panleystarable · 2 years ago
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If Stanley and the Narrator swapped places, it would be one man trying to get the same ending over and over again, with another man with god-like powers keep changing up the story. Just to mess with him.
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ncroissant · 7 months ago
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I just read your Sub! Frances fic and OHMYGOD??? GORGEOUS. AMAZING. HOLY HELL THIS IS THE FIRST FIC THATS MADE ME FEEL THIS WAY I—A JOB MOST CERTAINLY WELL DONE 😭💕✨🙌
I was wondering if you were up to writing more of it? I had this idea for Sub! Frances where he’s a doppelgänger and reader is part of the DDD cleanup crew…except when Frances’s doppelgänger is sent over to them, they decide to initiate a so-called mandatory ‘procedure’ to ‘discipline him’ if you know what I mean…🤭🤭 maybe even throw in some overstim and mind break~
Buttt feel free to ignore this if you want to, no pressure :)
sub! doppelgänger francis mosses x d.d.d! gn! reader
summary: how the clean-up crew likes to deal with slutty doppelgängers
wc: 1.5k
content warning: nsfw, dub-con, spanking, ball play, mind-break, overstimulation, fingering, anal, cock can be seen as strap, cum play, dirty talk, nipple play
author’s note: hi guys! sorry for the wait, but thank u sm for 150 follows omg, u guys have been blowing up my blog ily all. thanks for the ask anon, i love this concept and i'm so happy u liked my first francis fic :') hope u enjoy this one too !! not proofread, minors please dni !!
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the calls to the d.d.d. were slow today.
but when you finally got a call from the nearby apartment's security guard, you were quick to accept the job. what you weren't expecting was to find such a handsome man, awaiting his sentence, upon your arrival.
you soaked in the sight of him. his all too tight uniform and his dopey little hat that was a size too big, slipping over his brunette eyes. his sunken eye bags, long lashes and pleading expression.
the alarm was blaringly loud and the lights were blinding, but you still made your way over to the doppel, your breath fogging up with hazmat suit.
"i'm here for a mr. francis mosses?" you inquired, cautiously stepping closer to him. "is that you? or who you're impersonating, hm?" you tilted your head, driving him against the wall.
his eyebrows furrowed, back pressed flat against the wall in attempts to escape. he stayed silent, but you continued to stalk forward. "can't talk, huh?" you scoffed, shaking your head disappointedly.
your head turned to look at the aluminum sheet covering the security guard's window. you slipped your phone out of your pocket, dialing the security guard. "this might take a while. keep that window closed, yeah?"
you hung up, stuffing your phone away. your head quickly turned to look at francis with a glare. "turn around," you demanded, nodding your chin towards the wall.
"what?" the frown on francis' face deepened. you clicked up tongue, disappointed with his reaction. you gathered his wrists together, spinning him around and pressing his chest against the wall. his pants were so tight that you could see the outline of his balls.
"listen to me, slut," you growled, tightening the grip you had on his wrists. "when i tell you do something, you do it, yeah?" his back arched, rubbing the bulge of your cock against his ass.
"are we clear?" you glared down at him as he looked back at you with widened eyes.
"y-yes..." he shyly nodded with a huff.
you smiled at his obedience, moving back to create space between yourselves. "now, i know you've been a bad boy. messin' with the security guard, knowing you can't enter the building like this," you started, grabbing the fat of his ass.
he gasped, biting down on his lip to suppress the lewd sounds that were so desperately spilling out of his lips. "since you wanna be a brat. let me show you how we deal with bad boys like you." you spanked his ass roughly, kneading it gently afterwards.
"h-HNG!?" he panted when you slipped off his pants, exposing his bare ass. his cock twitched at the feeling of you pressing him against the brick wall, the ridges rubbing against his perky nipples.
"no underwear?" you chuckled, dragging your fingers down to fondle his balls. he squirmed in your gasp, little whimpers escaping his mouth.
he shook his head when he felt your thumb circling around the rim of his hole. "unnghhh...'s dirty down there, ooohh...!" your fingers slipped in so easily from the accumulation of sweat and slick, making him jolt at the thickness of your fingers.
"so deep, mmMNGH! y'keep hittin' that, hngh, s-spot..." he whined, leaning head back in bliss. the room was filled with the sound of francis' moans and the sloppy wet sounds of your fingers ramming into his hole.
you fucked your fingers into him, grazing them against his balls. and every time he got used to the thickness of your finger, you'd add another one to catch him off guard.
as much as he wanted to deny it, he was shamefully enjoyed the way your fingers pressed deep against his prostate. "ooOGHHH! m' g'na c-cum, HNGH! 'm c-cumming, cumming!" he whimpered, cum coating the wall.
his cum dripped onto his white uniform pants and rolled down the inner sides of his legs. he was shaking against you, slumping backwards into your arms.
"you think i'm gonna let you off the hook just 'cause you're cute, huh?" you shoved him deeper against the wall, the bumps flicking his nipples when you pulled him up. "who gave you permission to cum?"
his face paled as he shuddered at the look on your face. "'m sorry! needed t'cum s-so bad," he pleaded, shaking his head when you wrapped an arm around his tummy to arch his back more.
you dropped his wrists for him to ball his hands into fists against the wall to stabilize himself. "okay, be a good and count for me, then." he looked confused at what you meant then yelped when your hand came down on his ass.
"GHK!" he shrieked when you smacked his ass again.
"i'm not hearing any numbers, slut," you tsked, slapping his ass again. it was blooming pink, a stark contrast to the pale white earlier.
you spanked him again, prompting a moan from him. "hNGH! o-one, mnghh..." he huffed, he looked back at you with his cheek smushed against the wall.
you continued to torment his ass until it was bright red, throbbing when you brushed your hand over it. "you learn your lesson yet, or should we do five more, hm?" you cooed, rubbing the fat of his ass soothingly.
"n-no more, hnggh...learned my lesson," he begged, tears filling his eyes.
you laughed under your breath at his desperation, giving him a break. "alright, alright. quit your whining, needy boy." you caressed his cheek, wiping a tear from his eye. "c'mere."
you took him off the wall, leading him over to the aluminum covered window. he stood there in confusion, wondering if his punishment was already over. "are you letting me go now?" he furrowed his brows.
you laughed at his assumption. if only he could see what he looked like right now. his pants and underwear pooled at his ankles, his ass blooming red with cum splattered on his shirt with his nipples poking out.
the way he looked back at you with a flushed expression and tears lining his waterline made your cock throb in your pants. "i'm not letting you go for a long time, slut," you shook your head, unzipping your pants.
francis' heart thumped out of his chest at the sight of your bulge. "i'm not so sure how sound-proof this window is..." you stated, cock springing free from your underwear. "so unless you want the security guard to hear how much of a slut you are. i suggest you keep it down."
"m-mkay, i'll do my best," he nodded with a cute little pout on his lips. he looked so serious, wanting to impress you so badly.
"good boy," you stroked at your cock, inching closer to francis. "spread yourself open for me, yeah?"
francis' hands gripped at his ass cheeks, revealing his throbbing, dripping hole. his cheek was pressed against the glass of the window, looking at you for approval.
you slowly entered him, the tightness of his entrance making you grit your teeth. "hooHNGH! o-oh my god...haah," his mouth hung open, drool dripping down his lips.
he's never felt anything like this, nestled so deeply in his ass. the way you stuffed him so easily, kissing his prostate upon entry, made his cock twitch with pleasure.
"fuck. such a tight little thing, aren'tcha?" you grunted with a chuckle, you cock completely disappearing within him. "took me so well though, hm?"
you quickened your pace, thrusting into him with more ease. "n-nghhh! y-you're hitting that spot a-aghhhNGH, again..! 's too big, mmfph!"
you shoved your fingers into his mouth to silence him, rubbing your fingers against his tongue. "haaaaghnn! feelsh sho g-good, ahhnn..." he muffled out, even with your fingers filling his throat.
"told you to keep quiet," you grit your teeth, feeling him tighten up. "bratty boy isn't listenin' to me again. want me to stop?" you threatened, pulling out.
"n-no! k-keep fuh-ghh...f-fucking me, please! d-don't pull out, mnngh!" he begged, shaking his head furiously.
your tip teased at his entrance before fucking into him furiously. it's not like you could resist indulging him, especially with the expression he was making. eye rolled back, tongue sticking out with tears and drool spilling out.
he looked like a common whore, humping against you like a bitch in heat. "ooGHHK! r-right there! f-fuck, 'm close, hngh!" he nodded mindlessly.
your grip on his waist was bruising, as your free hand rubbed the buds over his shirt. "o-ooh, oh! c-cumming, c-cumming 'gain, h-HNGHHK!"
cum spilled into francis' hole, filling him up generously. his own cock was covering in cum as it had stained the window along with his fingerprints.
your fingers fucked the cum that was spilling out back into his hole as francis twitched in your hold. "feelin' alright, tiger?" you cooed, feigning innocence as if you hadn't just breeded his tight, little hole and filled him with your seed.
"u-uh-huh. wan' more...?" he nodded in a dazed, rutting his ass against your fingers. he cupped his chest, flicking his nipple with his thumb. "'again, ngh?"
the smile on your face was pure evil. he looked so desperate for your cock, your fingers weren't cutting it for him anymore. "fuckin' hell..." you cursed, tugging your cum-covering fingers out.
"again," you smirked, thrusting into him roughly.
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inklore · 2 years ago
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desperately need him to tell me to be silent
fool me twice
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pairing: joel miller x f!smuggler!reader
word count: 2.7k
warnings: eighteen+ content, piv, mean!joel (more frustrated than anything), dirty talk, public sex-ish, small mentions of hair pulling and biting, thigh riding, orgasm denial, established enemy’s with benefits.
note: yeahh you didn’t ask for this but i couldn’t help myself because i’m addicted to this man and i need him in every way possible!! special thanks to my darling @psychedelic-ink for beta reading this ilysm bby.
part of this world but you don't have to read it to enjoy this!
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You could play dumb, tell yourself lies, and wonder how you ended up with your back to a dirty building's brick, out past curfew, playing a game of innocence with a man who can read bullshit from a mile away. 
A fact everyone knew. 
Or comes to learn if you decide to test that scowl and glint of cruelty in his eyes that many mistake for miserableness. 
Facts you’ve come to learn from your own foolishness—and the countless times your boss has sent you to deal with a fuckup he made. Because who’s going to mess up such a pretty face. His words, when you had told him to do it himself. But his cowardice won out, and you had to grit your teeth and refrain from familiarizing your fist with his jaw. 
Smuggling, stealing, and scavenging were preferable to cleaning up shit or burning corpses until the stench of burnt hair and skin embedded in your own flesh lingered far beyond any crevices murky bucket water could clean. 
And besides the few assholes you had to deal with, the job wasn’t bad. 
Joel could be put on that asshole list. He was definitely on Robert’s. But to be fair, if you too had gotten a handful of blackened eyes and bruised ribs from Joel, you’d send a lackey to do your job to cover your ass for having screwed the man over once again. 
Unlike the other assholes he sent you to deal with, dealing with Joel was more of a pleasure than an inconvenience. 
Even if he could read through your bullshit. Maybe that’s why you liked him so much. Why these meetings went so easy, you could lie through your teeth and he could decipher the truth through your smirk and tone so easily that you barely had to try to be believable because you knew he already knew the truth. 
But that didn’t mean you still didn’t try to come up with your best lie. to prod at that scowl until it thinned out, his jaw clenched, sick of your shit before the game even started. 
Playing dumb had no room between the two of you because there was a lack of it. Not when his chest is pressed to yours, pushing you further into the wall, making your lungs gasp for the air he’s forcing out of you. 
“You gonna keep me here all night, or are you gonna make this easy for both of us?” His tone stern, rigid, threatening. 
And you’d be scared if you couldn’t feel the hardness of his cock pressing into your inner thigh. If the two of you weren’t used to this. This little game—the play before the third act—that has curses and nails digging into each other's skin. 
You once attempted to retrace the events that led to this situation that the two of you frequently found yourselves in—touches and grazes that only occurred during these meetups. Your eyes avoided each other in crowds and on the street when you weren’t in this alley. When you weren’t making a show of threats and being pissed off. 
The anger was always real for Joel, though. Always truly pissed off at Robert’s need to be a slime ball. The anger never faltered, even when he was buried deep inside of you. You paid the price, that would usually be a punch, a bruise, with a hard fuck and not being able to sit down the next day without wincing. 
And in the sickest, filthiest way, you loved it. But that is what this world creates—ways to survive and sustain. To cover up the ugly with something that stings and burns with safety and life. A reminder that what you’re doing isn’t as bad as what's beyond the walls. You can still feel bad, hurt, and fuck because you're alive and not growing fungus. 
“It wasn’t–”
The tight grab of your jaw, his fingers digging into your heated skin, make your words die on your tongue. “No matter how many times you repeat it, don’t mean I’m gonna believe it. What did Robert do with the battery? Bullshit me and you’ll regret it.”
“That a promise?” Your smirk lasts all of a few seconds before you’re wincing from the marks he’s leaving against the skin of your jaw. A silent threat. A look of rage in his eyes; a fire you know you won't be able to extinguish no matter how many jokes and lies you tell tonight. “He sold it to someone else.” 
“Who?”
“Ahh, I don’t know.” Your nails dig into his wrist as you try to pry it from your aching jaw. His brows raise a warning that this is your last chance. “I swear.”
There’s a low growl in the back of his throat as he releases you, but he makes no move to remove his closeness. His chest still stealing your air. There’s a slight look of anguish laced in his curses and lowered brows. It makes you feel bad, and it's annoying. 
Robert was a piece of shit, but it wasn’t your fault he fucked up this deal. So why should you feel bad? Take on those feelings when it wasn’t your deal to begin with. It’s not as if you and Joel were anything but warm bodies to take things out on. He didn’t need your pity, and you didn’t have the energy to give it to him. 
What you did have the energy for, though, was making the inside of your thigh unbearably hot. That heat trailing up your body and embedding itself in the ache between your legs that housed your desire for Joel. 
It’s why you don’t think twice about rocking your hips forward at the right angle so the seam of your jeans rubs against the top of his thigh, giving you the friction your throbbing pussy needs—your own thigh rubbing along his hard cock. 
The shudder your body gives from the motion, the repetition of it, makes your insides melt even more when Joel’s glare burns a hole through you. He makes no move to  stop you. Just watches you, eyes flashing between your lips and the way your hips move against him. 
“Joel,” you whine. The noise is more of a demand than a plea for him to touch you. To get to the best part of your night before FEDRA catches you coming on his thigh and the two of you get locked up. 
“What? You don’t need me to get you off; if you want it, take it.” His palms splay outward and bracket around your head as he puts them on the dirty brick, encasing you completely now. Shielding you from the darkness around you, all you can smell is him—musky, burnt coal, wood—in the same breath as all you can feel is his weight on you. 
“Joel.” Your hips stutter to a stop. You refuse to beg him; you didn’t beg. Neither before nor after the world went to shit. You were not going to start now, even if the outcome would be in your favor. 
Was this your punishment for the fuckup? “Are you really punishing me right now?” You want to laugh, want to berate him, and feed him more bullshit so he can’t see the disappointment that’s slowly seeping into your chest. 
He doesn’t answer, just pushes his leg up and moves it along the crotch of your jeans. "Go ahead,” his mouth comes closer to yours. "Take what you want, isn't that what you do anyway? You take and take,” his movements match his words. "And there's no consequence," he says, as your nails dig into his shirt and your hips move involuntarily after each drag and pull. “Not for you, why would there be? You’re just the messenger.” His teeth bite at the skin of your chin, causing you to whimper. 
You let out a soft cry when his fingers dig into your hair, pulling the strands so your neck is on display for him. So he can bite and lick the sensitive skin with roughness, “So take what you want. Do your job.” 
The closer you get to coming, the harder he pushes up against you. The more your legs shake from the stance and strain, the more your knuckles and fingers burn from gripping the fabric of his shirt. His mouth is everywhere but on yours, where you dumbly wish it was. Where you refuse to beg him to go. 
But you don’t need them to get there. To tumble over that precipice and see stars behind your lids. All you need is more, just a little bit more, and you’ll be com–
Your body feels cold and stilted in time when he pulls away. Leaving your hips to follow nothing but air, your whimpers and moans turned into puffs of agitation. Whines swallowed down your dried throat. 
Joel doesn't give you a chance to reprimand or lament the orgasm you were about to have. To gather yourself enough to jab him with a brash comment covering up your need. His hand on your forearm squeezes and maneuvers you so your back is to him instead of the wall. His weight encases you once more, your cheek pressing into the cold brick. The tip of his boot kicks at your feet to spread your legs; your body moves on instinct and desire as your back bows and you push your ass out to him.  
The drag of your jeans and underwear feels chafed and tight just below your ass, where Joel lets them rest. Where he’s too impatient to push them further down, giving himself enough room for him to push inside of you. 
His fingers brush against your ass as he pulls himself from his jeans, wrapping a hand around his cock to bring it to where you’re soaked and pounding for him. Where all your heat is concentrated from how badly you want this. 
Your nail beds scrape against the caked-on dirt of the building as the tip of his cock crests your entrance. A moan rips through the back of your throat, loud and raw, as your walls stretch and burn to accommodate his girth. 
Your chest heaves harder as Joel's hand moves to cover your mouth, eyes screwed shut as he bottoms out. Nudging at the part of you that has you squirming against him, your thighs scraping against the building. 
And when he delivers the first thrust, hard and slow, those delirious black stars line your vision. Pleasure shooting through your spine in a way that has desperate and pathetic noises falling from your lips and to the rough skin of the palm encasing them.
"Since you’re so good at keepin’ things quiet for Robert.” He grunts against your ear, venom poisoning the words so they sound harsh and heavy-handed. “Let’s see how quiet you can be for me," his hips snap against your ass. Jostling your body against the brick and back onto his cock as he fucks you hard and unrelentingly. 
Your mewls against his palm are louder than they should be. Your teeth sink into your lip in an attempt to muffle more of your noises. Your insides are already burning with pleasure from the gasps he's eliciting with each rough drag of his cock. That you crave. That only Joel feeds to you without remorse or mercy because it’s what you both need. 
He’s tired of getting screwed over by the world, and you’re tired of putting on your tough act, of not being able to be weak because you’ll be preyed upon by the monsters this world has created. 
Joel’s breath is hot and heavy against your ear; the two of you screwed if anyone were to look down here. If a lone soldier were to shine his light and find his prisoners for the night, but neither of you seem to care. You never do, not when you’re both feeding off each other like your own sick versions of the clickers outside the wall. Taking and tearing each other down until you’re spent, panting, and covered in the others mess. 
He makes you delirious. Weak. Heady. All things you’re not allowed to be, to feel, in this place. 
You’d happily let Robert fuck over Joel a million times if it meant you’d end up with his cock in you, his mouth on your skin, filthy words and threats etched in bites and licks, all completely consuming you. Turning you into a moaning mess barely able to stand, his arm wrapping around your midsection to keep you in place. To keep your ass pressed to his pelvis so he can continue his hard strokes. 
Building up your climax again. Bringing you back to that precipice ten times more earth-shattering than before. 
There will be marks on your cheek in the light of the day tomorrow. Stings from the reminder of being stretched. Marks on your skin that will be missed by the blind eye but will make a jolt of electricity burn through you when your fingers absentmindedly move across them. 
“D’you enjoy it?” He asks, “Paying what’s owed to me with your body?” You can taste copper against your tongue from the bites your lower lip is taking. Your head nods in the confirmation you can’t give with the moans trapped behind your bloodied lip. 
Joel hums and groans into the skin just below your ear. His forehead pressed into your temple. His words tighten that coil inside you the more he speaks, the more your wetness coats the inside of your thighs from the way he drags his hardness out, only to push it back in even harder. “Christ you’re so filthy. My filthy fuckin’ girl.” 
His girl. 
Only in these moments. 
Only with heat against you—from within you. 
And when this is over, you’ll go back to being the girl who works for the guy he can’t stand. The thief. The smuggler. 
He’ll go back to the remnants of his life, and you to yours, until you meet in this trash-filled alleyway again. He’ll grunt dirty words and sing praises into your skin as your body takes all he’s willing to give. 
If you think about it deeply enough, it might make your chest hurt. Might make something out of nothing. But you refuse to do that because, fuck, you love being his girl, if only for a little while. As pitiful as it sounds. 
You want to tell him to say it again. To tell you you’re his girl. To bite it into your skin as he fucks you harder and faster. All that can be heard are cut-off mewls and whimpers from you, though. Words failing while pleasure coats them like honey. 
He knows though, can probably tell by the pulsating grips of your walls tightening around his cock. “There ya go, take what you want. Take it from me, baby. You can have it. Come on,” it’s a gruff command on the verge of a groan. That white-hot heat at the backs of your eyelids, ready to engulf your body in that debilitating ecstasy. 
His name is on the tip of your tongue as you feel it growing closer and closer, until it’s gone. 
Until Joel pulls his cock out of your clenching heat and shoots rope after rope of his hot come on your ass cheek. His deep groan muffled by the nape of your neck. Curses and declarations uttered without meaning in the headiness of pleasure. 
Your stomach sinks when you hear the clanging of his belt buckle, the fumbling of his fingers righting himself, and the warmth of his body gone from your back. There have been many nights where he’s finished before you, when there was a time crunch and you needed to be quick. His mouth or fingers always returning the favor, bringing you there with ease and memory of how to touch you. 
When you turn around and look at him, there's a half-smirk on his face, any glints of kindness dying in the fire of the anger he still clearly feels at Robert's hands. 
“Really?” 
“Who’d Robert sell the battery to?” 
You scowl at him, “Joel-”
“Find out.” He steps back into your space. Gives you the quickest peck to your lips before he’s pulling away. “And then I’ll repay ya.” 
You swat his hands away when they try to fix your jeans, a death glare making him snort, as you right yourself and storm from the alleyway. 
You were going to kill Robert. 
Or at the very least beat some information out of him. 
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cozycottagetarot · 7 months ago
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PAC: How Can You Break The Cycle
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Messages From Elle: We did it guys!😮‍💨
Notes:
This PAC Covers:
What is the cycle?
What keeps it going?
What will it take to break it?
What could that look like for you? (Patreon Extended)
‼️ THIS READING IS MEANT FOR SELF-REFLECTION AND ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY -- While this reading does broach topics relating to mental health & mindset, contain a bit of advice and reflective questions, IT'S IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM MEANT TO REPLACE PROFESSIONAL ADVICE OF ANY KIND. Please use your discretion, think carefully before you act and only take what resonates be it a little, some or none at all. ‼️
Reading Masterlist | Patreon | Paid Readings -- Open 🥂
PILE 1 (Brick Wall)
Current Energy
Cards: 10 of cups, The Empress, The Chariot
I feel as though you’re currently in this energy where things couldn’t be better…. But then why are you here? I know that's my job to figure out but still. I feel like you’ve been making strides to create the life that you want. You’re charging forward, becoming more disciplined and things are starting to feel warm.
The cycle that needs to be broken:
Cards: The Wheel of Fortune, Nine of Wands, Page of Pentacles, Four of Wands
The cycle that needs to be broken is one of constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’re tired of fighting or always fending off the downward turn of the wheel of fortune and while you may try to keep your faith that things can get better and stay better, you're always expecting things to get bad again. You could be worried the new beginning won't start, the relationships won't come, or the financial abundance won't find you. I think this fear or vigilance has such a tight hold on you, that you end up not taking action. You may need to readjust your game plan. You don't allow yourself to relax. You don't allow yourself to celebrate your wins… you're always in this state of hyper vigilance.
What keeps the cycle going?
Cards: The Sun, The High Priestess, Two of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles
I don’t think you really allow yourself to be happy. That may be the current energy I was picking up on as well. When things are going great you don’t really let them go great. I also think you’re neglecting the things that are really important to you inside… maybe so much that you don’t even know what those things are anymore. Not knowing how to navigate this internal world of yours keeps fueling this cycle of 'oh, what bad thing will happen next?' You may also have a hard time making decisions or generally deciding what you want, floating back and forth between options. This back-and-forth stops you from actually putting in the work it takes to succeed and enjoy the FULL results, therefore keeping the cycle going. Another thing I picked up on is maybe the wheel keeps turning back and forth as well because from going back and forth all the time, you’re never really getting to move past the lessons you may need to learn in order for you to reach your desired outcome or abundance.
What will it take to break this cycle:
Cards: Seven of Cups, Five of Cups, Two of Cups, Ace of Pentacles
If you want to break this cycle, you have to make a decision on what exactly it is you want. It might mean leaving behind something, but you have to remember that so much more also awaits you in the process. Stop dwelling on what has gone 'wrong' before, especially if it’s past events that influence your lack of decision. It's okay to have that vigilance and use the past to better navigate the future-- HOWEVER, it's also important to get honest with yourself about whether it's a valid concern or a fear talking. It's time to change your mindset to focus on what can go right. I think also there will be someone available to help you once you make a decision about what you want to pursue. The alternate I'm getting is that you have to allow yourself to lean on others if you want to break the cycle. This could be through personal and professional relationships. But you have to actually decide yes, this is what you want. It doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to change as you grow, but first, you have to plant the seed. Once your seedling sprouts you can cultivate your plant however you’d like. There’s a lot out there available to you but making the decision to move towards it is where it begins.
Want to know what those steps might look like for you? Consider checking out my Patreon for the extended version as well as early access to my next pac!
Regardless, if you'd like a free mini-reading to clarify any part of this PAC, feel free to send me an ask with your initials and pile!
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PILE 2 (Statue)
Current Energy:
Cards: King of Wands, The Star, The Tower rev, Queen of Wands
I see you showing up as being in a hopeful energy and that good fortune of some kind is coming your way. A good balance of masculine and feminine energy. There’s a sense of resisting something internally, however. A transition of some kind that you're wanting to make. It seems like it could be good for you and a lot of different areas in your life would improve, but what you know or are accustomed to might clash with what you want. However, you have what it takes to succeed. If you were drawn to pile 1, after reading this pile consider checking it out as well.
The cycle that needs to end:
Cards: Eight of Swords, The Devil, Ten of Swords, Knight of Swords
I feel like you’ve got a gloomy inner world. Very melancholy. You’re turning a blind eye to the things that are holding you back and draining your energy. It feels like you almost escape it but it gets you every time. You might not take the best care of yourself mentally or physically. With all the swords it could be a mental thing too and it’s important that you get (professional) help and take those steps (of taking better care of yourself). The cycle that needs to break is you getting stuck in this energy.
What keeps the cycle going:
Cards: Four of Swords, Eight of Cups rev, Ace of Wands rev, Ace of Cups
You don’t rest. You won’t walk away from the things draining your energy. You won’t open up your heart and you won’t do anything with your creative sparks... more or less.
It’s so important that you take a moment to take a good pause and regroup. You could find yourself turning to poor coping mechanisms and that's not good. You can't try to leave a bad situation either if you don’t know what made it bad. You also have to sometimes stick things out. If you tried breaking a habit and it didn't work, it doesn’t mean you’re doomed to always have that habit. That’s a bad way of looking at things, and while it’s understandable to feel that way, you still need to work on it. You’re allowed to connect with your emotions and create as well... There's a need to review your plans/goals as well. You can be successful, but may lack the resources to easily be so... that’s also understandable but you can still work with what you do have. You may also lack confidence in you abilities to achieve your goals. You can manifest so many things you want but you have to believe in yourself and open your emotions to be able to connect with the feeling of what you want. It’s easy to say I want XYZ, but if you don’t figure out what that’s going to feel like, then how will you know when you’ve got it? It’s easy to get caught up in material things but the last thing you want is to wake up one day to a life that looks exactly like you wanted it to, only to realize it doesn’t FEEL the way you wanted it to.
What will it take to break the cycle:
Cards: Judgement, The Hierophant, Knight of Wands, Page of Cups
It’s time for you to get it together. Get serious about moving on to the next phase. I feel like it’s all going to work out based on the cards but you really do have to stop holding yourself back. Find a support group. Consider finding creative/artistic ways to express yourself. Step into a leadership role because there’s a good chance you can lend the wisdom you’ve acquired to others… This could be through a social media platform, sharing your writing, attending a local community event, etc. Work on making sure how you’re living aligns with your beliefs and vice versa. Allow yourself to be vulnerable. Give yourself your all. I also feel like this is one of those situations where you have to remind yourself that sometimes motivation follows action.
Want to know what those steps might look like for you? Consider checking out my Patreon for the extended version as well as early access to my next PAC!
Regardless, if you'd like a free mini-reading to clarify any part of this PAC, feel free to send me an ask with your initials and pile!
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PILE 3 (Broken TV)
Current energy:
Cards: Wheel of fortune, Queen of swords, Queen of pentacles, Two of wands
Your current energy is that you've shifted to a 'really good' energy or you're about to shift to a 'really good' energy. The Magician isn't here but that's kind of the energy I'm picking up on here too. Either being very faithful right now that everything is going to work out for you or that's the energy/mindset that you need to tap into. There are options available to you... You need a plan of some kind. You feel unable to move... unequipped even. Thinking about (or needing to) your long-term future. With the two queens, I think you're leaning into one of the two embodiments of the queen, maybe even both. You might have a hard time seeing yourself as either.
The cycle that needs to be broken:
Cards: The Hanged Man, The Tower, The World, Judgement
The other piles were definitely what I would consider a cycle on a loop that needed breaking but yours feels less like a cycle and more like you're just... stuck. You're ready to or have 'level/ed up', but it's as though you're stuck in limbo. This could be because you've gone through a 'tower moment' recently (say within the last year give or take) that's left you stuck in limbo. Or it could be a fear of having a 'tower moment' that is leaving stuck in limbo. Regardless this cycle is one of you needing to bring something to completion.
What keeps the cycle going:
Cards: Knight of Wands, The Emperor, The Sun, Eight of Pentacles, The Fool
You might be rather impatient. When you do things you may expect to see results immediately...that sense of 'oh, I did this tasks once, why don't I feel better 👀'. It could also be that you might not plan out your goals thoroughly or you may not be very clear on what it is that you want to do/achieve. I feel like since you don't take that moment to strategize and figure out what actually needs to be done, this cycle keeps going. You may just charge forth into whatever you think will bring you happiness. However, this means you can't put in the work required which can bring you back to a place of fear and doubt. This can create anxiety and likely catastrophizing which brings us back to that fear of a 'tower moment'. It could also simply be a case of being too laid back? On the flip side, while it's always good to have faith that things will work out, it's important to remember that a lot of times, you still have to play a role in that.
What will it take to break the cycle: Cards: The Star, Justice, Three of Pentacles, Knight of Cups
Have hope, yes. Dream and believe that good things are meant for you and those good things will find you. BUT, balance that with meaningful/conscious action. You must consider the long term. What is the end goal going to look/feel like? What is the journey of getting there going to take? Some of you already have the knowledge you need while others may still need to acquire it. Regardless, learning and implementation will help break the cycle. You have what it takes, but you have to stay the course. It's also important that you use action rather than simply ideas to motivate you. Fall in love with the act of doing.
I also feel like you should make a love list. I initially thought of that while going my first glance at the cards.
Also, do me a favour and take a nap, please! ✋
Want to know what those steps might look like for you? Consider checking out my Patreon for the extended version as well as early access to my next PAC!
Regardless, if you'd like a free mini-reading to clarify any part of this PAC, feel free to send me an ask with your initials and pile!
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PILE 4 (Hammer)
Note: If you're someone who reads what cards were pulled, I mistyped the Seven suit for Current Energy and The Cycle so now that I'm editing, I realised I have no idea which suit the card belonged to hence the (?). Okay, that's all!
Current energy:
Cards: Seven of Swords(?), Queen of Pentacles, Three of Wands
It's time for you to broaden your horizons, however, you currently have to tread carefully. You could currently be job searching or looking for scholarships etc. There's a lot of opportunities available to you or becoming available to you. But you need to be diligent and read the fine print and get the details to make sure you won't be compromised in the process. It's important though that you be able to maintain a balance between your home/personal and academic/career life. You're in an energy of needing to remember to put yourself first.
The cycle that needs to be broken:
Cards: Two of Swords, The Emperor, Page of Swords, Seven of Wands (?)
The cycle that needs to break is one of constantly being at odds with everyone. I feel like you’re constantly bending over backwards or breaking your neck to try and appease others-- and no matter what you do, it’s not enough. I think this might potentially resonate more with those who are academics. When faced with a decision between what will benefit you vs what will benefit someone else, you have a tendency to either not make a decision of choose the option that will benefit someone else instead. This could be because you either live under someone with authority over you (like a caretaker or family) or you're in a position where you feel like you have to take care of others (siblings/family, partner).
I feel as though for some of you it could also be a romantic relationship? I'm not familiar with 'channeling' through music, but find myself doing it a lot lately. The song 'Lifetime' by Livingston just resonated with part of this pile for some reason. When asking if it’s a romantic situation, I got the cards:��Eight of Pentacles, The Devil, and Justice rev. I’m also getting 'the right person, but wrong time'.
I think if it's someone with whom you share romantic feelings for, it's a situation where the relationship likely feels imbalanced and like hard work, but you don't feel like you can step away. If that resonated then that could be it. It could also be any unfair relationship dynamic.
What keeps the cycle going:
Cards: The Hanged Man, Ace of Wands, Death, The Moon, Eight of Swords
I think you’re in a cage of your own making, but not because you can’t see. You can see, but what you’re seeing isn’t clear. Because of this, you tend to end up pressing pause on moving forward. There's a lot of creative energy around you... for some, it's that it's a creative field waiting to accept you. However, you're too afraid to actually go for it and give it your all so I think you keep 'pulling the wool' over your own eyes. I think if there are people around you in opposition to you moving forward, you might see it as a convenient excuse to not move forward and transform into the next stage of your life. It's almost like the cycle doesn't need to be a cycle. You know when you're listening to a song and you keep restarting it 'cause you keep getting interrupted? And sometimes it's just you being extra because it wasn't even your favourite part you're just kind of nitpicking? Yeah, same vibe I'm getting here.
If the relationship resonates: I think you may need to let go of (or loosen your hold on) because they could be holding you back to the point they're dragging you down. Things are shifting for you, especially internally. You could be trying to hold it back though, but in doing so you could burn up and out. You’re seeing what really is and maybe you don’t want to. That’s the part that keeps this cycle going. I see images of a phoenix rising too.
What will it take to break the cycle:
Cards: Queen of Wands, The Chariot rev, Judgement, Three of Pentacles, The World, The Lovers
It’s time to use the things you’ve learned. Let go and let the cycle close. Trust that you’ll find love again or that you’ll find inner harmony. Trust that it will all work out in your favour. Take steps, even if it's baby steps to doing whatever it is you want to do. I feel like I said this already in a different pile, but even if you can't make a complete switch yet, start engaging in the things you want to do or eventually pivot too in small steps. You can always research or engage with it as a hobby for the time being. Also finding balance between who you are and how you show up to the world. Remember you have a lot to offer and it's going to do everyone a whole lot more good in the long run, the more authentically you can show up.
Want to know what those steps might look like for you? Consider checking out my Patreon for the extended version as well as early access to my next PAC!
Regardless, if you'd like a free mini-reading to clarify any part of this PAC, feel free to send me an ask with your initials and pile!
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killsatoru · 6 months ago
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Part One : Mistakes With Rings : Gojo Satoru
Pairing : Gojo Satoru x fem! reader
Warning(s) : Cursing, reader is a Itadori
Summary : Thrown into a loveless marriage, but what happens when your husband asks you for an open marriage?
-
“Let’s have an open marriage.”
Those words were enough to crumble the bricks we have built, though maybe those bricks were just me.
he didn’t bother to add the paste between to keep the wall together.
he created his own leaving me to finish ours myself.
I let out a shaky breath. one i didn’t realize i was holding, his icy blue eyes looking into mine. demanding for me to free him from the shackles of our loveless marriage.
“Okay, if that is what you want.”
Was I really allowed to say no? We were both thrown into this marriage because of our parents, there was no love involved, no relationship, no connection, no butterflies, heart eyes, honeymoon phase, sparks.
nothing.
absolutely nothing.
-
We were friends back when we were young.
a little boy that with a snap of his finger had everyone to their knees, singing him praises, wrapped gifts with luxurious items, that he would sigh and throw them to the side not taking into account their value.
Spoiled to the very core.
little Gojo Satoru has never heard the word “No” from anyone else but himself.
except from me
“You’ll marry me eventually” face covered in cake, one that he had requested
“No I won’t. I don't plan on getting married.” a frown playing on my childish features
“why not? you’ll die all alone!” Stuffing more cake into his face, hopefully he brushes his teeth.
“So be it, I prefer that rather than a loveless marriage.”
At such a young age I wasn't meant to already have those negative views on marriage. but when it came to him. I would have those ill feelings towards marriage.
To think it is now a nightmare i have to wake up to everyday.
-
“Y/N Itadori, you are to marry Gojo Satoru.” A stern voice echoes through the walls. leaving no space to deny the demand that was just told.
leaving the room, with a heavy weight on my shoulder. please let this be a nightmare I wince, ‘where did I go wrong?’ tears threatening to spill out, those same words juggling through my head…
“Y/N! Are you alright? what did they say?”
Looking up to see my brother Jin, only 2 years older than me looking at me with confusion and concern.
“I’m getting married…”
-
“You may now kiss the bride!”
The room was spinning. The man that I have done everything in my power to avoid ever wearing the same ring. To avoid a marriage that only benefited others, to avoid this twisted joke that whoever was above played on me, to avoid ever being in a loveless marriage.
he inched closer. His scent is so strong, so unbearable. He's hesitating.
‘Just get it over with’
Pulling him closer catching him off guard. Sealing our lips in a kiss.
-
A honeymoon should never feel this empty.
To avoid being stuck in the same room as him, I took a long stroll through the beach, the soft waves soothing me into my memories.
memories flooding in of when we were 15.
-
“GOJO SATORU! I'M GOING TO WRANGLE YOUR NECK!”
“HELP GUYS! SHE'S INSANE!”
Laughing
Watching from the table Gojo’s and Utahime’s banter
“So Y/N~ got anyone you like!” Shoko wiggles her eyebrows at me
giggling “Nah you know i have no plans of that anytime soon.”
“you let out a cute giggle though there must be someone~” poking my cheek now
“leave her alone Shoko, it’s probably Satoru~”
“You two are seriously impossible”
“Come onnnn~ you can tell ussss~” both giving me puppy dog eyes
“No. I don’t. And no I won't.”
“Y/N PLEASE SAVE ME PLEASE!”
jumping towards me hugging me tightly, a light blush coating my cheeks
“GOJO!! LET GO OF Y/N!”
“NO! Y/N PLEASE DON'T LET ME GO!”
hugging him back, smiling warmly at him.
psh he wishes pushing him towards Utahime
“he’s all yours Utahime!”
“Y/NNN HOW COULDDD YOUUUU WE’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO HAVE KIDSSS SHES GONNA CUT MY BALLLLLLS!”
“He’s seriously delusional.” Dusting off where he was just squeezing me
“You saw that right, Shoko?”
“Sure did!”
now smiling wickedly at me
“You sooooo like him~”
“I can never win, can i.”
-
I have always liked him. but it was one sided i could never truly admit it.
I pushed those feelings away, labeling them puppy love. nothing more. nothing less.
being brought back to reality. The cold beach air was biting at my skin causing my hairs to stand up, and also the thought of sharing the same room and bed with him.
-
“I got myself another room. we don’t have to share”
“Sure. Goodnight Gojo.”
This marriage is gonna go to shit.
Slipping into the cold covers. Honeymoons were meant to be filled with love and passion. A celebration of becoming one.
This was just the beginning.
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This is another concept that was brewing up for a little while! Honestly not super proud of my writing for this one but it’s a little more thoughtout unlike Indigo. Thank you guys for reading!
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maybege · 11 days ago
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Drained
Summary: Donating blood suddenly has a very different meaning.
Pairing: vampire!Paz Vizsla x fem!!Reader
Wordcount: 3.9k | Rating: E (18+ only!)
Warnings: Modern AU, explicit sexual content, dry humping, blood
Happy October everybody! I hope that autumn is treating you well and if it is not, that I can make you feel a little better with this Halloween-y Paz piece. As always, this is an AU that has existed extensively in my mind for a very long time, so it was fun to actually write something about it lol I hope you enjoy it and if you do, please leave a comment or a reblog, so we can all freak out about what a hot fun guy vampire!Paz is.
masterlist | crossposted on AO3
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The night air was crisp as you made your way to one of the most exclusive clubs in the whole city and your choice to wear high heels felt stupider with every step you took over the wet streets of downtown but it was too late to change your mind now. In more ways than one.
You threw another look at your phone, where your navigation app guided you down yet another dark alleyway until you arrived at a door that couldn’t look further from trustworthy if it tried.
But as you pushed the door to Vizsla’s Speakeasy open and made your way behind a deep red velvet curtain, you were suddenly enveloped in pure luxury. You could make out leather tufted booths in the candlelight. The walls were dark but shimmery, looking soft to the touch, and more than one wall was covered in golden picture frames. Jazz music played in the background, though you could not see a live band, though maybe they were just hidden in the depths of the bar.
The place was packed – so packed, in fact, that you were surprised you hadn’t heard the commotion outside. Those brick walls must be very thick, indeed.
Trying very hard not to think about the fact that you were surrounded mostly by vampires, you made your way to the bar which was set up on the long side of the room. A tall woman stood behind the counter, looking busy. The shelves behind her were stacked with easily hundreds of liquor bottles, creating a colourful backdrop.
“Uh, hi, I am here to, uh, to – “
“New donor?” the gruff woman asked, not stopping her work of wiping down the counter.
You nodded quickly, trying to make yourself feel tall and confident and hoping that no one saw how tightly you were gripping your bag.
Marylin had sworn on her new designer bag that blood donating was one of the safest things one could do (“and it gets you bags like these!”). Considering how long you had worked together, it was kind of tragic that it took four years and her floating into work with that cherry red bag that you had seen in a window one day and had dreamt of ever since to ask her where she had all that disposable income from.
After all, you both worked the same job.
“Oh, that is easy,” she grinned, “I am donating blood.”
It was common knowledge that the streets of the city belonged to the creatures of the night. At least it had been that way ever since you could remember. Your grandparents sometimes still talked about the time before vampires and werewolves suddenly appeared at every corner, drastically changing life as they knew it.
The time of change was something neither of your grandparents ever talked about. It must have been rough. But somehow, after years of tensions and deaths and protests, it all settled into something that everyone could live with. And part of that was that the cities were flooded at night with people that previously had to hide. There were establishments specifically for them, where like and like mingled, and from a young age you were taught never to go out at night.
As you grew older and actually moved from your parents' place in the peaceful suburbs to the city, you knew that nighttime was not as dangerous as they had made it out to be. The interest vampires and werewolves had in actually tearing you up was overrated and you could still go out for an after-work drink or celebrate your birthday by going out until the sun rose. There were just some streets you tried to avoid.
But a huge part of why it was no longer so dangerous was because blood banks existed. And not the kinds to save people’s lives. Although, in some way, they did. Vampires no longer having to hunt and drain innocent bystanders entirely of their blood to survive made the biggest difference in being able to share a society.
You could go to any hospital and donate blood just like in old times and, just like in old times, you were compensated with a small fee. Charitable work, truly.
Unless you wanted to get a cherry red handbag, pay off the medical bills inherited from your childhood, finally afford an apartment bigger than a shoebox, or invite your friends out for dinner sometime.
Then, you wanted to go where Marilyn directed you. Into one of the vampire-owned locations where said vampires would splurge a lot of money on getting blood that was not vacuum sealed in a medical-grade plastic bag.
“It is like a very unusual cocktail bar,” your colleague had explained, showing you her neck and wrists to make her point about how no marks were left after a few days, “And I have never felt safer anywhere else. Just try it and thank me later!”
Which is why you were now standing in front of a woman who looked nothing like how you imagined a vampire to look. She was wearing normal clothes, for one, and her tattoo sleeve did not make her look very immortal. “Name’s Steph,” she introduced herself. “Care for a welcome mocktail while you wait?”
“No, thank you.”
She nodded. “Mar sent you, right?”
It took you a moment to realize that Mar was Marilyn and you nodded, nervously looking around. There was no official dress code but you were happy you ended up going with the black pumps and the little black dress. Everyone here looked like they were dripping in understated wealth. “She said she wouldn’t be here today.”
“Nah, she only comes on Tuesdays,” Steph explained and set the glass down, “But you’re not here to see Mar.”
No, you were not, and the reminder made your throat feel very dry.
“There is no reason to be nervous,” she smiled, “The first donation is always with one of your more senior guests. They have more experience with feeding off someone alive and can control themselves if you show any signs of discomfort. If you feel in any way unsafe, just say Geronimo, and I will come and make sure you are okay, okay?”
You nodded, biting your tongue to ask how she was supposed to hear you over the noise.
“I am sure you want to get to know who is going to be assigned to you tonight – Pat!”
A woman turned around with the happiest smile you had ever seen. Her dark hair was in a tousled updo and heavy diamond earrings swung when she turned around. Though that was not what you focussed on. There was a small trail of blood down her throat and you wondered if you should tell her. How hard was blood to get out of clothes anyway?
“What’s up?”
“Where’s Djarin tonight?”
“Oh, he's gone camping again,” she explained, “He asked Mr Vizsla to take over, he should be here somewhere, I just saw him …”
“He is right here, ladies,” a deep voice said right behind you and you turned around.
You were not sure what you had been expecting. Certainly not this specimen. He was tall. And broad. And handsome.
Oh fuck, why is he so handsome?
Mr Vizsla was the biggest man you had ever seen and if you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was a werewolf. He had a strong, stubbled jaw and his dark hair was swept into a hairstyle that made you think of your grandmother's movies. He wore an all-black suit with the first few buttons undone, which meant you got a peek at his chest and the gold chain that was around his neck.
“She’s the newbie that was assigned to Djarin tonight.”
You met his gaze and immediately knew he had caught you ogling him. Shit. But then his eyes roamed over you and you swallowed, trying to stand a little taller even if your feet were already killing you. This was the most beautiful man you had ever seen and everything in you wanted to impress him. The side of his mouth quirked up into a charming smile.
“I'll take it from here,” he announced and held out his hand to you, “why don’t we get you somewhere more comfortable, darling?"
You followed him silently through the bar that seemed to much deeper in the building than you had originally thought. At one point, you even passed the band. You spotted his face in a few pictures, several of them black and white.
He looked older than you but he didn’t look old. Not like he had lived entire millennia. Maybe he hadn’t. Was it considered rude to ask vampires their age?
“Did you read the pamphlet?” he asked when he stopped you both at a small and empty booth. His hand was warm and dry, you could feel a few callouses at his fingertips and you wondered if he worked. Or if he had always been a … businessman? Bar owner?
You nodded, listing off every bullet point that had been on the online info sheet Marylin (Mar, apparently) had forwarded to your email. “I made sure to hydrate plenty, am not taking any blood thinners and my last check-up at the GP did not show anything wrong with my bloodwork. I should be good to donate blood.”
“Good,” he nodded, “do you have any questions before we get started? Anything at all?”
You shook your head. You knew why you were here but why did it suddenly all feel so fast?
His strong hand wrapped around your wrist and you let your eyes drift over the tattoos on his knuckles and the girth of his fingers and … damn it, how could one man be so … handsome? You had always thought of vampires as pale-faced, porcelain statue versions of humans. But he looked … rugged, and warm, and real. And pretty damn sexy.
“Do you have a preference?”
“What?”
With burning ears, you realized you hadn’t listened to a word this handsome stranger had said. He realized it too because he had that cocky smile again. “Don’t get distracted by my dashing looks, sweetheart,” he teased you, “This is important.”
You nodded numbly, still watching your hand in his. “I will take a bite at your wrist first,” he repeated gently, “Some people have a strong preference for where to bite and we find that it is a good test to see how you feel afterwards. I usually suggest the non-dominant hand but maybe you already have a preference?”
“No, uh, non-dominant is fine,” you murmured, holding out the hand in question.
Mr Vizsla did not look away from you though. His dark eyes were filled with mirth as he patted the spot right next to him. “Might be a bit more comfortable if you're closer,” he said and you looked down at the big space between your bodies. He was right, you knew that, but you also knew that your heart was not just racing because you were nervous to give yourself over to a vampire. No, you were pretty sure that the closer you got to him, the likelier you would be to embarrass yourself.
You really did not want to embarrass yourself.
Not even a second later, you could feel his thick thigh press against yours. Your heart skipped a beat and you wondered if he could hear it. It had been too long since anyone touched you and of course, it had to be at the most inopportune moment that you realized that.
“No need to be nervous,” he assured you, “If you feel in any discomfort if you want to stop for whatever reason, just say Geronimo and Steph is right there to punch me off you if you feel unsafe.”
“Steph?”
Who was Steph? All you could focus on was the sight of him gently cradling your hand and brushing his mouth over your palm. The touch was so gentle, yet so intentional, it made your thighs clench. His lips brushed over the inside of your wrist and your breathing stuttered. “Think of nice things,” he winked at you before his teeth sank into your skin.
An image flashed in front of your eyes. Nice might be the wrong words to describe it. You saw him – felt him, more like – bent over you, driving into you from behind. Your eyes rolled back, hands fisted into white sheets. It was warm, you were in the tropics somewhere, but that did not bother you. Because the man behind you fucked you so good you were crying, begging him for more and all you could see was –
“How are you feeling?”
You blinked, feeling dizzy at how violently you were pulled away from an idea that felt so real. What was that?
The dark-haired man still had your hand in his and you could see two little drops of blood forming on your wrist. It did not hurt, not really, except for a dull throbbing in your veins. You frowned, trying to clear your head of the image that had been so real for a moment that your body still craved being filled by … him.
“Good,” your voice felt hoarse and you swallowed, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in your throat. He had no business looking so devilishly handsome with his lips stained dark from your blood.
Your neck would be next, you knew, and immediately your mind was filled with pictures of you in his lap, closer than what was probably appropriate. Then again, it didn’t exactly seem like society’s rules were followed in this place.
He shifted in his seat, his legs spreading and your eyes involuntarily darted to the bulge hidden by his slacks. With the dim lighting, you shouldn't have been able to see anything but still, you imagined to see a very distinguishable something between his legs.
And then an idea popped into your head that you could not get rid of.
“Would it – would,” you swallowed again, trying to find the courage to ask what you wanted.
“What, darling?” he asked, his tongue darting out to lick over the puncture wounds on your arms. You gasped at the feeling. Maybe someone should add spontaneous arousal to the side effects section of that pamphlet.
“Can I – Could …”, you stopped short, frustrated at how nervous you were.
“You want to straddle me?” he suggested his legs spreading the tiniest bit more and you could feel your core pulse at the sight of it. Shit. Fuck. Damn it.
“Is that very inappropriate?” you rushed out, “I am sorry, I don’t mean to put you into an awkward position and –“
“Hey,” he murmured, his hands on your waist gently guiding you to him “Whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, all right?”
You took a deep breath, “All right.”
His large hand was on your neck, gently cupping one side so you could rest your weight against it, offering him up all this space. There was faint music in the background and you could feel his breath wash over the sensitive skin.
Your breathing stuttered, your heart raced and you shifted closer to him, your core settling over his which made you even more.
“Calm down, sweetheart,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your jawline, the tip of his nose over your neck, “It is like I can hear your thoughts from here.”
Your laugh sounded breathy even to your ears but before you could worry about how you wanted to make sure you were not being a nuisance; his teeth sank into the soft skin of your neck.
The images returned almost instantly.
This time it wasn’t him behind you in the tropics. This time it was right where you were sitting. But instead of straddling him, you were kneeling between his legs, your mouth wrapped around the girth of his cock. You were caged in by his thick thighs, you could feel the heat of his body at your shoulders, his hand at the back of your head, pushing and pulling you on his shaft.
Good fucking girl, he rumbled in your mind and you gasped out a moan. With a particularly deep thrust, he hit the back of your throat and you gagged, your eyes eager to find him even through the tears.
The scene morphed and you were somewhere else, wearing next to nothing. There were people all around you, club music pounding in your ears. You wore a mini-dress with an orange pattern looking like it came out of one of those retro shows. But that was not what you focused on, no.
You were on him, his cock nestled inside you as he faintly talked with other people and you were just there, moving in minuscule thrusts as he kept his hands on you, his mouth occasionally on your neck, whispering things you could not hear but knew were dirty.
Oh fuck. You wanted to pull away, feeling your pussy getting wetter. At this point, you would not be surprised if you had left a wet patch on his pants. But you would be really fucking embarrassed.
The burning in your cheeks made you want to jerk back, get off his lap and run away to move to the other side of the county.
Don’t, sweetheart, you will hurt yourself.
Your eyes flew open, seeing nothing but the dark corner of the ceiling. He was in your head. Was he in your head?
You are in my head?
His mouth did not leave your throat and his other hand landed on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. Right onto the growing bulge in his pants.
Believe me, that’s my first time, too, his voice sounded amused, almost, don’t stop on my account. I quite enjoyed the little picture show.
The hand on your neck spanned wide and suddenly he was tilting your head differently and your eyes fell closed, returning to the images in your minds – and in his, too, apparently.
Your hips started moving on their own accord, grinding against his prominent erection as you found yourself chasing a high you had not felt in a long time.
Fuck, sweetheart. You could faintly hear him groan against your neck and you bucked against him again, the pressure on your clit delicious. The hand on your back wandered lower, to your ass and with how you were moving against him, it was easy for his fingers to slip under the hem of your dress.
Please, Paz, you thought, your pussy aching when his calloused fingertips brushed the lacy edge of your panties before finding the wet spot between your thighs.
Come for me, sweetheart, his voice commanded in your hand.
Countless scenarios flashed in your head, each one more pleasurable than the last but all of them too quick to focus on one. Even if you had wanted to, you would not have been able to form a coherent thought as your orgasm crashed through you.
When you came back into reality, his tongue was on your neck, closing the wound just like on your wrist before. Your thighs felt uncomfortably wet and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.
“Well, that was a first,” Paz breathed and you blinked, trying very hard to be present. The high you were still floating on came crashing down when you realized you were still sitting on his lap and you had just come in front of this, essentially, stranger when that had really not been the plan.
Fuck, you had to get out of here before he kicked you out. How could you have dropped the ball so badly on this?
“No movement,” his hand flexed your back, stopping you from clambering off him, “We don’t want you to get dizzy. Stay here for five-ish minutes and we will see how you feel after some aftercare.”
“A-aftercare?”
He nodded, his fingers brushing over your neck. “A mocktail and the pastry of the day,” he elaborated, “I think it’s croissants today. “
You really liked croissants.
“I am so ashamed,” you whispered, your eyes firmly fixed on his collarbone, “I am so sorry. I promise I will never come back. When Marylin explained donating blood, it didn’t sound like – I wasn’t prepared for –“
“Please do come back,” he interrupted you gently, fingers tipping your chin up until you had to meet his dark eyes, “It – What happened is rare. And I never heard of both happening at the same time.”
Your puzzled expression was enough for him to continue.
“Some people are more … sensitive,” his deep voice sent a shiver down your spine, “When it comes to feeding from them. And I have heard of the odd pair where there was a telepathic connection, but I’ve never – haven’t experienced either. There is no reason to be ashamed. Clearly, I was affected too.”
Your cheeks burned at the memory of that one image that you were certain your head hadn’t come up with.
“Though I have to warn you that if you do come back, I might ask you to be assigned to me every time,” he teased, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. You wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. When he spoke, his fangs did not seem all that prominent but would it be different if you kissed?
“I – I wouldn’t mind that, Mr Vizsla,” you admitted quietly.
He scoffed, “Call me, Paz, sweetheart, please.”
The arrival of the waiter interrupted any further conversation and Mr Vizsla (Paz) gently eased you off his lap until you were sitting right next to him. Although the movement was slow and minimal, a wave of dizziness still washed over you and you understood why he had kept you from fleeing.
“Drink,” he offered you the fancy glass and you took it. His arm was draped around the back of the booth right behind you and you felt both comforted and nervous by how close he was.
“Slow and steady,” he murmured as you gulped down the fruity mocktail. His forehead was almost leaning against your temple and you had to resist the urge to just … relax into him.
This felt like the best sex you ever had and yet this man was virtually a stranger. But there was no hesitation in his gentle touches as he offered you the plate with the croissant and there was no flinching on your part when he put his arm around your shoulders.
Was it possible to feel such deep trust in someone you had met only once?
His phone rang and you watched as he pulled it out of his pocket, the sizable screen dwarfed in his hand. A frown formed on his face and your smile fell.
“I am so sorry, but I need to go now,” he announced with a frown on his face. With you still sitting down, he seemed even bigger and you looked up at him with big eyes. Somehow, you had hoped that he would stay. That you could get to know him more.
“So soon?”
“I have to be home in time to feed the cat,” he replied.
“You have a cat?”
“Yeah, her name is Biscuits and if her dinner is late she will start killing any mice she can find and I will not spend my eternal life digging small gravesites.” As if to prove his point, he unlocked his screen and showed you a picture of the fluffiest cat you had ever seen. Biscuits seemed a fitting name.
“Will – will you be here next time too?” you asked before you could lose your courage.
“Oh definitely,” he grinned, “Remember what I said, love, you’re stuck with me now.”
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unknownperson246 · 4 months ago
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Heyyy! Could you do a crime romance where Duff Mckagan or Nikki Sixx and reader are killers but Duff/Nikki doesn't know that there is another killer and maybe the reader is walking on the streets during the night looking for her next victim and she sees Duff/Nikki and maybe tries to kill him? But he tells her he's a killer too. Something like that and they fall in love and become partners in crime?? Sorry if it's confusing and Thank you!
Red Moon
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words: 707
warnings: *slight smut* *angst* *slight romance* *killers* *cussing* *weapons*
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
It was dark outside. The sky was black with hints of red clouds. It looked like the moon was red. You were outside lurking in dark alleys as you just got your next bounty. It was for another killer but you weren't told he was also a killer. His name was Duff. You were told to lure him into your trap. You had a sexy outfit on. A leather skirt and a thin leopard button-up. You had a picture of Duff. After a couple of minutes of walking around, you saw a man that fit his description and his picture. He was a tall man with long blonde wavy locks and he had a nose piercing. You were told he was spotted at a bar nearby. You walk to the bar waiting outside. After a couple of minutes, he walks out. You follow him and walk behind him. 
“Hi, sir I was wondering if you had a cigarette?” You ask him innocently.
“I just found my next victim,” Duff thinks to himself. 
He reaches for a cigarette in his pocket. He hands you one without saying a word. You put it in your mouth and light it with your lighter. Little did you know his cigarettes were laced with chloroform. Everything seems so hazy and you turn dizzy. You start to grip the brick wall.
“Hey, are you okay?” He asks you so other people won't get suspicious he was holding you to make sure you didn't fall and create a scene. He puts you in his car and drives to his apartment.
“Shit, maybe he is on to me,” You think to yourself as you're slipping in and out of consciousness. 
You wake up in his bed tied up with nothing on. You were covered with a thin white sheet from his bed. “Fuck did you touch me?!” You ask scared.
“I had to check your stuff to make sure you weren't one of the people after me.” He says.
“What the fuck do you mean?!” You ask pretending to be confused 
“Oh drop the act I know who you are. You were going to kill me tonight.” He spits in your face. 
“Your Y/N. I did some research on you and I found records of you in jail. You went for armed robbery. That’s not very smart of a killer. I checked your pockets and your bag. You have weapons.” He says. 
“It's a shame I have to kill you. You're very pretty, you know?” Duff says while patting your head and playing with your hair.
You don't say anything while he walks out of his room.
You have a knife in your garter and you cut it while he was distracted. You cut free and now you quickly grab your clothes while he is in the other room preparing to kill you. He heard the sounds of your footsteps and was alert. You grab one of his silver guns that was on display. He grabs the gun he had positioned in his leather belt. You both point them at each other. 
“Drop the gun Duff,” You say while you're about to cry. 
“Ah, she finally speaks,” he says smirking.
You have never been caught or in a vulnerable position where you were about to be killed by someone you were supposed to kill.
He comes closer and puts the gun against your neck. You hear the gun click.
“That gun is empty,” He says, laughing at your attempt to hurt him.
You drop the gun, shut your eyes, and accept your fate.  You don't feel his gun around your neck. You open your eyes and see his lips approach you. You give in and move closer to his lips. You both kiss and he drops his gun. You weren't sure if he still wanted to hurt you so you had your weapons still on you. Duff could sense when someone was trying to hurt him and he knew that you gave up on killing him. You both fall onto the bed. You let out small moans and sighs as you both fucked on the bed. You both fell in love. You later on decided to become a team and be partners in crime
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troublemaker203 · 6 months ago
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Murtagh Fitzgibbons x Fem! reader - Arranged Marriage Pt. 4
Word count: 1002
Summary: After your father had been killed and your brother had been taken by the Redcoats, you were left behind. A group of highlanders come across your ravaged house and decide to take you with them to Castle Leoch. Since you have lost the protection from your father and brother, it is decided that you should be married, in order to keep you protected from the Redcoats.
Warnings: None
Part 3
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You did not remember much from the night before: Your attempts to calm your nerves with alcohol had turned into you getting slightly drunk. When dinner was over and everyone started to move through the hall – also drunk – you tried to make a run for it, but Claire had kept an eye on you during the whole evening and she was not about to let you get shot by one of the guards.
The tables were cleared of all of the food and there were only glasses and jugs of alcohol left. Some musicians had made their way to the front of the hall and now the festivities had really started. Men and women were dancing through the tables and some were already trying to move some of the tables to the side, creating a dancefloor. Claire had held you by your arm, in order to stop you from escaping, and the only thing you could do was watching everyone having a good time. “Here,” Claire handed you a cup, “drink some wine and stand with me for a while. You’ll feel better, I promise. And, with a bit of luck, Murtagh will get the courage to talk to you or maybe even ask you to dance,” she winked at you. “There is no reason to be afraid of him, you know. He is a sweet man once you really get to know him.” When I get to know him… That was the problem, you did not know this man at all. Claire had raised her glass to Murtagh, who raised his as well. “Oh look!” she nudged your shoulder. “He is standing up. Now, I am going to go over there, so he can see that you’re alone and available, but I will stay close to you, so don’t worry.” Claire walked away and Murtagh approached you. “Good evening,” he said and raised his glass, you followed his gesture. “To us, I guess,” he took a sip. “To us,” you said and took a sip as well. “How are ye? Are ye nervous about tomorrow?” You nodded, finding that nodding was not as bad as saying the actual words, afraid that you might hurt his feelings. “I understand,” he looked around the room and said nothing for a while. “Are you… eh, are you nervous, at all?” Murtagh chuckled lightly when you asked the question. “I might not look like it, but yes, I am, too.” You felt that the bricks of the wall you had built around you slowly started to fall down. He certainly did not look like it, indeed, but Claire had been right, you were starting to see that this man was a friendly one. “Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride so close before the wedding?” you asked him, in an attempt to break the ice even more. “Only if ye’re in yer weddin’ dress.” “Oh.” Right, my wedding dress. “Eh… about that, do you know where I can get a wedding dress?” “Everything is already being arranged, no need to worry about anything,” Murtagh started to smile, “Ned has got it covered.” You nodded, unsure what that smile meant.
You two had been standing in silence for a while, until Murtagh asked you something you had never thought he would ask. “Would ye like to dance?” he stretched out his hand towards you. “I am not sure if I know how.” “I will show ye.” You took his hand and he escorted you towards the dancefloor. You put your hand on his shoulder and he put his on the small of your back. “Ye’re going to need to be a little bit closer to me, is that okay?” You nodded and he gently pulled you closer to him. You had never been this close to him and it did not feel awful; on the contrary, it felt kind of safe. You even dared to look him in his eyes now. His eyes were ever so soft and friendly, like he was actively trying to put you at ease. “Just follow my lead,” he started to move very slowly and once he noticed that you followed him without difficulty, he started to pick up the pace, so that you were dancing to the rhythm of the music. When this had gone well for a while, he even spun you carefully around and, as you were spinning, you caught a glimpse of Claire, who was smiling at the scene.
Murtagh was an incredibly good dancer and you caught yourself enjoying the situation. You even caught Murtagh smiling and laughing a couple of times. You were more focused on not stepping on his feet than the wedding you would be having tomorrow. It was really nice to be having a good time for once. You were so focused on dancing with Murtagh, that when you looked around you, after having danced for a while, you saw that most of the people who attended the feast had retreated to their chambers already. Some people were still there, but most had gone to bed. “What time is it?” you asked. “Let’s just say I think we’re closer to the morning than we are to midnight,” he said with a grin. Your eyes widened. That meant that it was officially the day of the wedding! Murtagh noticed your shock and tried to ease your mind. “Don’t worry, the ceremony won’t start until late in the afternoon. I think most people will need ample time to recover from the festivities of the previous night.” You smiled at his attempt to calm your nerves. “Well, I guess it’s time for me to retire to my chambers, then.” Murtagh gave you a short nod in response. “Goodnight. I will see you at the wedding.” He gave a quick bow. “Yes, I will see you at the wedding.” You turned around and started to walk towards the corridor, trying to find the stairs to your room. This would be your last night of freedom.
Tag list:
@hobbitsesoftheshire
@mysticalsoups
@islayhawkin
@oneofthoseshoes
@bittersweet-ginger
@taetae-forever
@talkdifferently6
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mothmothm0th · 4 months ago
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an invention that is safe to create
Buttonbush had fun at the farmer's market! Fresh produce! Foreign streetfood! Fellow dolls darting about! Plenty to awawa about! But now it was on its way home. Buttonbush couldn't wait to see Miss again! Miss had been working on something sure to be amazing and clever for days now. She hadn't been eating too much. That was typical of her when she got into something exciting. But surely she would love the panini Buttonbush chose for her! Buttonbush knew what Miss enjoys!
No one was there to welcome Buttonbush home. Not even her fellow dolls were there! Usually, Snowdrop would be doing preliminary research for Miss, or perhaps Jessamine would be doing the dishes. Baneberry had a habit of sitting on the bottom stair like a silly kitty cat. The fact that the cottage was empty meant Miss' project must be at a critical juncture. And that meant Miss needed food, badly!
Quickly, though not hastily, Buttonbush put away its groceries. Gosh, the pantry and the fridge felt so barren before Buttonbush's intervention. Even emptier than when it left for the market! Though, the fridge had only had a half-empty jar of mayo so perhaps it was exaggerating. Still! Even the mayo was gone!
With just the panini in its basket, Buttonbush climbed down to the cellar. Dank airs and low light was how Miss liked it. Her cottage had two floors and an attic aboveground but below it was a sprawling mess of tunnels and chambers. A rhizome, Miss called it! Many of the tunnels led to a dead end. Sometimes, Miss joked about luring one of her amicable enemies down a tunnel and laying down a brick wall behind them. Or maybe she had already done that. Several of the tunnels were blocked off by brick walls! Not all of them. Some just had an unfinished feel to them.
But the winding tunnel Buttonbush walked down was neither blocked off or unfinished. No, it led to a set of doors. And behind them, another set! Buttonbush made sure to close the first doors before it opened the second. A light gust of oxygen, hydrogen, and assorted gasses from foreign realities welcomed it to Miss' newest workshop. Buttonbush needed to take gentle steps now. The path sloped downwards and Miss had decided not to waste her dolls' time tiling it. Smart of her! Once, a patch of ground had challenged Baneberry to debate the ethics of floors. Poor doll. It still wore Miss' floaty spell charm sometimes to avoid having to touch the ground. If the Walpurgis Council learned of Miss' use of strange spaces, they would frown! One time, a nice maker had come 'round to talk to Buttonbush and Jessamine about it but neither doll told him. Miss was just that good! She had used alternate methods to remake herself, after all.
Soon, the tunnel opened up to a large chamber. Buttonbush hadn't actually been here before. It was neither a familiar or an assistant engineer, and Miss generally visited upstairs for meals, so Buttonbush had no need to come visit. Thus, you can imagine its shock when it saw the room was dominated by a massive wooden construction. Thick branches or perhaps roots had seemingly grown in a wicker-like pattern into a cage around a floating orb made of... was that teak? Branches jutted out like giant spikes. Buttonbush wasn't quite sure what the thin ribbons that seemed caught in the teak orb's rotational currents were but they reminded it of fungal hyphae. Oh, but there was Miss, covered in dirt and half-dried mud, sniffing the air. She could explain! Hello Miss!
"Buttonbush my saviour, I shall savour the savoury treat you have brought me. Your savoir-faire is most..." Miss scratched the base of her antennae. "Salient. That shall have to work." Buttonbush couldn't help but giggle. "Say, my sacred darling, you look ever so fascinated by my sable contraption. Shall I satiate your curiosity? A light seance before we activate it."
"Buttonbush would love to listen to Miss explain her work! Buttonbush loves listening to Miss," Buttonbush said. It paused for a moment and continued: "Even when Miss has been reading her rhyming dictionary."
Miss' laugh straddled the line between a cackle and a giggle. "Worry not, worrywort. My work is nearly done. I shan't need use warding speech any further."
Warding speech. Buttonbush had heard Baneberry talk about it. Sometime about avoiding predictability, to keep strange spaces strange. Mundanity led to stagnation, and stagnation made Miss' magicks worse. But Miss always spoke a little strangely. Buttonbush couldn't tell the difference between her regular and warding speech.
Miss whistled, beckoned her dolls to her. Buttonbush snapped back to reality as Baneberry, Jessamine, Foxglove, and Snowdrop wandered to them from whichever dark nooks Buttonbush had overlooked. All ball-joints on deck! Jessamine's pretty porcelain dripped oil-like sap, and Snowdrop with her fully articulated face seemed exhausted. Foxglove seemed to practically vibrate with excitement. Baneberry, floating like a carnival balloon, struggled to hold Foxglove's hand.
Miss clapped her hands. "Now then! It is time for framing and naming! Buttonbush!" Miss pointed at Buttonbush, who clutched its basket tighter. "I believe this is your first time! Thus, I shall explain." One finger in the air. "The framing and naming is the final step in strange magicks. Look to the machine. It is a structure in motion, yet the motion is undefined, lacking in Purpose." Buttonbush felt sorry for the wicker and the orb. "This is vital! For only at the end, when the physical shape is prepared, ought one grant it Purpose.
"Hark, machine! For thine thorns shall puncture the veil between This and That! Through you shall flow in the airs of thought and feeling. Thus I define thee." The air felt electric around Buttonbush. "Woven wood, hear me! Arrange your paths so that you may judge thoughtful airs. This shall be your purpose." Buttonbush heard little sounds reminiscent of those sorting algorithm videos Snowdrop had been listening. "Dearest ribbons. You shall flutter, and through your flutter you shall weave for each airy judgement its appropriate doom. Thus you shall be." In an instant, each gossamer ribbon began moving in strange and complex patterns. Yet, Buttonbush could tell, these patterns were empty for now. "And hey, eyes up, you orb. You shall be a portal. A seed that grows inward and strangeward. Guide these doomful thoughts through your rhizome to their rightful minds. Infect the thoughts of wrongdoers!" Buttonbush's head spun. It was glad its Purpose lacked the ability to do wrong.
"And thus, you are framed." Miss was out of breath! She fell to one knee! Buttonbush rushed to her side. Miss shook her head. "No no, dearest. I shall be fine."
"But Miss!"
"I shall be fine," Miss repeated. She rose to her feet again. Her lips were stretched to their limits by a slightly concerning grin. "I'm so close. So close. Finally, I shall have constructed a solution to bullying."
Buttonbush tilted its head. This was about bullying? It knew Miss had been a victim of bullying in her school years. As had Snowdrop, come to think of it. And Baneberry! Jessamine never spoke of such matters but Buttonbush could tell it was hiding things.
"You'll see, Button dearest." Miss cackled, turned her attentions back to her invention. "Hear me now, o contraption mine. For while each part of thee knows its means, now I shall imbue thee with the gestalt of ends. Permit I weave a tale." Miss cleared her throat. "Each and every day, people bully those they deem weaker than them. Each day, their victims' psyches are damaged. The airs I shall have thee pluck from the realm of thought are these painful feelings and the motivations which caused them. These you shall organise and categorise. For each pain, you shall weave a salveful dream. For each perpetrator, you shall conjure a vivid nightmare. These dreams none shall forget, and in rememberance shall one and all realise means to a kinder and happier future. This is your Purpose. A center of pain and healing, the heart of revelation. Thus your name shall be..."
Miss paused, as if waiting for a realisation. It seemed to evade her. She turned to her dolls and motioned towards herself frantically. She needed their ideas! Snowdrop spoke first, bringing up a book she had read; a cautionary tale about the construction of a machine one might indeed call a 'center of pain'. Baneberry laughed to the point of hiccups. Jessamine emoted like a character from its favourite MMO. Miss seemed tired. She turned to Buttonbush, seemingly holding her breath so as to not name the machine the sound of an exhale.
Buttonbush hemmed and hawed. It was bad at names! But it liked the word 'contraption'. So this was a contraption for... thoughts? Dreams? Nightmares... Something something Contraption. It was supposed to make lives better. Hm... perhaps...
"So it's like, a thing that makes dreams into therapy? Like a Dream Therapy Contraption?" Buttonbush said. It wasn't sure. Not one bit. It was silly of Miss to not have a name in mind but perhaps she needed to keep her options open while working on her project. Stagnation and such. But Miss seemed to like it. Maybe that was just relief.
"Thus I name thee, the Dream Therapy Contraption," Miss proclaimed. In an instant, the machine, the Contraption, whirred into life. And as it did, the chamber seemed to stabilise. Buttonbush had already gotten used to how the air here smelled but as it inhaled normal air again, it realised how it had missed it.
Oh, but Miss was not doing so good. Foxglove was already helping prop her up. So resourceful of it. It nodded at Jessamine to get Miss' other side. It wasn't the first time they had served as Miss' crutches. Baneberry floated off ahead of them; to prepare Miss' bed, surely. Snowdrop in turn began collecting tools and grimoires. It just left Buttonbush and its basket, and...
Oh, the panini!
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spoilt-melk · 4 months ago
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"You can't save me."
Summary: You, Y/n. Have been kidnapped, to which your captain "Yami Sukehiro" won't take seriously because you always completed every mission given to you. Another bonus is that your magic and power were up to par with Julius, who happens to be the Wizard King, maybe even stronger. So it would be hard to believe that you were kidnapped. When they create a plan to save you all hell broke loose, they found out your secret.
<<. Previous Chapter || 2 || Next Chapter .>>
Yami Sukehiro
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Yami, Fuegoleon, Nozel, Jack, and Julius have arrived in the given location, in front of them stood an abandoned building. Missing bricks from the walls, the wooden door looked as if it had been battered down, and moss overgrowing everything, all over the walls, the doors, the windows. The Captains gave a knowing nod to each other before taking their places behind the bushes, trees, and boulders. Julius stood there, waiting. After what seemed like almost thirty minutes, three cloaked figures exited the abandoned building, hood covering their heads making it hard to see their faces. "Did you bring the things we asked for?" The one in the middle spoke, their voice sounding a little........disoriented. "Yes, but before I hand them over I need to see Y/n." "And what makes you think were handing her over?" The two on each side began to laugh boisterously. The three cloaked figures lifted the hoods from their heads, letting it down. Revealing the horns that adorned their heads, the black streaks decorating their faces, some running across the eyes, cheeks, and mouth. Their eyes were no different, the Sclera was black, iris' red with black letterings or markings as their pupils.
"You humans are so foolish, always believing whatever your told. Killing each other just because of something so small." "Devils..." "Yes, that's right. Devils. Julius, was it? Well, Julius. If you hand over the magic tools we asked for, along with your grimoire and Y/n-sama's so called "Captain" himself, then we won't have to fight each other." The one in the middle stated, reaching his hand out to Julius grinning maliciously. "What do you plan on doing with these things, exactly?" Julius questioned, trying to keep his composure, he had hoped they wouldn't be Devils, just people. He hated how things would obviously not go their way, they would probably have to fight. "Well Julius, I'm sure your not stupid yourself. I'm sure you can tell from the things we have requested it may seem like were summoning something, but it's more like someone." "W-What do you mean?" "Oh, she did not tell you? I mean, who am I kidding, of course she wouldn't." "How dare they speak of her as if she's some mere low ranking Devil."
The one of the right remarked, it seems that Julius' comment has angered him. "Calm down, Baal. Their humans, remember that." Baal kept his mouth shut. "Tell us what?" "Well, you see. Your precious Y/n-sama, might be more precious than you think. After all, we need our queen back. I'm sure you'll understand, we Devils need a ruler as well, and Y/n-sama happens to be the only heir to the throne." Before the Devil in the middle could continue his speech Yami left his position from hiding and directly attacked him. "Fuck you mean she's an heir to the throne? She's Y/n, that's fucking bullshit, she's not a Devil!" Yami shouted, holding down his katana at the Devil in front of him, struggling as the Devil stopped the Katana mid air using his Magic. "How dare you address her like that? You bastard it's Y/n-sama! You dare disrespect the queen?" The Devil on the left yelled, irritated at all of them. "It looks like you want to pick a fight." "Yami! Get back!" Julius called out as Yami was able to dodge the attack in time. "I guess we have no choice..." In an instant the Devils were in front of both of them, grimoires out as they held out their weapons. But before they could hit them a green shaped crescent was sent their way, but the Devils were able to dodge it swiftly backing up, looking towards the direction it was coming from. "Kekeke, Devils huh? Maybe I'll have fun this time!" Jack exclaimed.
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It wasn't long until the Captains and the Wizard king himself had begun to struggle against the Devils, sure they were outnumbering them but in terms of power it seemed that the Devils had favor in that part. It was tiring to keep up with their speed and continuous attacks, they attacked non stop. Not even sparing a second for them to rest. "Yami, go ahead and look for Y/n, she should be in there somewhere. I can feel her mana, but it's weak." Fuegoleon took his stance beside Yami, readying to defend against the upcoming attacks. "We can't hold them off for much long, and they don't seem worn out at all. If we continue it this way we'll run out of mana ourselves." Nozel added, breathing heavily. "Well then, thanks for the opportunity to escape fighting with these shit heads. Sucks to be you guys huh" Yami smirked, making his way inside the building as Nozel and Fuegoleon distracted the Devils. "Damn peasant. Maybe I should have gone there myself." Nozel grumbled while Fuegoleon chuckled at his response. "Let's show these Devils what Royal can do." Yami stumbled upon a large underground room, with candles all over the floor. Once he saw you in he farthest end of the room he made his way towards you, swiftly using his Katana to cut off the shackles that pinned your arms on the wall behind you.
"Y/n, are you okay? C'mon, we don't have time to waste." Yami briskly picked up Y/n in his arms making his way to the exit wasting not even a second. "Yami, you can't fight them. They'll kill you." Y/n mumbled, voice hoarse. "What makes you think the Captains and Royals of Clover Kingdom are so weak huh?" Yami remarked as they finally exited the building, only to be met with the Captains cornered by the Devils. The Devils seemed to have noticed Yami and turned their attention towards them, noticing the captain was holding Y/n in his arms. "You! What do you think your doing with Y/n-sama?" The Devil on the left spoke up, giving Yami no time to answer as he began to attack Yami endlessly while the other two just watched. "Dammit, I can't attack them if I'm carrying Y/n, I'll have to put her down and attack from there." Yami thought, before deciding to finally speak up. "Oi! Aren't you afraid Y/ns going to get hit by your attack?" Yami shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear. "As if you'll let her get hit! And I can just heal it later on! So put Y/n-sama down you bastard!" The Devil remarked, pausing his attacks to see Yami setting her down letting her lean against the tree. "Wrong move bastard." Baal muttered to himself, moving rapidly once Yami put Y/n down turning his back towards her to handle Belphegor. Picking Y/n up retreating back towards Asmodeus.
"Yami! They took Y/n!" Julius yelled, taking stance ready to attack. "Oi oi oi Julius, think about it now. If we don't have a ruler, who will keep us in control? Who will lead us and tell us what to do? If we don't have our queen back, we might just go crazy and destroy this wretched human world." Asmodeus taunted Julius, grinning maliciously once again. "I'm sure you understand, just like how you humans have your kings and queens, we need ours too. You aren't that selfish are you? Just imagine it, a kingdom without their ruler, basically dead for." Asmodeus tried to manipulate Julius, knowing their Wizard king had a kind heart, surely they would understand right? Julius suddenly felt a surge of mana coming from where Y/n was, turning his attention there. "Asmodeus! She's taking my mana!" Baal announced, still holding Y/n in his arms, gradually feeling weaker by the second. "Let her be, Baal, she's finally waking up." "Y/n-sama is finally waking up! It's over for all of you wretched humans!" Belphegor cheered, as he stopped attacking Yami landing beside Baal and Y/n "Y/n-sama! Please! Take my mana too!" Belphegor cried out pouring his mana to Y/n's body as her wounds started to heal and close up. Just as Yami was about to attack Baal and Belphegor Asmodeus stood between the three, making sure Yami wouldn't get through him and make his way towards Y/n. "Hey, get outta the way will you?" "And if I don't?" "Then we'll just have to kill all of you." The rest of the captains joined in, standing behind Yami, not backing down. "Very well then, I'll play your little game." As the Captains along with the Wizard King took turns attacking Asmodeus, after a while they got the hang of it. Finally able to land a few hits on Asmodeus, who started to get irritated at the fact that these humans were able to land hits on him. Asmodeus decided he was done participating in their little game, suddenly appearing behind Yami, putting his blade against his neck. Tilting the blade and putting enough pressure to put a little cut on his neck. "I'm tired of participating in your little games, perhaps your head shall be my prize." Asmodeus whispered into Yami's ear, slowly putting more pressure on his neck.
Just then Asmodeus left his position from behind Yami, kneeling down on the ground as he took his place in front of Y/n. But it didn't look like her, Y/n had black hair, purple eyes, pale yet flawless skin. So why is it that right now she had white hair, her left iris red and sclera black with a white symbol as her pupil. With black goo surrounding her body ending at the neck, face pale moon white with a read streak running across her forehead and one more coming from her neck running up along her jaw ending just under her left eye. Big feathered wine red wings adorn her back, four white horns beautify her head, two rooting from just above her forehead pointing up towards the sky, and the other two rooting from what seemed like behind her ears, growing past her head pointing behind her with a small zigzag of direction in the middle. "Y/n-sama, we Asmodeus, Baal, and Belphegor have been given the honor to fulfill your late father, The Demon King's last order. That being to bring you back and throne you righteously as our queen." Y/n didn't say anything just looking down upon the three Devils in front of her. Looking ahead of her she saw Yami, Jack, Fuegoleon, Nozel, and Julius who only stared at her in shock and doubt. "Is she really Y/n?" Yami questioned himself, unsure what to think of what he's seeing right now. Y/n left her position in front of the three Devils, slowly approaching the Captains, her usual stoic face still there, as she got closer the captains took a step back still unsure whether they should trust her or not. Just when she was arms length away from Yami, she started to reach out for him, a dagger appeared in her hand out of no where as she lunged at Yami with the intention of ending him.
Yami, who picked up on her Ki which had a murderous intent. Was able to dodge the attack in time, his cigar being cut off cleanly in half. "...Y/n. Stop the act, let's go home already." Yami yelled out to her, unsheathing his Katana, only to be met with Y/n trying to attack him once more. Holding the Katana in front of him using it to stop the dagger coming closer to his face, struggling to keep up with the power as Y/n was putting more pressure the Dagger got closer to his face, failing to stop her as the dagger successfully nicked Yami in the cheekbone. "You can't save me, Yami." Y/n whispered, tone sounding painful yet desperate.
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sunkissedandseraphic · 5 months ago
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My Beautiful Boy
Summary: The saviors had attacked Alexandria, and all Rick wanted was to find his family among the flames and know that they were safe. To know his son was safe. (A rewrite of season 8 episode 9 where Carl doesn't die and Rick finds him safely in the sewers with the others, much to his great relief)
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings: Mentions past character death, mentions past shooting
read on ao3!
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With each heavy step, the smell of smoke hit Rick like a sack of bricks. His eyes wandered frantically, watching as fire engulfed each of the Alexandria buildings. His heart was in his stomach; his home, the one he and his family had rebuilt and made stronger to survive, was swallowed by flames. Everything they had created now reduced to a pile of ash. 
His leg was throbbing. Negan’s push out the window had truly done a number on him, but Rick couldn’t stop. He needed to find his family.
His beautiful girlfriend, whom Rick longed to cup her cheek with his calloused hands and kiss until the world melted away. His daughter, whom Rick wanted nothing more than to hold in his arms and press his nose into her bright blonde curls. His son, his beautiful boy, whom Rick would give anything to see smile and tilt that stupid cowboy hat down to cover his bandaged eye. 
He needed to find his family. 
Rick had been stumbling around aimlessly when he first heard the familiar sound of a machete and the woman who wields it. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears when he finally saw Michonne, reaching out and pulling her away from the Savior who was beyond dead now. 
There was so much Rick wanted to say, to tell Michonne, but each word got caught in his throat the moment he opened his mouth. “Where are they?” was all Rick managed to sputter out. He was so desperate to see his people again. His kids. Everyone he had left in this god-forsaken world.
Silently, Michonne led her lover to the sewer, where below, the remaining Alexandrians were awaiting safety and instructions on where to go from his shitstorm.
Michonne descended into the tunnel first, but once both of them had their feet on solid ground, Rick took off ahead of her. He hobbled as quickly as he could until he spotted bodies hunched on the floor against the sewer walls; crying, shaking, whispering. Living, breathing bodies of his friends.
Rick’s eyes scanned over the scene in front of him. He could see the outline of Tara and Rosita sitting beside each other– Rosita’s head leaned back and eyes screwed shut while Tara’s were wide open in horror, tears staining her cheeks as she stared out at nothing. He could see Dwight leaning his arm against the tunnel wall and resting his forehead on it, deeply breathing. He could see Daryl, his brother, bowing his head down as he sat with Judith, who swayed back and forth on her little legs. He could see a figure straight ahead staring at him, one Rick could feel he had seen before but couldn’t place how or why he knew the stranger.
The further forward he staggered, the more Rick made out the faces of those who sat in the sewer. Everyone in their tight-knit group, if not almost everyone in the community, seemed to be accounted for at that moment. 
Everyone except Carl.
“Carl? Carl… wh-where’s Carl?”
Rick felt his heart start to pound, stomach churning at the thought of his son not being in the safety of the sewer. It was getting harder and harder to put weight on his leg, but he pushed through the pain; Carl was more important. 
He felt as if he couldn’t breathe. Tears burned in Rick’s eyes, threatening to spill over any second. He wanted to throw up, punch something, yell his son’s name at the top of his lungs until his throat burned just so Carl could have the chance to find them. 
Maybe Carl was dead already. Maybe Carl had turned and was roaming around the scorched land as a walker. Maybe Carl was lost in the flames. Maybe– 
“Dad?”
Rick knew that voice. 
Rick’s head whipped around almost immediately and took a step forward, his leg threatening to give out underneath him. And then another. And another until Rick was practically dragging his foot behind him in an attempt to run toward the sound of his son’s voice. Running past Tara, past Rosita, past Dwight and Daryl and Judith and the familiar stranger until soon he was face-to-face with the one he had spent the last few minutes completely hell-bent on finding.
Just like that, there sat Carl Grimes with his back against the wall, completely unharmed, giving Rick the tiniest crack of a smile. 
Rick couldn’t do anything but laugh at that moment. He felt himself lose all control of his actions as he swiftly dropped to his knees and gathered Carl up in his arms. Rick moved the teenage boy onto his lap and just held him as tightly as his body would allow.
Rick felt like he was the dad he had been a decade ago, long before the dead started roaming the earth. It felt like when Carl was merely five years old again, waking up startled and sobbing from nightmares of a monster under his bed or the Boogeyman chasing him, when he would run into Rick and Lori’s bedroom to seek comfort and safety. 
As he held Carl in his arms, Rick felt every memory of his son rushing back to him.
The day Lori had announced to Rick that she was pregnant, and the utter joy and terror that flooded through him as he processed the fact that he would be a father. Holding Carl for the first time, bursting into tears the instant his son grabbed onto his finger with his chubby little fist. Watching Carl take his first steps, listening to Carl say his first word, Rick’s heart overflowing with love.
Celebrating Carl’s first birthday and his first day of school, wondering how his little boy was growing up so fast. Grinning as Carl came home gushing over his first-grade girlfriend, remembering how he ruffled his hair and called him “a little ladies’ man.” The pang of pain that hit as he realized how fast his little boy was growing up and finding who he was. 
Glenn taking a chance on Rick and leading him back to the camp that just so happened to be the one protecting Lori and Carl, every emotion he could feel rushing through him as he hugged his son. The day that he had carried Carl to Hershel’s farm after being shot by Otis, horrified he would lose him after just getting him back. The memory of Lori’s death, learning Carl had been the one to shoot his own mother. The night Rick had ripped a man’s throat out to protect his son from the monsters and what they threatened to do to him. The night Carl had been shot for a second time, now in the eye, thinking he would never hear his son call him “dad” again. Every day before, after, and in between Rick remembered as a blessing that he had his son with him. 
“Carl…” His voice broke as the tears that he had fought to hold back finally spilled down his cheeks. Rick could feel Carl burying his face into his chest, trembling as he quickly reciprocated his father’s hug. Gently taking off the cowboy hat and placing it to the side, Rick hung his head and pressed his lips to Carl’s hair.
His eyes were shut, trying to savor every ounce of this moment that he could. Rick kissed his son’s head once, then twice, and then after some time he lost count, too focused on the fact that Carl was safe in his arms– all he could ever ask for. 
“My boy…” The words softly escaped Rick’s lips as he somehow managed to hold Carl even tighter in his grasp. He had the world, his world, their future in his embrace, and he never wanted to let go again. “My beautiful boy…”
“I love you so much,”
Of course, Carl knew his father loved him, there was never any doubt of that, but it was so rare now to hear Rick say the words. As his tears began to dampen Rick’s shirt, Carl failed to hold back the sob that ripped through his throat; not one of grief or sorrow, but one of joy and relief. 
“Love you too, dad,”
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whumped-by-glitter · 7 months ago
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Day 6: Nonhuman whumpee / Reluctant Whumper / "Run!"
Bonus Alt Prompt: Forced to Hurt
Day 5 Here <
⚠️CW: Whipping, Blood, Captivity, Muzzles, Mention of Past Torture, Non Sexual Nudity.
Let me know if I forgot anything, but it should be pretty tame today.
This week was very busy, sorry I'm so behind!
story under the cut!
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Youngest lightly hit the back of their head on the white cinderblock wall they were leaning against. The sound was the only thing breaking up the monotony of the white room. This was almost worse than the waterboarding several days before, at least they thought it was just a few days before. A week or more could have passed for all they knew.
Thunk
Thunk
There was nothing to do here but ruminate on their regrets. They wished they could take back those last words they said to Leader. They recalled seeing the pain in Leader’s eyes when they said them. They wondered if Leader would come break Whumpee out and just leave them to rot. It’s what they deserved after all they had done after all.
Thunk
Thunk
Thunk
They wondered if Whumpee was in a cell somewhere just like this, maybe even on the other side of this wall. They wondered what torture Claudio put them through. They wondered if they were alright.
Thunk
Thunk
The back of their head was beginning to go numb from repeatedly against the wall. They sighed and stood up. They stretched and began to pace the limited area. They had counted the tiles multiple times, there was about 30 and a half. They could stick their arms out in either direction and touch wall. They continued to pace in little circles to warm up, having never been given new clothes.
All at once the door to the tiny cell was flung open. A guard threw some clothes at youngest.
“put these on, you’re coming with us,” he ordered. Youngest could see another guard just outside the door.
They hurried and dressed, grateful for anything to cover up. The guard that was in the entry of the room then stepped into the threshold to bind them with shackles and cuffs.
Youngest fought back hard with every bit of strength they had. They scratched and clawed, getting punched several times in the process. Youngest  even biting the guard and drawing blood.
The guard hissed, drawing back. They looked livid. “Feral mongrel,” he growled, leaving the room, door slamming.
Youngest slid down the wall, shaking from the adrenaline and fear. Relief flowed into their chest, replacing the earlier anxiety. At least they were safe for now.
They soon returned, however, the other guard slid in immediately behind the first, holding something. Youngest tried to fight again, but their efforts were in vein. once the handcuffs were on the second guard approached with whatever he had in his hand.
Youngest began to struggle again as they realized what it was, but the first guard had them held tight.
“I’m not some kind of animal!” they gritted their teeth and thrashed their head.
It was all futile though. In the end youngest felt a leather strap being tightened and buckled around their head as a metal cage closed in around their mouth and nose. They could hear the distinct click of padlocks behind their head.
‘muzzled!’ they thought angrily, glaring daggers at the guards. The edges of the cage were already digging into their face from it being buckled too tight.
The second guard then retreated from the room to give them space. The first guard add shackles to Youngest’s ankles and shoved them forward out of the room. Shackles caused them to trip and fall, the guards just laughed cruelly before hauling them back up.
They were taken to some kind of courtyard through a set of solid steel doors a short ways down the hall. Youngest raked their eyes over their surroundings, the yard couldn’t have been more than maybe 20 feet squared. The dirt under their feet was a reddish brown, looking like clay. The solid windowless brick of the building went up about 8 feet, before pushing in, creating a ledge. The rest of the building continuing up had windows. Their eyes landed on a figure standing on the ledge, peering down at them, Claudio.
“Nice of you to join us, Dipshit!” Claudio mocked, “that’s your new name by the way, dipshit.”
Youngest just glowered up at their captor, trying to look menacing through the ridiculous muzzle strapped to their face.
“I heard you were quite a wild animal, gave my men quite a hard time. This would have been much easier on you if you had only played nice.” Claudio snapped and another captive was drug out.
Although the dry dust created too much of a cloud for youngest to tell who it was, their heart stopped. They feared it was Whumpee.
The form was dropped next to them. Relief and fear rushed through Youngest when they discovered it was not Whumpee…. ‘Where were they?’
Their gut further twisted when they realized that although the person was not Whumpee, it was in fact still someone they recognized. “Andrew?” Youngest questioned, eyes widening, also relieved to find they could speak through the muzzle. The man was part of the Intel division at the same agency they worked at. At least they were pretty sure it was Andrew; it was hard to say for certain under the bruises and cuts.
Andrew made a muffled noise through his gag.
“Now then Dipshit, I believe this is a friend of yours? They won’t seem to give us the information we want about your headquarters, so you’re going to get it out of them.” Claudio nodded at the guards to unlock Youngest’s handcuffs. “I owe you a huge thank you by the way, we only captured him because they were out confirming your whereabouts.” The arms dealer grinned wickedly.
One of the other guards that had brought Andrew out was securing the man’s wrists to a post as youngest was being handed a cat-o-nines flogger, studded with metal.
Guilt flooded them. Youngest began to shake, they couldn’t, this, not this! They would take waterboarding a hundred more times before this. Youngest shook their head, trembling, and threw the flogger into the dirt.
 “I will not cooperate with this.”
“you’ll do it Dipshit, or I’ll just have you both killed here and now,” Claudio retorted calmly.
Youngest took a deep breath trying to steady them self. “Fine, alright, I’ll do it,” they grumbled, reluctantly taking up the flogger. They did their best to reason with them self that them doing it was probably better than some guard doing it.
‘crack’
They threw the first lash, aiming just to hit Andrew with the tips of the falls to avoid doing damage with the spikes. They looked over to the guards, then to Claudio who just nodded for them to continue.
‘crack’
This one drew a little blood, but Andrew was still silent and had not reacted.
“Harder, you hit like a child, dipshit,” Claudio taunted.
“Stop calling me that!” Youngest screamed, anger gripping them. They lashed out with the whip out of frustration with everything they had before they even realized what they were doing.
‘CRACK’
Andrew screamed, being hit with not just the tips this time, but the entirety of the falls. Blood trickled down their back.
Youngest immediately dropped the cat-o-nine, crying at what they had done. They had hurt someone innocent, they had hurt one of their own!
“Good, just like that you dumb little dipshit. Keep going!” Claudio ordered.
Youngest, swallowed, fighting down their emotion. They had to keep going to keep them both alive.
‘CRACK’
‘CRACK’
‘CRACK’
Blood was now flowing down Andrew’s back. He was shaking from the pain.
‘CRACK’
Again and again, he made the flogger come down on the other man’s back. He had lost count around 20 but was urged on.
Andrew’s pained screams had become broken sobs, his voice long since cracked from screaming.  Youngest’s clothes were splattered in blood, the whip was coated with it. It looked like something from the horror movies Whumpee and themself used to watch together. But this wasn’t a movie, this was real life, and worse, this was their doing.
Youngest dropped the whip for the last time. They began to hyperventilate. Trembling from head to toe, they slowly sunk to the ground, falling to their hands and knees. They wretched at the sight of their ally’s blood. The blood that they had drawn. They were supposed to be the hero, how could they do this.
“Continue Dipshit.” The order felt like ice in their veins. They simply responded by shaking their head.
“I said keep going!”
“I-if I continue, they will die.” Youngest choked out.
“Then they die, you don’t stop until I say.”
Youngest again resisted, not moving a muscle. They didn’t even bother to wipe the blood splatter that was on their face.
“Have it your way then,” Claudio hummed, pausing for a moment, “slit the spy’s throat.”
The guard nearest to Andrew began to step forward, service dagger in hand.
Youngest began to scream, “stop! No! Stop! NONONONO!”
their vision began to haze. Soon the screaming almost sounded like it was coming from someone else, and they were watching events unfold as if they were an observer. They saw themself begin to go out of control but were helpless to stop it. Their body gave off a faint glow as they cried out, desperate to halt the execution that was about to unfold right before their eyes.
All at once everything fell pin drop silent. Everything was frozen in time. They felt their throat and chest burning, and an eerie feeling crept across their mind at the sight of statues that were once moving people.
Suddenly things began to move again and Youngest realized the burning in their throat was from their own screaming. They then gasped in air, realizing their longs were aching because they hadn’t been breathing.
They found they were all of a sudden toe to toe with the guard holding the dagger. They punched with every ounce of strength they could muster. To their complete shock, the guard went flying against the wall behind him. He could hear yelling, the four guards scrambling, more getting called in.
They snapped Andrew’s chains; they could tell they were quickly losing all control. They felt themself going nuclear. Using their last moments of clarity, they grabbed the intel officer and rushed to the far door, ripping it open and throwing them through it.
“RUN!” Youngest yelled. They hoped the confusion they were creating would at least allow them to escape.
@whumperofworlds, @whumpsandbumps, @3-2-whump, @pigeonwhumps.
Day 7 Here >
That was the last thing they remembered clearly before everything got fuzzy.
*I did not have a beta reader for this, please let me know if there are errors. The word app on my phone sometimes glitches and I don't always catch it on my read throughs.
Event Prompts Here
My Event Masterlist Here
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die-rosastrasse · 2 years ago
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I think the disappointment of becoming an adult happens when you realize there are no secret passages behind bookcases. No hidden compartments in the desk drawers, no mysterious letters tucked between library book pages, no maps that were destined for you to find and lead you to a treasure, and no magical spells you read about and tried out have ever worked. When you realize that your friend who had the most amazing paranormal stories was lying for attention, and that your favorite fantasy books were written by regular men who drink coffee and drive a car. And I guess life is a little more interesting when you decide that you are the one that has to create this magic. I used to hide little notes and drawings in children's library books for them to find. I love to write old-timey letters with wax seals and pressed flowers so that someone feels like they got a message from another century. If I ever get a real house, you better believe there will be an amazing hidden room behind my bookshelf. And even the 'boring' grown-ups who wrote our beloved books are us now, and you realize that they are people with enough magic in them to create something that will move the child's imagination and inspire them. I like the little magical details in life and I don't want to get over them. I keep looking for some overgrown secret garden surrounded by an ivy-covered brick wall that was forgotten and waited for me, I keep imagining what lies behind closed doors in very old buildings, I always keep the things I find in second-hand books, and when I got my antique furniture, I was stupidly obsessed with the set of beautiful old keys they came with, because they looked like something I saw in movies and they always led to some incredible adventure. Maybe one day they'll open the door to the unknown - I want to keep believing in that. I want to still feel like all of it is possible, and maybe it is if we are the ones putting the magic in the world for each other. So let's go out there and be extra, be whimsical, be a little childish, perhaps that's what could cure the horrors of everyday life.
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sqeyungs · 2 years ago
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hunter, ft. ranpo edogawa cw. horror themes, cursing, mentions of blood & wounds a/n. been getting back into idv recently and i have ranpo's skin and ideas came to mind☝️
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the weather was cold, yet somehow humid at the same time. maybe it was just the fact that you had been working your ass off trying to get those damn generators to run. with more than a couple zaps from misplaced wiring keeping you on your toes- not even to mention the one out for you two. the hunter.
the one that managed to rip both atsushi and dazai away from your grasps. it had been hours. hours of evading the entity that ranpo had felt so stumped on- and that wasn't exactly the most helpful place for the detective to be in this scenario.
with sweat dripping down your temple, you had only hoped the male was somewhere safe and far away from that monster right now. you weren't sure when you'd been separated from him, yet it happened, and it couldn't have been less than an hour at this point. luckily this would only be the second to last generator to finish. neither of you could help the fact that at sometimes hiding seemed better than running away from your foe. how you had even got yourself stuck in this situation; you weren't sure.
the only thing keeping your exhausted, not so clean body moving was finding ranpo and getting the hell out of this shit show. the ding went off when you finally finished up the current generator and as soon as it did you found yourself running far. you weren't in the best state, with more than just a couple cuts and bruises, but you couldn't stop now. not when you were so close.
it was when you approached a new, hardly touched generator that you heard twigs snap in the distance which made you flinch worse than you would rather admit. you cowered, crouching in a corner created by the space between the generator and the brick wall behind it, covering your mouth and closing your eyes tight as you could. you bit on your lip so hard you think you may be tasting blood now. you wouldn't be surprised. the weather along with how filthy you felt would be the explanation for your already chapped lips.
you couldn't die here... no. not when you don't know where your black-haired ally was or if he was safe. though, you couldn't manage to open your eyes or even move. you swore you almost yelled out a lung when you felt a hand cusp around your wrist, but that second hand was quick to keep your hands in a position where you couldn't open your mouth.
"don't make a sound," the voice whispered. the voice was one of familiarity, one that even at these times was able to calm your still growing nerves. your eyes opened with slight hesitation to see the one you've been so worried about. his eyes scanned over your features, and you swore you saw something welling up in his brown eyes which usually were closed or at least a little more enthusiastic than at the moment. "i'll fix everything. i always do, right?" he spoke, a fake chuckle following after his rhetorical question.
he looked around the surroundings before helping you off the muddy ground to gesture you to follow him as quietly as possible. as you walked more you soon heard the clanking of a nearby generator, one that was already halfway done! you would let out a sigh of relief if your teeth hadn't been so harshly clamped together. though you now felt more relieved, it soon dissipated due to the overwhelming pain all over your body. maybe it had been your adrenaline keeping you going, not your will.
without a sound from either of you, you two began to work on the last generator. you'd become much more paranoid yet much more careful in the process. not nearly as many misplaced cords or mess ups as before. not when you had ranpo at your side once more. where atsushi and dazai had went... you had only hoped they managed to find their way out. though you hadn't explicitly seen their demises you could only assume so from the sounds of terror you heard from the man-tiger earlier.
yet, you had a newfound hope. maybe it was just your reunion with the man but you wouldn't question it. you noticed your heartbeat suddenly increasing and it caused you to pause in your tracks. it was near.
"come on, we're almost done then we'll be safe, y/n," the boy tried to ease your nerves and coerce you back into working on the sparking generator. he knew why you paused in your tracks, in fact, he'd realized it was getting closer moments before you. he didn't let it stop him. you both needed to finish so you could get out and he couldn't let anything get in the way of safety.
you spotted it, out in the distance. your eyes began to well up in fear. no, no, no, no.. it couldn't happen again. you had already been locked up in that damn chair once which you were lucky enough to have atsushi at your service then but you couldn't go back. it could not happen again.
your heartbeat steadily increased as well as your rapid breathing and ranpo knew he wouldn't be able to snap you out of your trance while he was so focused on the generator. he took a deep breath, realizing just how close you two were. only ten more percent left to go and you were home free. he couldn't just ignore your rising panic though. "y/n."
you didn't even flinch at his call, not a single reaction. you were too focused on watching the hunter's every move since it would be after you at any second now. what then? what would you do? what if it-
"y/n," the detective repeated, now separated from the generator and pulling you to crouch down in front of him, hiding behind some barrel. "we're so close. i told you i would fix it, but you can't give up now. not when we're so close," he said. typically, he wasn't the type to give out free pep talks but for the first time he felt truly threatened in a life-or-death scenario and he wouldn't let said scenario take you away from him.
"i won't let it get to you again, but you have to help me."
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crescentbelle · 1 year ago
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The Motel
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Jake Lockley X reader word count: 1k warnings: mentions of violence?? blood and injuries, angstyy but also fluff?? who knows
my neighbours were having the loudest sex the whole time i wrote this and it did not help with the ambiance i was trying to create for myself
You look over the text again.
I'll be back late, leave the door unlocked. 
Please don't stay up, I love you.
And of course, you are choosing to ignore it entirely. Chained to habit, you slip up onto the basin and prep to play makeshift nurse. The motel is grimy this time, with blue-hued fluorescent lights and cracking pink tiles. You are sure this is the worst place you've stayed in, spending time hyping yourself up in case of a rogue cockroach and trying to find the source of a bleach ridden smell.
From the crack of the bathroom door, green numbers stick alight, displaying 3:35 AM. Fourteen motels and hotels across the US have been home, running away from one problem or another for months. And for the last 4 hours, you have the fantastic entertainment of buzzing lights and hissing pipes, waiting for Jake's return.
The janky doorknob turns, and a whisper of a swear is caught. Jake is finally crawling back in. Two quick thumps of his boots echo with the pat sound of leather to wood.
"Hi, my love," You whisper, trying to take in the state of him. You don't know what to say. Grazes litter the high points of his face, rouge and raw. His left eye is almost swollen shut, bruises littering his brow bone and a cascade of other injuries, covered with their fair share of blood. The lighting makes it look all the more vicious, the tacky liquid coming up black.
"I told you not to stay up." His voice is barely alive, hoarse and bare.
"Stop it," You start to fiddle with alcohol wipes. "You're too stubborn. Have I ever told you that, Mr. Lockley?"
Jake hushes you, moving between your legs and gliding his hand to the nape of your neck. It's self-soothing, as he brushes at the soft skin, easing into closing his eyes. "I'm fine, mi conejita."
A stillness settles, and for a moment, you try to figure out where you're supposed to start. In all honesty, his condition scares you. He almost seems unreal, face swollen at awkward angles and vulnerable. Jake's stare is cold, a dissociated look locked into the rusted sink. You wonder if Steven or Marc are saying anything or if the pain is just that bad.
"I'm taking there's still no word from Vengeance himself?"
"I don't know what he wants." The words are like déjà vu, ringing out into the silence. Memories of hot dunes- a knife to sutures, courses to the front of your mind. Marc's body crawling towards you, fisting at useless, liquid sand. "I'm stuck waiting like a fucking dog."
You kick-start yourself into shitty medic mode and away from any echoes of the past or failed humour. Slipping your hands down the buttons of his shirt, you peel the soaked cloth off his body. The process starts, patiently wiping away blood from his chest and neck, sinking into soft kisses across the aftermath. It's slow, and the man is patient, keeping his eyes screwed shut.
Jake has always been the toughest, which, contrary to popular belief, might not be the best quality. He's loyal, and harsh, and like a fucking brick wall sometimes. There's a confidence and strength of his that has a way of enveloping you, and something about another man's blood on his hands is (disgustingly) enticing.
And yet, despite this, tonight has proven that things are hitting their boiling point. Khonshu's absence is becoming worrying, and the boys' absence is becoming painful. How much longer can Jake endure cleaning up a ghost's messes, one that he refuses to let the others do?
"It's all just power plays." You soothe, "From experience, I don't think he's actually waiting on anything. Maybe one of us should offer up as a human sacrifice, that'll get his attention."
A snicker escapes Jake, and a kiss is planted on the crown of your head. "Smart girl. It's a wonder why he never chose you for an avatar."
You sneak a mischievous grin, "I think I would be great, don't you?" There's something to his slight grin that might make you consider it.
The man shakes his head, pointing absentmindedly to the mirror. "Hm careful, Marc didn't like that one." Of course that's what brings Marc forward to say something. You try to ignore Jake's morsing glimpses in the mirror and the sour turn to his grin.
"Things will be okay, okay?" You reach out, smoothing over his shoulders. "I know you don't like us saying it- and you don't have to believe me, but it's true."
There's no response from the brooding man, but his eyes lock onto you, brow furrowed. There's that look, the one that chokes you up.
Within seconds, you melt into a meek woman, legs dangling on the bathroom sink- caving into yourself. It's as if he sees through you, watching the cogs turning as you try to figure him out. You'll never win because giving respect to Jake is giving in, letting yourself live on the impulse of submission. It's breaking out of the mould for Steven or Marc and trusting (or more likely, devoting) yourself to what he tells you.
"Come on, let's get in the shower. You can help me clean up." Holding out his hands, they slowly guide you off the sink and eventually into hot water. There you both soak, wincing soft I know's that stay with the steam until the warm water cuts. It's as peaceful as it can be, and you feel your body aching for sleep.
"We'll be home soon, conejita. You've been so patient with me." The brunette whispers, cocooning you with a thin towel and drying himself off in following. It almost feels like home, the chilly draft of London and scratchy cloth.
"Maybe we can wait a bit," A smirk creeps up. "I'm gonna miss the moustache too much."
"I always knew you had great taste."
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angelofthenight · 2 years ago
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The Monster You Created Pt.9
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(Sam Fortner x Reader)
Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, Brief suicide mention, Denialism, Flashback, Mention of relapsing, Brief smoking, Sam’s kinda creepy at the end
Word Count: 3.4k
Table of Contents
~
Although you slept very deeply, you never slept that uncomfortably; dried tears crusted around your eyes, forearms still duct taped together behind your back, your mouth still covered by the cloth which made it a little difficult to breathe along with your stuffy nose. Your limbs and head ached but that didn’t stop you from thrusting up to a seated position when the sound of faint hoarse screams invaded your ears.
A sudden burst of adrenaline killed the tiredness in your eyes as they shot open to reveal the small pupils swarmed with the hues of bloodshot pink. Your hair was in frizzy tangles due to not brushing it when it was wet. You couldn’t tell if you were going crazy or not before the muffled sound of a scream reentered your ears. You thrashed your aching head around to try and pinpoint where the supposed scream for help was coming from.
You began to pant with difficulty due to the cloth, not being able to help the terror burning in your chest with a sizzle. Was this person here with you this entire time? Was the scream coming from inside the walls? Was it not even in the house at all and instead outside? Was Sam killing someone outside?!
You forced your breathing to slow down in an attempt to make it quiet enough to try to pinpoint the exact location. You leaned your head in different directions of the room to listen better until you finally landed your sights on the door in the corner of the room, just below the staircase. You never really knew what was in that room but you assumed, due to being in the basement, that it just had to be some sort of supply closet.
With the best of your abilities, you forced your throat to release a scream in hopes to let the calling person know that they weren’t alone. Your scream couldn’t pass the thick bandana and only resembled an aggressive hum. No matter how many times you tried to loosen the fabric to break your scream through, you couldn’t make a loud enough sound for whoever was trapped in the basement with you.
You sat there for what two hours felt like two days. You hopelessly listened as the muffled screams for help weakened down to nothing, or maybe the screams did continue but too weak to pass through the door. That thought was almost too sad to bear. You sat in the bed, refusing to call it your own, with your back pressed against the brick wall and stared at the corner door with gloomy eyes.
Your ears sensitively perked up, like an electric spark when you touch someone after rubbing a balloon or carpet, from the clicking of Sam’s bedroom door handle. You didn’t even look over to Sam stepping out of his room, much too focused and concerned with what you heard in the far door.
You felt his presence move and heard his feet softly thump over to you. “Awh, sorry, I forgot you had these on all night long. I’m so sorry.” Sam said with a regretful twinge in his voice as he reached for your face to untie the tight double knot at the back of your head. You didn’t gasp in a breath once the bandana dropped from your lips, only having the energy to part them. It was only when Sam started to cut off the layers of duct tape from your forearms did you finally speak.
“Who’s in that room?” You said, the chords of your voice so hoarse that it made your voice sound deep, with a foreboding yet austere emotion vibrating through the cracks. You spoke in an unintentional hushed tone. Sam halted his cutting for a moment as he glanced up to where you kept your eyes trained upon. “You don’t need to worry about that right now.” He said with a dismissive yet nervous head shake.
Your nostrils flared with a huff, pink hues dusting the bottom of your nose and pink tears swimming on the border of your waterlines. You did not like how he phrased that. Not at all.
Your arms were finally freed from the restricted access of movement and once they were you instantly stretched them forward and rolled your tense shoulders, hearing cracks when you stretched a certain way. Sam backed away from you the second you could move freely, probably fearing you would make an immediate attempt to attack him. He moved to the middle of the room to look at you from a distance, hands placed on his hips like he was a teacher who just got a note from the substitute.
“So,” he spoke up, making you look up at him with a glare as you rubbed your stinging forearms, “in terms of, uh, punishment for your little… rebellion last night. You lost T.V privileges for awhile. And shower privileges. And…” he paused for a bit, trying to think of one more thing to take away to really teach you a lesson. “And um… and I’m cutting down your food amounts.” He said with an almost finger point at you.
If you were in your normal state of mind right now you would’ve laughed out loud at the fact he said “awhile”. He couldn’t even decide how long your punishment would be for! And “cutting down food amounts”? He wasn’t going to take away any of the three meals he gave you a day but instead just give you a smaller amount? That’s barely even a punishment. The T.V was, yeah that sucked a lot, and the shower was entirely expected. But less food? That was just another way in how Sam was pathetic.
You hadn’t realized the time passing as you stared up at Sam with a stony grim expression you didn’t even realize you were wearing until he said, “Come on, don’t give me that look.” He said this with pierced brows and a slight head tilt, like he was exhausted from your attitude.
Obeying his wishes, you simply shifted around to face a different direction, your empty look now directed at the wall. Sam huffed with his mouth hung open as he watched your silent form, looking as if you just told him something offensive. “Aren’t you gonna say something? Something snappy about how unfair I am?” He said, raising his arms before moodily letting them fall back down to his sides. “Are you even listening to me?”
“I’m not saying anything until you tell me who the fuck is in that room.” You said with a hoarse voice from the crashing emotions of frustration and panic. Feeling as if the terrifying suspense was screaming in your ears; like the whole room was dark and a spotlight was stuck on that shut door. Sam sighed and shook his head, walking around so that he was blocking your view of the door. “I already told you, you don’t need to worry about that right now. You’ll see when I get home from work so just be patient.”
You frowned deeply, almost resembling a sad clown painting. He talked as if you had all the time in the world. You refused to see your fate still in this basement. If a fortune teller closed her eyes and told you she saw this basement in your future, you would simply smash the crystal ball to the ground. The only way this basement would be the last thing you saw was if you had killed yourself in failure or Sam had killed in either a rage or mercy.
But just the thought of connecting the two things, Sam and murder, resurrected that soft spot you still had for the old Sam you shared a close bond to. Once again, the reality of Sam being a serial killer still didn’t feel… real to you. Were you really that much of a stranger to death that no matter how many times Sam discussed his killings with you it still felt so foreign to you? It almost felt like you didn’t even believe him. Like how you would be when watching a movie and knowing it’s all fake or staged, or like the concept of murder was just a make-belief thing, thus why you were closer to being desensitized than actually affected.
You almost believed that maybe you just had horrible morals you never noticed. But you knew that was not the case as when you would watch the news about murders or purposeful violence you felt the utter disgust and revulsion so deep in your gut that it made you feel sick. So is it that just because it’s someone you genuinely liked you didn’t want to believe it? Being more at peace accepting him as a kidnapper than a murderer because it was the lesser of two evils?
You wanted to believe he was just lying to perhaps scare you, but the disappearances of people after specific scenes with you just timed too perfectly.
But he was Sam. Sam who had tried every single item on your menu, Sam who would gush about country songs, Sam who would smile brightly after your praise for helping you with the garbage, Sam who would encourage your own rants just because it was about stuff you were passionate about. That was the Sam of your weakness.
You talked with that Sam when you pleased him, obeyed him, made him happy, and played along. But the second you went against him, disobeyed him, pissed him off, or crushed his fantasies a switch was flipped and that Sam was gone. That Sam was sucked into his shadow and a stranger stood where he stood. Bright eyes gone dead, timid voice gone vicious, awkward composure gone amok. It was like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
When that imposter zombie troubled or tormented you, you desperately searched for the fidgety Sam to come back out and save you from the monster. But they were one and the same. Jekyll was Hyde and Hyde was Jekyll. He couldn’t save you from himself. He couldn’t be the one to tie you to the railroad tracks while twirling a mustache and the knight in shining armor to rescue you.
You stared up at Sam through moistening orbs, looking back and forth between his two eyes as if his redeemable thoughts would spell themselves out in his corneas. You began to harbor hopes as you searched for the possibility, the chance, that he would actually stop or genuinely give up. Maybe you two would be able to forget this whole mess had ever happened and go back to how everything was before.
You spoke with vulnerable disbelief, “Sam. Hasn’t this gone on long enough? Please. I have a life I need to stay active in. I have a job, a good job that I’d like to keep.”
While looking down at you with an anguished contrast, Sam shook his head hurriedly and mumbled a string of upset ‘no’s. “You don’t need a job. I’ll take care of you an-and provide for you. I swear it. All the stress from your job is gone now. You don’t have to stay on your feet for 9 hours straight four days a week now, you don’t have to…” he waved his hand in the air to try and form more reasons, “train lazy and incompetent teenagers now, you don’t have to listen to any more customer complaints now. You don’t need to work anymore.” He ended his mawkish voiced declaration with a small twitching up, like he was telling you the best news ever.
Your mouth was hung open, your throat feeling inflamed yet dry. “But it’s the job that I chose. I chose to stay there for three years, I chose to work full time. It was all my decision.” You said this all while your brows slowly moved together. “Yes it was stressful at times and yes I loathed waking up at 7AM every morning but the thought of quitting or changing jobs never crossed my mind. I made good money and I was being considered for a manager position.” Your lips were left quivering in between every syllable. “It was the only job that would take me in despite my record of drugs and trouble with the law.”
“I loved my managers, they were like the family I never had and they were so reasonable and generous when it came to my needs. I loved my regular customers,” your voice broke in a falter at your second word, “they were kind to me and always brightened my day. I loved my coworkers, they respected me and we made our shifts fun together.”
A realization came crashing down onto you as your features softened and drooped, a realization that made you realize you took it all for granted, a realization you never realized until you reflected on how much you missed it. “I loved my job.”
In your mentality, you just had a breakthrough. Who knows who you would even be right now if you didn’t see their “Help Wanted” ads on that lamppost.
~
You messily wiped the thick tears off your cheeks as you walked the concrete sidewalk through the pouring rain. It was like you and Mother Nature were connected emotionally which made the weather materialize what you were feeling with its falling teardrops and gray clouds blocking the sun and blue sky.
The forecast had said it would just be cloudy all day with only a twenty percent chance of rain. But your drenched form had proven them as either idiots or liars. You tucked your hands deep in your sweatshirt pockets after tugging your hood harder so that the rain would stop hitting your forehead and spilling down your face, the cold rain combining with your salty tears. You had been rejected by another job opening with their reasoning the same as the rest, distrust with you due to your past and no prior job experience.
You clutched onto your phone as it sat in your pocket, debating if you wanted to make a call to someone as a last resort. You slipped under some shade, to take a breath from the rain, next to a man who was having a smoke break. You pulled out your phone, practically feeling your self-hatred scratch at your bones as you dialed the number to your dad’s cell phone. You finally found it a couple of months ago and swore to only call if it was an emergency or could act as a last resource or fallback.
You knew he worked at a maintenance shop and their employees were always coming and going, perhaps he would lend you a job for the time being until you found your own way. You lifted the phone to your ear as you held your breath in your heavy throat. It rang once before going straight to voicemail.
Your eyes stung like a reaction from lemon juice as your clenching lips trembled and quivered, the corners lowering. You slowly let your arm fall to your side as you focused on the sidewalk across the street to distract yourself from thinking too much about it. The smell of tobacco tickled your nose like an old friend as you followed the long puff of smoke to its owner. You quit with a lot of struggle just sixteen months ago yet the feeling of fuzzy senses still felt so recent. “Can I have one, please?” You asked the gray bearded man with a croaky voice on the verge of amplifying into the call of a sob.
The wrinkled man looked over to you without much care but still dug into a freshly new box of cigarettes and handed you one. You took the rolled stick into your fingers and began your walk back to your house again. You pulled out your lighter from your pants pocket and flicked your thumb over the top repeatedly, a moaning whine invading your tight throat as the rain hit your lighter from any angle you tried. You were too far to walk back to the shade but this was just the final push as you finally opened to release the sob that has been begging to come out.
You stopped in your tracks as you pathetically kept flicking your lighter, sobs weakening to whimpers. The rain dropping on your hand caused the lighter to slip out of your fingers. You squeezed your soaked eyes shut momentarily before taking a sniffle then squatting to pick up the fallen lighter. Once you arose, your eyes landed on the lamented piece of paper taped to the lamp post beside. Your sore eyes scanned over the ‘HIRING FULL & PART TIME HOURS’.
You took another sniffle as you looked down at the damp cigarette in your hand. This will not be the day you relapse. You tossed it in the garbage can beside the post. You squared your shoulders toward the sheet and memorized the simple email before continuing on your way.
You would email them when you got home.
~
You had such a sentimental attachment to your job as it quite literally saved you and played a big part in your recovery as a person. You wanted to return to it, return to your motherly managers, return to your teenage coworkers that looked up to you, return to your regular customers that wanted to hear your life updates.
But Sam didn’t seem to grasp those facts and was only set on it being your bane. “The only reason you like all your coworkers and regulars now is because I got rid of the ones you hated.” He snapped down at your shell-shocked being. “You’re there all the time and yet you still always picked up shifts for that woman who would never pick up any of yours. And the guy who was a sexist piece of shit and always got into arguments with you. And all those customers who were fucking nasty to you or tried to touch your waist or would look at you with such-”
His face scrunched in exasperated anger as he ran a clutching hand through his hair to blow out a hot huff through his mouth to calm himself down. He hated when you brought up all those people. He expected he would hear the last of them when he killed them but even in death they tried to ruin everything.
He talked about his killings so openly and casually, the truth spilling out easily off his tongue. So why were you so incapable of picturing him hurting anyone despite witnessing his hefty rage first hand? Or are you still just thinking about the Sam you once knew.
Sam slid his hands down his tired face before his ghostly green hues trained on your form. The room was too quiet. “You have… no idea how far I’m willing to go for you. I did promise to protect you, remember?” He said slowly, sounding as if he was sleep-talking.
You hid your breath behind your lips as you felt goosebumps trickle your skin despite the sweat at the back of your neck. He was just staring at you now. Breathing through his mouth that was left open as his chest heaved and eyes never leaving you. He was a breathing gargoyle.
You clutched the sheets next to your hips as your eyes parted from his still body, suddenly not having the courage to maintain eye contact anymore. Your eyes moved to the ceiling so your still-present tears could drain back under your eyeballs, sensing the possibility that even if a drop escaped that he would eat you alive. Your eyes settled on the carpet, never on one spot for too long, and randomly wished you could hide under the covers from this creature of the undead that wore Sam’s body and face as a mask and suit.
“I gotta get us breakfast.” He finally said, breaking his own spell, as he turned on his heels and ascended up the stairs like he was dragging his own body step by step. Like a member of the living dead.
Once his dark presence had seeped out of the room you were left alone with your chilled skin that threatened to shiver if you let out too heavy of an exhale; left alone with the negative thrilling thought of ‘What the fuck was that?’.
-
Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina @kaitcreatesart @girl-next-door-writes
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