Muse: Brendan Block
Word Count: 696
Warnings: NC-17 Explicit Content. Non-consensual.
Verse: paradisa
Notes: Continued from this thread

It's odd, the way he lays her down so gently, so carefully, easing her head back on to the pillow and pushing the hair from her eyes with a delicate stroke of his fingers. He loves her, he really does. He traces her cheekbone affectionately, feather light touches, afraid of hurting her almost. He's only doing this because she's forced his hand, if there was another way...

But there isn't. This is for her own good. They can't run away, it's not feasible, there's nowhere to run. If her ankle heals, she wants to go, and he has to stop that, he needs more time to convince her. She's stupid, she's gullible, she'll believe anything he tells her. Why does the stupid bitch have to be so fucking aggravating, so fucking stubborn? She could be so perfect if she'd just listen, do as she's told. But that's not going to happen overnight, that needs time, conditioning. Dependence, she needs to feel dependent on him; she nearly does, but it's not blind yet. It will be.

He's not sure how long he's got, the combination of Phenobarbitol and Rohypnol would be enough to knock out a human for at least a couple of hours, but Jenny, she's different, she's Gallifreyan. He thinks he'll have longer, it sent her out cold quicker than it would a human, maybe it'll affect her more.

"I'm so sorry I have to do this." He whispers to her, leaning in and claiming her mouth with a kiss so deep, it's disturbing. She's completely unconscious and he's probing her mouth with his tongue, it's obscene. But she's his isn't she? He can do what he wants with her, she told him, she said the word 'Yours'. He has permission. And she tastes so good, she's like raw honey untainted by additives. Pure and natural, and he owns that, he can shape it, teach it, he's in control of what gets added, he decides.

He rolls her over onto her front, he's flicked the switch, he's detached. There's nothing in his expression, nothing at all. The metal bar comes down on to the back of her head with frightening speed, but he's in control, he knows what he's doing, he won't let the rush of adrenaline take over. This has to be precise, no room for mistakes. A simple blow to the head, enough to give her concussion if she were lucid. She won't remember what happened, amnesia brought on by the trauma to her head. And he'll have to take her to the clinic, back to the castle. He'll be the hero, they'll all thank him and pat him on the back for bringing her back. 'Brendan, he's such a nice guy'. He smiles at that, the blood's pouring out of her head and he's smiling at how he'll be received. Head injuries, they always look worse than they are; no need for worry.

"Jenny, Jenny, Jenny." He sighs shaking his head, it's condescending, and it's not even for an audience that can hear. "Why did you try to walk on it? And downstairs of all things, you silly silly girl. So fucking stupid."

He didn't think her ankle would bend like that, it's surprising how fragile she really is. He feels the bone snap like a twig under his grip and it makes him hard, so fucking hard. He knew it would. He brings himself to the edge so fast, it's aggressive and he bangs at her relentlessly, moaning her name as he spills into his palm when he withdraws.

He leaves her to sleep then. He rinses out the glasses thoroughly, and then he kisses her goodnight. Tender, gentle, like he's kissing a butterfly and frightened of crushing its wings, he avoids the blood that's already starting to congeal in her tangled hair.

"Sweet dreams Jenny. We'll get you better when you wake up. I'm here for you Jenny, I'll never leave you. You're mine."

Word Count: 725
Muses: Astrid Peth and Brendan Block


The Doctor was busy stringing fucking fairy lights up, poor Astrid was looking on with dismay, and he seemed oblivious to it. Full of his never-ending babble about some stupid fucking alien firefly that was embedded into each coloured glass crystal. Who gave a shit? They could have cost £6.99 from Woolworths for all Brendan cared, and she didn't look much more impressed either.

"You okay?" Brendan touched her hand lightly, it was the first time he'd felt that soft skin under his, he savoured the silky perfection of it, looking at her fingers and seeing them curled around his erection. She was like a little doll, he imagined that tiny frame naked, tossing her over onto her front and driving himself into her til she begged for him to stop. He'd like to hear her beg.

"Me? Oh, I'm fine Brendan." She gave him a small smile, interrupted from whatever reverie she was having that made her so melancholy. She went to pull her hand back, but he held it firmer, squeezing her slender fingers gently, but enough that she couldn't retract without resistance. Her hand was released when he dictated, and not before. But he did return it to her, albeit a couple of seconds after she would have preferred.

"You don't look fine Astrid, what's on your mind?" She had time to answer, she just chose not to. "Tell you what, why don't we go and make some drinks? Let him do this on his own for five minutes?"

Astrid nodded at that, she needed the distraction, the lights were bringing back too many memories. Despite the Doctor's cheerful banter and efforts to lift her mood, it was hard not to let her mind drift back to events on the Titanic. And Brendan seemed well intentioned, and the Doctor trusted him too, so he must be alright, just tactile perhaps, she considered.

She didn't want to spoil this for the Doctor though, so cheerfully she called out to the thoroughly engrossed Doctor, waiting for a pause in his enthusiastic monologue.

"I'm just going to go and get some drinks for us Doctor. And some of those mince pies you bought. If we're doing this Christmas thing, then we might as well do it properly." She wasn't sure where she found her smile, but she did, and it was for him. Sonic screwdriver between his teeth, he turned and gave her a thumbs up, he looked adorable and she beamed at him.

"Pretty girl like you, should never look that sad Astrid." They were in the kitchen, and Brendan tenderly tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. It was only a brief touch, but it came from nowhere, misplaced almost. She wasn't sure if he was just being nice, or if he really had just overstepped a boundary. It was neither one nor the other, it made her breath hitch and her heart skip a beat, and she couldn't work out why exactly.

He knew exactly why, she hadn't expected it. He'd caught her off-guard, made an unpredictable move and it had sent her adrenalin rushing, enough to flush her cheeks and leave her momentarily lost for words. He dropped his hand then, using that limited timeframe he knew he had before the rush of shock subsided, to trace the line of her jaw with his fingertips.

"I'm fine, this Christmas thing is just new to me." She just wanted to get back to the Doctor now, and he was back to leaning casually against the counter like nothing had happened. Maybe it hadn't, maybe she was reading too much into it, maybe he was just being nice.

"It's more than that isn't it?" His smile was sympathetic, only a hint of danger lurked beneath, imperceptible if you weren't looking for it, but it was like he could see right into her, knew what she was feeling. "You need someone who's not afraid to show you he loves you. Your Doctor, Astrid, will never be able to do that. He's not the same as you and me."

Then his tone changed, and his smirk lifted into something far more bright and optimistic. "All done? Come on then, he could do with the break."

Whilst doing a bit of research on sociopathic behaviour for Brendan here, I came across this, I thought it'd be fun to post. You might find out your character's more sociopathic that you gave them credit for ;)


The following questionnaire is based on research and experiences of socialised psychopaths. For each trait, decide if it applies to the person you suspect may be a socialised psychopath, fully (2 points), partially (1 point) or not at all (0 points).

( 18 easy steps to establishing your inner sociopath )

A score of 25 or above suggests strong psychopathic tendencies. This does not mean the person is a potential mass-murderer: socialised psychopaths are not mad, nor do they have to resort to violence. Even so, a close professional or emotional relationship with a socialised psychopath is likely to prove a damaging experience.

Muse: Brendan Block
Fandom: Secret Smile
Prompt: Have you ever been mistaken for someone else? @ justprompts
Word Count: 343
Notes: To be continued...


She wasn't really his type, he liked them a little more sophisticated, reserved even. Easier to control that way. This one though, she was wild, a wee bit rough round the edges. Brendan wondered if he could tame her, shape her into something more palatable.

She'd already done the hard work for him though, from across the crowded bar. She hadn't been able to keep her eyes off him. It'd be almost too easy to bother with, he considered flippantly.

When he caught her fascinated glance for the second time, he smiled at her. Not shifting his gaze until she looked away in embarrassment. He loved that feeling, captivate them, get them intrigued without ever having to say a word. They just keep coming back for more, until curiosity finally gets the better of them and they're the ones to make the move.

"You know, you look just like someone I know." The girl half smiled, puzzle and intrigue colouring her statement and turning it into a question, as she leaned over the bar trying to catch the bartender's attention.

"And here I was thinking I'd attracted the attention of the prettiest girl in here on my own merits. How will my ego ever recover?" He gibed light heartedly with a warm smile. "You'll have to make it up to me now, otherwise I might spiral into depression, and I'd hate for that to be on your conscience. What's your name?"

He was funny and she couldn't get over quite how much he really did look like him. She grinned at him wryly, curling her tongue behind her teeth. Was she trying to tease him? It was certainly working.

"Right yeah, Rose. Look, I'm sorry if I was starin'."

"Why would you apologise for making my evening?" Brendan's roguish confident smile never faltered, deep brown eyes catching hers and not letting them escape. "Can I buy you a drink Rose?"

That took her by surprise, the way he asked, no hesitation, she was caught wrong-footed. "Uh... Sure! Why not."