But what happens when that first day turns into two, three and four and then those days turn into weeks and possibly turn into months? “I’m starting to lose my mind—the longer he sleeps the more time I have to convince myself that they won.” You explained to Phoenix who fluttered about Jake's ICU ward room. Tidying up, making sure you had company. “That they broke him, me.”

“They apparently picked the guy up on the coast of Positano—“ It wasn’t the first time you’d heard it but it still felt so surreal to hear. “And that CIA lady's body was recovered a few days after you were rescued.” You’d never met her, but Jake had. The CIA and the NCIS were working together to get this guy long before you were assigned your mission. “So was Captain Hewens.” Phoenix made sure to remind you. “I don’t think he won Hollywood—if he won I don’t think you’d be sitting here.”

“He didn’t win.” The goal of any surgery is total recovery. To come out better than you were before. But for you and Jake? There was no certainty that the two of you could ever go back to the people you were before. “Ain’t no way he won.” Jake mumbled as he stirred slightly, his hand gripped yours back for the first time since you were able to visit. “He didn’t win—this is nothing I can’t handle.”

“Oh my god Jake! You’re awake!?” You cried as you got as close to him as you possibly could. “Hi, hey I’m right here yeah? You’re gonna be okay.”

“I love you—“ Jake needed to say that. He needed you to know. “You’re okay? I’m not dead am I?”

“No, no you're not dead Jake.” You couldn’t help but to chuckle with utter relief. “You’ll know we’re dead, remember? when it’s just us, on a farm somewhere in the middle of nowhere, just the two of us.” You whispered as you pushed his hair up and away from his forehead.

“Count me in for that version of heaven.” He’d barely opened his eyes, but Jake had missed your smile oh so much. He would do anything to see it, like a damn fool head over heels in love, he’d do anything. “So we made it? We’re out?”

“We’re out, we’re home and we’re safe.” Some patients heal quickly and feel immediate relief. For others, the healing happens gradually and it's not until months or even years later that you realise that you don't hurt anymore. “You saved my life Jake Seresin—you never left me hanging.”

“I’ll leave you two alone for a little while.” Phoenix politely excused herself to go check in with the nurses station about notifying a doctor that Jake was awake. You appreciated it—because now that he was awake you weren’t leaving his side.

“Are you okay?” Jake asked as he just tried to focus on breathing. When he was finally able to open his eyes they were in you and never left. “Woah, I kinda forgot what you looked like without the dirt and grim, you’re beautiful.”

“Apparently I’ve got a pretty serious infection in my lungs that gives me asthma attacks when I get worked up but other than that I think I’m okay.” You explain knowing Jake would honestly want you to tell the truth rather than just say you were okay. “And the last thing my body was focused on was maintaining its cycle so I lost my period.” Jake knew why you were mentioning it. “Guess my body just knew what it had to do and not drop any eggs.” Jake squeezed your hand a little tighter and brought your palm up to his lips. “So no need to abort any insurgent fetuses.”

“How long?” You’d asked Rooster the same question, it ended in a panic attack. But again—if Jake wanted to know from anyone else he would have asked them and not you. “How long were we in there for?”

“Almost Three Months.” So the challenge after every surgery is to be patient. But if you can make it through the first few weeks and months? If you believe that healing is possible–then you can get your life back.

“Guess we’re gonna be pretty messed up for a while aren’t we?” Jake sighed as he fought back tears, this was hell on earth. His entire body hurt but not nearly as much as his heart ached looking at you with his head full of your screams. “But I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“I’m really thankful you’re alive too.” But that's a big if. “And I know that isnt gonna be easy, it’s gonna really hurt—and be really hard, we’re gonna have to work at this everyday.” You were trying to keep yourself together for Jake’s sake as you let your hand squeeze against his. “But I want to do that because I want you.”

“You sure about that hotshot?” Jake breathed in softly as his heart beat steady without any doubt that you were the love of his life. “I’m the one who got you into that mess in the first place.” When you nodded softly as tears fell freely down your cheeks, Jake knew one day he’d ask you to marry him.

“I want all of you, forever, you and me, everyday.” You added, but then there was the pause Jake was waiting for. He knew it was coming because he was thinking the same damn thing. “But we have to heal first, recover—I think the worst thing we could do for each other would be to go into a relationship when we’re literally being held together by glue and some staples.”

“Can we recover together? But unofficially?” Jake smiled softly as he reached out to cup your still bruised cheek. “Because I unofficially love you, and unofficially I think that I’m not going anywhere.” You let out a laugh, a laugh so pure it brought Jake back to life. He needed nothing but you, forever.

“Unofficially that sounds like a pretty good idea.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai i @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989 @phoenix1388 @emma8895eb @tsofo26 @itsmytimetoodream

#bruises // jake seresin #Jake Seresin whump #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin angst #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #top gun fan fiction #top gun hangman

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navstuffs · 11 months

Text

No Ordinary Love

Pairing: Leon x SuccubusFemale!Reader

Summary: Leon Kennedy is addicted to you.

Warnings: songfic, SMUT, touch-starved leon, needy!leon, reader does feed on him

Author's Notes: hello! this fanfic is so important to me due to the song that inspired me to write: No Ordinary Love by Sade. if you don't know Sade, please go and listen to her. it was super hard to edit this fanfic cause the song is so freaking good and i kept getting distracted. anyway, reader is a succubus, but she might not be a "proper" succubus, i will adapt for my writing needs. this fanfic might have a prequel (how they met, after re2 events) and a sequel, so we shall see. i hope you enjoy!

leon's masterlist

"I gave you all the love I got I gave you more than I could give Gave you love"

It is late when Leon Kennedy knocks on the familiar door after just landing from Spain. He is exhausted, with images of the last days tormenting his head. Ada. Ashley. Luis's death. As a loop, he sees their faces over and over again. He shakes his head, trying to focus on the door before him and the person who will open it. Some part of him knows he shouldn't be there, something deep inside his soul is telling him to leave, he doesn't deserve you, but when the door flies open, all thoughts inside his head disappear.

Everything else disappears around him.

There is no more Ada. No more Ashley, Luis, or even Leon S. Kennedy. Only you.

"I gave you all that I have inside And you took my love You took my love(...)"

You wear an oversized black shirt that goes just above your knees. Your beauty always seems to leave him breathless because no one should look this stunning. It is unfair. Leon forgets how to speak and how to act. He is just a rookie all over again. The hopeless rookie who met you years ago, desperate for some comfort, any comfort after Racoon City. Only you matter right now. Shit, he hasn't realized how much he missed you. Your touch. Your kisses. Your warmth.

"Do you know what time it is, Kennedy?" You yawn, crossing your arms. Understandable, he woke you up in the middle of the night. You had all the right to be angry if you wanted; Leon feels like shit about it, though he couldn't wait until the morning to see you.

"Yes. May I come in?" His voice way is softer than his usual tone, but again, he is different when it comes to you. He is not the same person around you.

Your eyebrows arch, surprised, and Leon notices your nipples harden against your shirt. Perfect.

"I don't know. Can you?"

"When you came my way You brightened every day With your sweet smile(...)"

Please, let me in. Please, Leon begs mentally, and you smirk as if listening to his silent pleas. As if you could read his mind, knowing precisely how much he needs you.

"Please?" Leon murmurs, looking at your bare feet, not believing how fragile his voice sounds.

Not after all those things he had killed or everything he had gone through, he would still be clay in your hands. It didn't matter how many times he saved the world or how many he killed, you would still be the one who put Leon on his knees, this invisible force pulling him for you.

Leon doesn't know what would happen to him if you deny him. He might die as a thirsty man who got close to the oasis but failed to drink the water. Or got so close to the sun and burned himself before touching it. All those thoughts rush through his mind before your feet finally, finally give him passage, and Leon thanks mentally for your benevolence.

Leon starts walking into your house before you stop him, hands on his chest. You stare at his expression for a second, and Leon's heart beats so fast that he finally feels like living again.

"You don't look well. Was it hard this time?"

Leon's mind flashes with everything that happened to him in the last couple of days. He doesn't have to say anything: you know Leon better than anyone. You nod as if reading his mind again, closing the door.

"I will take care of you. Come."

"Didn't I give you All that I've got to give, baby(...)"

Leon's mind drifts away. He would lie if he said he didn't like the taste you left on his body, his heart, on his soul. You were like a drug, the strongest he had ever tasted.

"Leon."

Oh, how much he missed your moans. Your desperate sobs of his name as he pushed his cock inside of you, as a madman. There is nothing, nothing in this world that would separate you from him.

"Leon."

"I keep trying for you There's nothing like you and I, baby(...)"

He doesn't know what happens when he is inside of you, a feeling he can't describe. It is different from everything he tried before: you delight him. You keep him there while you take away the pain, sadness, and anything he had inside. You amplify all his senses as you empty them. He watches as your boobs bounce and your eyes light with a strange glow, but he doesn't care. Leon only cares about being yours.

He moans a lot, too: he begs. Begs for you not to leave him, begs you to stay with him forever, and implores you to love him. Tells you there is no else for him, except for you.

Leon can feel you are close, and he trembles under your power, trying to match your thrusts. All he can focus on is how tight you are squeezing him now, how delicious you look on top of him, how much he loves being yours, being loved by you.

"This is no ordinary love No ordinary love"

When Leon cums, his vision gets hazy. He holds your ass down rougher than he would want, so you don't move. He likes to feel his seed inside you, his eyes rolling to his head.

Leon Kennedy ceases to exist to exist again only because of you.

When you fall to his side, Leon can't move. He never moves after cumming inside of you, that feeling of you squeezing tight, taking all that he has. Leon feels your gentle hand taking his hair from his sweaty face, kissing his lips, and savoring it. He moans in your mouth, grabbing your hips with the bit of strength he still has.

"Feeling better, Leon?"

Leon nods, his big blue eyes begging him not to leave you. To stay with him forever. He is more exhausted than when he arrived, but he is grateful. You smile compassionately, the strange glow in your eyes slowly disappearing, laying your head on his chest.

"I lo-"

"Shhh, Leon. You have to rest now. Everything will be okay in the morning. Sleep, my love."

As a command, you watch Leon Kennedy sink into darkness. You sigh, listening to his heartbeats, the sensation of satisfaction and fullness in your veins not enough to dismiss the tiny feeling of worry you had before. Or the happiness when you saw him. Or the feeling that he belongs to you and only you. There were too small to consider but not small enough to ignore. You shake your head and find yourself foolish as you make circles on Leon's chest. Now, after all the years, was not the time to get sentimentalist. You fall asleep, ignoring the sensation of comfort of being in Leon's arms.

"Keep trying for you Keep crying for you Keep lying for you Keep flying and I'm falling

And I'm falling"

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy has heart eyes for this reader #while reader is like YES MIDNIGHT SNACK #this fanfic is so important to me!! leon is so lucky for me to choose him to be a sade theme song #he has no idea

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feyreswaterybowels · 11 days

Text

⭒The Silent One⭒

#4 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Cassandra visits Vale. They get the information they need and Cassandra…gets revenge and we see a glimpse of her powers lurking under the surface.

Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence. mentioned/implied rape. mentioned/implied castration. female rage. protective!azriel. protective!bat boys.

Authors Note: All likes, comments and reblogs are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! Bold italics are mental communication, regular italics are inner thoughts.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

“What’s going on?” Cassandra asked, looking at Rhysand then Azriel.

“Is everything okay?” Morrigan asks, setting her bags down, Cassandra following suit.

“We tried to question Vale today,” Rhysand responded, straightening out his suit jacket. Glancing at Azriel, who still wore that look of pure death.

“Tried?” Morrigan asks, her own arms folding across her chest.

Rhysand took in a deep breath, looking at Cassandra, a slight frown on his face.

“He said he’ll only answer our questions if you’re in the room—”

“No.” Morrigan cuts him off immediately, straightening her spine.

“Mor,” Rhysand warns.

“You’re actually considering it? You would let her be in a room with that—that monster,” She snarled, stepping closer to her friend’s side.

Cassanda’s eyes met Azriel’s again, less intense as if to comfort her but his shadows still a fury around him.

“He wouldn’t get anywhere near her. It’s not your decision, Morrigan,” Rhysand said, mouth in a tight line.

“It’s not yours either, it’s Cassandra’s,” Azriel said, “He doesn’t have to touch her to cause more trauma. You do not have to see him if you don’t want to.”

“But it would be a great help to easily get the information from him,” Rhysand said, giving his brother a warning look.

Cassandra chewed on her bottom lip. Morrigan was still standing partially in front of her, legs spread apart, arms crossed as if she would fight Rhysand if he tried to step towards her. Rhysand had an expecting look on his face and Cassian looked…awkward? Maybe he didn’t like his friends arguing this way. Cassandra knew she didn’t.

“What would I do, just stand there? Would I—would I have to talk to him?” She asked, and Rhys shook his head.

“No, of course not and yes you would just be there in the room,” Rhysand answers and Azriel hisses.

“That is not the full truth,” He says, siphons surging on the back of his hands, shadows darting in every direction.

“Azriel—”

“Tell me, Rhysand, please. I can handle it. I want to help but I have to know what I’m getting into,” She said, straightening herself out, stepping from behind Morrigan. How could she expect them to believe she could handle things if she stayed cowering behind Morrigan or Azriel? She could do this.

Azriel fixed her with a look, as if he was proud of her actions.

“He initially asked for Neema. She shut that down quickly. He then specifically asked for you because he…wants to look at you,” Rhysand explains and Cassandra felt her stomach flip, nausea overcoming her.

“I can get the answers we need in other ways without traumatizing her further,” Azriel growls at his brother, noticing her distress, “Cassandra, you don’t have to—”

“Look at me,” She repeated breathlessly. Blinking her eyes furiously to fight the images trying to flash before her. “That’s what he used to do. He couldn’t touch me because I would be damaged goods—he’d get less money for me. So he would make me stand there unclothed and look at me while he touched himself or Neema. Just let me look at you is what he would say.”

She heard the harsh breath Rhysand let out, she didn’t look his way.

“Cassandra,” It’s Azriel’s voice in her head but she shakes her head, breathing deeply.

In. Out.

She opens her eyes and looks into those hazel ones, patients and concern swirling there.

“You’ll be there?” She asked, and he nodded instantly.

“Of course, I’ll be there,” He answers. She nods to herself. Thinking.

“What happens to him after he’s questioned?” She ask, would he be let go? Locked away?

“He’ll be killed,” Rhysand answers bluntly.

“Good.” Is her answer. “I’ll do it.”

“You’re sure?” Azriel asks, worry creasing those brows while a relieved look comes over Rhysand’s face.

“Yes,” She answered. “When?”

“The sooner the better,” Rhysand said, and though he still looked relieved that Cassandra agreed she could see the apology in those violet eyes.

“I would like to put my things away first,” She said, Azriel crossing the short distance between them.

“I’ll help you bring your bags up,” He offered, giving her no room to protest before he scooped her bags up easily.

As they entered the house she could hear Mor as she began yelling at Rhysand.

Azriel let her lead the way to her bedroom, she was getting fairly good at navigating the halls. She liked to roam around in the middle of the night when everyone else was sleeping. This house was huge but she was sure she could get to the main areas of the house with little to no help.

When they got to her room she pushed the door open and walked in. She looked over her shoulder to see Azriel standing at the door. She raised an eyebrow in question and the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly.

“I can’t come in, remember,” He says, and she was glad to see some of that light amusement return to his eyes.

“Oh, well, come in,” she said, he looked skeptical for a moment before slowly extending his leg through the doorway before stepping fully in.

“Rhys doesn’t mess around with his wards,” He says when he notices the look on her face. “If you hadn’t invited me in and I tried to just walk in I would have ricochet off it straight into the wall back there.”

Cassandra let out a breathy laugh, gesturing to the bed for Azriel to put the bags down.

“Did you have a good day with Mor?” He asked gently and she turned to him with a small smile and nodded. She was grateful he asked. Talking about the day would distract her from what they were going to do after this.

“It was amazing, Azriel! I've never experienced anything like that. It was a bit overwhelming if I’m honest but Morrigan made it easy to enjoy myself,” She smiled again as he perched himself on the end of the bed, his attention focused fully on her. She grabbed one of the bags pulling it over—the one with all of the pastries in it.

“We went to this lovely little bakery,” she started, pulling out various treats. “Morrigan told me to pick out anything I wanted—everything looked and smelled so good, it was hard to choose.”

“It does smell delicious,” Azriel agreed, eyes scanning over the arrangement of food laid out on the bed, wrapped in papers and boxes.

“These two bags are just some clothes Morrigan helped me pick out, that one is a gown, I’m still not sure what I would need it for but it is very pretty,” She told him, grabbing that bag, unzipping it to show him the gown, the one that perfectly matched his siphons. If he noticed he didn’t comment.

“That is very pretty, you could wear it for Starfall coming up,” He said, a small smile on his face when she looked up at him.

“Do you think it would be possible for me to visit my mothers grave that day?” She asked, as Starfall was one of the few good memories she had with her mother.

“Of course, you never have to ask, we can go visit her any time you’d like,” Azriel promises, “What else did you get?”

Cassandra smiled at him, showing him the rest of her haul from the day. He snickered at the books but just as Morrigan had, said he would be more than happy to help her learn to read. It made her happier than he probably realized.

After she finished showing him everything he stepped out of the room so she could freshen up—change her clothes and mentally prepare herself.

She changed into an outfit that was a bit too big for her. Long sleeves and long pants. She didn’t want him to see her skin, she didn’t want him to see her at all. But what he did to Neema? To so many other girls? To her? She couldn’t sit by and not help get answers, justice.

She knew Azriel noted the outfit she was wearing but chose not to say anything.

“We’re going to winnow there, are you okay with that? We haven’t done it since that first night,” Azriel asked and Cassandra simply nodded, stepping closer to him, tucking her wings close to her back as he wrapped an arm around her.

The place they arrive at was beautiful yet terrifying.

“Where are we?” She asked, looking around. He doesn’t answer out loud as he leads her down a dark avenue.

“This is the Hewn City. The rest of Prythian does not know of the existence of Velaris. They believe Rhysand only rules over this part of the Night Court—the Court of Nightmares.”

“Oh.” Is her answer, she tries not to look at anything or anyone as thet move through the streets of this underground city—no, not underground, inside of a mountain. She wondered if it was the same mountain the House of a wind was on—she would ask later.

The walk was mostly silent. They walked across many bridges and flights of stairs. Going through most of the city. Down and around and down some more. Her legs and feet hurt and just when she was ready to tell Azriel she couldn’t go anymore they halted.

Cassandra looked at him in question. He simply nodded towards the wall, she didn’t see anything.

“He’s behind here,” Azriel explains, his eyes scanning her face.

“Okay,” she nodded slowly, not totally understanding since there was no door.

“Rhys will be there the entire time. Cassian will be there the entire time. I will be with you the entire time. Don't be fearful. Don’t let him scare you. If you find yourself feeling uncomfortable tell me immediately and I’ll get you out of there. He’s chained up, he will not lay a finger on you. If he even tried he would die,” Azriel promised. She looked up at him, unease filling her and took in a deep breath as he added , “Would you feel safer if I gave you this?”

She looked down, in his outstretched hand laid a black hilted dagger with a sharp and shiny blade.

She reached out, taking it gently from his hand.

“I’ve never used one before,” she whispered, looking down at the knife in her hand.

“You won’t need to use it, but if you did Truth Teller wouldn’t let you miss,” Azriel spoke confidently. “You ready?”

She looked up at him and nodded her head.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

Azriel hated this. Hated it. His shadows hissed in ear not to bring her in. To protect her. To grab her and take her back to the House of Wind.

And though he wanted to, he wouldn’t do that to her. She deserved to make her own decisions but this just felt so wrong.

But after he sheathed Truth Teller and tied it around her waist he felt slightly better.

She didn’t know the weight of the dagger, its power or what it meant to him. All that mattered in this moment is it made her feel safe and it gave him some peace of mind that if somehow this piece of shit got through three warriors she had a weapon that could kill.

“Lets go,” he says, offering his hand to her, she places it there gently and much to her surprise they turn to the wall and he led her straight through.

On the other side was a dark hall, no doors, lit only by a few lights and she grasped Azriel’s hand tighter.

“This is where we keep a majority of prisoners that haven’t been sentenced for crimes or are being questioned,” Azriel explained, voice low and quiet.

“Is Kamari here?”

“No, she’s in a cell under the House of Wind. She’s not dangerous—a terrible person yes, but not dangerous to anyone she could potentially interact with. We don’t want this guy anywhere near the females and too many of them live and work at the house. That’s why he’s here. No one can get in here except Rhys, Cassian, myself and anyone we choose to allow in,” Azriel explained, stopping at another seemingly empty stretch of wall. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” she said, fingers twisting at her side. “I’m scared to see him.”

“You don’t need to be scared but do you want to leave?” Azriel asks, taking a step closer to her, ready to scoop her up and take her home.

“No, I want to do this,” she shook her head.

“Okay, he’s right on the other side of this wall,” Azriel explained, trying to prepare her. “When we first walk in, his back will be to us so you don’t have to see his face straight away. You’re welcome to stand but there are chairs if you’d like to sit. Rhysand will be in charge of the interrogation if you believe he’s lying about something or leaving details out don’t hesitate to tell one of us. Rhys says he’ll have communications open so you can talk to him or Cassian easily if you need to. You do not have to speak to this guy but he will try to speak to you. He’s going to want to scare, to tell you all of the things he’s done—he knows what his fate is after we get what we want from him. You have the power here. You say stop then we stop and I take you out of there.”

Azriel watches as she takes a shaky break, closing her eyes to calm herself. When she opens them Azriel is still standing there patiently.

“Okay. Okay, I’m good,” She nods her head in a way that’s reassuring to herself, grazing her hand over Truth Teller before dropping her hands to her side.

She watches as Azriel approaches the wall, stepping through easily as they had done before. Another deep breath, wiping her sweaty palms across her pants before she too walks forward, straight through the wall.

The room is a bit brighter than the hallway and it takes her eyes a moment to adjust before they fix on the figure in the middle of the room. His blue skin and the clothes he’s wearing looks dirty, he’s chained to a chair and his head turns slightly as if sensing she entered the room, but not enough to see her yet. She wanted to cling to the wall and beg Azriel to come back to her side.

But she didn’t.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of cowering.

She knew the three men in this room wouldn’t allow any harm to come to her. She scanned the room, there were two chairs further away from where the male was sitting while Rhysand sat in one directly in front of the male just a few steps away. Cassian stood with his back to a large stone, giving her a small nod when they made eye contact and Azriel stood there behind the man—in a spot she could see him from wherever she chose to stand, a look on his face she hadn’t quite seen before. She could tell only one thing about that look though, he would enjoy killing Vale.

Cassandra made her way to the opposite wall of where she had entered, choosing not to sit but to stand, using the wall as support, keeping her wings tucked as she leaned back against the wall.

“Come on High Lord, give me my sight back now. You said I would be able to see her,” Vale hissed, the sound of his voice like a shot of ice down her spine, she suppressed the reaction easily enough.

Rhysand looked over his shoulder at Cassandra, silently asking her if she was okay, if she was ready. She simply nodded. He waved his hand and those eyes, the ones she still had dreams about suddenly zeroed in on her. It took everything in her to suppress any reaction that time.

A grin spread across his face as his eyes tracked her body. Up and down, taking in every detail.

“Wow. Look at you,” he said, licking his lips, “you look even better than I remember. I…wish I could see more.”

“Yeah, well you can’t,” Cassian is the one to answer.

“What no hello?” Vale grinned again.

“She’s not required to speak to you, that wasn’t part of the deal,” Rhysand’s voice thundered through the room.

“Not that she could anyway” Vale sniggered, nodding his head, eyes still trained on Cassandra. “Alright come on, ask me the questions.”

He sounded bored but Cassandra wasn’t stupid and neither were any of the males in that room. There was fear in those black eyes. He did indeed know his fate.

“How long have you been in the business of purchasing females and selling them to sex houses?” Rhysand asked.

“I don’t know, a year maybe,” Vale groans at the look Rhysand gives home. “Look, man, I drink and smoke myself out every day I lose a good bit of time.”

“I was at the pleasure house with Kamari for 2 years and with him for almost a year.” Cassandra says, and Rhys nods in acknowledgment.

“Wanna think a little harder about that? It’s definitely been more than a year,” Rhysand said, Vale narrowing his eyes into slits.

“How could you possibly know that? Why ask if you’re just gonna say I’m lying?” Vale bares his teeth at Rhysand.

“Why lie in the first place? You know your fate, lying won’t change that. You know I could enter your mind and destroy it in a second while getting the answers I seek. I’m doing you a courtesy by asking this way.”

Vale is silent for a moment before glancing at Cassandra. “Four years.”

“How many women did you buy and sell during that time? How did you find them?” Rhysand asked, Vale took a deep breath, looking up at the roof as if thinking.

“Probably eighty,” He says, Rhys’ face hardens further at that—Cassian’s mouth falling open slightly.

“Eighty women in four years? Or 80 every year for four years?” Rhys asks through clenched teeth.

“Eighty in all four years,” Vale confirms and while it’s a relief, that’s still a lot of women. “Most of them were sold to me by family members who owed me money, but couldn't pay it back so they sold me a daughter, wife, sister instead.”

“How did you learn of these pleasure houses buying females from people like you?” Rhysand asked.

“Word gets around the streets. There’s only three that will buy the females. The Velvet Pearl, Hidden Desires and Lavender house. Kamari recruits men to find the women and sells them for money—usually addicts looking for a fix. She buys her drugs from me, that's how I got started.” Vale explained.

“How many of them did you keep for yourself?” Rhysand asked, and Vale just laughed.

“Not as many as you might think. It never even crossed my mind to have a little fun with the merchandise before selling to the pleasure houses. Neema—she’s the only one I ever kept seeing as she’s my mate and all,” Vale confessed and Cassandra couldn’t stop the gasp she took in.

“That’s right,” Vale grinned. “The bond snapped into place the night her brother sold her to me.”

“And you thought that was the proper way to treat your mate,” Cassian snarls. Vale simply shrugs his shoulders, looking back at Cassandra.

“If she hadn’t been my mate though, I would have kept you,” Vale said, smiling at Cassandra. “Everything I did to her I would have done to you—including removing those horrid wings. Tell me, which one of these bastards got the pleasure of bending you over and fucking you—”

Vale’s rant is cut off when one of Azriel’s shadows wraps around his throat. The blue skinned male chokes, eyes widening.

“I’d watch your fucking mouth if I were you,” Azriel hisses, only letting up his shadow’s grip when Cassandra nods her head at him.

“At least any one of these males could get a woman into their bed without having to rape her,” Cassandra retorts, Cassian snorting out an amused laugh, relaying the message when Vale looked his way, turning back and snarling at Cassandra like a rabid wolf.

The interrogation went on for what felt like hours. Vale answered the questions Rhysand asked. Cassandra confirmed if he was being truthful or not for certain things. And they all stood there as he described every awful, vile, disgusting thing he did to the women he bought and sold. How he had brutalized and assaulted them before selling them off to be salves for pleasure houses.

He knew none of their names. None except Neema. He didn’t even know Cassandra’s name and she was standing right there in front of him.

He did however know the names of all the ones who sold the females—they now had a list of where to start, of how to find the females that had been sold off to the three pleasure houses.

It’s was when they were getting ready to leave that things started going sideways. Azriel had check in many times with Cassandra to make sure she was okay. And she had been, despite this feeling in her stomach, this thrumming that made her skin feel like it was vibrating.

“So, I guess it would be out of line to ask for a turn with you before I go out?” Vale laughed, leering at Cassandra. And it was Cassian’s fist that landed the blow to his face.

“Fuck! You know,” Vale continued with a laugh, blood dripping from his mouth, “your father almost sold me your sister instead. Pretty little thing she is.”

He just wants to rile you up.

He wants to scare you.

He wants a reaction.

“Only he wouldn’t have got as much for her cause she’d had sex with some male. She was used—but man, if he had I would have kept her, too, I would have taken both of you and kept you just like that little bitch in my basement—“

Cassandra snarled and something inside of her snapped. Before anyone could blink she was across the room Truth Teller gripped in her hand and pressed against Vale’s throat as she crouched over him. Black eyes widened in shock—fear. Good. He wasn’t expecting it.

“Cassandra?” Azriel’s concerned voice sounded muffled and far away. She didn’t take her eyes away from the man cowering beneath her.

“She can shield?!” is Cassian's alarmed shout.

“Cassandra?!” Rhys calls out, feeling whatever shield was around her vibrate as he sent a blast of magic into it.

“I don’t think she can hear us, Rhys!” Azriel calls out.

Cassandra could hear them but the look on Vale’s face was too satisfying to look away from. She pressed the dagger harder against his neck, digging it into the skin there, scenting his blood.

“Are you afraid?” She asked, faces only inches apart. She wasn’t sure how she was talking to him but she didn’t care either. Not when the smell of blood mixed with urine as he pissed on himself.

“Please, p—please,” he begged, trying to pull away from the blade digging into his throat.

“Cassandra, come on, let the shield down, love!”

“I remember begging you like that before you took my tongue. I shouldn’t let them kill you, everything you did to me, to Neema, to all those other girls you deserve to have done to you,” she snarls, Truth Teller thrumming in her hand as if encouraging her to slit his throat and watch him bleed out.

“What the hell is happening, Rhys?” Cassian’s voice rings outside of that shield.

“Fuck!” Azriel hisses as he tries to touch that shield, his hand bouncing off of it immediately.

“I should take your eyes,” she declared. “So that you can never look at anyone again. I should take your tongue the way you took mine. Chop off your cock so you can never fuck again. I should do all that and let you live with it every day of your miserable life!”

He cries out, struggling under her and she laughs. Right there in his face she laughs.

This is the male she had been afraid of?

This is the male that tortured her everyday in that basement? This pathetic excuse of a male.

“Absolutely pathetic,” she spits, snarling at him.

She drops Truth Teller from her hand, falling somewhere between their bodies as she grips his head on either side. “Look at me!” She bellows, forcing his eyes to meet hers. Panicked terror looked back at her and she smiled.

“Kill me, just kill me, please!” He begged, thrashing under her, her wings spreading to keep herself stead where she was crouched over him—drowning out the voices beyond the shield. He’d had no remorse for anyone else, he deserved no remorse. She leans down, close to his ear, changing her grip on his head.

“No,” she mouths against his ear as it echoes in his head. Then her thumbs are pressing into those black soulless eyes, his screams echoing around them with nowhere to go, pressing and pressing until they pop. Turning into a bloody mess under her hands. His screams don’t stop as she speaks.

“You’ll never see again,” she said, grabbing Truth Teller once again sliding it along his exposed skin. “You're lucky I don’t take your hands and tongue. I won’t take your life either. You’ll suffer the way me and so many other girls did.”

She slides off of him, his screams turning into whimpering cries.

“Cassandra?” The voice sounded normal again and she looked up, green eyes meeting violet. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” She asked, glancing at the man she had just maimed without a second thought.

“I’m not worried about him, are you okay?” Rhysand asks again, taking a step closer to her.

“I’m okay,” she nods, slipping Truth Teller back into its sheath, not hiding the angry tears that welled in her eyes. “I want him to have to live with what he’s done. Death will be too kind for the offenses he’s committed—for the way he’s violated so many.”

“If you no longer wish death on this male so be it, we will lock him away to rot for the rest of his days,” Rhysand promises and I nod my head.

“I only have one request,” I tell him, glancing at the man still moaning and whimpering—whispering to himself about his eyes being gone and begging for mercy.

“What is it?” Rhysand asked.

“Take his cock,” I demand, there’s no question or judgement in those eyes. He nods but Azriel is the one to speak up.

“Done.”

Tag list: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94 @purple-writer8 @little-missbookyworm @saltedcoffeescotch @namelesssav @slytherintaco @whatsupb @mariahoedt @railingsofsorrow @fightmedraco @nickishadow139 @a-courtof-azriel

#oh so much happened in this one #there’s a lot to unpack here #Cassian’s ’she can shield?!’ is giving ‘jack jack has powers?!’#Cassandra is quickly becoming one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever written #acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #Azriel x fem!oc

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saintmuses · 2 months

Note

Please write Jonathan Crane x Female! Reader one-shot, where the reader was admitted to Arkham Asylum because of minor mental problems and Jonathan Crane became her psychiatrist. She had a difficult situation in her life and Jonathan, having listened to her story, is attracted to her. Soon, after several sessions with her, he fell in love with her. However, after a while, Jonathan used his toxins to make her go insane, and he drives her so crazy that she is now under his control.

❝𝙚𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙❞ — 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞

Warning(s): Dark themes. Description of Taphophobia. Usage of toxin. Hallucinations. Power imbalance. Manipulation. Strong implications of future controlling tendencies. Minors, dni!

Word Count: 946

She couldn’t see anything, nothing can see her as clusters of dirt began to fill her mouth, eventually suffocating her lungs.

No sounds could be heard other than her terror which was screaming into nothingness. An empty abyss.

“Darling?” A voice murmured, she had recognized his voice.

Doctor Crane. Her mind wailed, screaming his name. Her mouth refused to dispose of any soil she had felt in her lungs. Help me please.

She could feel the soil collecting on her skin, above her, below her, and everywhere as the hell began to engulf her and her sanity.

She felt herself being shaken by someone. “Y/N,” it was the same masculine voice, but a hint of urgency was added to his tone this time.

Doctor Crane. She attempted to shout, but couldn’t. His name bounced off in her own head again instead of leaving her throat.

“Y/N,” he shouted, finally cutting through hallucinations that was drowning her. Clearing through the muddled thoughts and images, blurring all into one until it faded to reveal a concerned Doctor Crane peering down at her.

She gasped, finding herself back on the couch that was set up in his office at the Arkham Asylum. She scrambled off the cushions and into his arms after realizing he was the one who was holding her.

“I got you, darling.” He shushed her gently, rubbing his hand down her back. “I got you.”

She whimpered, fingers clutching his blazer-clad shoulders. “Doctor Crane-“

“What did I say about calling me Doctor Crane?” He reminded her, his tone stern as he leaned away to give her a slight strict glare.

She struggled with that sometimes, and when she did it, she would receive a reprimand from him. “To call you by your first name.” She mumbled, shyly.

“You’d be a good girl, and call me by my name properly.” He ordered, the glaring light from his table lamp reflected off the glass of his metal frames as he turned his head to the side.

She ended up dragging her fingers from his shoulders to the hem of his blazer, curling her fingers into it.

“I can’t be in here anymore, Jonathan.”

It was one of the worst hallucinations she’d ever had since she started receiving them two weeks ago.

He shushed her, his icy eyes became intense as he stared into her eyes. “Listen to me; I will put the note in that your condition has improved, and you are ready to continue your recovery at home. They will let you go,” he murmured softly; running his fingers through her hair, tangling them slightly in her strands as she looked up at him with glassy eyes.

“But where would I go?” Her voice sounded small, pitiful even as she inquired. Her fingers clenched tightly in his blazer.“I-I don’t have a home. Not since my parents did not believe what happened with…” she trailed off, sighing softly; almost defeated.

“Well, you can turn down my offer if this is something you would not want to do, but I can take you in until those hallucinations stops, okay?” He offered, giving her a slight quirk of a smile. Tracing the pad of his thumb across her collarbone that was revealed during her scrambling.

She knew she was his favorite patient out of everyone in the Arkham Asylum due to his treatment of her compared to the others. He was gentle with her whereas he was stoic and harsh with others. He even let her eat in his office during lunch and dinner hours. Jonathan was patient with her, always has been since the moment she was admitted to the asylum.

Jonathan was even there during a few episodes of night terrors a few months ago, and then he was there during her hallucinations for the last two weeks. She had been compartmentalizing her hallucinations from her usual night terrors with her fear of being buried alive. Instead of dreaming of what happened to her, she was experiencing it all over again but without the vault protecting herself.

Growing up she had never known she was afraid of it; Not until her step-brother who turned out to be a psychotic asshole happened, and he tortured her by trapping her in the safe vault and attempting to throw the vault into a makeshift grave in their backyard with her in it.

She never had a home even when she was a child. Her parents -including her step-father who her mother recently married to- were never nice to her. She grew up in a household of negligence, but it was not enough to drag Child Protective Services into it.

“Really? You would do that?” She wondered, twinged with doubt. She dragged her hands from the hem of his blazer, placing them in her lap.

He nodded, his eyes shifted into a slight storm. “Yes,” he said simply. “We will get you out of here, and you’ll stay with me until you feel better.” Then his eyes lit up with a possibility of keeping her permanently when no one would miss her at all.

“Okay,” she whispered, giving him a small hesitation of a smile before looking down at the top of her thighs where her hands rested.

He grabbed her by her chin, gripping it with his fingers as he beckoned her to look at him. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” He murmured darkly, his lips curled into a soft smile as he looked down at her with tenderness no one would ever expect from such a stoic man himself. Although the tenderness was there, it was tainted with sinisterness. “I will never let anything happen to you, darling.”

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane #the dark knight trilogy #cillian murphy x reader

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arctrooper69 · 6 months

Text

Don't Forget

Crosshair x Inquisitor!Reader

For the @clonexreaderbingo prompt "Don't forget"

Warnings: Mentions of torture (both mental and physical). Generally dark theme.

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"They left you. They betrayed you. They hurt you."

It wasn't just the constant mental barrage of half truths and words twisted ruthlessly until you could no longer decipher your own thoughts. You could still feel the physical pain long after it was over - the electric agony coursing, stinging, burning through your veins. The smell of your own scorched flesh still lingered everytime you took a breath.

"Do you hate me now? Don't forget how angry that makes you. Let it fill you. Let it consume you. Let it grow until all you can taste is vengeance."

And it did. You let the anger fester inside of your veins like the chemicals they pumped to muddle your mind and dull your senses.

There is only much pain the human body can take before you become numb to everything else. There is only so much anger you can hold inside before you explode. When you explode, there's nothing left of who you were before and no one to pick up the pieces save for the one who made you this way in the first place. All the atrocities in the galaxy can be committed guiltlessly if you believe they wronged you first.

Crosshair knew this better than anyone but it still made him angry. It made him angry to see what they did to you. It made him angry to see how they broke you and built you back up in their own image. Just like him.

Empire. Inquisitor. Good soldiers follow orders either way.

"Don't forget that they left you. Don't forget the pain they put you through."

Don't forget.

"Remember the pain, the suffering, the anguish. Don't you want it to end?"

Don't forget who you are.

Crosshair sat on the cold, durasteel floor outside of the ray shielded cell they'd put you in. Force-binding shackles encircled your hands and feet. His brothers hadn't known what else to do. Your red-rimmed eyes starred at him, face contorting with rage. Maybe someday you'd come back to him. Maybe someday you'd forgive him.

"Do you remember who I am?" he asked softly.

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posletsvet · 8 months

Text

A Somewhat Messy Exploration of the Concepts of Purity and Impurity in Satosugu, and perhaps some more

The yin and yang symbolism in Satosugu (here I'm using 'Satosugu' as a short way to refer to the relationship between these characters, not necessarily a ship dynamic) has been brought up and discussed a lot in fan analyses lately, and by those who have mental capacity to express it far better than I ever could. However, there is one more thing I would like to talk about in relation to Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo's dichotomy, and perhaps some more.

As much influence as Chinese philosophical concepts (such as already mentioned yin-yang) have on Japanese cosmology, religious views of the people of Japan are actually an intricate and complex amalgamation of various teachings and beliefs, with Shinto being numerically the most prominent faith of the country. I was curious as to how the ideas found in Shinto could be applied to Gojo and Geto's relationship, and I guess I've stumbled upon some inkling of a thought in this regard -- so please bear with me while I rant.

Before this gets too long, I'm putting my rambling below the cut.

To begin with and give a little bit of context, the core teaching of Shinto is to have profound respect and reverence for nature. As a polytheistic and animistic religion, Shinto is defined by its belief in the kami, who are stated to inhabit all things, including objects of the surrounding landscape and various natural forces. Due to such elemental qualities of the faith, purification takes place as one of its central aspects and a widely followed practice, as well. There is a great emphasis laid on spiritual and physical purity and cleanliness. That being so, the moral categories of good and evil (or virtue and sin), so important in the western worldview, give way to a different outlook on things: the world is perceived in terms of 'clean' and 'dirty' rather than 'good' and 'bad'.

This concept finds a reflection in Gege's writing primarily through Tsumiki as someone who's essentially an embodiment of the virtue of being innocent and pure at heart. When she's brought up in the narrative, the image is frequently accompanied by flowers -- and more often than not, especially when it comes to Megumi's perspective, those flowers are white lilies. And those are one of the most common and prominent symbols of purity. When Tsumiki's innocence is symbolically destroyed with Yorozu taking over her body, white blossoms are depicted as thrashed and stained in the background. Her purity is further defiled by her death as everything related to death and decay is considered foul as it desecrates the world's natural state of cleanliness, fertility and life.

I'm only bringing this up to show how Gege incorporates this religious framework into the body of symbolism in his story. And the further you search with these concepts in mind, the more you are able to uncover.

Satoru Gojo as purity and perfection

Satoru Gojo is a character whom you can't help but read as a perfection within the context of the world he exists in. He's the absolute strongest, wielding the power to bring all the knowledge of the universe and the forces which shape it under his control, he's repeatedly elevated by the narrative as someone unreachable and untouchable whereas nothing seems to be beyond his reach. He also has an extraordinary appearance, matching vibrant aquamarine eyes with fair hair, so rarely found among full-blooded Japanese people. He embodies an ideal for his society.

Satoru is associated with white and sky blue -- the colours most widely believed to represent purity, innocence, perfection, serenity and safety. Those are lofty, noble, airy and spacious hues which also bring in mind vast open spaces and immeasurable and unreachable heights and depths, symbolizing Gojo's detachment from the mundane world where corruption and putrefaction take deep root. Not to mention Satoru's noble background as an heir of one of the Big Three Sorcerer Families.

Actually no, forget this, I do want to mention it and expand a little on my thoughts regarding Satoru's family and upbringing. It's highly likely he was overprotected and sheltered as a child, and along with a teenage-years rebellion on his part which such a childhhod brought about, it also thwarted his ability to make connections with people around him as he basically lacks common experiences and/or interests with them. He's somewhat sterile when it comes to displaying empathy and emotional intelligence, which results in a peculiar sense of innocence about him. For the lack of any better way to articulate this idea, I'd say he's pure in this regard: clean and untouchable and spotless, devoid of nearly everything that comprises a regular person's experience.

This shows even in the way Gojo chooses to cope with his trauma in the aftermath of the Star Plasma Vessel Incident. That traumatic experience seemingly barely leaves a mark on him because he opts for pushing it aside and moving forward, while going out of his way to make sure there's a safe distance between him and the source of his vulnerability by improving his technique. He fixates on bringing his Infinity technique to perfection, and as a result it leaves no opportunity for anything to touch him if he himself does not want it to. Yet again, it leaves him stainless.

Not only that: he becomes emotionally detached from the cruelty and filth of the jujutsu world, becomes numb to it, with little to no emotion ever reaching his core to shake it. He's neither angry nor vengeful on Amanai's behalf after her death. He does not allow for hatred and spite to poison his mind, neither does he feel any doubt. He stays clean from all the negativity at the cost of coming off as cynical and unsympathetic.

He masks this by putting up a front of an emotionally immature individual with childlike mannerisms and an attitude resembling that of a teenager rather than a fully grown man. He also nurtures a somewhat naive belief that Suguru still can be trusted, that there's some hope for him turning away from the path he's chosen. In this regard, he still bears the innocence of a child.

Last but not least, shedding away the more humanly parts of himself, Gojo instead becomes more attuned to the natural world through his ascension -- the main source of purity, as Shinto has it. Moreover, he basically rejects death by coming back from the dead after finally grasping how Reversed Cursed Energy works. And I've already explained the importance of something like this when talking about Tsumiki's passing.

Gojo Satoru's mind is free from resentment and hate, his body unstained by death. He's a character who represents complete spiritual and physical purity.

Suguru Geto as impurity and corruption

Where Gojo's character exhibits perfection, Geto shows abruptly stunted growth and degradation gnawing away at him bit by bit; where Gojo stands to symbolize cleanliness and purity, Geto presents desolation and decay and that filth which is left in their wake. Geto is a character whom the narrative treats as a symbolic foil to Gojo, starting from him being expelled from Jujutsu High and ending with his death being described in the light novel as a curse purged from existence. If Gojo serves as an example of a perfectly fit cog in jujutsu society and sets up a desirable ideal, Geto, named the worst of all known curse users, represents everything that the very same society fears and despises.

Starting with colour symbolism again, such colours as black, dark brown, warm beige and mustard yellow are the most common colours to be associated with dirt and a filthy, dingy appearance. And while I'm not saying Suguru himself has such an appearance (although he does forsake taking care of himself at some point), those all are the colours found in his palette. Black is also considered to be the hardest colour to keep clean, even more so than white, as it shows all the stains and grime so well. Which is quite interesting if you consider that Suguru's downfall and defection ultimately bring out, both to the audience and to Satoru, everything not only malfunctioning, but straightforward cruel, vile and despicable in the existing system.

Geto's deeply empathetic personality is the basis for his own corruption, his inability to set boundaries between his own emotions and the suffering of others leaves him extremely vulnerable in a society which actively punishes people for being unable to extract emotion from their duty and caring too much. The thing is, Suguru is elbow-deep in emotion. For instance, if Satoru managed to shove his feelings aside in order to put together a plan of action when Kuroi got abducted, Suguru immeadiately plunged into self-blame. His own empathy is what's clouding his vision, his feelings pile up within him without any healthy outlet until they start rotting him from the inside.

Geto lets the rot in by caring too deeply, vile emotions that he feels on behalf of others festering in his mind. He can't stand the sight of atrocities commited by Jujutsu society and finds them nauseating, while the rest of the world he exists in treats those abominations as a norm. And even so, he dives deeper into all this by trying to make a difference and save ordinary people.

This is symbolically represented by Geto's Curse Manipulation, with him consuming curses which are basically a corporeal manifestation of all the negative emotions people vent into the world in their daily lives. The more curses he absorbs, the more doubt and resentment he lets inside and the more they consequently stain his once pure ideals and aspirations with bile building up inside of him. His very sense of self is twisted by the weight of the unsightly hideous reality, and while he stays true to his strict set of ideals he is forced to adapt by the trauma of his experience as a sorcerer and the 'realisation' which it brings. Because if one endures such severely traumatic events, one must sooner or later come to the conclusion that there's something inherently wrong and malfunctioning -- either with you or the world you live in. Geto chooses to stay true to himself by assuming it's the latter, and this choice results in his corruption in the eyes of those who run that very world.

There's also something to be said about the intimacy of the act of consumpton: you let the thing you consume nurture you and become a part of you. Cursed spirits taste absolutely foul, and what that means to put this despicable thing in your mouth and swallow it is unimaginable. Geto's absorbtion of curses is supposed to represent how he basically desacrates himself by letting himself experience everything at such a deep emotional level, inevitably tying himself to putrefaction of the world.

And of course, the last thing that plays its role in the defilement of Geto's character is his death.

Brief wrap-up thoughts

I could honestly ramble on and on about this for ages, but I guess it all just boils down to my admiration for Gege's ability to break the mold with his writing. He takes a trait which is largely associated with protagonists of their stories and shapes his villain's whole personality around it -- and vice versa, with Gojo and his seemingly egotistic tendencies.

Once again, Japanese religious beliefs organically encompass so many elements originating from so many cultures with no coherent systematization existing up untill late 19th centuary, and I find it absolutely fascinating how Gege's story reflects that. It leaves us with such an interesting controversy of an emotionally detached hero dwelling in a morally grey area alongside with a deeply empathetic antagonist whom both other characters and the audience find deserving of sympathy and pity.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk analysis #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu #tsumiki fushiguro #she gets mentioned as well #and i still do not know how to tag properly #jjk meta #for some reason it took me so so long to finish this #are words exhausting sometimes #it seems the more i think the more scatterbrained I get #i am once again telling you #i'm sorry for how messy it is #and also #welcome to a new episode of how i'm so not normal about the religious symbolism in fiction

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aliahm · 11 months

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“When I’m not with you, think of you always”

Crowley x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: You wind up talking to Crowley about the unexpected reason you bought your new sunglasses.

Warnings: Mentions of crying and being overwhelmed

If there are any content warnings I left out, or I made any mistakes writing for a gender neutral reader, please let me know.

(Credit for the beautiful dividers used in this post goes to each of the creators here on tumblr. The images were found on google, and credit for each of them goes to the owners. The title is a lyric from, of course, “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” by Queen <3).

“Hey, love?”

You looked up from your laptop, towards the sound of Crowley’s voice, and saw him standing in the living room doorway.

“Hm?”

“Where’d you get these?”

Dangling from his fingers was a pair of sunglasses that somewhat resembled his own.

“Oh,” you responded, a bit reluctantly, “I bought them a few days ago. They’re for uh, going out”.

He turned the sunglasses over in his hands, observing them more closely. “We went to lunch yesterday and you didn’t wear them”.

You nodded, “Yeah, they’re only for when I’m not with you”.

“Well,” he scoffed, caught off guard by your response, “I suppose if we walked around wearing the same thing it’d get old soon enough”.

You smiled amusedly, and before you could stop yourself, you replied: “True, but that’s not the reason”.

“Then what’s the reason?”

“Damnit” you mentally cursed yourself for letting that slip.

Your eyes zeroed in on your sunglasses in his hands, and then started bouncing back and forth from yours to his, which were hanging from the neckline of his shirt.

“It’s not important.” you answered hesitantly.

“Honey-”

“You don’t believe me, right?”

“Not for a second”.

He walked over to the couch you were sitting on, and knelt behind it, as you turned around in your seat to fully face him.

“What’s going on?”

“It might sound kind of strange”.

“That’s alright,” he reassured you. “you know you can talk to me”.

You nodded, and told him:

“I bought them for when I’m not with you, because I don’t need them then”.

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Cause you help me through it when I’m overwhelmed, but when you’re not there, all I can do is cry”.

“and you bought the sunglasses because you don’t want anybody to see you?”

You nodded again. “People don’t usually react well when I cry, but it happens so much. Even when I don’t want to cry, it happens, and I hate it”.

“Tears are nothing to be ashamed of,” he reminded you, “especially when you’re overwhelmed, and you have to put yourself first when that happens. It doesn’t matter what anyone else might think about you crying”.

“I know that,” you agreed, “but still, you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like it’s okay to cry at all. When you’re not around, I go back to trying to hide it, cause it’s all I know how to do”.

“Sometimes I wish I could be there all the time.” He told you, a thoughtful frown crossing his face. “Makes me feel better to know I’m right there if you need me”.

“I know,” you replied, squeezing his hand, “but I won’t ask that of you. We both know I can handle myself, I’m just trying to figure out how to do that”.

“You’re not some problem to be “handled”, baby. You’re a person with feelings, and you already do a damn good job at handling those feelings every day, even when it’s difficult”.

A grateful smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and he continued:

“Even so, neither of us can control peoples’ reactions to what we do, and we both know I wouldn’t react well if anyone decided to judge you for crying”.

He nodded towards your sunglasses.

“If these help you when I’m not around, then good, but if ever they’re not enough, then you come to me, or just say the word and I’ll come to you, no matter where or when”.

“I promise I will”.

“Good”.

He smiled and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you smiled along with him, an idea suddenly entering your mind.

“Wanna see me try the sunglasses on?”

Crowley laughed, and gently ran his fingers through your hair. “Go for it, sweetheart”.

#good omens crowley x reader #good omens crowley fanfiction #crowley x reader #anthony crowley x reader #good omens crowley x gender neutral reader #crowley x gender neutral reader #anthony crowley x gender neutral reader

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flowerflowerflo · 4 months

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🍡 unwanted thoughts and overthinking

all of us deal with these from time to time, some more often than others. i havent found too much about these subjects on this side of tumblr but i personally wanted to shed a little bit of light on it as i am very familiar with both of these things & wanna help! <3

ೀ definitions -

intrusive thoughts: unwanted thoughts or mental images that make people feel uncomfortable that can range from harmless to severe.

overthinking: to think too much about something in a way that is more harmful than helpful.

ೀ part 1, intrusive thoughts

first off, your thoughts create your reality. this may seem incredibly redundant in this context but hear me out. YOUR thoughts create your reality, the ones you are actively creating and in control of, not the ones that appear out of the blue or make you scared or upsey or uncomfortable like these. these do not reflect you as a person nor the world you live in in any way because they are not yours, and only your thoughts can create your reality.

recognise that 99% of the time these are not serious. they are so far off what is actually or will actually happen that its funny, so treat it as such. if it sounds absurd that you could even think such a thing, treat it as such. laughing at absurdity is natural and this is just another example of that. "what if they laugh at me for __?" and why would they do that. "what if i did ____" what reason would you have to do that. would you take someone asking you these questions or telling you these things seriously? no. this isnt any different.

so in my head i refer to this as a "battle strategy" because its similar to that of a soldier aiming and firing at whatever enemy comes their way. for example; you get one of these unwanted thoughts. you attack back - replace this with 3 good thoughts, memories or affirmations. if this is attacked back, you defend yourself again, and so on. call me dramatic but imagining out an entire scene in my head to go along with this is so fun and makes me feel way less gross about it all😭

please please please dont beat urself up over it, like i said earlier these are not your thoughts, they do not reflect you in any way. you are beautiful and safe and protected and a good, pure soul and i love you sm <33

(note: please reach out to someone if these thoughts are interfering with your everyday life or seriously affecting your mental health. you are not a bad person and it doesnt make you any lesser for reaching out for help. i am not an expert, i am simply stating what helps me and has helped me in the past. ily)

ೀ part 2, overthinking

investigate. say you have a presentation tomorrow. you are really worried and thinking so much about every little detail. first thing - why are you worried? "because of what they'll think of me." why is that an issue? "what if they laugh at me because im wrong or i did something differently or (list of a billion absurd & unlikely things that can go wrong)?" why is that an issue? "i dont want people to dislike me." why does that matter? where did this concern come from? from then on you can sit down and think about why this may be or where this may have stemmed from, find the root cause of this and go from there. curiosity is the most lethal weapon one can wield, and that applies to yourself, too.

sit. do nothing. sit in complete silence, no phone, no device, no distraction. be your own cheerleader and annoy yourself by going on and on about it in your head until you annoy yourself into doing it <3 (learnt this from my younger brother)

weigh out the pros and cons and measure it from there. if the pros outweigh the cons, you start immediately, no distractions. if the cons outweigh the pros, think about it and think is it really worth causing all this trouble over?

reassure yourself & again dont beat yourself up over it!! this is normal and you can beat it!!! lets do this!!!! 🫶

i love you!!!! so much!!! i believe in you & we can do this!!!! 🩷🩷

#♡#procrastination #overthinking #intrusive thoughts #mental health #self improvement #self love #girlblogging #wonyoungism #glow up era #we can do it #!!!!! <3 #i love you #lots and lots

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nachofuck3r · 5 months

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Johnny Cage x Depressed, friend! Reader

Just a cross post from ao3 for the poor people of Tumblr.

Art was kindly done by @unabashedfacecreator

I also feel it's important to mention that you are not in an established relationship but just friends with weird tension tho.

Cw: hurt/comfort, implied body image issues, depression, suicidal thoughts, also fluff and tender Johnny

There's a spot on the ceiling, but as much as you'd love to move and clean it - you can't.

It's been minutes since you last moved, maybe even hours - not like you're counting. Everything feels numb and you yourself feel as though you are a void, not a person - but just a never-ending dark hole that only takes and never gives.

Friends, Family even haven't seen you in weeks, month partly. You could be dead for all they know - you really wish you were. You've done nothing but burden these people, it feels like all you are capable of is relying on others.

Bzzzzz

A vibration stirs you from your self-destructive thoughts, you move your eyes to the left. There lays your phone, running on only 16 percent but still vibrating with vigor, that you could almost be jealous of.

You will yourself to move your head to the side to get a glance at the screen, maybe even see if someone actually texted you. But to no avail, to see who is contacting you, during your lingo, you'd have to sit up.

You move your head back to its initial starting point, staring at the ceiling. You're almost tempted enough to fall back into your earlier trance.

This position is comfortable and familiar, there is nothing you can fuck up about this.

Bzzzzzz

Your finger begins to twitch, muscle memory most likely - you really need to get off that phone more often.

Back to your original thoughts, who texted you? With all your mental might you pull yourself together and attempt to sit up. It's slow and unsteady but you will yourself up with one quick movement. A few bones that have been stuck at an angle finally move back to their original resting places and make light cracking sounds. You groan, then falter. You haven't heard your own voice in a while. Speaking feels like a weary task, anytime you try it your lips start to wobble and tears collect in your eyes. You are just embarrassed at this state you're in, not good for or at anything.

Bzzzzz

Oh right- the phone

Your hand reaches for it before your mind can start to wonder again. The movement of pulling your phone back towards yourself activates the lock screen. You are greeted with a picture of your dog with.....

Fuck

Johnny

Bzzzzz

The phone vibrates in your hand, almost shocking you enough to drop it. Now you finally look at the messages you got, all from the same person. You unlock the screen and read the messages on the notification bar.

Johnathan chachow: Hey!

Johnathan chachow: I'm back from my trip!! You will never believe the shit I've seen a and been through.

Johnathan chachow: I feel like I skipped 100-character arcs and 30 potential flop eras

Johnathan chachow: been around for a while and been meaning to hit you up! I miss PEANUT and you ofc!!

The declaration makes you let out a huff, peanut is your dog. But you've given her temporarily to your parents for now since they said they'd love to have more reasons to go out.

You were very grateful they attempted to cover up initial their taking of your pet with their own excuse. Masking the straight facts, that you just couldn't take care of her right now. After forgetting to feed peanut two times, in one week you called them.

You recall their voices - laced with concern, after hearing the initial shake in your own tone.

Bzzzz

Johnathan chachow: This is the point where you'd be like: "Oh Johnny, I missed you so much, please come over to my place! So, you can cuddle with peanut (and potentially me) for the rest of the weekend"

Rest of the- you fumble to take a look at the date on top of your screen and to your surprise, Johnny was right. It's only Friday afternoon. Like in a trance, you click the messages and get transported to the chat immediately.

"Shit" your voice comes out as a hoarse rumble, furthering your flabbergasted state.

No time!

You need to think of what to answer now! Johnny only just texted you this so the chance of him still being in the chat are high. Which means he saw you reading the messages, which in turn means he's expecting an answer.

Especially after the trip he took, he was gone for months and still remembers you from a time where your life and self-respect weren't completely falling apart.

You type out a few starters but they all get deleted, because you feel as though they are insufficient - not unlike yourself.

You don't even know where to start. You really wish you'd have just let yourself fall back into your original trance, staring at the dirty ceiling.

Not this: sat up on your messy bed, surrounded by mountains of stinky laundry and a few food wrappers. With the hand not holding your phone you pinch the bridge of your nose, hoping it'll help your brain work faster at processing what to write your friend.

You: Hey! Glad to have you back.

You: My flat is a little messy right now

You nervously watch as the messages you typed out go immediately to read - and as Johnny gets to writing.

Johnathan Chachow: Okay?!?! That's not a no. Soooo.

Jonathan Chachow: I'm coming over and bringing takeout!!

Your jaw promptly drops, Johnny has always been very overly forward and friendly like this and you usually don't mind.

But that's because before you always had your shit together, which cannot be said about you and your life’s current state.

The house: an absolute mess, your life: an absolute mess and mostly you being an absolute mess.

And now your best friend of 5 years is about to witness you in this state. Johnny's messages give you an adrenaline rush you could've used weeks ago and you jump out of bed.

Rapidly your fingers start hitting the screen, as you move through the muck on your floor.

You: No really don't!! It's like really messy and I already ate!

Lies except for the messy part, you haven't eaten since Tuesday and at the thought of food your stomach grumbles like a traitor. Hurriedly you start picking up things around the house, you try your best to sort clothes and trash into separate bags but if you're two pairs socks and underwear lighter after this endeavor, you'll blame it on your fussy state.

As you scramble to bring order to your house you hear another -

Bzzzzz

You look around trying to pinpoint where in this mess you left your phone.

Bzzz

There on top of a hill of dirty t-shirts, it vibrates once more.

You grabble for it, unlocking it immediately.

Johnathan Chachow : I haven't seen you IN MONTHS!

Johnathan Chachow : Babe, strap in, I'm coming over, even if I have to climb a mountain of dirty panties.

You chuckle nervously at the message, your dry throat protesting, not soon after.

After letting out a few coughs and you try to get back to cleaning up - seeing there is no point in trying to convince Johnny otherwise. And as you accidentally drop your phone in your run around the house it hits you.

What about you, your body has been marinating in nothing but misery for weeks. You don't even know when you last took a shower. Haven't even looked in a mirror for forever - but one thing is for certain, you must look like shit.

Suddenly the stench of your clothes hit your nose and your nose scrunches up in disgust.

Ignoring your strange odor, you fumble for your phone and immediately bolt for the bathroom. Since you only used this place for dissociated cry sessions and peeing, it was kept fairly clean, despite your effect on the other rooms.

After taking a glance in the mirror, you don't need to be corrected.

A shower is in order immediately, though by the looks of it so should be sleep. Eye bags as prominent as Johnny's personality have formed under your eyes and not the sexy vampire kind of eye bags.

No matter, you splash your face with water and then get to peeling of your well worn clothes. Skillfully avoiding your reflection in the mirror as you discard layer after layer of clothing. You step into the shower and as you turn on the water, you feel the adrenaline starting to wear of. With the pressure of the water pattering down on you, weariness starts to set back in. You shampoo your hair quickly and soon remember you've run out of body wash about a week ago.

In your hazed state you use the shampoo as a substitute, telling yourself it's better than nothing. As you're attempting to scrub yourself clean, you catch yourself trying to not look down, as if to avoid eye contact with your body. You don't need to be even more brought down, you just need to get this done and get it done before-

Ding Dong

Fuck

You quickly turn of the shower, grab a relatively fresh towel and wrap it around yourself.

The floor squeaks as you almost trip over your own, still wet, feet - to get out of the bathroom.

The trash and laundry you half-heartedly have assembled still lies in the living room, you grab for it with your still wet hands, placing it temporarily in the tiny storage room next to your bedroom. I'll take care of it later, goes through your head as a knock can be heard from the front door.

"yEah I'm coming" you rasp, yell out as best as you could. Wishing that Johnny would grant a few more seconds of dignity. Though it seems as though some other higher power had another plan, as you hear the sound of keys jingle and the door knob turn.

"That's what they always say to me" - he boasters as he enthusiastically opens the door, only to let the doors fall open by itself as his eyes fall on you.

Let me die, if there is a god out there kind enough to hear my wish, strike me down.

His shocked expression turns into one of mischief.

"If I'd had known you were on the menu tonight, I wouldn't have brought Chinese" he leans against the door, propping the hand with his keys against his hip. Warmth floods your entire being, as you stand there, still almost naked and your flat looking like it's been ransacked.

"I-" after attempting to speak you immediately regret not having had something to drink yet. Your dry throat refuses to let you speak and betrays you with a coughing fit. Toppling over, you hear Johnny rush to place the takeout bags down and move to your side.

"Whoa whoa. Hey let's get you sat and hydrated" "and scoop" he catches you off guard, by picking you up gingerly, you can only let out a small surprised gasp - as he sets you down on the coach.

"Sit" he utters, giving your back an affectionate pat - before moving to the kitchen. As you sit there you think about how ridiculous this whole situation is. Because there is no way this man, your best friend, is seriously wearing star shaped sun glasses on his head, while you have a coughing fit in only a towel.

"Here you go" Johnny renounces his presence by gently taking your hands and wrapping them around a fresh glass of water. Your dry throat cries out for the beverage as your slightly shaky hands put it to your lips. As you just about finish the glass, placing it down on the coffee table in front of you. Johnny starts to take the place surrounding you two. Looking at him like this makes you want to burst into tears.

"Done a little, mhm redecorating?" he asks, And usually Johnny's teasing was taken by you with grace or even a comeback, now and then.

Now though as the whole situation sinks in again, you can only feel tears building at the corner of your eyes.

"You-" your lip wobbles and Johnny's carefree smirk turns into a frown.

"Oh sweetheart" he mutters kindly as you feel tears bursting out eyes. Johnny embraces you on the couch and you can only pathetically sob into his shoulder as he pats your back.

"This is s-so" - start to speak and even though you drank some water you still feel your throat closing up as you try to press more words out "e-embarrassing" As you utter the last word out Johnny slowly pulls you back to look at your, now tear ridden, face.

He gently brushes over the still ever-growing tear stream, going down your face.

"What are you even saying?"

"I-I just- I'm half naked, my best friend-" you gulp loudly to ease tightening throat, "Who I haven't seen in months keeps doing all this nice stuff for me- *sniff* and I just, can't even function enough to pretend as if my life isn't absolutely shit."

Listening intently Johnny's eyes wander over your face as he takes both your cheeks in his hands.

"It's okay. This is nothing to be embarrassed about, everyone hits a tough spot once in a while. Even a big guy like you and me" He explains as he brushes his thumb over your cheek. "You are single-handedly the kindest, most beautiful and skilled person, I know"

"and you're human, most importantly, it's okay to not always perform or work. You gotta take care of yourself, doll" He lets his right hand drop from your face to your hands, gently he lifts yours to his face and nuzzles his cheek against it matching, his other hand on your cheek. "You've pulled me outta hell, back when Kris and I split" he speaks softly, not once breaking your gaze

"Do you remember the state the mansion was in?" he earnestly asks as you rake your mind for pictures post Johnny's divorce It was such a big house, so it truly never felt too littered or cramped even with the dirty formal clothing, ice cream pints and tissues all over the floor.

"Yeah, but mostly the immense amount of chocolate chip and mint, ice cream you ate" He slightly cringes at the mention as though he can still taste the ice cream now.

"Ugh, even now it makes me shiver, in more than one way."

"Ahem, my point being, It was a mess and I was a mess."

"A hot mess even, and not the good kind" he rambles on. "Back then - You, were the only person that truly had my back"

"Sure, I still had my mom, bless her, not really my dad, fucken asshole he is, but you were always there when it counted." his tongue moves out to wet his lips and your embarrassed to admit your eyes followed the movement.

"More than anything you talked me through a bunch of panic attacks."

"and helping you with this" you scan the room out of the corner of your eye. "is the absolute minimum, a guy like me, can do for an angle like you"

Any other time you would have probably bristled and teased him about the nickname but now just hearing him say it is enough to make you want to cry even more.

"I don't deserve you" you utter out brushing your own thumb over his cheek. His hand drops from your cheek to your shoulder and he pulls you close enough for a kiss.

Your foreheads knock together gently, as he opens his mouth to utter.

"You deserve all of me"

Tears still drying on your cheek and to your surprise a few tear-tracks also run down Johnny's face. Not knowing what else to say or do you finally point out the still very much elephant in the room.

"Can I put some clothes on?"

"Whaaaatt? Why? I love the au naturel look." He barks, intentionally letting his eyes scan you from head to feet.

You furrow your brows at him, but smile nonetheless.

Then you look back at your bedrooms door and remember that you haven't done the laundry in a while.

"I- shit... I don't have any fresh clothes"

"Oh would be a waste if I didn't take of mine as well, so we could match" He jests as he gets up and drops his coat on the couch.

"Harhar, seriously though gimme a sec I'll just see if I can find an-" but johnny holds up his hand, to stop you short.

Then in a dramatic gesture takes your hand in his. "Fret not my dear. For I am ever prepared and brought spares" He winks, as he bolts up and jogs to the front door revealing a bag you hadnt noticed he had earlier.

"I thought I was probably gonna crash on your couch tonight anyways-" " and as someone who has already gotten mouth wash all over his shirt and shorts once. " - "I have brought spares spares"

He ceremoniously takes a shirt and a pair boxer shorts out of his bag and gingerly drops them in your hands.

"There you are, your highness" His trademark charm up to a max again as you still gape at the clothes.

"Wow, you really are my best friend, who totally didn't soak his shirt with my bottle of mouthwash once"

"Ouch, how ungrateful and cruel you are, your highness." He jokingly puts a hand over his heart before moving closer to your face.

"Get to changing before I change my mind" He whispers playfully, with a certain suggestiveness to it that you'd rather deny has an effect on you.

Brushing of those weird feelings you start heading to the bathroom as johnny sets up your living room for a movie night.

After you've successfully changed into the shirt and boxer shorts, you make your way back to the living room.

There, also in a shirt and boxers sat Johnny contently staring at the work he’s done. He’s gotten rid of all the newsletters, letters and magazines that you always trust from your mailbox straight onto the table. If that wasn’t already a feat of its own Johnny has plated the takeout boxes contents up on plates, still steaming from the microwave and prepped two sodas with ice cubes. You didn’t even know you had ice cubes.

"Hey there sunshine, glad you could make it –" he eyes you in his clothes and halts.

He takes a surprisingly laboured breath before motioning to the spot next to him on the couch.

"I like the look you had going before but this" he eyes you up and down over his ridiculous star shaped sunglasses. "This i could get used to"

"Don't cream your pants, your shirt is not nearly as loose on me as I’d like it to be"

"Ughhh~ too late- plus that's makes it sexy, leaves less to the imagination and more to the eye" He clicks his tongue as he theatrically shakes his hips, as much as possible while sitting.

"Sexy? Can’t spruce up what cannot be saved by sprucing" It’s all fun and games with you usually flirting and complimenting each other but you've never done this before.

Say how you freaky feel, maybe you haven’t ever felt like you do now about your body. But you surely do now and He eyes you critically, how brows knit together.

"Hey, that's my friend you're talking about. And they are" He moves in closer.

"the sexiest bitch" Closer "I know, aside from me" He grabs your cheeks with on hand, successfully squishing your face.

"So, don't come around talking shit about them here" You regard him wide-eyed, as you feel his warm breath grazing your face.

"Understood?" he says, his gaze absolutely keeping you in place, unable to move.

"Jeez Luis, understood, now let go you brute." you try to lighten up the atmosphere , giving his chest a light shove, as you pull back from his grip, adjusting your jaw.

"Damn you really got a tight grip there, where ever you were these past few months, really gave you a new edge" you jest as you try to put a little distance between yourself and him.

He giggles slightly and you swear you see him kick his feet.

"You really think so? I was feeling it as well!"- "My journey though outworld really leveled up my charisma"

"Outworld?" you let out a huff, grabbing your plate with fried noodles.

"Yes! Oh, I've got so much to tell you!" he exclaims excitedly, giving you an absolutely blinding smile

You listen to his vibrant display, eagerly as he tells you more and more of what he has been doing these past months. If he didn't show you the pictures, videos and his group chat with Kenshi, Kung Lao, Raiden and Liu Kang, you probably would've thought he was telling you about his upcoming movie plot.

But as Johnny vibrantly shows and tells you about his escapades these past few weeks, you're just so grateful he's better than he was before this trip.

It goes to show that things actually do get better, from an absolute movie star mess, to a guy who traveled outside of 'earthrealm' as he called it and on top made new friends.

It gives you a glimmer of hope, for your own endeavor and seeing how eager Johnny was to meet with you, helps as well.

Because to Johnny you are more than a broken machine, but his friend and perhaps more in days to come.

#johnny cage fanfiction #johnny cage #X Reader #x m!reader #x gn!reader #mk1 fanfic #mk1 x reader

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greenerteacups · 9 days

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do you have any thoughts on luna and harry as a potential couple post-canon? i was reading your post on harry/ginny and i really loved your perspective on it, especially when you said your vision for harry post war was basically just lots and lots of big dogs (i LOVE that mental image and i agree it would be SO good for him!!) but i was wondering if you'd consider luna and harry to be a good match for each other? personally i have a sort of soft spot for the pairing because of how fond harry is of her in canon, and i think if anyone was going to understand and be unfazed by all the difficult trauma responses and long healing process he's going to be dealing with for years after the war, luna seems like a good fit :)

My love for Harry as a character is kind of unusual to me, considering I go pearl-diving for ships when I read things, and I fall in love with dynamics as a conduit to falling in love with characters. That said, I don't really ship him with anybody. I just genuinely adore That Weird Little Dude. Same with Ron; I'm just as pleased to see them with a range of people, because (A) I believe they're good partners and can have great relationships with many people (Ron Weasley get behind me they could never make me hate you Ron Weasley), but also (B) I don't see either of their canon relationships as Definitive. Some characters I ship together because I sincerely believe they are (non-deterministic) soulmates, in that they bring out parts of each other that make them the freshest, happiest, most interesting versions of themselves. With other characters, I'll look at a couple and go: "Huh. Could work!" and smack my giant rubber [APPROVED] stamp on it, then get back to work on my blorbos.

Luna and Harry are one of those couples for me. As I mentioned in that other post, I think Harry's primary requirement in a partner is someone who can treat him normally, i.e. will be generally chill about the Became Wizard Jesus Twice situation. Which is a big ask. Luna is uniquely capable of doing that because Luna is not normal at all, and so treats all things, extraordinary and ordinary both, as uniformly dazzling and delightful. I believe this is why Harry enjoys her so much in their friendship, because he gets to feel valued and treasured without feeling unusual or othered — a hard line to toe, and one even Ron and Hermione occasionally trip up on. He seems to like hanging out with her a great deal, and I think it says something sweet that he asks her to the Slug Club party instead of any of the girls in Gryffindor from his year, whom he'd ostensibly know better.

Luna is a bit of a cipher to me, I admit. We know she's the daughter of an eccentric and probably traumatized single father, raised without a mother; deeply lonely, because of how she's been ostracized for her beliefs and hobbies, and the victim of some degree of bullying for it; and yet full of a passionate, almost effortless wonder and joie de vivre. She's also intensely loving (cf. painting her friends' faces on her bedroom ceiling) and very hard to embarrass. She likes Harry for understandable reasons; they share most of those qualities (Harry's more sensitive to others' opinions, understandably so), and the only point where they diverge is their actual hobbies and interests. Harry seems pretty fond of her nonsense, and I bet she could sell him on crumple-horned snorkacks given some time — maybe if Hermione took a vacation to Switzerland and left them alone together.

In general, what I find sweet about the idea of these two is they're so chill. These are two people whose chief ambition is to hang out, enjoy their hobbies, and see some cool magical shit. Date night is so fucking easy for these two. Plus, Harry is a hothead a lot of the time, and Luna just... vibes. Literally never bothered. Insane levels of not fussed at all times. Very helpful for Harry, who has a bad tendency to bottle up his feelings and then blow up at the first person to sneeze at him. Conversely, I'd hope that Harry would age into the kind of genial, confident dude who would be able to rock up with a function where people were talking shit about Luna and be like :) My wife? You mean my wise and beautiful wife? Surely you are not talking about my wise and beautiful wife. :) instead of doing what he'd do from age 15-17, which is get mad and stomp around sulking. Which, again: teenager. Orphan. Non-stop trauma gauntlet from age 2-18. Excuses are made. But still. Would think it best if Luna's husband were not perhaps so keenly sensitive to gossip, for Luna's sake.

Anyway, these are just some dissembled thoughts. There's also something in there about Harry, boy under the staircase, falling in love with the magical world and ending up the Most Magical person, i.e., the person who took believing in magic to such an extreme that she imagines magic that doesn't exist yet. And Luna ends up with the one person who's inarguably stranger than she is.

#another e.g. for a Definitive couple would be Annabeth and Percy for instance.#like I think Nico and Will are cute but I'm fine if they date other people! I don't *root* for that but I'd be chill and open to it #if Percy and Annabeth break up I'm setting the book on fire and doing a Cursed Child brainwipe. it isn't happening.#they are Definitive. they are narrative complements. they need to kiss for Thematic Purposes (read: pretentious)#greenteacup asks #Harry and Ginny also exist in the rubberstamp box for me #I think Ginny does different things for Harry and has different strengths/faults #sidebar naming their daughter after luna is SO cute and lily luna is the one potterchild I'm okay with the name of #but it also makes me think about harry/luna kids and. you know what. I think it would go better #harry would be like 'perhaps... albus severus' and luna would be like :D great idea! I was Thinking Of Lysander Philodemus Crantor.#and then she would negotiate him down to like. 'katherine' but with a byzantine combination of Y's and E's

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 10 months

Note

I thought of this while falling asleep, so stick with me.

I have a very specific image in my head of jisung/chan/noona laying in bed all day and struggling with their mental health, like depresh sesh fr. And then seungmin sees it after he went to school and came back and they were in the same position. (Especially chan, bc we know he has experienced depression irl). So seungmin texts the pack and everyone goes into help the sad mode. Felix makes baked goods and lays with them, Minho makes dinner and makes sure they drink water (he knows when he doesn't need to be a snarky baby, so he lets them live), hyunjin helps with self care and gets them to shower, changbin talks to them and tries to get to the root of the issue, jeongin tries to get them to play games with him or just cuddles up to them and holds them tight like Felix. (Babies) at the end of the night, everyone is piled up in someone's bed watching a kdrama.

Also, ig i could ask the pack this too. If someone is being seriously depressed, how does everyone help? Who usually has the worst of it, if you wanna answer?

(This is so sweet. Thank you for sharing. Because as someone who struggles with mental health (as most of us do!) this was so comforting to read and imagine and take into consideration. <3)

Triggers (only discussed, nothing specific but please take care of yourself): Self Harm, Depression, Anxiety, Mental Illness, Suicide

********************************************************************************

"This is a serious ask." Changbin remarks somberly, lips drawing into a thin, pressed line.

"It is," Chan agrees, nodding. "But it's also incredibly important to talk about. But first-" He gives a soft little smile. "I wanna give all of you guys a big hug and tell you you're doing your absolute best-no matter where you are on your journey-that we're proud of you, and we love you."

He settles back into his seat, folding his hands into his lap, glancing around at the other members of the pack.

"Is there anyone who feels comfortable discussing this? Or would you like me to go first?"

You glance to him. "I think we've all talked about this amongst each other before, but I don't know if we've ever really talked about it outside of the pack. So maybe it's best you go first, Channie."

He nods once and lets out a long breath between his lips. "Okay. Well, I've had a long, hard road of mental health struggles, it's not a secret I don't believe." He pauses for a moment, gathering his words, and then continues. "I've always had bouts of depression, but it got a lot worse when I moved from Australia to Korea to study."

"I was alone, I didn't know anyone, I was just a kid. I felt like no one cared, like I was adrift without anyone or anything to support me. I turned to school and music and producing to try and fill the void, but the weight of the darkness was increasing, and none of those things felt like enough."

You reach out silently and cover his hand with your own. He gives you a slight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and squeezes your fingers between his own gratefully.

"It got so bad, eventually I never left the studio-I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I didn't take care of myself. At my lowest, I seriously considered just being done with it all. No one would miss me anyway. At least that's what I'd convinced myself-and the depression agreed."

He blows another long sigh out through his teeth, and the pain in his dark eyes is heartbreaking.

"But-" He shifts, sitting up straighter and shaking off some of the heaviness, glancing to Changbin now. "-Then some asshole convinced me to partner up with him for a semester project."

Changbin shrugs and gives a rueful half grin in response. "What can I say? I wanted the best."

Chan gives a little chuckle, shaking his head slightly at the other alpha's teasing. "The depression didn't go away. The weight didn't just disappear over night. But over time, I realized that maybe I did have something, was really someone, that people would miss. At least, certain people that mattered."

He glances around at all of you now, affection flashing across his features, and he gives your hand another squeeze.

"It's still hard some days. I still get too in my head, the darkness never really disappears, it just takes the back seat for awhile, but I've learned how to cope with it better, to turn to people I trust for help, instead of withdrawing and being alone and letting it consume me."

"We're proud of you, Christopher." Minho states plainly, and you can see how much the words mean to Chan as they settle like a blanket around his shoulders.

"Anyway-" Chan gives a little laugh, the tips of his ears going red, as he shifts and rakes a hand through his curls. "Enough about me, someone else go."

"No, but wait-" You stop him, and he glances at you curiously. "-I think it's important to talk about and realize the triggers, the tells, of someone you know and love when it comes to mental health. Because sometimes, when they feel the darkness creeping back in, they can't vocally express that need for help."

Chan nods thoughtfully. "Very true."

"Hyung has very specific tells." Changbin adds, studying Chan. "He starts to withdraw, he spends a hell of a lot more time alone-in the studio, his room, etc.-which leads to him not taking care of himself. He gets quiet, like he's in his head and not with us, and I think everyone's gotten to the point where they can tell 'regular Chan quiet' from 'overthinking, sinking Chan quiet.'"

Chan is nodding again, shooting the other alpha a wordless, grateful look.

"Jisung and I both struggle incredibly with anxiety and panic attacks." You bring up next, looking to the beta, who is nodding beside Changbin. "Although, just because we have the same diagnosis, it doesn't mean our triggers or even our symptoms are the same."

"Yeah-" Jisung agrees, jumping in. "It's important to note that you can struggle from the same mental issues as someone else, and still realize that that doesn't mean you know anything about what the other person is going through. A similar diagnosis can look completely different for someone else."

"In my case, my anxiety revolves around uncertainty and the 'what ifs', and certain scenarios are really triggering for me." You continue, giving Jisung a breather before you give him the option to express his feelings. "If someone is later than normal getting home from school or work, I panic, coming up with all the worst case scenarios in my head until I can't breathe."

"Communication is absolutely key for you and the type of anxiety you struggle with." Chan agrees, nodding.

"Yeah, we've implemented check ins or communication methods when someone is going to be late or somewhere unexpected." You nod, giving Chan a little half smile. "It's really helped, and I really appreciate you guys doing that for me, even if it feels silly."

"Hey, Hyunjin-hyung never has to check in." Jeongin suddenly complains, as if he's only now just realized.

You grin. "Hyunjin is always late, so I've just come to expect it."

Hyunjin smirks like a cat, all sharp teeth and feline eyes. "You know me so well, baby."

Jisung takes in a deep breath, and you take that as his silent signal that he's ready to discuss his own struggles now.

You glance to him, and give him a little encouraging nod.

"On the other hand, I have a hard time with anxiety and panic attacks in social situations, or when dealing with crowds. I don't like to be around a lot of people that I don't know."

Changbin reaches over and stops the beta's nervous twisting of his hands in his lap, giving him a little warm smile.

Jisung steels himself with the alpha's encouragement and goes on. "I don't like feeling like people are counting on me, or expecting something from me that I can't give. In social situations, there's too many variables and too many unknowns, and I feel like I'm guaranteed to fail no matter what I do."

"The buddy system is a great way to help Sungie when he's feeling anxious." Felix interjects, giving the beta a dazzling smile. "We always stick around him in social situations or gatherings, just so he has someone he knows well to joke with or talk to."

"Yeah." Jisung lets out the breath he'd been holding, seem to relax a little. "That helps a lot."

"And Minho-hyung and noona are great at talking him down when he's in the full throes of an actual panic attack." Seungmin adds, throwing an arm around the other beta's shoulders in a silent show of support. "They let him breathe and take his time, and then convince him his feelings are valid and okay, and that he's safe."

Jisung nods again wordlessly, and you see Changbin squeeze his hands.

"As far as everyone helping out-" Felix looks thoughtful now, his brow creased. "-I feel like we all suffer from certain levels of mental issues, and that's to be expected, and everyone kind of just knows how to help in the right way depending on what pack member is feeling down."

"You were absolutely spot on with your scenario of what Channie likes though." You laugh, referencing the previous thoughts. "He needs people to pull him out of his head, help him take care of himself, and mainly snuggle and be there for him. He likes the entire pack to pull around him when he's in a rut."

"Minho-hyung on the other hand-" Changbin speaks up, giving the elder a pointed look. "-he'll bite your head off the first day. He likes his space until he's come down a little, and even then, he wants one or two specific people to just exist with him for awhile."

"And who are those one or two people?" You ask, already knowing the answer, laughing a little.

Minho rolls his eyes as Changbin answers without hesitation, "Chan and Felix of course."

"Ah, Aussie line!" Chan crows triumphantly, and Felix grins at him from across the room as Minho looks annoyed at having been called out.

"Anyway, as we said-" You continue, threading your fingers through Chan's. "-this is a super important topic to talk and be open about, and please, if you ever feel like you need someone to talk to or confide in, find someone you trust-a therapist, a friend, a sibling, a parent-"

"A stranger on the internet." Jisung adds cheekily, grinning.

You laugh. "-a stranger on the internet. Just know you don't have to struggle alone, and that there are always people who will be there for you, even if the darkness makes you doubt that."

"We love you guys." Chan adds seriously, nodding. "And I think I've said it all at this point, so let's end with another big hug."

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r1vrrr · 2 years

Text

Dick Grayson x Amab Reader

cw. dom! male reader x sub! dick grayson

this gif 🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽

Dick stopped breathing as Y/N slowly stepped closer, looming over him until he gripped Dick’s arm, slamming him harshly against the wall behind him. A hand reached out, wrapping around his throat, squeezing hard. The man was furious and Dick found his heart racing more from fear than adrenaline.

Y/N reached up and took off his helmet. So the kid could see just how close he was to murdering him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done!” Y/N had been working this contract for months. He’d finally gotten intel on the target’s location, and tonight had been his best chance to take them out.

Dick froze under Y/N’s stony gaze. He could feel the rage rolling off of him. He tries to swallow down the panic clawing its way up his throat. Images flash through his mind of Y/N, snapping his neck with ease with more force. Ever since they got together, Y/N’s attitude towards him has changed. Sure, he’s still violent and surly, but any malice seemed to have faded away. He’s gotten angry before, but never to the point of forcefully taking it out on Dick. That’s not who Y/N is anymore.

“Uh would you believe me if I said I was sorry” he says sheepishly, locking eyes with Y/N. He chokes when Y/N hauls him up the wall with ease. Almost balancing on his toes to keep breathing. Now, though, he worries that maybe this time Y/N is angry enough. That what they have isn’t as important to him as Dick thought. Y/N’s heavy armor digs painfully into his skin. The metal plates feel cold and hard through his uniform.

Y/N leans in closer, his breath hitting against Dick’s face. Hot in the chilly night. “You lost me an opportunity to fulfill this contract. A golden opportunity for a huge payout. I intend to collect.” Y/N growls low, taking his other hand and his thumb roughly over Dick’s lips.

Dick mentally sighs in relief. So it’s less about killing him for costing him a contract and more than just Y/N being a sore loser. A few moments pass the air quiet except the sounds of their breathing. Despite being lowered down the wall, Y/N’s hand remains wrapped around his throat. He quickly realizes that Y/N will not be satisfied with just an apology. With him, there’s no such thing as ‘didn’t mean to‘ actions have consequences.

Y/N can tell when Dick’s posture changes as the fear subsides. He wants to be hurt, thinks he would seriously hurt him to prove his point, but he’s not in any position to judge. Y/N makes a mental note to bring that up with him later. “You need to be taught a lesson. I might consider going easy on you if you show me how sorry you are.”

“You really want me to beg,” Dick says. A small part of him wants to rebel against Y/N, tell him to just get on with it. The other part can’t deny the fact his cock is filling out behind his costume. Nightwing did not give up control easily. Growing up with Bruce, the man drilled it into his head the importance of always staying in control. Losing control on the streets of Gotham could mean death. Right now, he wanted to surrender. Let Y/N take or do whatever he wanted. “Please, Y/N, let me make it up to you,” he says in a pleading tone.

Y/N’s grip on his neck shifts, sliding up his face before pushing a hand in his hair. He kisses him, deepening the kiss with his tongue. He’s forcefully mapping every inch of Dick’s mouth like he could devour him. Dick moans into his mouth, meeting Y/N’s tongue with his own. It’s like Y/N is trying to steal his breath from his lungs. Then Y/N takes his other hand, placing it around Dick’s sides, caressing his hip. His hand slides down further to his thigh, pulling it up to rest against his waist, encouraging Dick. The boy takes the hint and jumps up, locking his legs around his waist.

Y/N breaks the kiss, dragging his teeth across Dick’s jaw before trailing kisses along his neck. He bites down, sucking a hickie into his collarbone before moving his mouth back up to Dick’s ear. “Will you be good for me, little bird?” Y/N says, slightly breathless.

Dick gasped, his head tilted back against the wall, his eyes fell shut as pleasure consumed him. He groaned, pressing back against the wall, giving him leverage to grind against Y/N. Dick was falling apart, mind only focused on the pleasure building within him. Whining desperately as the pleasure reached its peak. Dick fell apart completely, the sensations overwhelming him until he cums, his vision whiting out.

Y/N pulled away for a moment, taking in the sight of Dick looking absolutely wrecked. He enjoyed the slight tremors that ran through Dick as he came down from his orgasm. Barely giving Dick a minute to regain his sense, he set the boy down before pulling him along. “Safe house now,” he growled

Moments later they were in Y/N’s bedroom and Dick was being stripped of his costume. Dick sighed into the tender kiss he’s pulled into. A hand locks in his hair, holding tight, guiding him down until he is sitting on his knees. Dick’s jaw is held tight until Y/N forces a thumb, until his mouth falls open.

Y/N stares down at Dick sitting on his knees, mouth opening and feels his cock stirring. Running a gloved hand over Dick’s cheek, he walks over to his armor storage. Stripping down, he takes off his armor and puts up his weapons, informing the whine he hears behind him. He turns back to Dick, who hadn’t moved an inch since he turned away. Standing in front of Dick, he grabs his head, pushing him forward until his tight throat engulfs his cock. “Good boy. A slut like you can take it all, can’t you.” He growls, pushing Dick’s head down further until he gags around the cock in his throat. Y/N groans, thrusting his cock down Dick’s throat, relishing in the boy's feeling’s throat constricting around him. “This is what you want, isn’t it?” Y/N grinned, watching Dick’s blue eyes darken and fill with tears.

Dick moaned around the cock in his mouth. He loved how thick and heavy Y/N’s cock was. Dick moans again as Y/N pulled him onto his cock over and over. Y/N’s thrusts grew erratic before he shoved Dick down to the base of his cock. He jerks at the feel of hot cum splashing against his throat. Y/N holds his head down, jerking at the last spills of cum filling up his mouth until it leaks out around his lips and over his chin.

Y/N growls at the sight of his cum splattered against Dick’s lips, a few strands dripping onto his chest. Picking him up, he throws him down on the bed, pulling at the restraints attached to the headboard securing his hands above his head. Leaning down, he spread Dick’s legs too, until his pretty pink hole was on display. Slicking up his fingers, he fucks Dick slowly. Twisting and pumping his fingers into his prostate with relentless force.

“You’ve been a very naughty little bird. Bad boys deserved to be punished.” Y/N purrs assaulting Dick’s prostate until he seizes up, clenching down on his fingers. He keeps going until Dick is shaking and crying from oversensitivity.

Dick’s head is consumed with the pleasure of running through his body. Sparks flash behind his eyes as he feels another orgasm building up. “Please Sir, fuck me” Dick begs, trying to push down on Y/N’s fingers.

“I don’t think you deserve it. This is the third contract you’ve interrupted.” Y/N runs his hands all over Dick. Tweaking his nipples, tugging at his cock with just enough pressure to drive Dick crazy. He loves watching him squirm on the bed while his body switches between wanting more and trying to escape Y/N’s grasp.

“Sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise. Please Y/N, I’m so empty. I need your cock.” Dick is practically sobbing at this point. He feels Y/N pull his fingers out before Y/N pushes into him. Dick groans at the stretch as the first few inches fill him up. Barely having time to adjust, Y/N quickly begins thrusting into his ass, hitting deeper with each thrust. The pressure rises again before Dick locks up, cumming untouched on Y/N’s cock. After that, he blacks out.

Coming to his limbs, his eyes felt heavy. Dick wanted nothing more than to sink deeper into the bed. Reaching out, he curled around the same body next to him before laying his head in Y/an’s chest. Curling around body he was lying on. He arches into the warm hand running through his hair. Slurring, he tries to call out Y/N’s name, but a deep voice hushes him. The last thing he hears is before deciding off is “go to sleep, little bird.”

#male reader #top male reader #gay #dick grayson #nightwing #dceu #batman #dick grayson x male reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dc universe #nightwing x reader

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