#I dunno why I drew myself so irritated looking in some of these I promise receiving any affection from my wife would make me so happy

[seahydra]

Canvas w/ a bunch of little sketches :]

[angstmatsuscenarios]

Oso has a nightmare and accidently wakes the others up. They try to ask what happened and comfort him, but Oso won't admit he got scared even though he clearly did.

Oooh, I really liked this idea. Here’s something for that.

WARNING for mentions of Tougo under the cut: 

NO!!

Osomatsu’s eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat and chest rising and falling erratically as he panted for breath. He couldn’t get enough oxygen in his lungs, the air catching in his throat as he gasped desperately. His eyes darted frantically around the dark room, his hands clenched into fists as he tightly gripped the futon.

I’m…I’m home, he realized, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could focus on his surroundings again. He was in his bedroom, comfortable and safe, just as he had been when he’d fallen asleep hours ago. On either side of him, his brothers slept soundly, breathing softly (save for Jyushimatsu, snoring as loudly as ever).

Slowly Osomatsu eased his vice-like grip on the blanket and exhaled a shaky sigh, his shoulders sagging with relief. His heart was still pounding, his head still racing with horrifying images, but at least now he knew none of it had happened. None of it was real.

“It was just a dream,” he whispered to himself in reassurance. “Just…just a dream. A horrible, horrible dream…”

But…it had felt so real. Real enough where his chest still seized with panic when he remembered the dream, still so fresh and vivid in his mind. He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to block out the haunting visions that plagued him.

He jumped when he felt someone move beside him, stirring under the futon.

“Osomatsu…?” It was Choromatsu, his voice groggy and quiet. He propped himself up on one elbow, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Why are you awake? It’s the middle of the night.”

Shit. He’d hoped he could pull himself together and fall back asleep without waking his brothers. He wasn’t prepared to explain to them what had happened.

“No reason,” Osomatsu lied, struggling to keep his voice even. “I think a noise from outside must have startled me awake…probably just the wind.”

Choromatsu sat up all the way, regarding Osomatsu with a slight frown. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Oh, well, it must have stopped.” Osomatsu shrugged nonchalantly. Or at least, he tried to be nonchalant. His shoulders jerked up tensely, and he was aware he was talking too fast.

“Osomatsu, are you okay?” Choromatsu sounded genuinely concerned now, his frown deepening. “Look, you’re shaking like a leaf. Are you sick?”

“No, I’m fine. Just…cold. Aren’t you cold, Choro?”

“Would you please shut up over there?” a voice suddenly groused from the other end of the futon, as Todomatsu slowly woke up, too. He sat up in bed, lifting his eye mask onto his forehead and shooting the two older brothers an irritated glare. “I’m trying to get my beauty rest, and I can’t do that with you two blabbing all night long.”

“Get over yourself, Todomatsu,” Choromatsu snapped, shooting him a harsh glare. “I think something’s wrong with Osomatsu, but he won’t tell me what.”

“I said I’m fine,” Osomatsu insisted, gritting his teeth. “I just had a weird dream, that’s all. It’s no big deal.”

“Hmm? What’re you talking about?” Karamatsu mumbled drowsily, eyelids fluttering open as the commotion woke him up, too. “What dream…?”

“Just some stupid dream that woke Osomatsu up, and is now waking everyone else up,” Todomatsu responded flippantly. “Probably something ridiculous like Totoko actually asking him out or something.”

Karamatsu pushed himself up, regarding Osomatsu with worry. “Was it a nightmare?”

“No. It was just a dumb dream. Why is everyone harassing me over it?”

“If it was nothing, then why are you still shaking?” Choromatsu wanted to know, his tone more accusing than he probably meant it to be.

“I said I was cold!”

“If he says he’s cold, he’s probably just cold,” Todomatsu said dismissively. “Why don’t you just leave it at that so the rest of us can get some sleep?”

Before anyone could respond, the bedroom light flickered on, flooding the room with a sudden bright light that made everyone wince. They turned to find Ichimatsu standing by the door, his hand still on the light switch, his half-lidded gaze boring immediately into Osomatsu. No one had noticed him wake up and slink silently out of the bed.

“Quit lying,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why don’t you ever just tell us when something is bothering you?”

“Because…because it’s none of your business, Ichimatsu!” Osomatsu said defiantly. He hated feeling ambushed like this, like he’d just been shoved into a spotlight he wasn’t ready for. “It was just a bad dream, okay? I wasn’t scared, so just drop it already!”

“Ahh, Nii-san had a bad dream?” Great, now Jyushimatsu was awake too, to witness the interrogation.

“Yes, and apparently it’s become everyone else’s problem now, too,” Todomatsu sighed in frustration, whipping off his sleep mask. “Just tell us what it was about already so we can settle this and go back to sleep.”

“It was stupid,” Osomatsu answered flatly, fixating his gaze on his knees beneath the futon. “Just some dumb, twisted dream. It wasn’t even a thing that can actually happen, anyway. I wasn’t scared by it. Seriously.”

“One wouldn’t have been jolted from a peaceful night’s slumber were it an ordinary dream, Osomatsu,” Karamatsu pointed out lightly. “There has to be some reason it woke you up…something you’re hiding from us?”

“And no one is going back to bed until you confess,” Ichimatsu stated, planting himself right across from Osomatsu, arms still folded across his chest. “You don’t want all of us to be tired and cranky by tomorrow because of you, do you?”

“No fair, that’s a guilt card,” Osomatsu muttered.

“Osomatsu…” Choromatsu’s voice was suddenly a little gentler than before. “Come on, we’re just trying to help. If you don’t just tell us, we can’t do that. We won’t laugh or anything.”

Osomatsu couldn’t bring himself to meet Choromatsu’s gaze, focused intensely on the blanket as he blinked hard. To his humiliation, tears were starting to gather in his eyes.

Karamatsu placed a hand on his shoulder. “Osomatsu…?”

“….it was about him again.” There. Osomatsu had finally said it.

Todomatsu’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Who…?”

“You know…” Osomatsu gulped back the lump in his throat. “T-Tougo.” He couldn’t even say the name without feeling like his tongue was being burned.

“Oh….oh no,” Choromatsu whispered knowingly. “Did he…what did he do this time?”

Osomatsu shook his head slightly, starting to tremble all over again. “He…he…” He drew in a deep breath that rattled in his throat. “You guys…h-he hurt you. All of you. And made me watch. And I couldn’t…I couldn’t do anything to save you in time…”

The tears spilled from his eyes then, pouring down his cheeks and landing on the futon. His brothers didn’t know how to react at first—Todomatsu now bit his lip guiltily, realizing his behavior earlier had been unjustified, and even Ichimatsu’s expression softened.

“I don’t…I don’t want anything to happen to you…t-to have anyone hurt you,” Osomatsu went on, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas. “Because if anything happened…I don’t know what I’d do…”

Suddenly Choromatsu leaned in, wrapping his arms around Osomatsu in a hug. “It’s okay, Osomatsu,” he said softly. “Nothing is going to happen to us, I promise. Tougo isn’t going to come back here, we’ll never see him again. It was just a dream.”

“B-but it felt real…” Osomatsu buried his face against Choromatsu’s shoulder.

“Dreams feel like that a lot,” Karamatsu reminded him, as he joined in the hug, holding Osomatsu close. “That’s what makes them so terrifying.”

“Yeah…remember when I used to have nightmares almost every night?” Todomatsu chimed in, moving closer to join the protective huddle around Osomatsu as well. “They were so lifelike and scary, I didn’t want to sleep at night. But they always pass, even the worst of them. Also…there’s no shame in just admitting you’re scared, either, Osomatsu.”

“I guess…I dunno. I thought I was being weak, letting myself freak out so much…” Osomatsu’s voice trailed off. “And…I didn’t want to bother you guys, either.”

“Don’t be stupid. We care about you too, you know.” That was about as close to sentimental as anyone could expect from Ichimatsu. He shuffled over and joined the hug, too, without the usual resistance to affection everyone was used to from him.

“That’s right! We can protect you from the bad dreams, Osomatsu-niisan!” It was Jyushimatsu’s turn to join the huddle, his hug tight and supportive. “Just like we know you’ll always protect us!”

That last part made Osomatsu want to break down in a sob again. In his dream, he hadn’t been able to do that…he could only gape helplessly at his brothers, being tormented and hurt. He’d felt like the worst big brother ever, not being able to save his own little brothers, and the thought of that happening in real life was too much to bear.

But it won’t happen…it can’t possibly happen, and you know that. They’ll always be able to count on you, just like you can on them. Nothing bad will ever happen.

Maybe that was delusional thinking. Something bad could happen, even if it wasn’t his nightmare come true. And he couldn’t guarantee he could always be right by his brothers’ sides. But at least telling himself as much made him feel marginally better.

“Thanks, guys…” he whispered hoarsely, burrowing more snuggly into their embrace.

He didn’t want them to leave his side, not for a long time.

[coreshorts]

Inexplicable

She’d been dreaming lately. That, in itself, wouldn’t have struck the Raen as odd if it weren’t for the recurring feeling she got every time, waking with a deep-seated rancour in her heart, recalling all the pain she tried so desperately to hold down. She never remembered details, and that bothered her more than anything.

She lay next to her fiance, the Ishgardian witchling fast asleep, curled up against her, but facing away. Hali lay in silence, in the dark, listening as the cats tore around their house in a late-night craze, either after each other or nothing at all. She smirked a little at the sentiment, the thought rising unbidden, I know the feeling, I suppose. It’s all I feel like I’m doing some days, chasing after nothing at all just for my own - or someone else’s - entertainment.

Rather than amusement, however, the thought brought her sense of resentment back. She scowled to herself, her thick, scaly tail giving a twitch of the side of the bed in her irritation. There was so much injustice in the way she’d been treated for so long. She wondered why she put up with it.

As her tail gave a heavy whump against the side of the bed, it gave her a start and caused Dahlia to turn, groaning softly in her sleep, a hand reaching out for her. When she met it with her own, a sleepy smile crept over the girl’s features as she fell into a deeper sleep once more.

It brought peace, the touch and that smile. They’d worked hard and suffered so much to get to the point where they could both sleep easily like that - or relatively more so, given the issues plaguing Hali’s own sleep. Within a few moments, she began dozing again, and blackness took her.

When she was once again aware, she found herself in an endless expanse, like a manor room where the walls seemed distant, ever out of reach, their expanses covered in cracks and peeling crimson paint, revealing blackened stone beneath. Cracked, and, in some places, crumbling, pillars of dark marble rose ever into the ceiling, shrouded in darkness from its sheer height. Hali briefly wondered to herself if there ever was a ceiling. Beneath her were tiles, like that of a kitchen, ornate and geometrical in design, but where she stood was a vibrant red carpet with dark golden trim. It extended ever off behind her, but before her, it ended abrupty, frayed, as if torn just there.

She stared at it for some time, pondering silently as to where she was, tryig to decide if it was more wise to return along the carpet or to venture past the frayed portion. One by one, notions occurred to her, as if explaining her situation: This room was hers. It had always been hers. It was only waiting for her, and now she was here.

It brought a sense of satisfaction, but it was hollow, as if an empty victory. She felt betrayed. Was there not some reward for reaching her final destination? This place was hers, but felt so unwelcoming. Unbidden, the thought crept into her mind: This was what she deserved. The faces on the portraits on the walls turned grotesque, becoming mockeries of people who had brought her misery. Looking behind her, the face of the old Naras Matriarch leered in disapproval, finger extended as if to shoo her away. Three more set alongside of her, all men of indeterminate origin clad in Thavnairian turbans with faces shrouded, all with weapons drawn and hate in their eyes: the Immortals. On the On another wall were the Crawford brothers, smug and condescending, Maximillian most of all, his stomach an open wound. A portrait next to that shifted unsteadily between two forms: one Dahlia, sporting demonic horns, red eyes, sharp teeth, fur, feathers, and claws, grinning madly, and the other a massive, hulking form with similar features, but monstrously contorted, the same mad grin still in place with a clawed hand holding two featureless bodies in its hands. On the other side was a portrait of the IIIrd Legion, Zheng at their head, staring in cold contempt, the rest faceless, but giving a feeling of the same. A second frame bore a picture of the Outriders, their faces weary and annoyed, fed up as they stood mid-way to turning their backs on her.

When she turned to face ahead, past the torn carpet off of which she had been so hesitant to tread, she found a swirling mass of bloody red and black, tendrils of visible aether and palpable anger writhing wildly in place before taking shape. Within moments, she faced down a familiar figure: herself, standing off of the carpet just a yalm away. Her heart sank. She could go no further, she found herself unintentionally knowing.

“Really?” her reflection asked, irises ringed in hateful red, a flowing black dress with heeled boots, fishnet tights, and fingerless gloves, all decorated in the same dark gold as the carpet beneath her feet, “That’s it? That’s where we stop?”

The angry shade pointed at Hali’s bare, scaled feet on the edge of the carpet, then glared at her. She slowly looked down and, at her feet, lay a body, halfway on the carpet and soaking it with blood from a knife in the stomach. With red hair, similar features to the woman with whom she fell asleep, and a sweet, serene smile, eyes staring lifelessly up at her. Her cold lips were unmoving, but she heard the voice in the air as Vivian - Dahlia’s twin sister who had been tempered… and who Hali killed, herself - repeated her dying words, “I’m… sorry…” Her heart wrenched and she felt herself tear up as the body crumbled to dust, leaving nothing but a blood stain. She could go no further.

“We came this far,” the reflection continued when Hali twitched, unsure of how to respond, “Look at everything we’ve done. Look at all the people who we showed we were better. Fuck the rest!”

“How- how c-can you say that?” Hali argued, tears in her eyes and voice quiet, looking up at her own face, contorted in anger as it stared back at her from that simulacrum, “It’s not enough. I’m… I-I’m never going to be enough. Not… n-not to… make up for all I’ve done a-and everything I’ve failed and… how? How- h-how is this enough?” She was so close to crying. She would, and she knew it.

The other Hali growled in anger and reached a hand out to her side, head held low as she glared forward over her glasses. In the hand appeared one of the portraits: Mirseleiris, in his primal form. She held it up in front of her, showing it to her conscious self.

“See this? We killed it. We saved Dahlia. And we lived,” the shade said in anger, punctuating the last word by punchig through the back of the painting right where the void-primal’s face hung grinning in mad glee at Hali, leaving nothing but a fist, wrethed in violent, swirling red aether that began to turn the portrait black from the hole outward until it all grew dark and she tossed it aside. Its frame clattered noisily against the floor, shattering… and then appeared on the wall again.

“Wha-” the shade looked over and stomped a heeled boot in anger, “You can’t be serious! Why are you fighting this fight? You know it’d make things better if you just listened to me!”

Hali’s gaze dropped as she shivered, staring down at the blood-stained carpet that still ended in such an abrupt tear before her, muttering, “I… I dunno.”

“You gave me a chance, already,” the darker Hali rumbled, “What happened to that?”

The knowledge was there, suddenly. She knew the Hali before her. The voice in her head that had been growing louder, the feeling of wanting to just unleash all of her pain and not try to hide herself anymore, all of her anger and rage stood before her, as her. She knew what this was from the descriptions she was given: her Darkside, the persona borne of the abyss that raged within her, brought forth and given a more perceptible form by the soul crystal Naomi had lent to her to help keep her from being devoured by it.

“That may be what I am,” the shade said with a scowl, knowing her thoughts, “But I’m still you. I’m still us. I’m still a part of you, and vice versa. But you won’t accept me. Why?”

“You still lost,” Hali said with a dejected sigh, “You p-promised you, um... could- could win. Against Shadow that night. But y-you lost. We had a deal.”

The Darkside growled in irritation and rolled her red-limned eyes, “That’s not what I meant. You know what I mean. Answer me. Why won’t you accept me? Why does it have to be deals and bargains and games?”

Silence.

“Fine,” she sighed in exasperation, “But you know you can’t outrun this. You’re stuck for a reason.” She threw her arms out wide, staring Hali in the face with a look of annoyance.

“You can’t move forward if you can’t acce-”

“SHUT UP!” Hali nearly screamed, teeth grit and staring daggers at her own shadowy reflection, “Just… just shut up…!”

“If that’s all you’ve got to say to me,” her Darkside said, shaking her head in disappointment, “Then you’ve already lost. Just tell me. If you can’t be honest with yourself, with whom can you be?”

Again, Hali stood in silence, her gaze dropping.

“Exactly,” cooed her reflection, “If the world won’t have you… if it would betray you, look to kill you or worse, why not trust yourself? We’re all we’ve got, Hali. Me, myself, and I.”

She couldn’t respond, even as her eyes drew toward the picture of the Outriders to her right. All of their backs had turned to her, the painting radiating a familiar sense of exasperation… abandonment.

“You’re just setting us up to fail,” the shade sighed, “I’m not going to let that happen. You know that. We have to make it. Even if we can’t truly die, if this keeps up… don’t you think that’d be preferable?”

A pregnant pause hung between them as her Darkside watched her expectantly, before, “...isn’t it already?” Hali’s eyes closed as she tried to look away, but she saw the eyes on her - all the portraits, their hatred, their resentment - including those of her own inner darkness boring into her.

“Then accept me.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Hali swallowed hard, then answered her own question in barely a whisper, “...because I’m… I-I’m not good enough. I’m too… t-too… weak. I’m falling behind…” The response was for the Darkside to extend her hand, smiling calmly, saying with unnerving gentleness, “Just listen… Listen to our heartbeat. Listen for my voice. Listen…”

She hesitated. There was so much she needed to know, so many warnings she had been given, but if this was the only way, she had to take it. There was no other way she could be safe.

She reached. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached for the hand, out over the carpet’s edge. She didn’t make it. The room abruptly collapsed around her and silent blackness took hold as she awoke, feeling that pain again as it all began to slip from her memory.

“Hali?” came Dahlia’s voice with her notable Ishgardian accent, then her concerned face as she opened her eyes, “Hali? What’s the matter? Are you alright? You were crying in your sleep.”

“Huh?” was all the Raen could muster. Her eyes were wet. She was a bit congested. She had been crying… but why? “I… I dunno… D-don’t, um… remember…”

She couldn’t remember why, but she was certain of what she felt: the pain, the frustration, all completely inexplicable.

[roman-reigns-princess]

Cat & Mouse (Roman Reigns): Chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 5 Read it on Wattpad Writing Masterlist

Warnings: alcohol consumption, r*ndy *rt*n gets a little rapey, um i really cant think of anything else??

Word Count: 2156

A/N: I’m so sorry its been like 2 months since i updated, i went thru a writing slump lmfao. i think im back now tho, and there’ll be actual smut in the next chapter (im alr like half way thru w it). Also I know a lot of yall changed your usernames, I dont remember every new user name, I tried my best to change them but if im tagging your old account please let me know

Tag List (if anyone wants to be added, let me know): @m-a-t-91@mrsamberlopezgoodanoai@simulated-heat @greatbreadwizard @hoodgirl163 @sabrina-blyton @reignwithflair@sunflowers-and-swear-words @alexahood21@ii-love-roman-reigns @queenreignsempire @flawlessglamazon @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @fivefootxo  @finnbalorsdemonqueen @romanempressfics @rocketgirl2410@sausagefest1996 @vebner37@macfizzle @cute-face-chubby-waist @wwefoever70@horcruxhunter5972 @cool-snowball-22-blog @designrwriterchic @metaldeedsblobfish@inkedirishbbydoll-blog-blog @calwitch (sorry if i missed anyone)

Finally around 9pm, they headed out of the hotel to meet the men in a club a couple blocks away.

15 minutes later, Lyra and Naomi entered the club to find the guys occupying a secluded booth near the bar, and away from the dance floor. Even as they walked up to the table, Lyra could see Jimmy's eyes change colour as he drank in his mate's flawless figure.

Lyra was thankful that the club was mainly filled with humans, there were a couple of Alphas and Betas sitting at other tables, but most didn't seem to notice her. She made it a point to avoid them, and try and mask her scent with the humans.

On their way there, she'd managed to convince Naomi to keep quiet about her heat. She didn't need the guys treating her weird, or worse, making her go back. Naomi went to join the guys while Lyra went to order an Appletini for her friend, and a Vodka Sunset (A/N: these are really good tbh) for herself.

Lyra hopped up onto a barstool to wait for her drinks. It was a pretty busy night due to the fact that it was a Saturday, and wrestling fans going to the Rumble the next day were also out and about. Roman and his cousins had chosen a darker corner to hopefully minimize people interrupting their personal time.

Lyra glanced back at her friends and chuckled when she saw Jey looking bored and a little irritated as he tried to ignore his brother and Naomi who were basically grinding on each other, not giving a fuck about either of the other two men at the table.

Despite promising herself that she would not acknowledge Roman that night, Lyra found her gaze sliding over to him. He was already staring at her, an intense, hungry look in his eyes that had turned a bright silver-grey. A shiver of lust ran down her body, and she forced herself to turn away.

It was going to be a lot harder than she'd anticipated to ignore him. Not only could she barely keep her eyes off him, but his scent had hit her the moment she walked into the club. Her heightened senses constantly drew her attention to him even when she tried to focus them elsewhere.

She stiffened as she picked up on his footsteps through the clamor of people and music. She pretended not to notice him until she heard him clear his throat. She slowly turned the bar stool to face him.

"Oh hey, Roman," she blinked up at him, putting on a sickly sweet smile; he stood before her, arms crossed with a stern look on his face. She hated to admit it, but he made the simple jeans, shirt, and a leather jacket look mouth watering. "Can I help you?"

"You shouldn't be here," he said. She should've known he'd say something like that, of course he'd notice, she grumbled to herself. Rolling her eyes at him, she turned back, not wanting to deal with his shit at that moment, earning a snarl from him. "Don't fuckin turn away from me."

"Don't fuckin tell me what to do," she shot back, refusing to look at him. She let out a soft whimper, and her grip tightened on the bar in front of her as she felt his fingers sliding under her jacket and shirt to grip the right side of her waist; her cheeks flushed as he brushed her hair aside with his other hand, leaning in till his breath tickled her ear. His scent wrapped around her, calming her nerves down; he smelled like a delicious mix of hot chocolate and caramel, and she wanted nothing more than to drag him back to her room and let him play out his worst fantasies with her.

"Baby, you can't be here, you think us Alphas don't know what a shifter in heat smells like? That little jacket's doin shit to mask your scent," he spoke low enough that the noise around them would hide his words from any wolves or shifters nearby. Part of her knew that he was right, and that he was only saying these things because he cared, but she was too stubborn to agree with him.

"I'll be fine, I can handle myself," she mumbled, luckily Roman's reply was interrupted by the bartender bringing over her drinks. Roman let go of her as she grabbed the drinks. "Listen all I'm asking is that you leave me alone tonight, you clearly aren't interested, and I get it, but I deserve to have my fun."

She brushed past him without waiting for his reply; silently, he followed her, looking like she'd just punched him in the gut. Putting a smile on her face she slid in next to Naomi, handing her the Appletini. The older woman downed her drink then waited for Lyra to finish hers before dragging her out to the dance floor.

Several dances, and even more drinks, into the night, Lyra staggered over to their booth that was now empty. She had had a little too much to drink, and the room was starting to spin a little; groaning, she rested her head on the cooling surface of the table.

She'd given Jimmy all her cards both for safe keeping and to make sure that she wouldn't be able to drink anymore, but she'd cut herself off too late, and she knew she was going to have a splitting headache the next day.

The sound of someone sliding into the booth next to her had her head jerking up, she shook her head a little as the room was still swimming. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she saw Randy Orton, one of the other Alphas in the locker room, sitting next to her, his head tilted a little as he looked at her with a sneer.

"What's a pretty little shifter like you doing getting drunk during her heat?" He said in a soft, condescending tone, as his eyes swept over her, lingering a little too long on her chest.

"I-I dunno what you're talkin bout, I think I should go now," she mumbled, trying to inch away from him, pulling Naomi's jacket around herself, but his smirk only widened when he heard her words.

"Is that right?" He replied, his voice had a dangerous edge to it, and, unlike Roman, his scent set her nerves on edge as he leaned in. She tried to cringe away but she was pressed up against the end of the booth, and he blocked the only way out. A shiver of fear ran through her as she realized she was cornered by an Alpha that was both bigger and stronger than her. "Well you certainly smell like a shifter in heat, first day am I right? Why don't I take you back...make sure that no one gets to you, it's not safe for a little shifter like you out here."

"N-no I dontwanna-," he ignored her words, grabbing her wrist and pulling her out of the booth despite her slurred protests. She had no choice but to stumble after him, her hazy mind still trying to work out what to do as they exited the club. Before she could think her way out of the situation, a large hand grabbed her free wrist and jerked her back, making her yelp in pain.

"Let go of Lyra," came Roman's voice from behind her, she looked up to see him glaring at Randy.

"Oh yeah, why should I? What I do with this little shifter is none of your business," Randy retorted, his voice adopting a mocking tone. Lyra glanced between the two Alphas, this wouldn't end well if it got physical.

"Because I fuckin said so, she's mine, get your dirty little paws off her," Roman warned, Lyra's eyes snapped to him, the surprise at him calling her his was evident on her face.

"She doesn't seem to know that, I've seen they way the two of you act around each other, you send some very mixed signals, Roman, no wonder she's getting drunk on the first day of her heat if her Alpha can't satisfy her," a viscous smile carved across Randy's face as Roman snarled at him. He finally let of of Lyra, allowing her to curl into the safety of Roman's arms. "Or maybe that's what you were waiting for, so you could do whatever you want to her with minimal resistance, can't say I never thought of it."

A shiver of revulsion ran through her, making her cling to Roman's shirt. Randy turned away and walked back into the club before Roman could spit back a reply. He stood there for a moment, glaring after the retreating Alpha.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed, you're gonna have a shitty hangover in the morning," he said, turning her around and walking her in the direction of the hotel. He kept a hand on her waist to stabilize her so that she wouldn't trip over in her heels. "D'you got your keycard?"

"Left it with Jimmy," she replied, not in the mood to talk, keeping her eyes firmly on the ground to try and avoid any more stumbling.

"Ah fuck, okay you can have my bed, I'll take Jimmy's, I got no idea when or if he's coming back to the room," he said, more to himself than her. They walked the rest of the way in silence. Lyra was practically falling asleep against Roman by the time they reached the elevators. He had to half carry her to the room, then pushed her towards the bathroom. "You gotta get that makeup off, can't have you messin up the sheets. I think Naomi keeps some of her stuff with Jimmy's shit."

He left her leaning against the counter as he went to rummage through his cousin's things. She had to grab the edge to stop herself from falling over when he left her side, the alcohol mixed with the fatigued caused by her heat was not a fun combo. By the time he came back with a little makeup bag, and a black shirt in hand, she was falling asleep standing up. He gently shook her awake and handed her the stuff.

"I hope Naomi got some of that makeup remover stuff in there, and you can change into this shirt if you wanna, is up to you," he said, she mumbled her thanks and unzipped the little bag to find a small packet of makeup wipes as he walked out, leaving her alone to change.

Eager to get to sleep, she made quick work of the makeup, washing her face with some warm water to get rid of any residue. She pulled off her boots, shorts and tank top and left them in a pile on the floor of the bathroom along with Naomi's jacket. Finally, she pulled on Roman's shirt, the material soft and soothing against her skin, before making her way out of the bathroom.

She found Roman perched on the edge of what she assumed was his bed, and she headed straight for it.

He looked like he was about to say something to her, but her exhaustion prompted her to ignore him, and crawl under the covers with a groan. She heard him snort; in amusement or annoyance, she couldn't tell.

The bed shifted as Roman stood up and padded over to the bathroom to take a shower, leaving her tossing and turning on the bed as she tried to find a nice spot.

By the time Roman was done, coming out in nothing but a pair of shorts as usual, he found Lyra buried under the covers, face down in the pillows. He sighed to himself, walking up to her to turn her over.

"Babe, you had a lot to drink tonight, you shouldn't be sleeping face down or face up," he said, not even sure if she was awake as he rolled her onto her side, but before he could pull away she grabbed his arm and hugged it to her.

"Cuddles please, warm," her sleep riddled mind barely even registering what she was doing. Roman froze, torn between wanting to give in, and wanting to keep his distance as he'd managed to do so far. He tried one more time to dislodge his arm, but her grip held tight as she nuzzled her face against his palm; groaning to himself, he careful slid onto the bed until her back was pressed against his chest.

As he pulled the covers up around them, he halfheartedly promised himself that he'd sneak out once she was properly asleep.

He took a sharp breath as she wriggled around, trying to find the perfect position, which just happened to include her ass pressed against his dick. He wrapped his arms under her chest to keep her still against him burying his face in her hair. Taking a deep breath, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

[thejokervaleska]

stitches, part 2

Pairing: The Joker (Ledger) x Reader Rating: T Words: 1645 Summary: I didn’t know much about Jack but I had the strangest feeling that he was the kind of guy who could really complicate a girl’s life.

PART ONE

I woke up sore and groggy sometime around noon. As I laid there, blinking up at the ceiling, the reason for my aching muscles and bruised hand began creeping back into my mind and I found myself wondering if he was still around or if he’d slipped away while I was asleep.

As curious as I was about him, I knew my life would be much, much simpler if he was just gone, if he’d just vanished like something out of a bad dream. I didn’t know much about Jack but I had the strangest feeling that he was the kind of guy who could really complicate a girl’s life. And that was the last thing I needed.

Hauling myself out of bed, I found an old, bleach-stained pair of jogging shorts and pulled them on under the oversized t-shirt I slept in. It wasn’t my sexiest look but I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. When I opened my bedroom door, I was met first with silence and then the smell of cigarette smoke.

I found him right where I’d left him, slouched back against the couch cushions with his socked feet propped up on my coffee table and a cigarette burning low between his fingers. He was totally still, staring off into space with a blank expression. Even when I walked into his line of sight, he didn’t react.

Frowning, I walked a little closer and leaned down, putting my eyes on level with his. “Jack?”

When I said his name, his eyes snapped to mine. At first, it seemed like he didn’t recognize me. I watched his gaze move over my sloppy outfit, down my bare legs, and then back up to my face. He blinked those dark eyes and suddenly the recognition was there.

“Are you okay?” I asked him uncertainly. He raised his brows and, with some difficulty, took a drag off his cigarette. “Okay, that was a stupid question. Uh…are you in a lot of pain? I can get you something to take for it.”

He watched my lips move with a vague sort of curiosity but didn’t seem interested enough to respond to my question. Keeping his eyes on mine, he turned his head and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the air beside me.  

“Can you speak?” I asked as I started to grow uncomfortable with his scrutiny. His only answer was a half-hearted shrug. “Well, can you try?”

His eyes narrowed and he seemed to consider it for a while. After clearing his throat, he grimaced as much as the stitches would allow and, barely moving his lips, muttered a soft, “No.”

“There you go,” I said, smiling. He didn’t smile back but instead leaned around me to stub out his cigarette on my coffee table. “Are you hungry?”

He hesitated for a moment and then gave me a decisive nod. Glancing back at the coffee table, beyond his feet and a couple of cigarette butts, I saw a half-empty bottle of water which told me two things. One, he’d been up snooping around in my kitchen at some point and two, he was able to drink.

“Hope you like soup,” I told him, ignoring the feeling of his gaze burning into my back as I walked into the kitchen.

I hummed to myself as I opened a can of tomato soup into a bowl, splashed in a little milk, and slid it into the microwave to get hot. In the meantime, I put a Pop-tart in the toaster for myself. It wasn’t exactly a five-course meal but it was better than nothing.

Jack sat back and watched as I walked back into the living room but offered no help as I juggled his bowl, my plate, and a glass of water. Maybe George has a point, I thought, a tad resentfully.

“Be careful. It’s hot,” I told him, sliding the bowl over in front of him. He looked longingly at my Pop-tart but picked up his spoon as I sat down in the chair to his left. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Already hunched over his bowl, he merely shrugged.

“Okay,” I said, mostly to myself. “Are you in some kind of trouble? I mean, are the police going to be looking for you?”

Jack froze but didn’t look up. After a moment, he shook his head.

“Are you sure? Because you know, you can tell me. I’m not going to run down to the station and turn you in or anything. I don’t trust the cops any more than anyone else in this neighborhood.” I winced, watching as he spooned the still-steaming-hot soup into his mouth without so much as flinching. “I just want to be prepared, you know?”

“They’re not,” he mumbled.

“So, what’s the deal?” I asked around a mouthful. “Why did those guys do this to you?”

Staring down into his soup like it held all the answers, he said, “Dunno.”

“Jack, come on,” I said skeptically. “I heard them saying something about you stealing from them-”

The words were barely off my tongue when his head whipped around and he gave me a look so dark and so mean that I completely lost my train of thought. I gaped at him and he held my eyes, unblinking, until I finally looked away.

“Alright, moving on.” Clearing my throat, I set my plate down on the table. Suddenly I wasn’t so hungry anymore. “Do you have somewhere to go? A home, I mean?”

I could feel him watching me but I was determined to avoid his eyes, afraid of seeing that darkness in them again. I looked at the table, his twitching hands, anywhere but his face. The silence stretched long between us until I finally looked up to see him shake his head.

“Where have you been staying?”

Using the spoon, he gestured vaguely towards the window and the city beyond it which I took to mean as “wherever I can”. At that point, I was 99% sure I couldn’t trust him but looking at his too-thin frame and the way he was eagerly downing the soup despite the pain, I decided he was probably telling the truth.

“So, where are you going to stay now?” I asked, though I had a sneaking suspicion I already knew the answer. We both did.

He looked up and then over at me, startled. His brow furrowed as he studied my face and then murmured, “Here?”

His tone was questioning, maybe a little hopeful. I sighed, resigned to my fate.

“Fine,” I told him, aware that I was probably making a terrible mistake. “You can stay for a little while as long as you promise you’re not some kind of psycho serial killer.”

He huffed out a laugh through his nose and, with his finger, drew a “cross” over his heart.

With that settled, I decided it was time to run to the grocery store and stock up.

I was only gone for an hour but I returned to a mess.

Jack was still on the couch but it was clear he’d been busy while I was gone. Cartoons were blaring on the television and the floor was scattered with my books and DVDs. I could almost picture him standing in front of the shelf in the corner, glancing at each cover before carelessly tossing it over his shoulder.

As I walked further into the apartment, I heard the kitchen faucet running and found the refrigerator door standing wide open. His empty soup bowl was lying in pieces in the sink as if he’d tossed it in from across the room.

Dropping the grocery bags on the counter, I turned to look at him for some sort of explanation but his eyes darted towards me and then quickly back to the cartoons.

“What the hell, Jack?” I asked, stomping over to turn off the television. “This is unacceptable-”

When I turned back around, he was already on his feet and digging through the grocery bags. Marching over to him, I ripped the carton of chocolate pudding cups out of his hands and he frowned at me as much as he could without moving his mouth.

“Listen to me. This is my home,” I told him, my anger overriding the hesitation I’d felt towards him earlier. “You can’t stay here if you’re going to make a mess and destroy shit. I don’t have time for that. Do you understand?”

He stared me down but I held my ground, lifting my chin to glare back at him. After a few moments of this, he finally huffed out an irritated little sigh and nodded once.

“If it happens again, you’re out,” I said, finally relenting as he tried to tug the pudding out of my grip. “I mean it.”

As Jack started in on his pudding, I started cleaning up his mess. By the time he was done, I was on my hands and knees across the room, sorting through the mess on the floor. As I bent over to retrieve a DVD case from under a shelf, I heard the rasp of a lighter behind me.

“You know, you probably shouldn’t be smoking,” I told him. When he didn’t reply, I glanced back over my shoulder just in time to see him sheepishly lifting his gaze from my ass. “Really, Jack? Really?”

He didn’t even have the decency to pretend to be ashamed. His eyes crinkled up at the corners and I realized he would be smiling, maybe even laughing, if he could. It was surprisingly charming. Shaking my head, I turned away to hide my own smile.

Don’t even think about it, I told myself. You’re stupid but you’re not that stupid.

(Tagging: @nicolesyneah25, @killer-khaleesi, @kittylivesyou)

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

WARNING (containing mild spoilers): This chapter is somewhat NSFW. Fairly explicit without going into a lot of detail. Also involving underage drinking and drunken almost-sex.

NOTES: Finally, the rest of the memory. Sorry for this chapter taking a little longer to get out than the last two, but I was working on some other projects. Before posting this, I also went back and edited the first 11 chapters to make one or two tiny things about Toronto more accurate; was kind of fun, even if it delayed the posting of this next installment.

Also yes, that is a Bleach reference.

This had to be a nightmare. I felt myself beginning to freak out as I glanced between her innocent eyes and the bizarre sight going on down in her lap. Then, as I kept glancing… I started to realise that she wasn't asking more questions. Wasn't moving at all.

Glancing over head, I saw the "PAUSE" had returned, just where I expected. It barely fit in my bathroom.

For a second, I started to turn around and go pace in the living room for a second. But then I thought… no. No, I wasn't having this; it wasn't me who needed to worry about being embarrassed, or having something to hide. I wasn't going to get anywhere by standing around and not confronting the issue. So I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my breathing, and then smacked the Pause to make it vanish.

"Kim?" Knives asked a moment later. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, I don't know," I burst out, gesturing to the needle. "Gee, what could it be?"

"Um…" She looked a little self-conscious about that, but didn't back down as much as I expected. "Sorry, I thought the door was locked. Some people get pretty queasy about needles, and I didn't know…"

"Lock's broken. And hey, so not the issue right now, Chau."

"What?" After a second, she tried again, eyebrows starting to contract together as she watched me running my fingers through my hair. "Come on, you're starting to freak me out."

"YOU'RE freaked out! I'm staring at my friend, doing… I mean, what even is this? What are you on? Like, heroin or something?"

"Uhhh, these are my hormones. Are you sure you're okay? You look kinda… sick or something, I dunno."

That brought me up short, taking away some of my building rage. "Hormones? Wait… I don't understand."

"Ha, ha," she sighed with a little frown. "It's not really funny when it's about this, Kim."

"What is 'this'?! I'm standing here, staring at an episode of Law And Order and you're being an evasive little douche!"

"You know." I shook my head. "You don't know?"

"No. What, do you have some kind of… glandular condition?"

Not totally sure what she had been thinking before, but it was only at that point that she drew back in mild shock. Then she glanced down at her thigh, up at me, and slowly swallowed. "Oh… um… but wait, there's no way you don't know. Not after Julie's aunt's house."

"What? Don't be weird, this isn't-" Sighing in irritation, I slammed my hand into the sink, and she jumped slightly. "Cut the shit! If you told me that you have to stab yourself in the leg for some condition, I'd remember that! So if you're lying-"

"Omigosh. You really don't remember. Any of it." She both looked shocked and disappointed. Then she looked down at her leg again, and back up at me. "Okay. Um… can you give me a couple minutes? This is pretty uncomfortable."

Beside myself, I wandered back out into the hallway, propping up the wall with my shoulder. What else was I supposed to do? She was being so calm that it started making me feel like the weird one for flipping my lid. And maybe I was. Sure, it looked like she was some drug addict, but of all the friends I'd had in my life, Knives was probably the one I would suspect of being hopped up on anything the least. Anything besides too much sugar, I mean. The only thing was, if she was just taking birth control or something like that, I'd never heard of anybody who took it by syringe. Pills and patches, and even that shove-it-up-your-cunt thing, sure. But this seemed a little out there.

Finally, Knives came out with her kit. Toiletry kit, or drug kit? She stashed everything in her backpack, then went straight to her suitcase.

"Hey, enough. I think I deserve some kind of explanation here. I mean, if you're on something, I have a right to know if you're gonna trash my place or-"

"Just hang on." She reached into the suitcase, pushed on something…

And swung the bottom of it upward, revealing another compartment. Except it was much, much bigger than the inside of the suitcase should have allowed. She fastened the false bottom to the lid of the suitcase, then literally flipped down into what I could only assume was…

"A subspace pocket?!" I squeaked, running to the suitcase to gaze down. There was a room in there, and probably the weirdest collection of crap I've ever seen — and SO many knives. Literally the hugest collection of knives and swords I've ever seen, big and small, plain and ornate, and I could swear one of them kept changing colours. But Knives wasn't even bothering with any of that; she was digging in a steamer trunk in the corner.

And of course there was a huge Oriental rug covering the floor. Everything else in there looked expensive as fuck, so why not?

When I saw her crouching to vault back into my apartment from… wherever, I took a few quick steps back so she could land, one hand falling to the floor to steady her landing. Her other one was out to the side for balance, and wrapped around it was a red fingerless glove.

"Okay, so that's… interesting," I began, still mostly looking at the suitcase. "Seriously, I did start to wonder what you had in there to make it so heav-"

"Can you move like, a foot to the right?" I did. "Little more… take a step back." Why not? I felt the couch cushion pushing into my calves. "Okay, good. Now just… relax and pay attention, and think about that night at Julie's aunt's. It'll all be over in no time, I promise. This is seriously the fastest way."

Blinking when I realised she was falling into some kind of attack stance, I braced myself and only had time to yelp, "HEY!" before she was driving the heel of her gloved palm into my forehead-

                                                            ~ o ~

Knives was gazing over at me from up against the side of the bed, head rolling in a lazy circle. A drunk hiccup sounded into the room. How did we get there? When did we start drinking? That whole thing was pretty goddamn disorienting, and this is coming from someone who's been pulled through subspace doors and watched people explode into coins.

"Scott's not the problem," someone was saying. Where did that come from? "It's men. Fucking… men, and dudes. Can't trust a single one of them."

"Rrrgh," she was growling at me, pointing at me with the neck of the whisky bottle. "I hate them! I hate boys! They're all exactly the same! Same eyes, same hair…"

"I know," I told her… except I wasn't telling her. That was my voice, I felt it coming out of my lips, but I wasn't moving them or telling them to do that. I'm explaining this badly, but I think you get what I mean; someone turned me into a meat puppet for their ventriloquist act. "They suck."

While I was still trying to figure that insanity out, I noticed Knives was smiling. Then she let out a little breathless giggle, almost too quiet to hear. Dark eyes in a dark room raised to point at me. "Kim, I… I've kissed the lips that kissed you," she was slurring very gently, leaning closer. And closer still. And then I realised…

I've been there before. This was my memory, wasn't it? We were in Julie's aunt's house by the beach. Knives was wearing that yellow hoodie on top of her swimsuit, we were on the carpet in someone's bedroom. Probably her aunt's kid, maybe just an ownerless guest room, who knows? The whisky bottle was sitting nearby, and we'd already been passing it back and forth. Swapping spit before we…

Lips crashed into mine as a slight weight settled in my lap, and I caught her and kissed back, only letting out a quick little "Mmm" of mild surprise. It had been pretty obvious what her next move would be by that point, but past-me was too drunk to realise. Modern-me, in the harsh light of day… yeah, one of us should have stopped this. We weren't sober, and she was technically too young to be drinking anyway. Bad ideas were everywhere.

I blame Stephen Stills. He thought it was "funny" to get the high schooler sloshed.

My brain was helpless to do anything about the memory that was playing out around me, though so far I didn't mind much. Knives and I were kind of a thing now, right? Nothing wrong with thinking about the first kiss you shared with your girlfriend-ish person. To be honest, this was kind of nice, getting to experience more of it than I could recall. Even if the drunk part was less than ideal.

Knives was really taking control now, pushing me down against the floor. We tangled there for a second before I rolled her over and returned the favour, being just as forceful. This was a lot more tongue than we had used sober, too…

And then I felt it.

And she felt that I had felt it.

"MhhAH!" she gasped out when our lips parted, and she looked startled. "O-oh, I… Kim…"

"What's this down here?" I said with a little giggle, shimmying my hips from side to side. Grinding on my discovery. She blanched, looking ashamed of herself. "Somebody's got a little surprise package delivery."

"Kim, I'm sorry!" The way her breathing was shallow and her arm raised, then flopped back down, told me she didn't have the power to push me off. This was a disaster. "Is it… is it gross to you?"

"Your body decided it's… happy hour. Get it?"

Eyes darting away from mine, she whispered, "Sorry, I didn't… expect to… o-or I would have told you… I guess…" She was terrified. Drunk-Kim didn't seem to care much, but the me of today was practically screaming at my past self to slow the fuck down and THINK for a half-second. This was bad! Not just a little bad, but potential lawsuit bad!

"It's kinda small," Drunk-Kim observed, still grinding up and down against the unexpected presence. "Li'l bitty egg roll." Now that was just stupid and vaguely racist. Seriously, past-drunk-me? You're better than that and we both know it. Plus I was kind of insulting Knives by calling it small.

"Well, it- I didn't know it was…"

"It's okay. Ooh, now it's getting bigger…" My hand was drifting down past her hip, and her eyes shot open. Apparently, there were limits to how oblivious drunk-me was. "Can I? Just wanna play with it…"

There was a slight nod, and I raised my hips enough so that my hand could wrap around her bulge through her swimsuit. She was drunk! I mean, so was I, but… someone, anyone needed to walk in on us and stop me from doing this. Stop the alcohol-fuelled boundary-breaching.

"Can I look? Put it in my mouth or somethin'?" I asked after a little while. This time, she shook her head, and I pouted. "Aww…"

"I don't want… anybody to see…"

"Okay," I said with a put-upon sigh, as if she'd spoiled my fun. This entire time, I wanted to cringe, or close my eyes, but it was no longer possible. Not in this weird memory-dream I was trapped in. But at least I didn't have to live with knowing I had ignored her when she asked me to stop; that would have destroyed me.

My hand began to stroke her through the multiple layers of water-friendly fabric, and Knives's eyes slid closed as she sucked in a breath. "How about just this? 'Zat okay?" A long moan flowed from her as I teased.

"Kim…!"

"You like this? Huh? Like it when I do to you what I did to… Scott and those other guys."

"B-but I'm not a guy," she insisted, then flinched when I dug my nails in, hissing from the mild pain. And I swore that whisky was now off my list of acceptable spirits then and there, because this was really too far.

"This feels like you are." OH MY GOD, KIM, SHUT THE FUCK UP. "But yeah… guess you're definitely a girl. Just one with something special. I sure as hell don't have one."

Better. A little.

"Kim, you're really… making me…" She bit her lip, and I felt her begin to thrust with me, moving her hips along with my hand.

"Good, right? It's good?" I knew that my drunk self really did want her to tell me. Even though she might not have stopped completely if Knives said "no", but just started asking what would make her feel good, it was better than not asking at all. Small silver linings.

After another minute or whatever, she began to pant, "I… I'm gonna… b-but I'm in my swimsuit!"

"You said you didn't want to be set free," I giggled.

"I don't! Please? D-don't look, I really don't want you to!"

My cheeks stopped bunching from my sadistic grin, and I leaned down to kiss her cheek. "It's okay. I won't look, I'll just… keep this up. We can wash it in the morning." My hand went faster. "Come for me. I wanna see that 'O' face, Knives… never seen a chick with a dick make one, and I wanna know."

Idly, I wondered if this memory was as mortifying and embarrassing for Knives as it was for me. If I ever lived this down, I swore that I would not only give up whisky, but take a close look at how my brain works. Something was wrong in there…

By the time I got Knives to come, she was pushing one hand into her mouth to keep her noises down, and her legs were completely open, letting me do whatever I wanted. And luckily for my conscience… I did exactly what I said I would do. Stroked her through the swimsuit until she came, and I could tell it was a pretty decent climax just from watching her face, hearing her breath hitch. Even without feeling her throb down below. A slight warmth began to gather around my thumb and index finger as I stroked, and I let out a giggle.

"Mmm… Knives… you came. So squishy." No response as I played idly with the thick substance that was dampening her swimsuit. "Was it fun for you? Did you like coming for me?"

"Mmm," was all she could say, eyes glazed over.

"Knives? Hey." Her eyes focused on me. "I had fun."

Only then did she spare me the tiniest of nervous smiles. "Um… I d-did, too. Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" I sighed, wrapping my body around hers and settling in. Basking and snuggling, like we hadn't done anything as intense as we had, and weirdly disinterested in having her return the favour. If I were sober, I'd definitely have at least done that!

"For not telling you… I promised myself I would, if anybody ever got this close to… w-well, kinda didn't expect you, of all the people I know…" Her words continued to be a little sloppy, but she did embrace me back, at least. "Anyway… th-thanks for not… freaking out."

How could I have freaked out? Drunk-Kim was wasted and didn't care, more or less. Mildly curious and amused by the whole situation. "Shhh, it's cool. Just don't worry so much, man…"

Even while she was saying, "You sure?" I could see the room growing dim. It took me a minute to figure out that past-me was closing her eyes. Falling asleep, right after doing that! "M'glad."

"Right."

"Thank you," she gushed. I couldn't see her anymore, but could hear the tears in her voice. "I can't tell you… like, this is so awesome of you, I really…"

"Yeah, yeah."

And then everything turned black and quiet.

                                                            To Be Continued…