#I'm so EXHAUSTED...... I'm in... exhaustion fog... staring at a wall...

[amburuthings]

Blog and blogger

Tagged by @galadrieljones on this interesting picrew

Wearing down my oversized sweaters attending dozens of protests and gatherings, brows uneven and hair unbrushed ? VERY accurate (*shade of brown may vary)

Tagging @lathbora-virann @gefionne @bucketsofmonsters @mickeysalamander @luna-teacup @midnight-enansal without any knowledge of who might have already done it !!

[fellominaarcher]

then you're the best part — Giselle x fem!reader

↳ Fic type: oneshot

↳ Content warning: FLOOOFYY & healthy relationship & maybe a little boring

↳ main m.list | æspa m.list

Beep.

The front door chimed softly—someone had just keyed in the passcode. A click followed, the door unlocking, then the motion sensor light flickered on as someone stepped inside.

Pink-haired and exhausted, Aeri Uchinaga toed off her sleek YSL boots at the threshold, sighing as she sat for a moment on the step just past the genkan. The weight of the day—rehearsals, meetings has finally slid off her shoulders. What time was it now? She checked briefly. 1:03 AM. Too late to be out, but too early to sleep on an anniversary night like this.

Boots off, bag down, she stood and stretched, already hearing faint sounds from the kitchen—pots clinking, water running, familiar domestic noises that belonged to her girl. Y/N was still up, naturally. She was always the night owl of the two, often awake until 3 or 4 AM, either cooking, dancing in socks, or binge-watching some horror show she’d rewatch a million times.

"I'm hooomeee," Aeri called out in a sing-song voice as she passed the kitchen, waving lazily even if she wasn’t sure Y/N saw it. She headed straight to their shared bedroom.

From the kitchen, Y/N’s voice rang out, playful and warm, “Okay-ieee, go shower, lady!”

Aeri chuckled under her breath, already feeling lighter.

Outside, a gentle midnight rain fell. Not heavy. Just that calm, rhythmic kind—the kind of rain that makes you want to curl up in bed or slow-dance barefoot in the living room.

Soft footsteps pattered against the wood flooring behind her. Then, two excited barks.

Aeri smiled without turning around. “Cooper!” she cooed, kneeling just in time for her beloved Sheepadoodle to crash into her arms, tail wagging so hard it thumped against the walls.

“Someone missed me,” she giggled, letting the dog lick her cheeks and chin as she scratched behind his ears. “You’re such a good boy, huh?”

She puckered her lips for a kissy face, and Cooper gave her a dramatic, wet lick right across the mouth. Laughing, she stood up again. “I gotta shower, bub. It’s way past your bedtime.” She tried to sound motherly to a dog.

She puckered her lips for a kissy face, and Cooper gave her a dramatic, wet lick right across the mouth. Laughing, she stood up again. “I gotta shower, bub. It’s way past your bedtime.”

She gave him one last pat before grabbing a towel from the closet, already peeling off her shirt and jeans as she stepped further into the bedroom. Bare-shouldered and flushed from the heat inside the apartment, she padded into the bathroom after removing her makeup in a quick routine. The mirror fogged up fast as she stepped into the shower, letting the hot water hit her tired muscles and wash the day away.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Y/N was focused. Her hands moved with practiced ease, slicing tofu into perfect cubes, then pushing them gently into a bubbling pot of kimchi jjigae. The soup was thick and red, made with love—aged kimchi, green onions, tofu, thinly sliced pork belly, and a dash of sesame oil for extra depth.

The rice cooker dinged in the background. Hot steam poured out as she opened it, scooping fluffy white rice into matching ceramic bowls. Everything was almost ready.

This wasn’t just a late-night craving. It was their third anniversary. Three years of being together—through comebacks, rumors, camera flashes, and stolen vacations. And though Aeri had been booked all day and couldn’t make it home until now, Y/N didn’t mind. She never did, not when it came to Aeri.

Sipping her Coke from a wine glass just for the vibe, Y/N started plating the side dishes with care.

And then enter Cooper.

The Sheepadoodle padded into the kitchen like he owned it, blinking up at her with that innocent, curious look he always wore. Y/N paused, mid-reach for a spoon, and blinked back. It was a full-on staring contest.

And just like that—like a light bulb clicking on—Y/N grinned.

A mischievous little idea formed in her mind, curling up like steam from the soup. “Come here, Cooper,” she whispered, crouching down and motioning to him like a cartoon villain who’d just hatched a plan. “Let’s do something before your mommy comes back.”

Fresh out of the shower, Aeri felt like a brand-new person. Her long pink hair was loosely gathered with a claw clip, some stray bangs falling around her face in soft, messy waves. Dressed in an oversized tee and pajama shorts, she padded barefoot to the dining area, the scent of something spicy and savory drawing her closer.

The lights were dimmed just right. It was cozy, warm and the table was already set with utensils, drinks, and a small Post-it note placed neatly on one of the chairs.

“Have a seat, Ms. Uchinaga.”

Aeri chuckled, the corner of her lips tugging up in fond amusement. “Y/N, you’re so dramatic,” she muttered to herself, but she obeyed, pulling out the chair and sitting down with a soft sigh.

Right on cue, Y/N emerged from the kitchen, holding a tray like a proud little chef at her Michelin-starred restaurant. “Welcome to Y/N’s Restaurant. Hope you enjoy your supper, ma’am,” she grinned, placing the tray on the table and beginning to arrange the plates with care: steaming kimchi jjigae, warm rice, pickled radish, and side dishes arranged with love.

“Hmm, thank you. I’d like one serving of hot food and one serving of you for supper,” Aeri replied with a wink, locking in with Y/N’s playful bit.

Y/N raised a brow and tilted her head dramatically. “Cannibalism? Ma’am, you want to eat me for supper?” she whispered in mock horror before snickering as she placed the kimchi bowl and radish pickles in front of her girlfriend.

Aeri leaned in slightly, the atmosphere suddenly shifting from play to something more tender, her voice softer. “Not when you look this cute.”

Y/N sat down across from her, resting her elbows gently on the table, her chin in her hands as she watched Aeri fondly. “Happy third anniversary, baby. I love you,” she said, her voice warm, eyes glowing with that look, the one that only ever belonged to Aeri.

Aeri’s eyes met hers. A quiet smile formed before she exhaled softly. “Thank you, Y/N. Happy third anniversary to us, cutie. I love you more.” She reached out to take Y/N’s hand, interlacing their fingers naturally, like breathing.

They stayed like that for a moment, letting the silence settle between them. Not awkward, not forced. Just full.

“…And you still owe me a slow dance,” Y/N added, lips curling into a sly smile as she raised a brow.

Aeri laughed under her breath, nodding with a hum. “I haven’t forgotten. A deal’s a deal.” She winked teasingly at Y/N.

Y/N turned her head, then gave a gentle whistle.

Within seconds, Cooper came bounding in from the hallway, except this time, the Sheepadoodle was wearing a birthday cap slightly lopsided on his head. Taped onto the hat was another bright yellow Post-it, clearly written in Y/N’s handwriting.

It read: “From your son, happy 3rd anniversary mommy.”

Aeri burst out laughing, nearly tearing up from the sight. “You didn’t—Y/N!” she squealed, covering her mouth as she watched Cooper sit proudly in front of the table, clearly oblivious to the paper hat flopping over one eye.

“Had to include the real MVP,” Y/N grinned, leaning back with pride. “He helped with the plan.”

Cooper barked, tail wagging like a metronome of joy, and Aeri gestured for him to come closer. “C’mere, baby,” she cooed, pulling out the chair next to her. With a proud little hop, the Sheepadoodle climbed up and settled beside her, sitting tall like he belonged there.

Across the table, Y/N was already laughing, full belly, full heart. “He looks like he’s about to file taxes,” she joked, pointing at the lopsided birthday hat barely hanging onto Cooper’s head. Aeri laughed harder, pulling off the yellow Post-it.

She gave it a quick glance, then let out another giggle, the kind that made her eyes crinkle and her dimples pop. Before she forgot, she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of Cooper, committing this ridiculous moment to memory.

Dinner was filled with warm bites of kimchi jjigae, comfortable conversation, and lots of "here, try this one" across the table. The soup was just spicy enough to fight off the cold rain outside, and Y/N's cooking, while humble, was always her love language, always just what Aeri needed.

Later that night, the two of them settled into the living room, their hands brushing, laughter trailing behind them like perfume. The city was quiet beyond the windows, and the rain hadn’t let up, still drizzling gently, like the sky itself was sighing with them.

And then, another surprise.

Aeri blinked. “What…?”

The lights were dimmed, but in front of them, strung across the living room wall, was a 3-meter-long trail of Christmas tree lights, glowing gold, green, and red, throwing soft shadows across their features. The same ones they’d packed away in January, the ones that made the room feel like a home.

From the corner of the room, the Bluetooth speaker came to life—click, a small buzz—and then, soft and low, the opening chords of “Best Part” by Daniel Caesar ft. H.E.R. played.

Y/N turned to her with that signature grin, that confident little tilt of her head. “Dance with me.” She invited Aeri with a hand extended out.

Aeri didn’t even hesitate.

They met in the center of the living room, arms slipping around each other like they were molded that way. Y/N’s hands found Aeri’s waist; Aeri's arms wrapped gently around her neck. The lights cast halos across their faces, catching on lashes, lips, pink hair and sleepy eyes.

“You don’t know, babe…” the lyrics melted into the room like honey.

Y/N leaned in slightly, whispering in Aeri’s ear, “I forgot to say earlier... congratulations, baby. To you. To aespa. Billboard Women in Music? That’s insane. I’m so proud of you.” Her eyes bored into Aeri's dark eyes.

Aeri exhaled a laugh, shaking her head bashfully. “Thank you… that means a lot coming from the prettiest girl in this apartment.” She responded with a grin on her face.

“Well, Cooper’s very flattered,” Y/N teased.

Right on cue, the Sheepadoodle spun in circles around them, yipping with joy and tail wagging furiously. His little hat had finally fallen off. The couple broke into laughter, their bodies swaying with the music.

“You’re the coffee that I need in the morning…”

Aeri leaned in and pressed her lips to Y/N’s. It wasn’t showy or rushed, just a soft kiss that tasted like comfort and rain and love in its purest form. She didn’t let go. She buried her face into the crook of Y/N’s neck, breathing her in.

“I’m such a lucky girl,” Aeri whispered against her skin.

Then she bent down, scooping Cooper up in her arms, the cute dog wiggling excitedly as she brought him back to their little dance floor.

“Okay, come on, you too,” she said with a giggle. “Family dance.”

And so, under the golden glow of borrowed Christmas lights, while the rain kept singing to the windows, Aeri and Y/N slow danced in their pajamas—arms wrapped around each other, and Cooper sandwiched between them, tail wagging in time with the music.

It was perfect.

æspa m.list | main m.list

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Breaking in (Part 3)

Summary: Joel claims you.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOOOOT EATTTT. Noncon, dark dark themes, sexual slavery, reader is in pain and exhausted, gang bang, angst, insecure reader, oral (F receiving), riding, over stimulation, physical abuse, creampie, bruises, tiny bits of blood, please tell me if I'm missing something else!!!

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x reader, Dark! Javier Peña x reader, Dark! Marcus Acacius x reader, Dark! Oberyn Martell x reader, Dark! Agent Whiskey x reader, Dark! Dieter Bravo x reader, Dark! Frankie Morales x reader

Series Masterlist

Catfish hands felt warm, cozy, as he hoisted you up. You whimpered, your body aching for rest. Protests begun rumbling in the room, and it felt like both Catfish and you glanced pleadingly at Joel.

His jaw was squared, and you saw the others. They were pleading, too. Pleading for one more glance, one more go, a bit more of your flesh to chew on. They are like dogs, obedient ones, and Joel is their master.

He nudges. A sign so faint you can't catch it, but Catfish's trained eyes can. Your legs are to weak to move, they stumble against the cool floors as he leads you out the open door. Into the hallway. Into the bath.

Your head spins as your lungs heave against your chest, desperate for fresh air. You feel your muscles pulsing, blood pumping to form bruises at your battered body. No more no more no more.

Catfish hesitates on giving you a bath, considering your state, but he knows they aren't patient. He doesn't even kick the door close before propping you against the tiled wall, your hands rushing to support you. He haphazardly turns on the water and immediately presents his palm, testing the temperature. Droplets splatter against your side, eyes glossy as you stare at him through the curtain of water.

Your eyes fog, head reeling back against the wall. Your eyelids clench, motion which you had always associated with comfort until now. Despite the warmth washing over you, you still feel their lingering hands.

The room is almost pitch black, the moon's lighting fighting through the window. Your body is spread on the table, you are a feast. Shadows creep around you, and the familiar calloused hand traces up your thigh, In a flash, multiple of them are on you. Jabbing at your cunt, rubbing your clit, pinching your tits and ass and thighs. Your arms are stuck at your side, unable to move despite not being bound, your jaw barely protests as your head is pulled off the table and mouth is forced open. Their laughs ring in your ear.

He calls your name softly, and you jerk your head up, body following and tumbling forward. Catfish caught you. You barely see him, eyeballs rolling back with exhaustion. You feel water fall over your hair, and face, and down your body.

"Fuck," he curses under his breathe, arms flexing as he holds you. His grip is tight, but not painful, and your legs aren't strong enough to hold you, not in that moment. Suddenly, he kicks off his shoes and socks, both worn and tattered, and enters the shower. "Hold onto me."

Your hands come to rest on his big shoulders, dampening the fabric. One arm curls around your waist, and you front is pressed flushed against his as reaches around for the dissipating bar of soap.

Any other time, he would have let you do it, but he lathers the soap precisely and almost carelessly- you reprimand yourself for that thought. He's doing his best.

The waxy surface is a barrier against your bruised skin and his calloused palm, reaching into every crevice of your flesh. He wants you clean; you recall he hasn't had a go, perhaps that's why.

The denim on his thighs become wet, and you roll on the balls of your feet, suddenly ashamed to splash him any further. His arm brings you right back, a faint gasp leaving your chapped lips.

Firstly, because your eyes raised to his, and you saw something you didn't like; dark, hungry, wolfish. They stared at you beneath thick furrowed brows, and you saw a flicker of Joel in his features.

Secondly, hidden behind the thick fabric of his jeans, a familiar outline pressed right onto your stomach.

He shook his head, as if resetting his own thoughts and turned you around with ease, your palms propping on the tiles. The water sprinkled down your face, and he pushed your hair away to wash your back.

"Why won't you fuck me?" You mutter lowly, and your eyelids clench in frustration as the words slip out. His movements falter, the bar almost slipping down the curve of your ass.

"Do you, not like me?" You pushed, and as if you had pressed a button, he began scrubbing you again, hastily.

Of course he wouldn't answer.

You felt stupid for even asking. God, did having all six men after you made you high? Why would he like you?

You now were very aware of your state in front of him. The little hairs that slowly prickled at your legs, how your figure had thinned after eating so little in the last days, the way your skin had paled.

"I'm clean." You bit. More angry than you expected, angrier than he deserved. He retreated his hand and you stepped closer into the stream, unable to glance back at him. The water hid the stubborn tears pricking at your eyes.

You did look at him when you stepped clumsily over the tub's edge, wondering about the towel. He dried his hands on his already soaked jeans and walked right past you, the only acknowledgement being a ghosting hand on your lower back.

Walking back there felt like walking to your doom. Your legs shook and your core ached, persistent on the feeling of dampness deep inside you. From the open door, you barely got a glimpse of Whiskey, thighs spread as he sat onto the wooden chair and Marcus leaning onto the wall; someone's burnt orange shirt too- Oberyn.

You reached the room.

"Fuckhole's back." Dieter announced, and eyes shot at you. The chill of the room along the wetness that trickled down your back didn't cool their burning stares.

Catfish helped you to seat on the edge of the bed and you hung your head low; you heard heavy steps and accompanied by Joel's deep grumble voice. "Blindfold."

You felt the flannel pressed against your face and you closed your eyes on instinct. A hand pulled your chin up, thumb stroking the little lines of blood that seeped through your lips.

"Such a beauty." He groaned, so low you couldn't even catch the owner. But praise was praise, and your cheeks warmed.

The same hand pushed you onto the bed, tense muscles crashing onto the mattress. Your legs parted for support, and he took it. He ran his temple along your inner thigh, and you heard him exhale.

What was this?

A decisive and wet lick in your cunt sent your spine curling against the mattress, a throaty whimper eliciting from your mouth. Before you could recover, he delivered another one, from your perineum to your clit. And another, and another.

Each of them sent shots of pleasure right onto your nerves, and your thighs trapped his head in place. He chuckled against your core, but was quick to continue his assault. A slower one ended with his lips wrapped against your clit, suckling. Your knees trembled and your hips jolted, feeling a slight pain in your swollen folds.

He placed your knees over his shoulders and his hands clenched around your thighs, pulling your quivering body closer. Your mouth parted itself, rewarding him in ways you couldn't fathom.

He continued devouring you, alternating between pushing his tongue into your used cunt and bullying your clit. Your jaw went slack, as your moans were getting more ragged by the second.

"Give me a name." Someone growled at your ear. Your head shook, colliding softly against that curved nose. His hand was on your throat, fingers shoving your face closer to his. Plump lips swallowed your whines, devouring them. Joel. The owner of your pleasure.

Your head attempted to recall the past names. The ones that you were forced to say, those who you were forced to identify. Your mind reeled at the pair of lips upon yours. You silent made him more eager, lapping your juices as two thick digits began prodding at your entrance.

They slammed in, and you yelped against Joel's lips. He took the second of distance to murmur, with faux sweetness. "You better give me a name before you cum, puppy."

You felt the coil tightening on your lower belly, thick muscle tickling you. Short licks flicked at your clit.

You were down three names. Joel-who was whispering into your ear-, Oberyn and Catfish.

The last name sparked some joy in you, a breathe of air. Could this be his way of telling you he actually wanted you?

He wasn't fucking you, wasn't taking anything for himself. He was pleasuring you, eating you like a man starved. You were too lost to think properly about it.

"C-Catfish." You whimpered. Teeth grazed your clit as the man between your thighs sneered.

The warmth by your side dissipated as the bed creaked, and you felt it un-dip. Your hand came to grasp the sheet, only to find the bare bed. Nails dragged against the detailing.

Slap.

The sound smacked you first, and then did his palm. You felt wetness seep from your cunt.

"Wrong."

You were so close, so painfully close.

"O-Oberyn!" You screamed, and your legs felt limp, wide spread around you. He pushed your knees to your chest, ravaging.

Your felt pressure, and you, and you...

It relieved, and he drunk the squirts of arousal that shot our of your cunt with renewed vigor. Your whole body was on fire as he finger-fucked you through your high.

"Oberyn." You mewled, scared the name wasn't heard properly. Disappointment dripped down your temples in scalding tears. Every inch of you was on fire.

His ministrations slowed before he let your core rest with wet pop. You clenches around nothing, noticing the increasing sting on your cheek. You were a rag doll against the bed.

"Like the way you say my name." Oberyn commented coyly before slinking into his feet.

Joel had heard everything.

Why won't you fuck me?

Wasn't six dicks enough?

Wasn't his dick enough?

He stared at your limp body, marks of ownership and claim already blossoming on your skin. Your cunt, swollen and dripping. His cock hadn't been this hard in ages.

He thought about fucking your ass. Make you real sorry for speaking that way to Catfish. Make you confess your sins. But playing the long game was more fun.

He strutted to the bed with some pride. Pride that he could do what he wanted to you, pride that Catfish couldn't stop him. He observed the way you flinched as he pulled down his zipper. His pants and boxers where next. He didn't mind the state of undress in front of his men.

He pushed you aside as he climbed onto the bed, plopping a pillow for his aged back against the head board. His rough hands felt like sandpaper against your skin, but he adored the way your tits bounced as he positioned you to straddle his lap, your dripping cunt poised just above his massive, throbbing cock. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and he could see the thick vein running along the underside of his shaft pulsing with each beat of his heart.

He leaned in close, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. He was sure you could smell the whiskey on his breath, the one he had indulged in while watching his men fuck you, could feel the rough stubble of his beard scratching against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, calloused fingers skimming over your ribs before cupping your breasts, squeezing them roughly. He inhaled deeply before resuming his position.

He punctuated his actions with a sharp thrust of his hips, his cock-head catching on your entrance and sending a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. Your blindfolded eyes shot open wide beneath the fabric, a silent scream catching in your throat as he stretched you impossibly wide around his thick girth. The burn of the sudden intrusion was intense, bordering on painful, as your walls struggled to accommodate his size. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your tits, kneading and squeezing, his thumbs and forefingers pinching and tugging at your nipples until they were stiff, aching peaks.

He could feel your body trembling in his lap, could see the way your walls fluttered around his cock, trying to draw him in. He smirked, a wicked, cruel twist of his lips.

But he didn't give you a chance to adjust. His hands gripped your hips punishingly hard as he started to move, slamming your body up and down on his cock with brutal, animalistic fervor. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with the creaking of the bed frame as he fucked into you with reckless abandon.

One of his hands slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. He fisted the strands tightly, wrenching your head back and forcing your chin to tilt up. At the same time, his other hand came down on your ass in a harsh, stinging slap, the pain only adding to the overwhelming sensations consuming your body.

Your lips parted as your face contorted in pain. You wailed, carelessly. "Joel!"

He smirked at the way you recognized him, and his eyes skipped your face. Catfish. His soldier's eyes flickered from your bouncing ass to Joel's face when he realized he was being watched. His brows lowered with amusement and a smile tugged at the edge of his lips. He spoke again, voice heavy with lust. "Louder."

You moan, "JOEL!"

Look at your perfect angel.

He caught your hands and pressed them to his chest, forcing you impossibly deeper.

"That's it, puppy," he growled, his voice a dark, cruel taunt. "Scream for me. Let the whole fucking room hear who this needy cunt belongs to."

He punctuated his words with a particularly vicious thrust, grinding his pelvis against your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure-pain shooting through your core. Your walls clamped down around him, fluttering wildly as your orgasm approached like a runaway train.

Catfish stared in awe. He took in the way your tits bounced and jiggled with each brutal thrust, the way your ass rippled as Joel's hips slammed against it. He could see the obscene stretch of your pussy around Joel's thick cock, the wet squelch of your juices dripping down his balls.

"Louder, puppy," he commanded, his voice a low and dominant. "Let him-them hear you scream for me. Let them see who this cunt belongs to, who makes you feel this fucking good."

Your whine comes out needy. But you chant his name either way.

Joel felt your pussy clench and spasm around his cock as your orgasm ripped through you, your screams of ecstasy echoing off the walls. The sensation was exquisite, your velvety walls gripping him like a hot, slick fist as they milked his throbbing shaft. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he found his own release.

A guttural, animalistic groan tore from his throat as he began to cum, his cock pulsing and jerking as it pumped thick ropes of hot seed deep into your convulsing cunt. He gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he ground against you, ensuring every last drop of his essence was planted inside your fertile womb. Something overtook him.

As the last spurts of Joel's release dripped into you, he pulled you into a rough, dominating kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth and swallowing your cries of pleasure. He bit at your lower lip hard enough to taste copper, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh and leaving a mark of his own.

Finally, with a last, possessive grind of his hips, he broke the kiss and leaned back, taking in the debauched sight of you straddling his lap. Your hair was a wild tangle, your skin flushed and glistening with sweat, your tits heaving with each ragged breath, bite marks sinking into your tits, blue and violet painting your inner thighs. His cum oozed out around his softening cock, dripping down your legs and onto the sheets below. It turned a pretty pink color.

Tags:

@tateypots @koshkaj-blog @paink1llerf0rm1ller @oldloganslittleslut @purple-fig @megjohnston23 @katwriteshardy @natalieispunk

@puduvallee @pedrofan @rant-throw-away @jalepp @lumpatto @miragens-para-uma-vitoria

[suempu]

tw: nonconsensual kissing. graphic wording.

"you look lonely."

ivan sighs while you situate yourself on the sofa beside him. his room is pitch dark, save for the light from the tv broadcast.

mindless advertisements and commercials mix and buzz into the air, creating a fog of background noise. and you wonder whose poor soul is getting killed on that stage at this very moment.

you spread your arm and dramatically bring him into a side hug. "nothing a bit of booze won't fix. ha ha ha!!" exclaiming with the vigor of an alcoholic, ivan can only groan in frustration.

"i'm not getting wasted with you." his eyes look worn down, mouth wrinkling into a frown as he tries to hide the agony behind a stone cold face.

a part of him is comforted by your presence, a sense of normality washes over him. as if you two were still children playing across the fake fields and staring at the equally as fake sky, laughing as you tackled each other to the ground and picked flowers.

"too late, i brought the good shit." you snicker as you bring out weird looking bottles. you're not exactly sure how safe these are for humans but the aliens seem to love it so, who cares? "this was hard to steal by the way, i got it from those private rooms."

ivan stares at you for a moment and eventually rests his head on your shoulder. he looks at you, cold ice wall melting down and you're met with the sight of absolute pain and distress on his pretty face when he sighs.

"why does it have to feel like this?" he whispers, voice cracking from the amount of vocal training and warmups he's been forced to endure that day.

you take a deep breath and open a bottle, careful with your movements as his heavy head rested on your arm. "what? wanna runaway? you know i wouldn't hesitate if you asked." chuckling as you tried reading the labels.

ivan knows though. you're the closest thing he's got to a friend. you'd do anything for him and with him. and of course he'd do the same but... you're not the person he holds nearest to his heart.

"it's funny," he watches as you sniff the alcoholic aroma before taking a sip. "no matter how much they make us do these—things, no matter how much it hurts... why is this thing in my chest more painful?"

your face falls blank, glaring at the bottle before taking a big chug. you hope it'll get rid of your own pain, wash away all the emotions and feelings of him.

and its funny. because what kind of weird fucking love hexagon is this?

you despise till.

you wish you could tear his bones out and wear his skin, take out his tongue and say all the things ivan has always wanted to hear and keep his heart for your own.

"i wish i knew the answer to that."

looking down at him and seeing his exhausted face, makes your heart break. you want to gather yours and his shattered pieces and construct a deformed statue of love and just hope it'll be enough for him. enough to replace the burning loneliness he's been forced to go through.

but no. even if he were to love you, it'd take a million years to pass, thousands of stars to die, and hundreds of planets to explode until then.

you bump your forehead into his and watch as his eyes widen. smirking to yourself, you think, what more could i lose?

"let's be lonely together then. just this once."

you whisper before kissing him.

[naomikozura]

Playing With Fire: Chapter 13

Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Fem!Reader (Criminal)

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Romance

Warnings: Strong language, use of weapons, guns, blood, mentions of torture, mentions of bombs, mentions of stalking (if you squint), character death (minor), physical/bodily harm, bombs, emotional turmoil, guns, complicated family dynamics, emotional and mental distress, severe injuries, gun wounds, knife wounds, angst (lmk if I missed any!)

WC: 15.5K (she's long i know, i'm sorry :') we have ground to cover)

Summary: Everything is unraveling, nothing is turning the way he thought it would, all of it burning in front of his very eyes. He truly believed he would get his vengeance, believed he would get everything he ever wanted but did the world end for him instead?

Series Masterlist

Chapter 12 || Chapter 14

Jason's POV

The ringing of the room filled his ears, his eyes prying open, but the heaviness of his body, weighed down by pain and exhaustion, made it feel like lifting a thousand pounds. Every movement was a struggle, his breath labored and uneven as he tried to focus.

There was a roughness that filled his senses, his body was being tugged on and shoved around, confusion building up as he tried to grasp what was happening around him. A familiar voice slowly leaked through the haze. It cut through the fog of his disoriented thoughts, as if it was trying to reach him from far away. 

He felt his mouth move, words trying to form but no coherent sentence formed as he mumbled. The voice responded to him, the blurriness in vision making him confused as he tried to focus. Another second passed, the haze starting to lift just enough to let reality sink into his bones.

Something was off. Something didn’t feel right.

“Jason”, the voice echoed, the familiarity snapping him to consciousness. “Come help me.”

Another voice sounded further away, growing louder as it approached. He felt his chains loosen as his body fell limp on the ground, hands grabbing him and turning him over. He mumbled something else before two sets of hands lifted him and leaned him against the wall. 

“Jason”

“Look here.”

“Where is Joker?”

“Drink this.” 

“We need to get him to the Cave”

“Don’t get up”

The voices started to clear, the deep navy suit coming into focus. His eyes moved towards the form, the familiar face slowly making him relax. The black second suit made his senses go into full affect, his body moving before he hunched over in pain. A set of hands helping him before he pushed them away, trying to force himself to stand. His body felt wobbly, his head pounding, and his muscles sore. He felt that strong metallic taste in his mouth, rubbing his lips with the back of his hand as he pushed away one of the hands trying to grab him. 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, Jason.”, the voice was hazy, deep and clear yet sounded far. 

His eyes met his older brother’s through their domino masks, Nightwing staring in shock and worry while Jason stared at him in annoyance, anger, and frustration.

Why the hell were they here? How long had he been unconscious? Where was Joker…. Where were you?

As he stood upright, Jason felt every crack in his body, the bones stretching from the uncomfortable position he had been in on the ground. He hurt everywhere but his adrenaline helped subside the pain. He had gone through far worse and was used to Joker’s stupid games, you however… Bile rose in his throat at the thought.

The thought of Joker doing to you what he had to him six years ago, the thought that you had given yourself to the son of a bitch without so much as a second thought all for him. He groaned at the pain, forcing himself to search for his helmet, needing to find you. 

“Jason, stop.”, the firm voice forced him to meet the hardened gaze of his mentor, the two bodies around him trying to help but he felt nothing inside except pure rage at the fact that they were wasting his time.

Time he needed to find you. 

“Get.. out.. Of my way.”, he forced through clenched teeth. A strong hand gripped his shoulder, turning him around as he felt his older brother hold onto him and forced him to meet him eye to eye. 

“You’re injured. You’re not in any position to go back out there and fight them!”, Dick’s voice was sharp, worried, trying to be convincing. “Let Bruce and I handle this, you’re only going to get worse and your body is spent. You go out there now you won’t be any help to her.”

“What do you know?”, he spat out in a low growl. “You don’t know shit about anything that I have been doing, I can help her. I’m the only one who knows how these motherfuckers move around the city.”

“Listen for once! You think you’re any use with your body practically about to give out?”, a plea that fell on completely deaf ears. 

“Nightwing is right, Red.”, that fucking voice. 

Jason turned his head slowly, meeting his adoptive father’s steel gaze once again. “I don’t care who’s right and who’s wrong, this is my doing. I’m going after them and standing here wasting time debating isn’t going to fucking help her!”

There was no time, no time to argue, to stop and think, to wait for his body to feel okay. He needed to get to wherever the hell Joker had taken you, likely back to Black Mask, and get you the hell out before the son of a bitch could do more damage. 

“You almost falling to your feet isn’t going to help her either.”, Bruce’s voice was deep, but firm. “I planted a tracker on her when I bumped into her downtown, we can-”

“You ran into her?! When? How?”, Jason’s mind couldn’t wrap around how the hell Bruce found her before he could. 

“Downtown, a little over an hour ago but it doesn’t matter.”, Bruce said calmly, “We need to get you to the cave, Nightwing and I can go after-”

“No!”, Jason growled. “I’m going after them, I need to find her.”

Confusion flooded through Jason, but he forced himself to focus. The two of you had a plan, a way to rendezvous and you never showed. He knew it was because Calvi had leaked false leads to him and you to keep you separated. 

Calvi. The son of a bitch. 

Just thinking about him made Jason’s blood boil. Suspicion followed Calvi around since the first time he saw him at Sapphire, he seemed too calculative and thought out, like he was always three steps ahead of everyone else. There was nothing that gave him away quite as much as that night the two of you met at the Gala, his departure with Marcos giving away the slight tell that pointed all fingers to him. It was Calvi’s ultimate mistake. 

4 months ago, Sapphire Elite Club

Sapphire was known to be one of Gotham’s most elite clubs on the upper east side, filled with rich businessmen, models, actresses, fashion designers, and all of Gotham’s rich and powerful. There was more money and power in one room than the entire country combined when it came to weekends at the club. It had been busy all morning, but it didn’t stop Jason from still finding his way into the main sitting room that had the open bar and meeting tables scattered around the room.

Jason ordered himself a Jameson neat, thanking the bartender before finding his seat at the far back of the room while reading his book. The Arrest of Arsene Lupin. A classic from his private collection, and a recommendation from Alfred back whenever he still lived in the Manor when he was…. “Alive”. 

Jason’s eyes flickered to the main entrance as he heard a group of men grab a roundtable with a chess set and sit down, two of them stayed standing while the rest ordered with one of the servers.

Calvi Calbera.

One of the most powerful men in Gotham and the main player in the underground trade, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Intelligent and well-mannered, known as one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors behind none other than Bruce Wayne, but behind closed doors, he was a monster of a man.

He played a major hand in every trade that happened with Gotham’s criminals, finding weapons on the Black market and selling them to those willing to pay his fees for his services. Made him not only rich and powerful to the underground but also to those in the upper side of the city. Jason was here to learn more about Calvi, his interest peaking because of his background in the underground rings of Gotham and could be a key player in taking down Black Mask. It all just depended on his price on protection and his willingness to move forward with the Red Hood. 

Most importantly, he needed to get to Calvi before any other kingpins could and essentially rip apart another key player on his chess board. 

Jason examined Calvi closely, watching his body movements, his mannerisms, the way he scanned the room as though he was being monitored or looking for any potential threats. Sapphire was well guarded, the security systems and intense background screenings ensured that any and everyone who entered the club was accounted for and were not able to bypass the tightest of measures.

Of course the systems would never find out about Calvi’s black market trade and his meddling with Gotham criminals, just like it would never find out about Jason’s work as a vigilante or his own underground ring with the drug lords and crime bosses of the city. 

Two men well protected by their own false personas. 

That might be the only thing Calvi and him had in common. 

That and…

You…

Jason’s eyes snapped to the entrance as he watched you move across the room in a devastatingly beautiful dress that loosely hung onto your body. It was mid thigh, and tight enough to show off the curves of your body but still loose to leave enough to the imagination. Your hair and makeup was meticulously planned for seduction, Jason could tell in the way you let your hair frame your face and your hair bounced in a perfectly done blowout.

You looked seductive, alluring, mysterious and… breathtaking. 

Jason lowered his book, watching as you made a b-line towards the bar, sitting down as he saw your entire back was exposed, showing off the curve of your spine, your hair falling down the back of your dress, leaving him wondering just how you would curve your body against his if he walked up behind you and…

His attention snapped back to reality as he watched Calvi excuse himself and make his way over to the bar, his cool and suave exterior on full display as he reached you and you turned to meet his gaze, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear before flashing that soft, delicate smile at Calvi. It made his blood fuel with fire. 

He didn’t know if it was because Calvi was the one approaching you or because his annoyance with you made him want to make you suffer a little more. His eyes flickered to your arm, noticing the bruise he’d given you just a few days ago in the subway was fading, a simple reminder of his encounter and almost trying to kill you. 

Almost. 

He didn’t mean to put you in such a compromising position, besides you were just an errand girl for the men whose empires he would soon make crumble. He had fun toying with you, but you were not his objective here, Calvi was. He needed to find an in to get him the information he needed and wanted to ensure his plan moving forward with dismantling Black Mask would happen seamlessly. 

A flicker of light reflected off the wine glass in your hand, another smile thrown at the man next to you as Jason watched you accept his business card. Sly dog. He knew Calvi wouldn’t resist whatever temptation game you were playing, afterall seducing men was your strong point. 

He watched carefully as you left the bar, closing his book and leaving a tip on the table before following closely behind you. He kept a good distance, letting himself camouflage with the people around him to keep from you turning around and seeing him. His hand twitched as you found your way to the front door and had to stop himself from grabbing your wrist and turning you around to confront whatever deep desire he had growing inside the pit of his stomach.

Instead, he pulled back, letting himself stalk in the hallway as you walked out of the door and went home for the evening. 

A dark thought flickered in his mind. Maybe he’d pay you a visit. 

Remind you to keep your nose out of his personal business. 

2 weeks after Sapphire 

The club reeked of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and gunpowder, a terrible place to run an underground operation but it was no different than the stupid hideout Penguin had at the Iceberg Lounge. Jason didn’t care about the club itself, only the man inside. He was dressed in his signature Red Hood attire, dark motorcycle jacket on his upper half and dark combat boots, guns and knives in their holsters that wrapped around his muscular thighs while his bright red helmet gleamed under the streetlights as he walked up to the club owned by his new ally. 

Calvi was here tonight. 

Jason was able to convince Calvi to work with him shortly after the day at Sapphire. Apparently you had already made his way to his estate when he had arrived, Calvi sending you home shortly after he’d arrived. He didn’t miss the slight tint of red on Calvi’s cheek after you had left, what the two of you did in his estate prior to his arrival was none of his business. 

He was here now and needed to make another order. That and to make sure he could get more intel on the other underground men he was working with. This club would be a dead giveaway if he had any clients on Jason’s hit list. He walked to the back door that was well guarded and hidden from the other entrances in the area. It was smart to keep the back entrance hidden since no one ever showed in the eerie side of the alleys out of fear of getting mugged by some lowly criminals. 

Jason had stated what he needed from Calvi’s security, and when one of them went inside to inform their boss and returned shortly after to receive Jason, he followed closely behind him to the meeting room inside of the club itself. The hallways were dark with minimal lighting, adding to the ambiance of the overall aesthetic of the club but also gave a dark energy that radiated off the walls.

He followed behind Calvi’s men as they pushed the door open for him to enter, his body having an internal reaction to the sheer fact that you were here with him.

You were here and now….

Now he couldn’t even fucking focus on why he was actually here. 

What the fuck were you doing here?

His eyes narrowed under the helmet, a swirl of annoyance growing in the pit of his stomach at the sight of you. Calvi started speaking, but Jason had tuned him out as he soaked in your damning appearance. Your hair was messy and your lips were swollen, lipstick a bit smeared and remnants of that red left faintly on Calvi’s own mouth.

Oh, you were playing this game and playing it fucking good. 

He gave Calvi all the shipments he needed, his eyes never leaving yours as he saw a flicker of anger go through your eyes, an emotion he knew you’d take out on him the next time you saw him. You wouldn’t beat him to the punch, not when he had his own piece of mind he wanted to give you. Calvi kept his answers quick and precise, giving the Red Hood all he needed for his plans. 

Once Calvi was done giving him everything he needed, he cut him short, forcing him against a corner while you stared at him with pure, raw hatred. Jason ordered Calvi to send you home, and when he tried to refuse, Jason only pushed him further. He knew Calvi wouldn’t argue, and when he managed to get you into a cab and leave, Jason made his way towards your apartment, preparing for whatever wrath you were about to unleash on him. 

He pulled himself over the ledge, making his way across the buildings surrounding your apartment before jumping to land on the stairwell the led to your window, pushing it open as he found you leaning over the counter, your back completely exposed to him. 

“You really know how to play the part of seductress, don’t you?”, the words slipped off his tongue with a sharp, disgusting venom that felt him feeling fueled inside. You were crossing every line, forcing his anger to rise into his gut and flood his senses, an annoyance that left him on fire. 

“Get out of my apartment, Red”, your voice was laced with your own personal venom, but not strong enough to match his own. 

He only crossed the room, his massive body standing over you as he continued, his voice having an edge to it as you screamed at him to get out of your apartment. Your eyes were filled with an anger he hadn’t ever seen before, not even your hatred for Black Mask compared to what he was seeing in front of him now.

He trapped you against the brick wall of your apartment, the edge in his voice growing sharper and the darkness that laced his voice was utterly unstable. You punched his chest, your face shoving in front of his as you spat at him with hate and anger. 

There was a part of him that knew he was bringing you to your limit, but he didn’t care, there was something primal in him that made him want you mad, that wanted you to take out all the hate on him. You only continued to punch him as his vulgar words filled your ears, not stopping as you yelled at him for the third time.

When he pushed back, you immediately went towards the dining table, trying to reach for your gun and he felt his possessiveness kick into overdrive. Jason pushed you against the table, your back flush against his chest and the utter contact lit him on fire. He wanted to turn your around and kiss you, claim you like you were his, fuck you like a man starved and remind you that you did not belong to anyone in this fucking city but him.

He pushed his body against you, trying to satisfy his need to feel more of your body on him as he continued to spit out his words and push you to your limit. 

Your body turned, your breasts against his chest as his arms caged you against the table and he towered over you, his senses overwhelmed by the proximity of you. He grabbed your face, his eyes flickering to your red, swollen lips and imagined what they would taste like, what they would feel like on his.

He wanted you and he had no right to.

You worked with Black Mask, you were the errand girl that only got in his way after every job he had, you were an annoyance, and yet he wanted more of you.

With pure hatred in your eyes, he wanted you to take it all out on him, punch him, slap him, fuck him until you were utterly spent and had nothing left to take out on him. He couldn’t stop himself when he wrapped an arm around your waist and the other around your throat only to hear the slight sound of your breath hitching in your throat. 

God, that drove him crazy. 

Then, you said words he never thought would ever leave your lips. 

“Do you think you’d be able to do even half of what you’re saying Calvi would do to me?”, a challenge. He knew he could give you worlds more than that son of a bitch could. He’d already had some sort of his own greediness with you, but Jason was far greedier. 

He tightened his grip on your neck, bringing your face so close to his he could smell the blood from you biting the inside of your cheek. He wanted to have every inch of you in every way Calvi never would. He would prove it to all of Gotham that you were his even if you didn’t know it yet. 

“Sweetheart, if I had you, there wouldn’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind who you belonged to.”, and with that, he let go of your face, finally listening to your final request to leave you alone as he slipped out the window and went to his safe house for the night. 

The Night of the Gala

“Calvi, Vivian. This is Jason Todd. My partner….”, Jason’s ears had tuned out everything Marcos had started saying to introduce him, his eyes meeting yours in a wonderfully trapped gaze. He soaked in every inch of your appearance, gold dress perfectly suited and crafted to fit your form like it was specially designed for you, your hair perfectly tied back and your make up made you look like a goddess.

Your eyes met him in an awestruck way, those (e/c) hues making his knees weak as he tightened his hand into a fist inside his pant pocket to keep himself from wanting to touch you at his leisure. He watched your shocked face, it was then he realized it was the first time you’d seen him without a single mask on, letting you take a moment to study his face before his lips curled into a charming smile.

His eyes filled with appreciation and interest at the sight of you. Although your face remained neutral, he could read every emotion in your eyes you were trying so desperately to hide. 

He quickly introduced himself, stretching his hand out and when yours fell into his gracefully, he kissed the back of it, never taking his gaze off of you. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. Looking away would be a waste of the beauty standing in front of him and he was going to soak in every moment he could get in. He rubbed the back of your hand at the introductions swapped between the two of you, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“Calvi, let’s catch up in the meeting room before they start the auction”, Marcos broke his trance, his eyes immediately darting to Calvi’s slick arm around your waist.

A silent claim but one Jason knew wasn’t Calvi’s to make.

No. You didn’t belong to anyone, especially not Calvi.

Jason refrained from wanting to rip his arm off of you, focusing on Marcos instead. 

“Calvi, let’s catch up in the meeting room before they start the auction. I’m sure Jason can keep Vivian company for a short while.” Marcos pulled away with Calvi, Jason watching closely and counting to ten after they walked out the doors, reaching in his pocket and clicking a remote, hearing the sound of two voices leak through the hearing device tucked into his ear. It was small, but enough to hide it from anyone else’s view. 

He turned to face you, breaking into a smile before following you out to the balcony and continuing the night as planned. The both of you had a long night ahead of you, and the Gala was just getting started. 

+++

Hours later, Jason couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think, couldn’t comprehend the reality of what he just let himself submit to.

Fuck.

You… you tasted like heaven, felt like sin, and sounded like everything he had ever wanted to hear from a woman.

He didn’t realize you drove him crazy, he was on the brink of insanity. He couldn’t hold back. Not when everything had been building up for weeks, not when he’d seen Calvi touch you like he owned you, not when he saw all the ways you dressed for him, not when your attitude turned him on, not when your fierceness and stubbornness made him angry but entertained all at once.

He couldn’t hold back anymore, especially not when all he thought about was if you were safe once you had been split from him at the gala. Not when he rushed to your apartment to make sure you were safe, and not when you opened the door looking as ethereal and breathtaking as ever. 

He needed to feel you, even just for a second. 

No one made him lose his control and easy as you did and even then… he wanted you to make him lose it all. 

His head was spinning, steading himself as he dumped his bag on the ground and loosened his tie. He had left your apartment only an hour ago and he was still reeling from the kiss you’d shared, his heart racing in his chest.

He walked over to the computer, pulling out a USB that was tucked away on the inside of his suit jacket, plugged it in and quickly pulled up the audio track. He pressed play, hearing two distinct voices leaking through the speakers before he turned down the background noise and turned the volume on the voices up.

“Have you been able to get in contact with Roman”

“No, he’s been quite difficult to contact recently.”, Calvi’s voice sounded muffled, clearly indicating it was him speaking and not Marcos. 

Jason had planted a bug within the lining of Marcos’ jacket, so he knew only Marcos’ voice would be clear and Calvi’s and everyone else's would be muffled, but not impossible to understand. 

“We’ve run into some problems with…”, there was a pause, then a whisper. “Red Hood.”

“Boss seems to enjoy toying with ‘em. Has you working with the Reds.”, Marcos asked. 

“Yeah, only long enough to see what exactly the son of a bitch is planning with how much stock he’s ordered over the past few weeks.”, Calvi admitted. “I managed to get in after four months, all I gotta do is stock up then get the hell out of there with my cut of the pay.”

Bingo. 

Calvi was a double agent. 

Jason had suspected it for a while, especially considering his interest in you and the timing of when Penguin asked you to look into Calvi. He knew there was the possibility Calvi had heard about you ahead of time, a small theory that Jason wanted to test out and now, it all confirmed right in front of him. 

He might’ve planned his whole persona around becoming acquainted with Marcos, but it was all to get enough trust to get a confession out of Calvi himself.

Afterall, it was all a suspicion and now he had proof. 

“Boss says we need to prepare for the worst. Move whatever it is you need to in order to get your people out of Gotham before the end of the month. That’s when everything goes into motion.”, Calvi quickly gave the run down to Marcos, Marcos only humming in agreement before the two of them continued to talk about a few more details shared between the underground groups of suppliers. 

Information on another shipment of weapons and bombs, most importantly, Marcos was the main dealer to find the last ingredient necessary for Joker Venom. It was what made him a popular dealer in the underground. Anything Calvi needed, he went to Marcos, and vice versa. 

Joker Venom. 

Jason’s eyes narrowed. 

That means Joker has had something planned for a while. Even before Black Mask broke him out, but would he continue to try to gas the city or do something more controlled?

“There’s an old warehouse where it’ll all be stored, somewhere no one will be able to get to it. The boss thinks the clown will blow it up sooner or later, but I’m warning you so you have time to get out of the city before the Joker and the Red Hood go toe to toe.”

In time. 

A warehouse. 

If he wanted to catch Joker, he needed to find that warehouse. Jason paused the audio, shutting off the computer before pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt before heading for a shower.

In due time, he will get Joker in his hands, exact his revenge, take down Black Mask and get you to safety in the process. 

Just one more week and a few more days. 

The stress, the nightmare, the work. All of it will end in a week. 

It’ll all be worth it in the end. 

One week ago

There were a hundred different dead giveaways that pointed Calvi out in the crowd, from that first night at Sapphire to the night at the Gala. The audio Jason had gotten was all he needed to plan a stakeout, find the bastard, and torture him for details on anything Black Mask had hidden.

Even as Jason stared out at the skyline in front of him, he contemplated how exactly to get to Calvi, and how to do it in a quick and clean way. 

It had been a week since the last time he’d contacted you, and every day since then had felt like hell. Going an entire week without you after spending the week before that basking in your presence, making up for lost time, it drove him mad.

His hand twitched slightly as he sat down on the ledge of the building, playing back those nights wrapped up with you in bed in a perfectly domesticated apartment, not caring about the world outside those four walls. The only thing he cared about was you and him and the relationship that he had longed for since he was 16. 

“What a surprise seeing you here”, the voice made Jason flinch slightly, his head turning towards the sound, already knowing who stood behind him. 

“What a surprise, you following me as always.”, he bit back in a sly voice. 

“What are you doing, Jason.”, Bruce’s voice spilled into the air, his cowl covering his face perfectly, the same way Jason’s helmet covered his. 

“Scouting.”, He pushed himself to his feet, standing on the ledge before jumping down and meeting Bruce’s gaze through their masks. “I have my business, you have yours. Let’s not go digging into places where it doesn’t concern us.” Jason started to move past Bruce, finality in his tone and annoyance bubbling inside of him. 

Seeing his adoptive father again after the last run in, it was too fresh. He hadn’t seen him since both him and Dick tried to catch him and stop him from busting Joker out of Arkham himself just to kill him. He managed to stay out of their way since then and they hadn’t tried to contact him either.

He didn’t plan to reopen old wounds. Not when he had his own work to do. 

“What you’re doing. It’ll kill her.”, Bruce’s seriousness made Jason stop in his tracks, making him turn to look at his old mentor, his body still facing the ledge where Jason previously stood. “You need to stop this before you drag her down with you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Like I said, stay out of my business.”. Jason spit out with a hint of warning, forcing Bruce to understand that Jason could handle this on his own, without Batman. “Besides, I made sure all our bases were covered. She won’t be remotely in proximity when everything goes down.”

“You really believe she will stay put?”

“We have our plan. I know she’s capable of taking care of herself.”, he forced, trying to convince himself more than Bruce. 

“Your obsession with killing Joker will get her caught in the middle. You’re not seeing the whiplash she will face.”

“You don’t know shit, Bruce!”, Jason growled, stomping up to the man he once looked up to, throwing more venom laced words his way. “Now you want to play father? Now you want to come back and act like you give a shit? Newsflash, you’re six years too fucking late.”

Bruce turned, his eyes narrowing. “I know that your rampage will only result in more damage. It will only end poorly and if you care about her, you wouldn’t do this. You wouldn’t risk her like you have been.”

“Stay out of my way before you ruin everything. That’s my final warning, Bruce.”, venom dripped from Jason’s tone as Bruce only straightened, his posture looming slightly over Jason’s/ 

“She’s willing to risk it all for you because she cares. Are you willing to put her at risk because you don’t?”

“I’ll kill Joker before she has a chance to get involved.”, Jason solidified, turning away before Bruce’s final words landed with a cold blow to his gut. 

“Ask yourself, if she gets into his hands because of this, will it be worth it?”

Jason paused for a moment, saying a final “She won’t.” before disappearing into the night, leaving behind the masked vigilante he once fought beside. 

8 hours ago

The chains rattling snapped Jason’s head up, his face perfectly covered by his helmet as he leaned on the table at the edge of the room while the body perfectly tied to a metal chair was centered perfectly in the middle of the room. The subtle grunts escaping the center of the room from Calvi finally made Jason come to focus on his next move, an airy laugh leaving his lips at meeting Jason’s blocked gaze. 

“Oh, this… I should’ve known it was you.”, Calvi’s swollen lips cracked into a forced smirk, making Jason’s blood ignite with annoyance. “Oh, Hood. What is it we have to discuss now?”

“Your business partners, Calbera.”, Jason pushed himself off the table as he took two long strides forward. “You seem to keep finding yourself in business that doesn’t involve you”

“Oh, so Roman was right.”, Calvi smirked. “He had reason to suspect and now.. I see now.”

“Speak, Calvi.”, Jason growled. “What are Joker and Black Mask planning? Why did they order that shipment of semi-automatics and the compounds to produce Joker Venom?”

“You really are an arrogant bastard, Red. Not as bright as you look considering all the answers are right in front of you.”, Jason’s hand shot forward, grabbing Calvi by the collar and bringing his face up to his, the red gloss of the helmet blinding Calvi’s vision with ominous. 

“I break a bone for every question you don’t answer, so pick your words carefully”, his voice was laced with seriousness, pulling his arm back as he landed a solid punch to Calvi’s jaw. “Speak.”

“Joker plans to bring a shipment out from a focal point on the lakefront, enough to ship off to varying distribution centers around the East Coast in order to help Roman take control of the underground rings in New York and Jersey. Bring in more money and become the biggest Kingpin on this coast.”, Calvi smirked. “Seems like Roman can control the drug rings, but can’t control certain factors in regards to you.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed under his helmet, waiting for another word out of him as he crossed his arms. “If you aren’t going to share what you know, I’ll start with your fucking fingers and crack them all off”

Calvi laughed. “You don’t think I’ve been through interrogations before? You’re so full of shit, Hood. A bit too arrogant and cocky.”

The sound of Calvi’s wrist being forced completely backward and the bone snapping echoed through the room, a muffled and swallowed grunt of pain slipping past his lips as Jason twisted the broken bone to force more pain onto him. Torturing Calvi was only part of the fun for him, this was his own enjoyment especially after having to deal with months of seeing how the son of a bitch would treat you. In his own sick, twisted way, this was Jason exacting his feeling of jealousy when it came to the relationship you had with Calvi. 

“S-son of a bitch.”, Calvi grunted. 

“I know about the shipments of Joker Venom. Where are Black Mask and Joker keeping the shipments? And why did they acquire Penguin’s informant for this if it’s far beyond her normal jobs she would normally be brought on for?”, Jason leaned in again, his hand still clasped around Calvi’s wrist. 

“Oh, so that’s what this is about.”, a loud laugh left Calvi’s lips. “Fuck, so that’s what this all boils down to, isn’t it? That little bitch…Vivian, no, Y/n… Right?”, It was no surprise to Jason that Calvi knew your real name, in fact he’d be more shocked if he didn’t already know before now.

“She’s a stupid cunt, Hood. Nothing but a waste of fucking-” The sound of Calvi’s ankle being stomped on and broken sounded out as Jason stomped one of his combat boots down with brute force on the bone. 

“Fuck!”, his voice was laced in pure agony, swallowing the pain as he tried to sit upright. 

“Answer the fucking question or the other ankle goes.”, venom dripped from Jason’s lips, annoyance clawing at him from Calvi’s remark at the mention of you. 

“You… she really got you under her spell, didn’t she?”, Another direct blow to Calvi’s jaw, a follow up to his gut, doubling over as he spit the blood in his mouth to the floor. “Penguin did well in having her on his side and Roman was right to use her as bait.”

“Bait for what?”, Jason’s hand clenched Calvi’s face.

“Bait for you.”, the smirk spread across his lips, Jason stomping down his heavy combat boot on his other ankle, the crack sounding like a symphony in his ears and the groans of pain adding to the pleasure he was deriving from this. The words hissed through his teeth as he continued to ramble. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

The mood in the room shifted quickly. Jason took a step back as he pulled out a knife from its sheath, pausing before stabbing it in Calvi’s thigh. He shoved his face into Calvi’s, the danger in his voice still not making it through Calvi’s skull. 

“Do you enjoy being tortured? Is it some weird, twisted kink you have to be broken and ripped to shreds before you finally give in?”, the voice distorter made his tone more ominous, more dangerous, more murderous. 

“You really think your outburst wouldn’t look suspicious?”, Calvi mused. “”She’s a nobody. She can’t possibly keep up with men like us. She isn’t worth all this trouble.”

“What is it? Her looks? Or maybe her body?”, Calvi smirked as Jason's jaw tightened under his helmet. He knew Calvi was egging him on, but the burning anger inside of him made him want to break his jaw. 

“God, I remember what she felt like, she’s definitely a good fuck if that’s what you were looking to get out of her. She’s too easy, too loose… no wonder she has so much experience, she really knows how to show a man a good-”

The sound of bones crunching under the power of his punch sounded out, he felt a primal rage build inside of him at calvi’s words. His words dug so far deep under his skin that it made him feel like there was a virus crawling inside his veins. Anger, annoyance, deception, all of it piled into his fists as he took another hit at calvi’s jaw. Calvi laughed, his pure white teeth stained red from the blood in his mouth. 

“Just as I thought.”, he smirked. “You’re pussy whipped. What a fucking shame. I thought you had some balls Hood. Thought that chest of yours was hollow and heartless from all the fucking stunts you pulled with Roman. Turns out, you’re a fucking joke.”

“The only joke here is you. Thinking you had an ounce of protection from that bastard, thinking you had me fooled, the entire time I have watched you like a hawk.”

“You think I didn’t notice you? I saw you at Sapphire sitting in the corner like a fucking recluse, then to my surprise you showed up hand in hand with Marcos, as if he wouldn’t tell me all the insight of who his drop shipper was.”

“You have no fucking idea. Y/n even tricked you and you didn’t even notice”

“I’m not worried about that bitch. She was just a good fuck, something to get out of my system so if it makes you happy, I give you my blessing to take my used up left overs. I hear you have a soft spot for… bottom feeders.”, Another fist whirled around and hit Calvi in the face, the cracking of bone sounding out.

“All this for some used up bitch… C'mon Red, have some self respect.”, Calvi spit the blood in his mouth on the ground. “I’m sure Roman had his fun with her too, I heard he met her back when she was just a teenager. So inexperienced, so easy… i'm sure she was more fun back then, better to break in her pretty, little cu–”

Another sickening punch in the jaw, then another in the back of the head before Jason whipped his combat boot and stomped it down on the side of Calvi’s head, lifting him by the back of his collar, gripping his head then slamming it back down onto the concrete. 

His voice was dripping in venom. “Say one more fucking thing about Y/n, and I’m going to rip your fucking tongue off and take your damn eyes out.”

Calvi smirked at him. “You knew I was tied to Roman and yet you still wanted to try to get a piece of the action. You’re naive Hood, you are walking right into the trap they set for you”

Jason pulled out his gun, aiming it right at the center of his head. “Give me one good reason i shouldn’t blow your fucking brains out”

“I don't have any. I knew exactly what this life would bring and I accepted it years ago. if you feel the need to kill me then go ahead. it doesn’t take away from the fact that you and her are just players in Roman’s game. There is no winning for anyone but him” 

Jason’s eyes narrowed, letting Calvi’s words sink in as he let his mind wander for a split second, recalling every bit of information he’d gathered over the past few months. 

“I can’t wait to see… to see just how fucked up Roman left that piss poor whore”, Calvi’s words ripped Jason from his thoughts before he snapped his gun out of the holster, aiming at Calvi’s knee caps, shooting both of them simultaneously and a guttural scream left Calvi’s throat. Jason had had enough. “Fuck you Hood. You and that dumb bitch.”

A rough, gloved hand grabbed Calvi’s mouth as Jason shoved his gun into his mouth, his helmet meeting Calvi’s face as he stared ominously at the man before him. Nothing but amusement lingered in Calvi’s eyes, fear nowhere to be found, just a forced grin from how his mouth was spread from the barrel.

“Shut up.” The echo of Jason’s gun rang out in the room as Calvi’s blood dripped over his firearm, his hand, and dripped to the ground. Jason scoffed at the blood, the sight never having made him feel weary or unsettled. He’d grown used to the sight of blood and dead bodies, especially now that his jobs required it of him. 

He pulled the gun out, letting Calvi’s body fall to the ground as he moved away, placing his pistol back into its holster and moving out of the building. He couldn't care less about the mess at the moment, right now his focus was getting to Joker and killing him. 

 His mind wandered with thoughts of you, if you were already in position to move forward with the plan the two of you had gone over a week ago. He had gotten new intel from his undercover agents. Joker would be residing in the outskirts of the city, Sionis probably gave you the rundown of the plan and would send you to the lake front instead of downtown.

And everything Calvi has told him… he needed to get to you as soon as possible before anything changed. There was probably more on your side you needed to get to him. 

He moved out of the building and towards the alleyways, finding his motorcycle and speeding through the streets. If what Calvi said was true, the Joker Venom would be inside one of the warehouses on the oceanfront. He needed to get there to confirm it all. He revved his motorcycle, continuing through the streets until he finally reached his suspected location. 

Carefully, he moved towards the building, scoping around to keep watch for any men, but almost too conveniently, it was quiet and there was no sign of any other people within the vicinity. He opened the door in the back and held his twin pistols in hand in order to keep his defenses up.

Something was off and his intuition was screaming at him, but leaving before confirming the stock of Joker Venom would not only put himself and the city at risk, but you too. 

The halls were empty, eerie and silent. 

Jason checked every hall, his guard up as he pushed open the door to an empty room, a desk sitting in the middle of it while the rest of the room was bare. A computer sat perfectly lit as he walked up to it, his helmet scanning for anything that would give away other people within the walls of the room.

The screen illuminated as he moved towards it, narrowing his eyes as he watched the static on the computer click into darkness, then a pre-recorded tape of someone in the building. 

Joker. 

Talking to a group of men, then the tape cut to another cut of Joker’s men moving boxes, then another cut to them loading the boxes into trucks and driving away, the lights within the building shutting off as it was left empty for the night. 

Jason almost turned to walk away, a subtle clanging sound catching his attention but before he turned, he saw a video of himself standing in the room, a figure behind him. He turned around in one fluid motion, trying to duck out from the man trying to grab at him but right as he swung his pistol around to shoot, he felt the hard, cold hit of a concrete baton hit the back of his head. 

Trying to focus, he turned, only to be met with a hit from a crowbar right in his abdomen, then a secondary hit to the side of his head as he collapsed to the ground.

Nothing but darkness filled his vision as the ringing filled his ears then the echo of a haunting laugh before he passed out. 

Present

“How did you find her?”, Jason growled again at Bruce and Dick.

“That doesn’t matter right now. Like you said, what we need to do is focus on finding her and getting Joker back into Arkham, Black Mask with him”, Dick pushed, trying to find the coordinates that Bruce had shared with him earlier. Jason only stared at them with narrowed eyes before he walked over to the other side of the room and picked up his utility belt that carried all his weapons along with his abandoned holsters on the ground, his guns still inside of them. “Okay then, we get Y/n, then you let me kill that son of a bitch for putting her in the middle of all of this.”, his jaw hurt, his head spinning but he needed to focus.

You were probably in a far worse position than he was. Being here unconscious for as long as he was already killed most of the time that there was in the night, if he wasted anymore time you probably wouldn’t be alive for him to save. The thought itself made Jason’s stomach recoil, shoving away any thoughts he might have had in a negative lens. 

“We go together. We find their hideout and we get Black Mask and Joker underwraps. If it all fails, we get Y/n and leave. No solo missions, no pursuing. In and out.”, Dick nodded at Bruce’s words before putting in the coordinates into his GPS system, sending a signal for his motorcycle to auto-drive to the warehouse from where he had left it outside. 

“Why is Boy Wonder with you?”. The question finally slipped past Jason’s cut lips. 

“Downtown was a shitshow. Bats needed backup, we managed to clean everything up and Gordon helped get Joker’s goons under control. Nothing Batman and Nightwing can’t handle”, Dick responded in a nonchalant shrug, only earning an eye roll from Jason and nothing from Bruce. 

“Enough. Let’s go.”, Bruce motioned as the rumble of the Batmobile sounded outside, turning as Jason watched the two of them walk outside, following behind at a distance before Bruce turned towards him. “You’re riding with me”

“I have my bike.”, he argued. 

“You probably have a concussion and you’re still not fully focused. Get in the car.”, the response left no room for arguing, forcing Jason to get into the passenger seat just like he had all those times when he was Robin.

A life he had experienced years ago.

A lifetime ago.

Even now the past seemed to mirror his present except this time he was in Bruce’s shoes and you were in his.

The guilt coiled inside of him, the chill of fear running down his spine as he jumped into the car and felt the rumble of it around him as Bruce set the navigation system with the coordinates to the tracker’s location, Dick following closely behind as the three of them sped through the city. 

It wasn’t but 15 minutes later of speeding through the darkness of Gotham and cutting through all the closed off roads that they were able to reach the building where the tracker had been pinged. Jason wasted no time in shoving off his seatbelt and opening the latch of the door to hop on, Dick grabbing his arm before Jason could run inside without them. 

“Let me go.”, the snarl that ripped through Jason’s lips sent a recoil through Dick, “We are wasting time!”, he spit out. 

“You can’t just run in there with no plan and a fucking dream. It won’t help anyone, especially in your state! You can’t afford to barge in there and expect everything to be easy. They know we’re coming, they know we have plans to help Y/n, do you really think-”

Before Dick could even finish his sentence, Jason lunged forward knocking him to the ground as a round of bullets littered around them, men dressed in all black and masks shooting at them from the other side of the building from where they had driven through. Dammit. This was a waste of time! 

“Batman! We need to get inside the building, now!”, Jason yelled over the gunfire. “Nightwing, let’s take care of these pieces of shit. I do not need any more distractions tonight.”

The both of them pushed to their feet, Jason pulling out his twin pistols and shooting at the men as Dick was able to rush two of the men that had gotten too close to them, snapping one’s head backward and punching him in the jaw while he swung his acrobatic leg around and kicked another in the temple. Bruce was busy disarming two of the other men while Jason continued to move in on the ones who had their own firearms, losing all patience for any ounce of sanity or compromise. Jason got close enough to one that he punched him in the mouth, slamming his knee into his gut before headbutting him despite having a potential brain injury.

The ringing in his ears were sign enough that he likely was disoriented and concussed, but that was of little worry while he needed to be with you. 

He watched as Dick and Bruce fought off the other men, his next move evident by the way he heard Bruce yell after him as he ran inside the building, leaving both his mentor and his older brother behind.

He didn’t care, he needed to get to you before it was too late.

The building wasn’t massive, so finding you wouldn’t be difficult, it was the possibility of more men than he could take on that left him a little deterred but regardless, he pushed through the halls with strategic planning.

He moved his body through the halls in silence, following the linoleum passage ways until he reached one of the main areas, seeing four men with guns as he raised his own pistols and aimed directly for the center of their heads. HIs guns went off and killed two of the guards as the other two suddenly snapped to attention and started to fire at him, his body reacting quickly as he shot a bullet through the shoulder of one of the two remaining men, then shooting at the knee cap of the other, giving him enough time to push forward and make the killing shot on one of the remaining men. He pointed the gun at the final one. 

“Where is Joker”, his voice was raw, primal, full of pure anger and hatred. “Where is Black Mask?”

The guard only forced out a curse, his body shaking from the gunshots before Jason shot another bullet through his other kneecap. “I won’t ask a third time”, the venom was dripping from his lips as the man groaned in pain before he lifted a hand, pointing towards the empty hallways. “He… they are taking care of a… problem.”, the man howled as Jason shoved his combat boot into the man's knee, forcing the pain upon him. “They are in the final room! The loft room! The boss and that clown are in there!”

Jason narrowed his eyes, raising his gun and pulling the trigger, letting the bullet hit right in between the guard's eyes. He moved away quickly, picking up his pace as he moved through the halls and found two more guards standing in front of the door near the hallway the dead beat guard had mentioned.

His eyes narrowed as he tried to think of the perfect tactic to get in and manage to get Joker and Black Mask off guard.

If he played his cards right, he would be able to barge in and get Joker and kill him later all while saving you in the process. He needed to find the best possible way to get you out alive.

That, above all, was the priority no matter how badly he wanted to rip into Joker and make him suffer for the pain he’d caused you. He only prayed he wasn’t too late. 

Jason heard a faint noise from behind the door, barely audible but enough to make his heart lurch at the sound. It sounded like the clattering of chains and a pained whimper. Weak but there. He couldn’t sit here and do nothing. He had 3 bullets left in his mag, if he shot quickly, he could kill both guards and make it inside to kill Joker. 

He took his spot, aiming carefully and lining up like the trained killer he was, looking at the men through the slits of his ripped domino mask before breathing in and taking the shot. Every muscle in his body was perfectly still, his mind calculating his exact strike, even down to his breathing he was exact. He inhaled, holding it for a beat before a silent shot flew across the hall in silent death. Hitting the guard directly in the neck, quickly cocking the gun again as he aimed to the temple of the second guard and watched as the bullet penetrated and made the killing shot, both of them slumping to the ground with silent thuds. 

Jason moved quickly, his feet steady and deliberate as he made his way towards the door, his mind only focused on barging into the room and taking what he wanted from these sons of bitches. There was no room for hesitation or second guessing. This needed to be done with all his brute strength if he wanted to get you out alive. 

He reached the threshold, pausing for a fraction of a second, hearing the muffled noises from the other side. A voice. Feet shuffling. The closing of a door. The sounds made a coldness settle in Jason’s chest, throwing him back to that abandoned warehouse six years ago. Closing his eyes, he breathed, then in a swift motion kicked the door open and his gun was raised.

The sight of two guards made him react in a millisecond, shooting both of them watching them drop like flies as he walked on the lower floor of what appeared to be a loft style room. 

He scanned around, an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, something halting him in his careful scanning.

A laugh.

That horrid, disgusting laugh that haunted his nightmares. That left him crawling in discomfort.

At the sound of it, he felt his fight or flight kick in. 

“Oh, Hood! Nice of you to join us!”, the maniacal laugh echoed through the loft, ringing through his bones in a torturous, cruel way. “Did you miss me?”

Jason's head snapped around towards Joker’s voice, his eyes only narrowed as he watched Joker move in such flamboyance at the top of the stairs, almost dancing as he moved through the railings just to toy with Jason’s patience. Joker grabbed a pole and swung his body around, leaning forward like he would fall off the ledge and smiling widely at Jason down at the ground. 

“Oh, I knew you would come! This makes our game all the more fun!”, the haunting wide grin took Jason back to when Joker smiled at him with the wicked grin 6 years ago in that abandoned warehouse before he’d left him to die with a ticking bomb. He felt a wave of anxiety hit him but quickly pushed it back, not letting the damned clown get under his skin.

His trauma was present, but right now, Jason was fighting to ensure you did not go through the same thing he had. He would do everything in his power to ensure you did not live through the trauma Joker had put him through. 

He’d already been taken from you, he’d be damned if he let Joker take you from him. 

“Where is she?!”, Jason growled, no patience in sight as he stared up at the madman. 

“Always to the point”, Joker twirled around the pole again, chuckling softly. “I like that about you. I can see why our little bird chose you as her little boyfriend.”

“Joker! Where is she?!”, the question came out more threatening this time, ripping through the tension in the room as Joker shrugged. 

“I don’t know. Can’t bring myself to say.”, his lips cracked into a wide smile, letting him take full advantage of the situation they were currently in. “I will say, your little love affair is so precious, I never thought I’d see the day Boy Blunder would find such a precious little thing to be his. But you did, didn’t you?”

Jason’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists as he gripped his gun and aimed it upward at Joker, his back muscles flexing as he waited to pull the trigger. 

“I don’t think you want to do that”, his grin widened more than what was physically possible, almost ripping the skin around his mouth. Jason’s hand was right over the trigger, ready to pull if he got tired of Joker’s antics, but knew deep down he couldn’t. 

Not until he found you. 

“The fun is just getting started”, Joker swung around, fixing himself in an outwardly exaggerated way that only a comedic clown would, stirring up the moment for his own pleasure and fun knowing it would be the only way to truly make Jason anxious with anticipation. 

The sound of Joker’s foot meeting with the door of the closed room sent a wave of surprise through him, making Jason flinch slightly as he tightened his hold on his lone pistol. Jason’s stomach twisted into a knot as he watched Joker pull a body out of the closet, dragging you out like a ragdoll and holding you up for Jason to see you in all your glory.

The sight of you made him want to vomit, nauseated by the sight of what they’d done to you. You were barely recognizable, hair matted in blood, face littered with black and blue bruises, all evidence of the torture they’d put you through. The marks and bruises were so embedded into your skin, it looked like they would take weeks to heal, if at all. 

His breath hitched as he watched you… his you… broken and bleeding at the hands of Joker. At the hands of Black Mask. The thought alone was enough to conjure waves of rage that moved through him like a wildfire, threatening to consume him whole. 

“Doesn’t she look lovely?”, Joker’s hand clenched your jaw, a small, barely audible, hiss of pain leaving your lips at the sudden contact. Another wave of searing heat flared in Jason’s chest, an anger so fierce he believed it would consume him. “It isn’t our best work, and she’s a little worse for wear, but still lovely in her own way.”

Jason’s grip on the gun tightened, narrowing his eyes as he bided his time. He couldn’t shoot. Not yet. Not when you were so close to him. 

“Let’s play one more game together, for old times sake?”, the grin was maddening. 

“I’m not here for games!”, Jason spit out, venom lacing his tone. A laugh ripped out of Joker as it echoed through the room, the air suddenly snapping to complete silence, the tension tangible as Joker’s face neutralized. 

There was a beat, then two. 

The sound of the doors slamming open caused Jason’s head to swivel, Joker pulling out his own gun and shooting at Jason, but his movements were quick, jumping out of the way before the bullet could even graze him. 

Fuck. He shouldn’t have taken his eyes off Joker.

The laugh ripping out of Joker was all Jason needed to know who had just come through the doors. 

“Nice of you to join us, Batsy!”, Bruce’s silhouette emerged from the shadows, his arms holding an unconscious guard before throwing him on the ground. A sudden wave of relief flooded Jason’s body at the sight of him. “Might as well come out too, Boy Wonder!”

Dick?

Bruce moved slightly, Dick coming out around him as they tried to get close to Joker but the sound of two men behind them forced them to jump down to the floor level where Jason was. One of the guards pushed Dick over the edge of the stairway as his body collided with the table on the ground level, smashing into pieces as a loud grunt escaped Dick’s throat at the impact. Bruce had moved back enough, jumping on the railing and tasing the guard before landing on the ground just a few meters away from Jason. 

Dick managed to push off the guard, kicking him in the temple and causing them to be knocked unconscious. 

Joker clapped his hands together, your body still in his arms as he tightened his grip slightly, “Oh this is so much better! A little family reunion”, he let out another laugh, before leaning forward, letting your body thud to the ground, the sound making Jason snap back to attention.

“Let’s make this interesting, shall we?”

Then, the room erupted into nothing but an onslaught of guards, the doors that seemed to lead nowhere on the ground level suddenly opening, groups of men coming out in full force and built like machines. Bruce immediately moved, jumping over a group of three that ran at him, kicking the fourth in the jaw as their body toppled to the floor and Dick quickly brought out a baton, swinging it around and using his flexible limbs to swing his leg around to kick another guard in the temple. 

It was an ambush. 

Joker and Black Mask knew. 

They fucking knew. 

Jason’s pulse raced, turning to move around two men that came at him, hitting his pistol down on his head and pulling out a blade to dig it into the side of the other's neck, the blood spilling out of him as the choking sounds came out of his throat.

Jason looked around, taking in the number of men in the room.

20 men at least.

They were severely outnumbered and likely more waiting outside for another order from Joker.

Batman’s eyes narrowed, moving his body with precise swiftness, punching another guard in the ribs as he brought out a batarang and aimed it to the ground, letting smoke form as he and Dick took down two more men. Jason punched another guard in the throat, aiming his pistol at another and pulling the trigger, the body dropping to the ground as he blocked everything out. Joker would get away if he didn’t get back to it. 

He quickly turned, ignoring Nightwing and Batman as they continued to take on three men at once. Nightwing flipping and twisting with impressive flexibility, his movements a blur as his fists connected with skulls and ribs, the baton knocking out others as he swung it around with impressive force. Nightwings movements were more precise, a perfect contrast to Batman’s brute force. One guard at a time, they were falling to the ground, but everytime one went down it felt like two more replaced them.

Just like cutting the heads off a Hydra.

Neverending, relentless. 

Jason grit his teeth, trying to fight off the men around him, doing everything he could to reach Joker as he heard the echoes of his laugh amidst the chaos, watching from above as he continued to taunt them. The chaos, the violence, all of it part of his sick twisted enjoyment. 

“C’mon, hit ‘em harder! Make this fun!”, Joker looked down at you, picking you up and forcing your weak head to look straight at the chaos below. “Watch sweetheart, enjoy the show.”

The men pushed forward, closing in on Batman and Nightwing, forcing them away from Jason while another group ambushed him and forcing him into a corner. Even with Batman and Nightwing holding their ground, Jason could see the exhaustion slowly start to settle. They would not come out of this unscathed. Jason’s hands clenched, delivering another solid punch as one of the guards grabbed him from behind, another gripping his arms while the one he had just punched landed a perfectly solid hit to his abdomen and another to his ribs. 

Jason’s body trashed, trying to move out of the men’s grip but three against one was simply impossible, especially with his body being held back by two men twice his size. He felt another hard blow to his ribs, and a final hit to his jaw. The men dragged him to the center of the room, forcing him to his knees in front of Joker in the middle of the room. Jason’s head was pulled up by one of the guards gripping his hair and forcing his head up, a hiss of pain slipping past his lips.

Joker’s grin widened as he moved both you and him to the top of the staircase, looking down at him at the floor level being forced back by the guards. His teeth gritted as his eyes met Joker’s gaze, the pain in his body erupting but pushed it back at the sight of your body.

You were in far worse pain than he could’ve ever been at this moment. He could survive a few punches. He wasn’t sure you would survive another minute without medical help. 

“Now, how about that game?”. Joker’s laugh bled through his dramatics.

God, this clown was asking for a slow, tortuous end. If he had a clear shot, Jason would have made the hit already.

“I’ll give you a choice, Hood. Come after me, exact your revenge and get all the glory for taking down the infamous mad clown of Gotham or… your precious woman.”, his hand tightened on your jaw, squeezing your cheeks and forcing your face towards his, a maniacal laugh leaving his lips.

“So naive, so weak” you stared at him with narrowed eyes, that horrifying smile stretching across his face and the green in his wide eyes staring into your soul. 

“Let her go Joker!”. Jason growled as he struggled against the men holding him back with all their force. He watched as Joker forced you to meet his gaze. 

“You...”, he said as you muttered something flatly. “Get to count how long it takes for our little Red Hood to get out of his cuffs and make his decision”, he laughed as the guards shoved Jason down roughly, clasping a pair of cuffs around his wrists as he thrashed against them, then the sound of a second clasp sounded behind him. 

Jason turned his head and his eyes widened. 

They chained him to the fucking concrete floor. The sight of the anchor embedded into the concrete made his blood chill. Joker was making sure Jason’s torture and inability to help you was as elongated as possible. 

“Let’s see how quickly our Hood can problem-solve. If he can get you out and catch me, you win!”, another laugh ripped from his lips, his wide teeth as he pulled back. 

“Motherfucker!”, Jason tried to push away from the men, their brute force still holding him still. Bruce and Dick were finally easing up on the other group of men, at least a handful of them but whatever Joker was getting at, it would be too late by the time they tried to reach him or you.

“Start your countdown sweetheart, let me hear your words!”, he pulled you to your feet, your legs weak and screaming in pain from the wounds you attained thanks to Sionis.

When you didn’t speak, your eyes met those crazed green ones as he smiled at you.

“Let’s count down together”

“One.”, he started, looking over at Jason as his smile turned dark. Jason pulling against the cuffs as the men delivered a powerful blow to his jaw and back, slowing him down in case he tried to make a move before Joker’s countdown 

“Two..”, Jason started to curse at the Joker, the cuffs tight on him as he forced his head back, slamming into one of the men as he struggled against the chains and tried to move his body before he felt another hit to his jaw. Jason’s head swung around just enough to see the glint of steel in Joker’s hand. 

“Three!”, a laugh ripped out of Joker's lips and you felt your entire body freeze, you heard Jason’s blood curdling scream, his voice filled with horror and shock.

You felt the sharp cold blade penetrating your abdomen, Joker had impaled you with brute force, holding the knife in place as he twisted it further into your body. You felt the blood dripping from your body, Joker's pale white skin covered in red. Your words dying in your throat, your bottom lip shaking as you struggled to stay standing. 

Then when you felt absolutely ripped apart, Joker pulled the knife out only to dig it back into your stomach again, tears welling in your eyes, spilling over and streaming down your cheeks. You couldn’t feel, you couldn’t think, you just slowly let your body go slack against Joker's hands, and he smiled then shoved you down the stairs, tumbling down while the knife was still inside of you.

Your cries and whimpers were inaudible, the pain overwhelming your senses as you felt the blade move inside.

“Your times ticking, your choice Hood.”, Joker smiles maniacally before laughing and running off. His body disappeared through the door as his guards followed behind. You could hear faint grunts of struggle as Jason’s arms flexed, tugged harder and harder on the cuffs as they rattled. His body thrashing and fighting as he screamed for you. 

“(Y/n), listen to me.”, he yelled, your body laying in front of him on the platform. “Keep your eyes open, sweetheart, listen to my voice” you felt your body growing cold. your eyes fighting to stay awake as you felt every piece of you slowly slipping away. You used whatever strength you had to pull the blade out, forcing down the cry and letting the tears stream down your face as you felt the blood leave your body.  

“(Y/N)! Don’t you dare close your eyes on me! Stay awake, goddammit!”, the desperation filled his voice. He kept pulling on the chains, his body kicking into overdrive and his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled against the anchor. His eyes were focused on you, his voice calling your name repeatedly until it felt like his voice went raw. 

“Y/n!”, he screamed, the sound of a crack pulling his attention behind him. The anchor was loosening. A glimmer of hope lit up in his chest, igniting the fire in him to reach you. He kept pulling with all his brute force, his arms and back straining as he rammed forward like a bull. He’d break his arms out of the cuffs if it meant getting to you and keeping you alive. 

The cuffs were digging into his flesh, the burning sensation clawing at him but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He felt the raw tenderness of his skin and still pushed through like a man fighting for his life.

A man fighting for his woman’s life.

Fighting for your life. 

It was loosening. He could feel it. 

“Baby, keep your eyes open!”, He pushed forward again, the final metal clanging signalling his break, the anchor clattering to the floor as he rose, his head snapping toward the door where Joker exited, his mind racing as he heard a voice call from behind him.  

“Red! Get Y/n, I’ll get Joker!”, Nightwing yelled at his younger brother, Jason’s muscles flinching as he turned towards your body. Dick was still fighting off some of the men, but Bruce managed to create a distraction long enough for Dick to slip away and chase after Joker. 

Bruce managed to hold off the last of the men, Jason snapping back to focus as he felt the sudden grasp of one of the men that had cuffed him just minutes before. 

Fuck. 

Two of them had risen, reaching for him as the third went for their gun and Jason quickly spun around, the chains dangling on his wrists as he swung his leg with full force, connecting his boot to the guards temple. The gun clattered to the ground, right out of Jason’s reach as he kept punching the other men, trying to reach for it to end this and get to you. Two punches landed in Jason’s stomach, another to the jaw as he groaned and delivered a swift punch back. 

“Red Hood!”, Bruce's voice snapped at him to focus, the message clear that he needed to reach you, his head swiveling as he heard the sound of you choking on your blood. 

Fuck!

“Y/N!”, The scream ripped through the chaos filling the room, his eyes full of panic while the burning desperation clawed up his throat as he tried to fight off the men around him. Jason felt like his heart was about to explode, the desperation to reach you overwhelming him.

The pain made you numb, your body existing without your soul there to ground you, the blood pouring from the knife wound like a fountain of water. Everything glazed over, the muffled voices around you as the pain flowed through every inch of your body. 

Jason stared at you, vision red and his vocal chords completely fried from the screams he let out as he twisted his body, punching one guard and using all the adrenaline filling his body to reach for the gun on the ground. He used that primal instinct to turn and aim perfectly at the center of one guard’s head, his body limping and collapsing as he managed to pull his dagger from his sheath and stabbing the final guard through their throat.

He pushed the guard back, his hands grabbing the puncture wound as he watched the blood flood out of their jugular as he finally dropped the man’s body to the ground. The red in his vision finally easing as he watched as your collapsed form from across the room and for the first time in his life, the sight of blood made him weak, disgusted, full of pure raw panic. 

He could see the slight twitch of your body as you crumpled to the ground, your hand raising numbly, desperately trying to create pressure over the wound but failing miserably as you felt the blood cover your arm. The bright red was a stark contrast against your skin, completely drained of color and life.

The sound of his shackles were the only sound that registered in your mind, your eyes barely making out his figure as you let the cold drift you away. 

It was warm, yet cold. 

Numbing. 

He’d rushed over to you, pulling your limp body onto his lap as your blood covered his clothes, not a care in the world about the fabric or how it would be impossible to get the blood out.

No, the only thing he cared about was you. You were shaking, the cold from the blood loss pulling you into a slumber that he tried desperately to keep you from falling into. 

“Sweetheart.”, his voice cracked, shaking from the fear. “I know it hurts, but I need you to keep your eyes open.”

You couldn’t find the strength to answer, your eyes fluttering weakly as you looked at him, a small smile appearing on your lips as you tried to take him in through the haziness in your vision. 

“J-Jay..”, your voice was weak, as soft as a whisper, the words barely audible. Your breaths were shallow, shaky. 

“I’m here. It’s okay, I got you.”, he pushed your hair back in a gentle caress, the blood staining his hand leaving streaks of red on your cheek as he brushed your skin, trying to soothe your pain in any way he could. 

“It h-hurts.. J-Jay..”, his heart clenched at how broken you sounded, the guilt clawing at him as he reached inside his utility belt, careful to not move you too much. 

“I need you to keep talking.”, he managed to pull out a small suture kit and a small roll of bandages, trying to work quickly and stop the bleeding.

He laid you down gently, careful with your head as he laid you down and took off his jacket, placing it under your head as a makeshift pillow. His heart rate spiked at the sight of your eyes fluttering closed, tapping your cheek softly to pull you back to consciousness. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Keep your eyes open.”, he whispered, moving closer to yours as he turned your head slightly to meet his gaze. Your lashes blocked your vision, but as you stared at him you couldn’t help but soak in how handsome he was.

Jason was beautiful.

Despite his raggedness, his sharp edged personality under that red hood, beneath it all he was the most beautiful man you’d ever met.

You wish you could have seen more of those green eyes of his and how they hid a softness to them anytime he would be alone with you. It was only a handful of times, but enough for you to catch on even though you pushed it to the back of your mind every time it did happen. 

You wanted more time, more of him. 

“Y/n, I need you to stay awake.”, he had already started cleaning as much of the blood as possible, creating pressure to try and stop the loss but his hands only got coated in the dark red. “Talk to me, tell me something.”

“Something…”, the pain felt like a livewire, burning through your body like a volt of electricity. 

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know. A guilty pleasure, a secret, anything sweetheart.”, your body twitched when you felt the burning of alcohol on your stomach, the liquid helping clean your wound as your body grew cold. “I promise I won’t make fun of you if you tell me.”

You admired his effort to make things light, your eyes not failing to notice the slight shaking of his hands as he tried to move quickly. 

“I…I’ve always.. Wanted to, to go…”, you struggled as you clenched your teeth, the alcohol still burning on your wound. 

“You’ve always wanted to what, sweetheart?”, his voice was gentle, soft like his hair. 

“This bookstore. They have.. The prettiest books. Books like.. Like.. antique.”

“Yeah?”, soft, gentle questioning. “I need to pick up reading again. I used to read a lot when I was younger.”, the pain of those memories flooding his mind but he didn’t care. He needed a way to keep you conscious until he could get you to the cave. You weren’t stable enough to move, you would lose too much blood if he moved you now.

He needed to close the wound, fast. 

“You… you reading? I f-find that hard to be..believe”, he knew you knew about his love for reading, but the blood loss was causing your delirium.

Not a good sign. 

“I do. Wait till you get better. I’ll tell you more about my favorite books. Might even let you borrow some so you can read them.”, he started putting more pressure, trying to wrap the gauze around your stomach carefully in order to not move the folded fabric he had against the opening. 

“Y-you… I don’t b-believe you.”, your eyes rolled back slightly. 

“Sweetheart, hey”, he tapped your face again, his hands trying to be as still as possible while his entire body flooded with fear. “I need you to keep talking, tell me something else. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I..I’ve always wanted… someone.. To meet someone and have a l-life outside of this one..” 

“Yeah?”, he knew. He’d known since the beginning that was something you always wanted.

A life as far as possible from this one.

Far away from the life that took everything from you, the life you were too young and naive to understand, the life that broke you and turned you into something you never wanted for yourself but needed in order to survive. 

“I t-thought that… that maybe I’d meet t-them at a bookshop or g-getting coffee..”, you smiled weakly, your lips tinted red from the blood coming out of your mouth. 

Jason panicked, working faster, trying to keep talking to keep you and himself calm in the process. “I want that too.”, he looked at you with such softness in his eyes. The kind that held care and compassion for what you were saying, the kind that left warmth in your heart. 

“W-what if… w-what if that was… supposed to happen… with us..”

“Don’t say that.”, he didn’t want to hear the what ifs, like you wouldn’t survive this, life you wouldn’t see him again. 

“What if… we could’ve been h-happy?”

“I’m already happy.”, his laugh was airy and broken, caressing your check and brushing your hair back in a desperate attempt to soothe you. “I don’t need anything else. I have you, we have each other. We can leave this life and we’ll go to that bookstore when you get better. It’ll be a date, okay?”

“You’re… such a charmer..”, you smiled weakly.

“I get it from my older brother.”, he finally moved to pick you up, finishing the wrapping as he lifted you in his arms, careful with your legs and wound as his legs fought the soreness in his bones as he rose to his feet. 

“You have an older b-brother?”, your eyes started to droop again, fighting the heaviness as it became harder to stay focused. 

“Hey, eyes on me sweetheart.”, he brushed his nose against your cheek in order to focus you again. “Yeah. I have a whole family. I might introduce you one day.”

“We haven’t even… been on a first d-date and you already… already want me to meet y-your family?”, you tried joking but Jason only felt his chest tighten at your words.

He’d envisioned it in his head a lifetime ago. Him coming back to you on that roof, telling you who he was, introducing you to Bruce, Alfred, Dick… you being a part of his life and everything got pulled out from under him. Now, it felt like he was about to lose that chance again. He wanted you, and deep down he knew you wanted him too.

“H-how long… have you been in love with me?”, you whispered weakly, his green eyes filled with warm emotion.

The words struck through him, reverberating inside his bones at the subtle truth that he never confessed. He couldn’t have been more hyper aware of his feelings for you than in this moment, but right now he focused on keeping you awake not on his own emotions.

“They would love you.”, the hidden meaning laced in between the words that only he knew what he truly meant. Your head lolled to the side, resting on his chest as your eyes closed. 

“Y/n, hey.”, he shook your body gently but your eyes remained closed as your head limply moved.

“C’mon baby, open your eyes! Fuck!”, he turned his body, watching as a beat up Bruce finally ran up to him, having taken care of the men and checking the room for any signs of other possible ambushes or potential explosives left behind by Joker. 

“Jason.”, Bruce watched the limp body in his son’s hands. The pure fear lacing Jason’s expression sent a bullet of guilt through Bruce’s chest, wanting to help him, noticing how shaky his hands were. “We need to get her to the cave.”

“Bruce, please”, the words came out broken, shattered, completely and utterly desperate and on the brink of breaking down. “We need to-”

“Let’s go. I can get us there in 10 minutes.”, Bruce motioned towards the door, Jason running behind him while carefully holding your body as both men raced up the stairs of the room, reaching the Batmobile waiting outside. Bruce opened the door and motioned for Jason to get in the back, positioning your body in his arms to ensure your wound wouldn’t reopen. . 

“I got you, sweetheart. Just hang on for a few minutes. Please.”, he pressed his forehead against yours, a broken plea coming from his lips as a single tear shed down his cheek, the rumble of the engine reverberating through his body. The only indication that they were moving through the city at top speeds, the car filling with life while all of it drained out of Jason. 

The blood in Jason’s ears flooded his senses, roaring to life as he felt the emptiness flood his body. Your heartbeat was slowing, his own speeding up from the pure adrenaline, the fear, the guilt.

In what world was it fair for him to live after all he’d done out of pure greed and selfishness while you died in his arms when you had reason behind all you’d done.

It felt like a cruel joke.

There was nothing worse than feeling you slip away slowly, his hands gripping onto your body as though trying to force your soul to stay inside and not let you slip into oblivion. 

Everything around him moved too fast, not focused on anything except you, everything a constant blur around him as he looked at you. His ears were ringing from the shock, from the pure, raw fear he felt deep in his bones. His eyes never left your body as he kept arms wrapped around you like a protective blanket, the air completely sucked from his lungs making his breathing ragged. 

Jason didn’t focus on anything but you. He hadn’t heard Bruce call Alfred, didn’t hear him filling in all the details as he sped through the city or the instructions he said for what to do when they arrived at the Cave. He hadn’t heard the crackling of the radio when Dick’s voice cut through with intel that he didn’t care about, intel about Joker escaping and having to deal with potential ambushes from Black Mask.

He didn’t hear the screeching of the Batmobile’s tires as it came to a sudden halt, Jason’s senses numb from all external factors. He didn’t hear the door open or Bruce’s voice cutting through to order Jason to give your body to him. 

Jason didn’t hear a thing, 

God, he wished it was all a cruel nightmare. 

He hadn’t even processed Alfred standing next to him, with all his gentle words, slowly and carefully trying to coax Jason’s hands out of their death grip around your lifeless body, each of his movements slow and careful to not startle Jason. He couldn’t hear his voice, only watched his lips move as his fingers tightened around you out of desperation, unwilling to let you go. But as Alfred spoke to him, those shaking hands with their iron grip loosened, letting Bruce take your body and walk to another room with Alfred to help you.

Jason’s body felt numb; he hadn't even noticed he’d gotten out of the Batmobile and moved into the center of the cave. 

Then, Dick showed up from the shadows, walking up to his younger brother and taking in the sight of Jason standing in the middle of the Bat Cave. Empty. Hollow. His eyes never leaving the door to the room where Alfred had taken you, his clothes dripping in blood and staining the floor of the cave.

There was a pressure on his shoulder, Dick’s hand gripping him and trying to move him towards the computer where a chair was to help him sit, to help get the chains off but Jason didn’t move a muscle. Dick’s words meshed into the silence, his words falling on deaf ears. 

Nothing the older Robin could say to him would matter. Nothing mattered anymore. 

The only remnants of you were embedded into the fabric of his clothing, still damp and soaked from the blood you had lost on the ride here. His hands were coated, his wrists bleeding from his cuffs that were dug into his flesh, his abdomen and pants stained in that deep, dark vermillion that haunted him as he stood there in shock.

You were all over him, embedding the cruel reality further into his memory. 

The emptiness in his eyes matched the stricken hollowness of his chest, the agony ripping through him.

Just as Bruce tried to take a step towards him, he watched as Jason dropped to his knees in pure, utter defeat. His eyes still focused on the door of the room that Alfred had taken you into, the cave deathly silent.

His hands were shaking, the grief overwhelming him and the guilt crushed him like a heavy weight. 

There was something so sick, so sinister in the reality of what Joker and Black Mask had done to you, the cruelty he always witnessed but never believed would trap you.

The guilt ate at him to the point of defeat, to surrender all of himself because after this… he had no fight left in him. 

There was nothing existing in the chambers of the cave, only the suffocating silence that only broke when Jason curled over, his fists slamming into the floor and letting out a broken, guttural scream.

A broken scream that echoed through the cave like a mourning song. 

Agony.

Loss.

Defeat. 

It was the only sound in the cave, yet the silence that followed immediately after was worse.

It was all-consuming, suffocating.

And then, another broken scream ripped through him, the broken form of the Red Hood mourning the woman in that locked, sterile room, becoming the very thing you promised Joker he would become. 

A dead man walking.

A/N

Here's the long awaited update! I really do apologize for these taking so long, life after graduating from grad school has been so busy and I really only get the weekends to write and edit so I really appreciate the patience!

The scene where Jason is being held back and screaming for Y/n, it just seemed so fitting and really inspired by FMAB where Hawkeye and Mustang are trapped by that crazy doctor and the desperation of that scene was *chefs kiss* so that's what I envisioned when writing it and hopefully it conveyed that way to all of you!

Next chapter will likely be shorter than this one but we are so close to the end! Just 2 more chapters left and Playing with Fire concludes! It makes me so sad because I love this series but I do have spin-off one-shots that I might post but we shall see!

Anyways I hope you enjoy and can't wait to see you in the next one! xx.

[zomboidz]

kakashi coworkers au where you go out to an izakaya with your department for a celebratory round of drinks after closing a hectic quarter. you find out you get tipsy after one tall glass and in that same evening you also start to realize how handsome manager kakashi is with his face mask down to his chin. sleeves rolled up to his arms. cheeks warm and eyelids low with equal parts exhaustion and maybe satisfaction from surviving yet another week, you think. and maybe it's drunken delusion getting to you but you can swear up and down that he's been sneaking glances at you from behind the rim of his cup like you won't ever notice. you do. or so you think. so when kakashi excuses himself to get "fresh air" outside you clamor to get out of your seat, prompting pointed looks from your colleagues when you nearly stumble onto the sticky bar floors. you roll your shoulders and bear their stares with stubborn pride.

you march onwards to the exit, out to the snowy streets. round a corner, following an icy path with footsteps you conclude might be kakashis. same foot size, maybe, if your hazy vision does not deceive you. company-provided loafers, wow. with that, you brave the cold and trek into the narrow alleyway behind the izakaya where the weather is particularly frosty, liquid courage warming your skin and urging you forwards until finally, finally, you see a familiar mop of white hair pop into your vision. it's kakashi, clearly. and he says hi. and then he looks you up and down clearly aware of how unaware you are but still asks out of niceties if you're doing fine and "what are you doing out here? it's cold", cocking his pretty face.

it hits you then and there, how freakishly handsome he truly is. the warm glow of a distant lamplight is kind to his already delicate features, snow peppering his hair paints him so dreamily. the ruddy color on his pale cheeks makes him look so much more alluring, almost seductive. it's infuriating and gross. so you tread on. closer, stalking him on uneasy steps like you're about to bowl over, but you don't necessarily care right now when you're pulled into his orbit like moth to flame— or whatever the poets say. in the next second, you're sharing a single fog of breath. kakashi props himself casually against the brick wall. you, on your toes, grimacing, taking keen inventory of the way his nose is sloped so sharply and the small mole on the side of his lip.

"kakashi," you say slowly. drunk and uncoordinated do you confess the following string of words: "you're very beautiful and i have a fat crush on you."

to which kakashi only snorts after a momentary silence. his brows shoot up for roughly a second. then, a smile. his eyes crinkle and his lips twitch. you think he's pretty when he acts so shy. "why thank you. i appreciate the compliment."

"no no. i dont think you— hic— understand." unfortunately, you also don't think you understand. but whatever. at least he's entertaining you. even when you take another bold step that closes the distance, your palm pressing flat on the space beside his head. "you're really, really beautiful. like the kind of beautiful only girls can achieve. not a lot of men can be beautiful even when they're handsome, and it's stupid. maybe i'm gay. but you're really beautiful."

"okay." kakashi briefly glances sideways, inhaling a breath. and then exhaling. it fans your face. "and, again, i thank you. you have a very colorful way of defining my beauty."

"and you're witty," you tack on.

"yes. thank you," replies kakashi.

"you did really well on managing sales this quarter."

"you too." his gaze falls to his feet and yours. you can't really tell with all the snow and the breathing and the talking and the kakashi. he clears his throat.

only then does it click that, well, maybe you're a little too close (and too inebriated) for comfort.

so in a brief moment of clarity, you hop away, suddenly apologetic. in the way you can only hope to be apologetic when you've practically cornered kakashi into a dark avenue when all he probably wanted was a moment to himself. like you're some pervert. which you probably are. you wouldn't hold it against him if he called the cops on you tonight and had you fired from the company.

(it's a crap job anyway. the only saving grace is a surprisingly chipper set of colleagues.)

he takes another sharp gulp of air a minute after. scrubbing a hand down his face. he calls your name and it's just as frigid as the air nipping at your cheeks.

yeah, this is it, you think. you've gone and fucked it up because you, like any other normal person, think kakashi is attractive. but unlike said any other normal person, you decided to act on it. monster.

but the nightmare doesn't align with reality as you so believed. in fact, it was... somehow the opposite.

"do you wanna come home with me?"

[ramsayxme]

The Bloody Bastard

TW: per!od sex, blood kink!

AO3 Link

••••••

You tossed and turned in bed, your lower back aching and your stomach cramping. You had been serving the Bastard of the Dreadfort for 3 weeks now and time passed painfully slow. You had barely had time to mourn your previous life before Ramsay Snow began forcing you to do every minuscule duty for him. You drew his baths, folded his clothes, cleaned his leathers, washed his sheets, made his bed, and served him meals. Ramsay didn't care enough about you to even ever make eye contact with you while you served him. He had never spoke more to you than a demand. You were exhausted to say the least, but you didn't dare push back with your duties. You witnessed another servant girl try to argue with Ramsay in your first week. She was flayed and displayed outside your window; a reminder to obey your master.

You rolled over in your bed, trying desperately to get comfortable in the time you had left before you had to rise. It was very early and the sun was starting to peel back the fog; a threat in the form of another passing day. The sun never quite shone brightly though, it only lit up a grey sky full of clouds. Your stomach cramped as you sat up. When you sat up, you realized the reason for your pains. You felt the familiar sensation that you had completely forgotten that was bound to happen. You felt the warmth of blood trickle out of you and immediately stain your nightgown. You felt your heart race as you began to panic.

The thought hadn't even crossed your mind in the time you'd spent at the Dreadfort, but it was inevitable. You had started your period. You cursed at your body under your breath as you stood up and attempted to avoid staining your sheets. You felt the blood trickle down your thigh as you walked over to the door. You weren't allowed outside the main walls of the Dreadfort, but you had free roam inside. You had to have the ability to fetch things for Ramsay, so you were quite familiar with the hallways and rooms scattered about.

You creaked the door open and stuck your head out to look down the hallways. The only things you could see were the flickers from the torches casting dancing shadows on the stone floors and walls. You ducked out of your room and scurried to the largest washroom that Ramsay frequently used. You had drawn him many baths in this room. You knew there were a lot of extra cloths, blankets, and fabrics in the wooden chests stored in the corner. You rushed over and opened one of the chests, digging around for some loose fabric you could somehow tie around your waist.. Something. Anything. You were crouched on the floor as you dug elbows deep through the loose cloths desperately. Suddenly, you heard the door scrape shut behind you.

You craned your neck over your shoulder to see Ramsay standing in front of the door that he closed. "I thought I heard someone in here." He groaned, clearly having just woken up. His voice was raspy and tired, his eyes had a slight bag underneath them. His hair was messy and overgrown, gently curling underneath his ears to meet with his slight stubble. He wore a dusty grey long sleeve, knitted loosely and clearly worn frequently as the neck was stretched out and the sleeves were a bit too long. "What do you think you're doing, hm?" He asked in a cooing tone.

"I...I..." You stuttered over your thoughts. Ramsay's glare was so intense. He had never looked at you before, and you felt yourself shrinking under his gaze. "Speak up!" His voice boomed through the quiet room as you shifted your weight, still crouched by the chest. "I'm looking for something." It was all you could squeak out. His eyes were wide as he stared deep into you, almost beckoning you to say more. He stepped forward and you felt yourself shrink even more. "Perhaps I can help you. What are you looking for?" He crouched down on the ground next to you. You felt yourself hold your breath as his body was next to you. You had never been this close to Ramsay before. You quickly studied him.

His hair was tousled but not tangled. His facial hair was stubbly but not harsh. His eyes darted over at you, and he watched you study his face. His pale eyes widened when you looked into them, a grin slowly spreading across his closed lips. "Now, what can I help you find?" You looked down at your nightgown, it was wrapped under your legs so Ramsay couldn't see the stain. "I can find it myself, My Lord..." You whispered as you looked back inside the chest. You were embarrassed and didn't want him to notice the blood that was trickling down your thighs. You heard him snicker as he exhaled. "I think I know what you're looking for."

You felt your stomach twist with anxiety as he leaned backwards. You watched him lean and reach behind you, his index finger wiping against the stone a few inches behind your body. When he pulled his finger up, there was a drop of blood smeared across the tip of his finger. He held it up to show you and your face immediately grew hot. "Something to help with this?" You realized you had dripped before you crouched down. How did he see it?? He kept his finger held in the air before his thumb met his pointer finger, rubbing the blood between his fingers. You knew your face was red and flushed as you turned your attention back to the chest and shuffled your hands through the cloths inside.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Ramsay whispered, leaning in closer to you, his hands reached out and grabbed your shoulders. He turned you to face him. You balanced on your feet, your knees under your chin as you pivoted to face him. You hid your body with your nightgown, the stains were too obvious to hide at this angle. His eyes slowly moved down your crouched body and he saw the stains. "I was right." He reached out to touch your nightgown, gently pulling at the fabric. "Sit down on the floor." He pushed your shoulders slightly and caused you to fall backwards on your ass. You still held your knees close to your chest.

Ramsay sat on the floor directly across from you. His sat criss cross and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He placed his chin in his hands as he hunched forwards. "Let me see." He cocked his head to the side, gently coaxing you with his gaze. You were frozen, unable and unwilling to lift your nightgown. Ramsay sighed and rolled his eyes before staring at you again. "This is a demand, you know." He lifted his chin and reached his arms out. His hands pried your knees apart, spreading your legs slightly. "Now, hike your dress up and show me." His words hung in the air as you hesitated, but you knew you had to listen to him. You had no choice.

You gently pulled your nightgown up and over your knees, allowing it to fall down your thighs and rest at your hips. You felt the cool air on your thighs as you exposed yourself to him. He reached out to your hips and pulled them closer to him, forcing you to slide down further into the floor. Your hips now turned upwards and facing him, he spread your legs apart with his hands on your knees. You stared at his face as he took in the sight of your bloody center and slick thighs. His eyes widened slightly as they skimmed over your flesh. His lips parted and he exhaled gently as he stared into your core. "I knew it." He breathed, his hands grabbing and kneading at the soft flesh of your thighs. The man who wouldn't even glance at you the past few weeks was now fixating on your bleeding cunt with hungry eyes. It made you squirm with discomfort.

You clamped your legs shut once more, the humiliation making your skin hot. "No, no." Ramsay scolded you, quickly yanking your legs open for him. His hands were forceful, but you knew he was being gentle with you. He was capable of much more than what he was doing. His hands wandered up your thighs and made contact with the slick inners of your thighs, nearly brushing against your folds. You exhaled a moan of concern as his fingers began swirling circles in against the bloody slick of your upper thighs. His fingers teased at your folds by gently stroking up and down, collecting the wetness and the blood. You had never been touched like this.

Without warning, Ramsay slid two fingers inside your slit. The blood made it easy for him and you let out a whimper. Ramsay's eyes lifted again to look at your face. He clenched his jaw as he stared intensively at you. "You're a virgin, aren't you?" He asked through his gritted teeth. You gently nodded, the feeling of his fingers slowly sliding in and out of you made you feel a warmth in your core that you didn't recognize. You didn't want to speak. You were afraid if you opened your mouth, you would beg for more. "I can tell you are..." Ramsay whispered. He leaned forward on his knees and pressed his lips against yours into a needy kiss.

You felt his warm tongue slide into your mouth, his lips moving slowly on yours. You leaned back even further, allowing your body to rest on your elbows. Ramsay leaned over you, one hand still working at your bloody core and the other hand on the floor holding himself steady. He fluttered his fingers inside your swollen walls, causing you to inhale sharply. He grinned into the kiss as his mouth pushed onto yours even harder than before. Ramsay pulled away from the kiss and slid his fingers out of you, leaving you trickling blood and arousal. You arched your back softly, a gentle beg for him to not go. You didn't even mean to, but your body was aching for more. He grinned when he realized your body making attempts to keep his fingers inside you. "You quite liked that, didn't you?" He chuckled softly.

He sat back, pulling himself up to a standing position. Your blood was still covering his glistening fingers as he brought his hand to his own trousers. You could see that he was aroused, the trousers grew tight around his crotch. "Look what you're doing to me." He grinned as he pulled his trouser waistband down just barely, releasing his hard cock. He peered down at you, you felt like a pile of arousal, flesh, and blood crumpled on the floor. He took his hand that was still wet from your cunt and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. He squeezed it gently and wiped your blood off of his fingers and onto his veiny shaft. You watched as he stroked himself, gently exhaling a strong breath as he stared at you. "You can't leave me like this, you know." He gestured to his hard cock. "And I can't let you go to waste like that... bleeding and warm. I'll have to figure out what to do about this, won't I?" He teased, still stroking himself.

You were nervous and unsure of what his next move would be. He grinned as he yanked you to your feet by your arms. "Follow me." He demanded, tucking his hardness back into his trousers. You slunk behind him, ashamed and dripping. He led you out into the main hallway that was still empty and crawling with the early dawn. He grabbed your hand and pulled you down the hall to your chambers. "This one's yours?" He asked before shoving the door open. He pulled you inside and shut the door behind him. When he turned around, he had a grin spread across his face. His eyes flickered with a dark obsession as he faced you and spat out a demand. "Take off your clothes."

You slowly pulled your nightgown off of yourself. You wanted to resist him, you really did... but your body was excited for this. You hated yourself for it, but you were interested in seeing what was going to happen next. You let the nightgown fall to the floor and allowed yourself to stand naked in front of Ramsay. He inhaled deeply as he scanned you with his eyes. You felt the blood dripping from you still, well it was a mixture of blood and your own wetness. It was trickling down your thighs, nearly to your knees. Ramsay didn't stop staring at you as he pulled his shirt over his head. His hair lifted and fell as he tore it over himself and threw it on the floor, stepping closer to you. He pulled his trousers down and kicked them off so he could stand naked with you.

He was within arms reach, his pale and muscular chest rising and falling with his deep breaths as he admired your body. His eyes slid up and down your nakedness before he stepped closer, closing the gap between your bodies. His hands cupped your breasts. He harshly caressed them and squeezed them, causing you to let out a whine. They were quite sore, a symptom of your period. "Does that hurt?" Ramsay whispered, squeezing harder. You nodded softly and mumbled a response. "Yes, My Lord." He smiled, kneading and squeezing before he pinched your nipples between his fingers. You inhaled sharply, gasping at the feeling. "Good." He assured you, squeezing your nipples even harder. Your mouth opened with the pain and he nearly growled.

He spun you around and sank his face into your neck, biting and kissing your soft skin. His hands found your hips and he began pressing his erection against your ass. His hands were kneading at your hips and waist eagerly. "I cant believe I never paid any attention to you before." He whispered into your ear before biting your neck once more. "Now that I know what a whore you can be for me... you don't have to worry anymore, I'll have plenty of time for you." You whimpered as you gave in to the feeling, knowing that you were about to entirely belong to Ramsay Snow. His teeth grazed your ear as he sighed a moan, his cock pressing against your bare ass. He pushed on his cock with his hand, allowing it to slip between your legs. He wasn't fucking you yet, but he was sliding his cock between your legs and against your bloody cunt.

He rhythmically pressed his hips forward and back, allowing his cock to slide against your folds and your clit, making you crazy for him. You wanted him badly. You started moaning and it made Ramsay chuckle. "You're whining! You want me that bad, don't you?" He reached his hand up and wrapped it around your throat. He wasn't using much force, but your breathing was slightly altered. "Say you want it." He growled into your neck. You swallowed before you opened your soft lips. "I want you..." He tightened his grip on your throat, gently shaking you. "Louder." He groaned.

"I want you." You said a bit louder, your body arching and pressing against him, matching his rhythmic humping. "Louder!" He barked into your neck before biting down. "I want you!!" You cried out, reaching your own hand between your legs and feeling his cock, slick and coated in your blood. He pulled away from you and turned you around to face him. You couldn't resist as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Your tongue entered his mouth and your lips locked in a desperate kiss. You were floating with desire as you ran your fingers through his hair and down his shoulders. "Please..." You begged between kisses.

Ramsay shoved you backwards, forcing you to fall onto your clean bedsheets. You knew they would be stained and ruined but you didn't care. You only cared about what it would feel like when he pushed his cock inside you. He opened your legs and lowered himself, kneeling at the edge of the bed. He pulled your body closer, your ass hanging off the bed. Before you had any idea what was happening, you felt his tongue sliding between your dripping folds. You gasped as he began kissing your cunt, slowly sucking on your clit and kneading at your hips. He hummed with pleasure as you reacted, arching your back and digging your fingers into his shoulders. You looked down at him to see his eyes shut softly and his face buried in your thighs.

Ramsay swirled his tongue around your clit as he slid those same fingers inside you again. You felt electricity jolt up your body when he licked your clit, slowly sucking on the nub. His fingers swirled inside you, the slurping noises coming from your core were loud and would likely be embarrassing if you weren't so desperate for him. You stared at him with bliss as your lips parted and allowed for each and every whimper and moan to escape easily. His eyes flickered open and they stared up at you. His eyes were full of obsession. He was loving every moment of this, perhaps even more than you were. You pushed his head into your core as you gently began rocking your hips against his face.

You were feeling an overflowing need, a deep desire for more pressure inside you. You wanted to be filled by him. You gently tugged at his hair, trying to signal him to fuck you. He kept nuzzling his face into you, sucking and licking you perfectly. You groaned loudly, "Ramsay please..."

He pulled his face from between your thighs, his face covered in slick arousal and blood. He exhaled loudly and grinned at you before wiping his face on the bedsheets. "You filthy girl..." He groaned as he admired you lying on the bed, legs spread open and begging for his cock. He stood up and grabbed your hair, yanking you up the bed further. You squealed in pain as he did so, making him chuckle. He climbed on top of you and pressed his lips against yours. You could taste the metallic lingering on his tongue. You groaned into his mouth, pressing your hips up against his body. Ramsay's hands were exploring every inch of you. He was grabbing and pulling at your skin and his tongue was desperately swirling in your mouth. He couldn't get enough of you to satiate him.

He reached one of his hands down and grabbed his cock. He held it firmly as he pressed the head against your entrance. You moaned, steadying your hips for him. He grinned as he teased you, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your soaked cunt. He would push against your hole just to torture you. He wouldn't enter you yet. "I want you to really beg for me." He breathed as he slowly began stroking his cock, resting the tip at your entrance. "Make me need you."

You whined, your fingertips digging into his shoulders. "Please, Ramsay, I want you to fuck me." You were desperate. The only thing that mattered in the world was getting his cock to plunge inside you. "Mm..." He hummed with pleasure as he listened to you mewl. He stroked himself at your entrance. "More." He demanded. "I need you inside me... I want you to fuck me... please." His eyes widened for a moment as he listened to your pleading. "That's right. You need me." Ramsay smiled as he allowed his hips to finally give in, pushing his cock deep inside you.

He filled you snuggly, your walls stretching to fit him. You whined as he entered you, his eyes fluttered softly before flashing open again. "Does that feel good?" He asked as he began thrusting in and out of you with force. The way his hips moved made you crazy, the way his cock dipped in and out of your soaking cunt made you want to scream. "Fuck, yes!" You groaned as you allowed your body to fully swim in the pleasure that he was bringing you. "Do you love it when I fuck your bloody cunt?" Ramsay whispered as he bit your neck. "Yes, yes, I love it, please..." Your brain was floating. He kept his pace steady as he lifted himself with his arms. You watched him fuck you, his hair slightly bouncing with his thrusts, his eyes obsessed and focused on you, his muscular arms on either side of you.

Ramsay looked down at his cock, he was enjoying watching it pump in and out, disappearing in your soaking core. He growled as he watched, the sight making him even harder than he already was. "You feel so good, you tight virgin whore." He groaned, his eyes making their way back to your face. He could sense your pleasure as he studied your facial expressions. His eyes were glued to your face as he thrust hard, watching your eyes roll back into your head. He was breathing heavy out of his mouth and pulled his lips into a grin as he flashed his teeth. He was truly enjoying this.

You sensed a warmth rising in your center as he continued to fuck you at a constant pace. He must've noticed your face changing, as he exhaled between breaths. "You're going to come on my cock soon, aren't you?" He bit your bottom lip before you could answer, twisting the flesh between his teeth. You groaned as you felt the warmth rising higher and higher. "Do it." He whispered as he let go of your lower lip, your mouth filling with your blood from the open wound he just created. You were allowing your body to teeter over the edge. He took your bottom lip in his mouth again and sucked hard. The pain was mixed with complete ecstasy as you fell into the pool of pleasure, the waves crashing across your midsection as you orgasmed.

Ramsay didn't slow his pace while you came, he fucked you through it. Your lower lip still in his mouth, he started bucking his hips a little harder and a little broken in pattern. He let go of your lip as he groaned, blood trickling down his chin. He grit his teeth together and stared into your eyes as he bucked his hips for the final few strokes. You watched his face as his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fluttered. You watched Ramsay cum, his mouth slightly open and blood dripping from his chin onto your breast and face. He was breathing heavy as he moaned, allowing a guttural release from his throat.

You felt his cock twitch inside you, filling you with warmth. His breath caught in his throat as he finished, gasping for air as he slowed himself. He quickly rolled over, his cock sliding out of you. You realized what a bloody mess you both had made. Ramsay caught his breath, his chest quickly heaving as he wiped his chin off with the back of his hand. He looked over at you. You were in orgasmic bliss, in pure awe of the creature beside you. You felt your body slowly sink into itself once more, back to reality. The room smelled of sweat and metallic. Ramsay reached over and kissed your forehead before standing up. "Well. That was lovely." He helped you stand up, your knees buckling underneath you. "Yes, you'll likely be shaky and sore." He nodded at your realization.

He handed you a dress and motioned at you to put it on. "You still have to draw me a bath this morning." He grinned. "Just because I fucked you doesn't mean you stop being my servant, pretty thing." He laughed as he pushed your hair behind your ears. "And don't think this will be a daily occurrence. I am a busy man, you know... But perhaps when you're bleeding, you can let me know so I can come and pleasure myself." He laughed as he walked towards the door, throwing cloth across his hips to hide his body. "Wipe yourself off and come draw my bath!" He left the room. You stood there, stunned. Ramsay only wanted to fuck you when you were on your period. You chuckled to yourself at the realization that you were now not only his servant, but his fuck toy that he would use when it pleased the dark creature that lived inside him... and somehow, you were okay with it.

[queenbees21]

|[ Rainy day •••]|

The sound of rain can be heard dropping down the ground. The busy stress of Japan slowed down on rainy days. Car unintentionally, splashes the pedestrians that walk down the sides of the road.

Curses of people and honks of horns. You stood by a random complex building trying to leave to go to your apartment and just take a nice long relaxing bath. Although; you were stuck by the entrance of the building.

It was pouring out today, you cursed yourself for not checking the weather app. Including not thinking to bring an umbrella with you. You usually did every day; except today…

You let out an long-exhausted sigh. You stood by and watched as people walk by the pouring rain, umbrellas in hand.

Some run towards their cars. Many ran by a nearby stores for sanctuary form the pouring rain, and some others, they didn't care. They just walked along the sidewalk tapping making small splashes on the concrete, walking home with their hoodies up...

You sigh, as you watched some random couple pass by you. Their umbrellas covering them, their bodies close to one other... with loving smiles on their faces.

You always wonder how being loved…, wanted... , held, by someone close felt like. You never got to have someone like that in your life.

All you had was your grandparents and honestly, you were content with that. Since your parents were no longer in the picture of your life...

You knew running to your apartment complex would be a bad idea. It’s a little further away from where you’re standing at the moment...

You'd just have to wait for the rain to stop.

Usually, it takes....60 minutes...

You huff and stepped back, softly bumping into the building walls. You exhale, and watch the fog of your breath fade into the cool air.

You looked down at your heeled feet, tapping and scrapping the concrete in circler motion.

You did this for about 13 minutes. As you were too focused on your feet, you hadn't noticed a figure had stood by you; waiting for you to take notice of them.

And so, they stood close to your ear; their warm breath tickled your hair.

"Whatćha doing Chickáde?"

Startled, you jumped back and gasped at the sudden warm breath near your ear. You covered it from the source of the voice, and went into defense mode.

but soon relaxed as you realize who it was. You let your guard down and put your hand on your raising heart, and let out a sigh of relief.

"Hawks, you startled me." He lightly laughs and apologizes. "Sorry, I just noticed you standing here as I flow by. So I just decided to stand next to you. To see if you'd noticed," He cheekily smiles down at you.

"It's alright, and as for your question, I'm waiting around for the rain to stop." you looked up at the pouring rain and cringed,

"But...it won't be stopping anytime soon, since it just started..." You looked down once again, watching the splashes of rain hitting the concrete, it bounced a few times; only to hit the floor again.

As you watched, you felt a small cold tap on your head. You looked towards Hawks, wondering if he had done the tapping.

He was too focused on looking up, watching the rain fall. He had felt your staring and looked down at you.

You both stared at each other for a while, you scan over his features; admiring how handsome Hawks is.

His beautiful golden-brown orbs stared down at you, as some of his blond locks of gold; fall down his angelic features. He tilts his head in wonder, as to why you’ve been staring.

You said nothing. You both stayed this way and unbeknownst to both the citizen and pro-hero. They were leaning towards one another.

If only you could capture this picture-perfect moment in a photo, you'd treasure it. It's been a while since you and Hawks had some time alone together.

Ever since a few months ago when the Nomus attacked the city, that’s when he stop visiting. The Hero Public Safety Commission has been working Keigo to exhaustion... so you never got to see him in those hard times. To comfort him, be there for him and mend his wounds.

You didn't want to think about that right now, you were just so glad he was here with you. Standing there, giving you genuine smiles and just feeling safe and secure with you.

As you were both very close to one another, you abruptly jumped back. Straddled at the sudden feeling of something cool dropped or... more like tapping on the crown of your head once again.

Hawks had quickly jumped back worriedly, thinking he had done something wrong; maybe even lost his chances with you...

His wings lowered themselves down in disappointment, but went up in defense when he noticed you confusedly tapped your head.

"What's wrong?" He asks checking for any sort of injuries or something out of place. you looked up at what it was and it was the canopy of the cafe.

It had small old holes, letting the water drip down, there were a few of them near you. You walked backward wanting to avoid the little waters dripping down your head.

You had hit something hard on your back and looked up to see Hawks, "Oh! I'm sorry Hawks, I should have watched where I was going..." you apologized and embarrassedly looked down. "It's fine!" He reassures quickly replacing his serious face with a cheery smile.

You took a step back, giving him space and, ignoring the fact that small drops of waters; dripping down your head. And were rolling uncomfortably down your face and hair.

Hawks noticed this,

You stood by him feeling as if you had the worst luck today, and sigh in disappointment. As you felt the water drop on your hair, you also noticed a shadow above your head as well as a reflection of the color red illuminating and glowed. Warmth, radiating near you as well, and the dropping droplets of water; stopped.

You looked up and saw Hawks looking the other way, you smiled as you saw a glimpse of his ear heating up; the shade of red was noticeable. Too shy to look towards you.

No matter how much of a charmer Hawks was, you somehow always brought out the shyness in him. It made his cheeks flush.

He shields your head with his wing, protecting you from the rain. It warmed your heart at his genuine kindness and gentle attitude toward you. As well as; giving you your space, making sure not to get uncomfortably close to you. For the sake of your comfort.

Although; you didn't mind if he did, even though he was a flirt, he was still a gentleman. You slowly went close to him gently bumping his shoulders, you felt how his body stiffened and his wings fluttered.

If only you knew how much his heart was racing; his stomach felt like there were a million butterflies, just fluttering around. Just for you. For your touch... and only you. He craved for you more than anything. He wished he can voice out, how much these little moments meant to him.

You slowly sneaked your hand towards his gloved one and intertwined your fingers. Hawks softy embraced your warm hand, and gently intertwine your hands. He softy brushes his thumb on your hand, trying his best to calm his racing heart. You both smiled at the action and stayed that way for a while.

"(Yn),"

Hawks spoke. You turned to him giving your full attention. "Let's walk to your apartment,"

"Hawks, it's pouring..." You lightly chuckled, "We also don't have an umbrella," you pointed out.

"Who said anything about needing an umbrella?" You surprisedly looked up at him, Hawks gave you a cheeky smile and and tugged you forward. He then, shields you with his beautiful vermilion wing above your head.

You looked at him gratefully and took his hand. He lightly guides you out the safety of the canopy, with his wing covering your head.

"(Yn)," Hawks soft voice call for your attention.

"Yes?"

"Can I... hold you?" He asks you, hesitantly; looking the other way hiding his flushed face. You smiled sweetly at him, "Sure,"

With your consent, he puts his hand on your hips and pulled you close to him. You shyly look away, but you held onto his arm.

You felt your heart thumping in your chest, your cheeks heated up. You bit your bottom lip softy, trying to clam down. He smirks as he noticed you bit your bottom lip, but decided not to tease you about it… yet.

You felt safe, happy and felt a sworm of butterflies in you tummy. He was warm and gentle as he held you close. His hand on your hips, as his wing was above you; as you both walked down the pouring rain together, Hand in hand; with warmth and safety.

In a way, you were happy that it was a rainy day. Or else you wouldn’t get the chance to be close to him, as you were now. He thought the same thing. He would gladly be your shield against the pouring rain.

Thanks for reading! Hoped you enjoyed, stay safe and have a good day and night! - 👑🐝2️⃣1️⃣ 🩵

Artist: Kadeart

M.List

[wetpillowprincess]

God I have been scrolling thru ur blog for hours and my entire hand is wet from how long I’ve been edging and how badly I want to come. I’m laying with my legs spread wide and I’m afraid if I move or breathe I’ll come and the fun will be over. I want to lock eyes with you at a party and sneak off to the bathroom and fuck each other hard and fast with our clothes half on, your dress pulled down around your waist and your hand twisted in my hair, burying my face in your chest. You moan into my hair to keep quiet as I wrap my arms around your waist and spread my hands across back and leave marks all down your torso. Without taking my attention off of your tits I would hike up your dress and push myself in between your legs as I lifted you up onto the sink. You’re leaving marks on the mirror and no longer trying to quiet your moans but we don’t care, because I’m three fingers deep and your wetness is pooling in the palm of my hand. I kiss you hard on the mouth and you grope at my chest zealously as I keep us balanced upright. My fingers pump in and out of you rhythmically, and the sound of your wetness makes my vision fog up with sheer disbelief at the perfection of the moment. For a minute I watch, entranced, as your mouth bites itself and fall open with gasps of pleasure, until you thread one hand through my hair and the other interrupting the palm fucking you, gently guiding my mouth to your cunt. I stare at it as if dumbstruck by an angel, your thighs framing it on either side like wings. It sings it’s siren song and I am a desperate sailor, happily swimming towards my demise. I grip my hands around your waist to keep you steady, and what I feel as I cover your clit with my tongue and lips is not biology but magic, not pleasure but God. My own cunt is numb and cold from the wetness and buzzing of pleasure that has been building since the second you walked into the bathroom behind me, and my knees buckle from your sweet and earthy taste. You barely keep in a scream as I slide my tongue inside you, and your legs snap around my head, drawing me in closer than possible. I suck and lick and kiss and edge until my jaw is nearly locked, but like an avalanche, my chin and cheeks are wet with squirt and cum, and you grip the wall and mirror behind you to brace yourself as you unconsciously grind harder into my face. Before you even cool down you bring my cum soaked mouth to yours and lick inside. I finally fall to my knees and you come with me, draping yourself across my body and burying your face into my neck with kisses and nips. Your hands touch and grope every inch of me and my back and your knees on the cold hard floor means nothing to either of us. I loop my fingers through your hair not to guide you but to feel you, to feel the muscles on your scalp move as your mouth works at my chest, stomach and hips. Your fingers barely brush the edge of my underwear and the world goes quiet. With the same eyes you first watched me dance with, you watch me now as I throw my head back in pleasure as your jaw works at my pussy. I cum quickly but you still kiss me there because you are hungry too. After, you don’t bother moving. You rest your cheek against my naked pelvis and i thread my fingers through your hair draped over my thigh. Our dresses are piled up and discarded but before we fall asleep we help each other get dressed, making one person jobs for two people. I kiss your shoulders lightly as I zip you up, and you kiss my nose as you pull the dress over my head, giggling from exhaustion and disbelief at what we just did. We don’t bother to touch up our hair or your shade of lipstick smeared onto my face because when you take me home, we’re just getting straight out of it.

holy fuck you deserve your pussy ate the fuck out for this. anon...you're so sexy and i'm so wet because of everything you said.

[amethystina]

A health update (and a general explanation of my long Covid)

So while I've been pretty open about living with long Covid, I realise I've never taken the time to explain what that actually means for me and my quality of living. It's a phrase I toss around but I can imagine it doesn't feel all that substantial to a lot of you.

So I figured that now that I'm feeling a bit better (more on that later) I should do so. Partly because I figure it will make it easier to understand why I sometimes have to disappear for weeks on end.

So, if you're interested, feel free to keep reading under the cut :)

But be warned: It's long and kind of whiny. But also ends on a high note! So there's that.

The first time I caught Covid was around Easter 2020, long before there were any vaccines, which meant that I was hit hard. But no matter how bad I felt during the illness itself, the aftermath has been ten times worse. I've been living with my long Covid symptoms ever since, so for four years now. They worsened for a couple of months when I caught Covid a second time in February 2021, but have otherwise held pretty steady during those four years.

A lot of people experience different symptoms with their long Covid and, sometimes, they'll change as the weeks and months go by. I actually had a very interesting couple of months during 2022 when my sense of smell just went completely whack and everything suddenly smelled differently than it should. Like, I could be smelling an apple but it did not smell like an apple. It was a weird time in my life.

Anyway. My most common symptoms are fatigue, fevers, joint pain, brain fog, memory issues, incoherent speech, and lowered blood circulation.

(The latter actually kickstarted the Raynaud's syndrome I have on my mother's side so now I struggle with fingers and feet that will occasionally go white, bloodless, and completely numb at random intervals. Fun times)

The fatigue and fevers are the worst by far. For the past four years, I have had exhaustion fevers between two to five times a week. Or every single day if I'm unlucky. It's very much tied to how much sleep I'm getting, how well I'm eating, and how many taxing things I do each day. I need eight hours of sleep to be functional and anything less than that will most likely mean I'll end up having a fever before the day is over.

Unfortunately, I've always had issues with my sleep so, on most nights, I don't get eight hours even if I try my absolute best. Sometimes it's because I wake up too early and can't fall back asleep and, sometimes — because my life sucks — it's because my fever is so high that I can't fall asleep. Cue the endless cycle of too little sleep and fevers.

Because one of the main issues with these exhaustion fevers — and what makes them so difficult to manage — is that there's no way to lower them. Medicine has no effect whatsoever. Once I have it, I just have to suffer through however many hours are left until I can sleep and hope that it'll be gone in the morning. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.

And every day my energy level gets just a little bit lower and the fever a little bit higher. Some days, all I can do when I get home from work is to lie on the couch and stare at the wall because I'm too tired and in too much pain to even watch something. And, again, no amount of medicine helps.

It continues on like this for a while and, every third or fourth month or so, the strain eventually becomes too much and I fall ill. My body simply shuts down from the continued stress and exhaustion, to the point where I can barely get out of bed. And, usually, I can feel it coming. On top of the fevers, I start coughing, then get a headache, and then my nose gets stuffy. And, by that time, I know I have about two to four days before I get sick. It's so accurate that my coworkers have learned that when I give the sign, they have to tell me whatever tasks they need to be finished within the near future since I'll probably be out of commission for one to two weeks.

But I eventually recover, go back to work, and so the cycle starts again. And again. And again. And again.

For four years.

All of this has, unsurprisingly, affected my quality of life to a pretty significant degree. I can barely work, let alone spend time doing any of my hobbies. I can't really travel anymore and, if I do, I'll get sick from the exhaustion. Even the 50-minute commute to the office (which I have to do three times a week) usually results in a fever before the day is over.

This inability to travel was how I ended up missing my maternal granddad's funeral. My shitty relatives didn't tell us the date for when he would be buried until there were only two days left and even if I could have put myself on an overnight train to get there, I knew I would be in no shape to actually be at the funeral if I did. So I couldn't go.

I did go to sit with my paternal grandmother as she was dying but, as expected, I got sick and couldn't return to work for a couple of days afterwards.

I also have to skip most birthday celebrations and any events happening on weekdays since I'm usually too feverish or won't manage the required trip to get there. My life has shrunk so much I barely recognise it anymore. I don't recognise myself. I used to be one of those people who could do a million things at the same time and somehow complete all of them. I was firm, organised, and efficient.

And now I'm not.

(... or, well, technically I am — at least compared to many others — but not compared to how I used to be xD)

Point being, a lot of things have changed and I don't like it. But, with that said, I'm also well aware that I'm lucky to be alive and I'm fortunate enough to have a stable job and a roof over my head. So, all things considered, I'm still doing pretty well.

But I also can't lie and say that this hasn't affected me in a deep and fundamental way. My life has changed and, right now, I don't know if it'll ever return to what I used to consider normal. And dealing with that knowledge — and the grief and fear that comes with it — hasn't been easy. I have cried ugly, self-pitying tears over this many, many times. It's frustrating to have no control over what my body does and to constantly have to be careful of what I do so I don't exhaust myself. I am furious that this happened to me.

But, after four years, there's also a certain amount of acceptance. And while I'm annoyed by my new limitations, I try my best not to feel too sorry for myself. Instead, I try to adapt as best I can, even if I might not always do it gracefully.

That does mean that I sometimes push myself more than I should, though. Because, if I didn't, I wouldn't never produce anything. As depressing as it is to admit, everything I've given you in the past four years has been while I was sick. I don't think a single chapter I've written or drawing I've made has been untouched by this. I've become an expert at writing, editing, and drawing even with a fever.

That doesn't mean I regret it, though — quite the opposite. I think that if I hadn't had a reason to write and draw, I would have felt even worse. A lof of the time, the excitement I feel when I'm able to post a chapter or show off a drawing I've made has been the highlight of my week. It's an accomplishment.

But, that said, it's still hard. Writing in particular. It requires a level of brainpower I can't reach when the fevers are too bad. And so, sometimes, I just can't. I literally just can't.

And, back in January, as I was trying to edit chapter 39 of Who Holds the Devil, I honestly pushed myself too hard. I was so determined to finish it that I didn't let myself see just how bad I was feeling — not at all helped by how emotionally draining the content of the chapter was.

It was only once I finished the chapter and posted it that I realised how absolutely wretched I felt. Not because of the chapter itself, but my lack of compassion for myself, I guess? Because the fevers were bad, I was barely sleeping, and I was both mentally and physically exhausted. And, what was worse, I realised that I was displaying depression symptoms I hadn't seen in over ten years.

All of a sudden, I got annoyed as soon as a minor inconvenience appeared. Everything people said to me was dissected into its tiniest component. I feared that people were secretly hating me. I couldn't meet people's eyes anymore when I was talking to them. I didn't realise I was just sitting there, staring at a wall, until several minutes had already passed.

And, as the final nail in the coffin, I stopped talking about how I was feeling.

And that, right there, is my last warning that I need to do something — always has been, ever since I was a teenager. When I clam up completely, refusing to admit to the people around me that I'm feeling bad, that's when I'm about to spiral.

So, the very next day, I went to my boss and told her that I'm getting burnt out and I need to do something NOW or this was going to turn ugly real soon. Thankfully, my boss is amazing and, after a doctor's visit, I was put on partial sick leave. Right now, I'm working six hours a day instead of eight and, let me tell you, I'm thriving.

Or, well, as much as I can while still having long Covid.

I'm almost angry at how much better I feel because, if I had known, I would have done this a lot sooner. I actually have energy now! I've only had a fever about four times in a little over a month! That's insane! It used to be four a week!

So yeah. I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. The downside is that the partial sick leave is still only temporary and there are no guarantees that I'll be able to keep it. Though, if need be, I'll just have to ask my boss to rewrite my contract and change the amount of hours I work because, man, I don't ever want to go back considering how much better and happier I feel. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I feel like I've gotten my life back. It's not quite the same as before, but close enough to it that I kind of want to cry again — but happy tears this time.

And so I've spent the past couple of weeks just... living? When, before that, it felt like I was merely existing. I've been drawing a lot since that helps with the depression symptoms (which are almost completely gone, thank god) but writing has been harder. Possibly because I forced myself to do it during a time when I felt really, really bad and now I'm instinctively trying to shy away from it. But, since I know that's just my mind playing tricks on me, I'm going to give it another try this weekend. I want to write and I miss the stories I'm working on. And, hopefully, since I'm feeling a bit better, I can maybe get back to a more structured uploading schedule. But we'll see. As always, I can't make any promises.

But that's about it, I guess? I'm feeling better and, since I am, I've been doing a lot of things that I wasn't able to before (like taking walks — I take a lot of walks). And I'm still trying to figure out my new routine now that I work less. And while I still get sick sometimes (I am right now, in fact, due to lack of sleep on Tuesday night) I always find my way back eventually.

So yeah. If you've read this far, thank you so much for your patience 💜 I admit that I don't really enjoy writing things like these since it feels like I'm whining — I was very much raised not to take up space or complain when things are difficult (an unfortunate side effect to being the middle child with two disabled, high-maintenance siblings) — but I also prefer honesty and transparency. And I feel a little guilty since there are times when I've given pretty harsh responses when people question why I'm sick all the time or why I don't upload chapters as often as I used to, but without actually explaining why. So I guess it's time to be honest?

And the truth is that I've been constantly sick for the past four years. Not only due to my long Covid, but also the emotional and psychological toll of all the loss, grief, and pain I've been through. These past four years have been rough.

But I'm not saying that to gain pity or make excuses. I actually think I've done pretty well considering just how hindered I've been. I've improved my drawings so much and have written... god knows how many words. I'm honestly kind of scared to check xD But it has to be over 600k by now, maybe closer to 700k.

I think my only regret is that I haven't been able to engage with you all to the extent I would want. I wish I could be a more active and enthusiastic participant in fandom — to seek you out, hold conversations, and give you all even a fraction of the attention you've given me. I feel like I don't offer you nearly enough.

But I also know that I have to accept my own limitations. So, for now, we'll have to settle for whatever I can give, even if it's less than I would want. But I will keep on creating, trust me on that, because I'm stubborn as fuck and even if my pace is slower, I'm still determined to finish what I start.

And that's the note I want to end this on. I have suffered, yes — more so than I may have expressed to you all — but I've still managed to create some beautiful things. And while I mourn who I used to be and the fact that some of you have never known me at my best, I don't think the me I am right now is all that terrible. Do I want things to change? Yes, definitely. But do I want to change the choices I've made and the things I've accomplished in the past four years? No, I can't say that I do. I'm proud of what I've done, especially considering my limitations.

And, if you're reading this, thank you so, so much for your kindness, compassion, and support. Some of you are old friends while others of you are new, but I am grateful to every single one of you. You have made these past four years more bearable. You have made it easier to keep fighting. You have made it worth it.

Thank you 💜

[cruentous-mell]

medwhump day 1: under anesthesia.

sypnosis: Devin Farrow (one-off, he/they) drifts in and out, appropriately drugged for the serious burns he endured during an apartment fire. A guy who introduces himself as simply "Pines" (also a one-off and he/they) fills him in on the event. (like these guys? send asks about 'em!) for @medwhumpmay

The last thing Devin remembered was waking up to the smell of smoke and an orange, firey blur. It had come with no warning, no fire alarm, no unattended stove… not in his apartment, anyway. Around him, people rushed, uncoordinated, overstimulating. There was so much white it hurt his eyes, so bright that it didn't matter if he closed them. And still, the room around him. the people, the sounds of tiny scratching moving objects in the halls was so far away. He could barely tell if he was moving or if the walls around him were - trying to think through the fog just made him more disoriented. Before long, it all went dark.

When Devin awoke, the white hadn't gone. It was more focused now, but they were no less distant. They were actually almost more so - their whole body felt numb, and they couldn't move their arms. Just attempting was exhausting, and they soon determined it wasn't worth it. So, they tried their voice instead.

All they could get out was a soft grunt, but it was enough to grab the attention of a person in the corner of the room. Devin couldn't recognize them, as hard as he tried. As they approached, a concerned expression on their face, Devin felt himself fade again.

The next time he woke, Devin could see again. A dull tension ached through his body, and he felt panic start to rise but it seemed to dissipate unceremoniously instead of chaining into an attack. He felt dull and tired, like he could never feel anything but dull and tired again, and he was now unfortunately much too aware of the obnoxious numbing fabric wound so tight into the flesh of his arm and side that it felt like it was inside it. Lethargically, he raised his arm and reached towards the awful stuff - but his hand was intercepted by a somewhat uncomfortable looking stranger he could finally vaguely recognize as an apartment neighbor. "Woah- what are you doing, there?" Even though the guy seemed genuinely nervous and not threatening at all, Devin reacted immediately, threatening the IV needle stuck in his good wrist with the speed he yanked his hand back. He tried to ask "who are you", but it didn't come out - rather, debris in his throat from inhaling so much smoke threw him into a coughing fit. The stranger quickly slunk backwards, startled. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized, clearly a bit on edge. "I didn't know you'd react like that. I shouldn't have - " it was probably a better outcome than letting Devin claw his bandages off, though, so he shut up.

Devin continued to stare at him, too delirious to be upset beyond just reactive panic. Finally, the stranger spoke again. "Uhh, just call me Pines," he said, seemingly desperate to find excuses to break up the silence. "I'm the one who called emergency services - I'm on the first floor of your building. Youuu. Didn't have an emergency contact, so they let me stay here when I told them I was a friend." Pines seemed uncomfortable. This was normal info to give out, right? Not too much? Eventually, he pulled a chair over instead of just hovering in the corner, and after a while, Devin found the words to start asking about the event. The fire had been started by the landlord, apparently, and Devin was lucky not to have died. Much of the building was in ruins after the fire, both he and Pines would have to find someplace new.

Quickly, information compounded, and the delirium won over. All this bad news… it was still distant, impersonal. It didn't matter yet, right?

It didn't have to matter until the drugs wore off.

[grecoisms]

title: a heap of broken images (4/4)

pairing: kim wexler x lalo salamanca

rating: E

summary: 

"Funny coincidence, no? I leave this apartment, and they come to kill me two days later." "One might say you could not get your house in order." Kim says coldly, pressing all her nails into her palm with full force. Small crescents of small moons.

"You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water." t.s.eliot - the waste land

They could have died.

Died so easily. 

As easily as one draws a breath.

The realization hits her like a gong gone off.

The realization comes after - 

locking eyes with Lalo and staring him down,

looking at the empty space he still occupied,

getting in the taxi and the ride itself, 

leaving adrenaline behind, again,

But the realization comes before -

Getting into the hotel bed,

Shaking from exhaustion,

Hugging Jimmy tight,

Faking a cough,

Calling in sick,

Sleeping in, 

Staying in,

Processing,

Surviving.

The day is spent in bed and recollection.

He thumbed his gun so naturally, Kim thinks, picturing Lalo with a repressed storm on his face and gun tucked in his belt. He spoke so politely, even though his very presence froze the place up, made Jimmy and her rooted to the ground. Speechless. 

Jimmy went out some time ago to get some food, but they promised to text each other every five minutes, something he was more adamant on doing than Kim, who felt how she felt usually after going on a rollercoaster. Slightly sick, insides coiled, head fuzzy. 

We almost died. 

He made Jimmy retell the story how many times? At least three. But the words were less crucial than his presence - for he actually came to listen to Jimmy's story, find the cracks, and then?

Then he would have shot them both dead. 

Except she convinced him. Or perhaps made him rethink his agenda. Matters not which. All that matters is he left, left to Mexico, or perhaps somewhere else, but is probably far-far away. 

Her phone buzzes from under the pillows. Kim peers at the screen, seeing Jimmy's name.

Just stepped in Walmart. Milk, cheese, sth else? 

If u see some tylenol, pls buy some, Kim writes back, head on the headboard, head in a fog, staring at the colorless painting hung on the colorless hotel wall. Staring, but not seeing. 

Lalo left only for them to leave the house as well, with shaking limbs and a shock worth several strung-out nights. Jimmy has more of a problem with dreaming than sleeping though: started mumbling, shaking in his sleep yesterday - please, please, I didn't know.

As for Kim, she has more of a problem with falling asleep. She keeps seeing the look Lalo gave her when she stepped between Jimmy and him; when she struck him down with three well-versed sentences, aim to be heard, aim to hurt. 

Later, in the dark, the hotel room feels foreign. A fever-dream. Kim scoots closer to Jimmy, touching his arm gently, to soothe him, calm him.

"I won't let anything happen" she whispers in the dead night, where the words might as well be a dream. Wish upon a star. "I'm here."

And he is gone. And he cannot hurt you. Even if his eyes seemed to pierce.

Eyes so dark.

Half-admiring, half-calculating.

.

She quits Schweikart and Cokely the next day, with the sole intent on focusing on two things:

Help pro-bono clients.

Turn Lalo Salamanca in. 

.

Helping pro-bono clients, of course, is way easier than trying to come up with an affidavit that won't put Jimmy and her in jail for at least a couple of years. 

Context matters, and since Kim's knowledge of criminal law has been superficial and whatever remained has rusted over the years anyway, she decides to consult some books at the Central Library. Asking Jimmy is out of question, especially because he is still jumpy at the mention of anything regarding the cartel, the desert or the name Jorge de Guzmán in general. His sunburn has started to fade, but the wound on his forehead is not in a hurry to heal. 

"Back in the biz" he sighs two weeks later, just as he sets his briefcase in the hall. They moved back a week ago, mostly because Jimmy insisted on going to work and repeating different versions of "everything is settled now, I don't think there is going to be a problem" - and well, because they actually missed their real bed, and in Kim's case, needing stuff like pens and skirts and various folders from home.

It's almost as everything is back to normal. 

Lalo nothing but a memory. 

And yet. 

Jimmy still mumbles in his sleep. He still awakes drenched in sweat. 

As for Kim, she insists on working from their bedroom. It's not that the kitchen or the living room has become spooky or uninhabitable, but when alone, she has become used to working from their bedroom, where light seeps in so tenderly.

No memory that taints the space. 

.

Whether it is fate or simply bad luck, Kim does not know. 

May changes to juvenile June - time flies. It has been what? A month since Lalo has entered their home, uninvited. 

The amount of pro bono cases double at the start of summer season, and Kim barely has time to eat, least to wander around Central Library to read through yet another book on cartel cases. One makes do with the time one has, and since the only time the library closes late is on Wednesdays, Kim makes it a routine to nap for twenty minutes in her car after work, then head to the Library and stay as long as eleven in the night in the silence of the books. Rubbing her tired eyes, praying to find at least one small parallel between older cases and the Salamanca case. What she found out so far is not from a book, but Jimmy.  Lalo's cousin, Tuco, is in jail right now. Real name, real case. But the cousin sounds labile, prone to violence, no control whatsoever, so Kim quickly shuns the idea of visiting him. Also, because she is sure that the moment she speaks with another Salamanca, she is dead.

And Kim likes living, thank you very much. 

But her time remains tight and because of that, her mood morose, and she, unmotivated. The hardest part is leaving Jimmy out entirely, but after reading a 1986 case where the lawyer of a larger gang in Chihuahua got away by a written warning only, he includes him - by name - in the document, watchful of the tone. Yet playing with the tone of the affidavit suddenly makes it personal, the exact opposite of what it should sound like, what it must be. 

After coming up with a particularly complex sentence and realizing Jimmy does sound guilty in all of this (Saul Goodman, known as Jimmy McGill, volunteered, accepted, got chosen by Eduardo Salamanca to collect the bail money) accentuating how thin her case, how brief her document, Kim throws her pen away, resisting the urge to scream on her way home.

Home is more or less a sanctuary. 

More so, because Jimmy is home.

Less so, because his mood is not the best either.

He still suffers from nightmares, regularly. Kim can hear it sometimes, the panting or lashing out against a ghost threat, a ghost danger. When she hears it, she shakes Jimmy up immediately, but there are other disturbing remnants in him: outages, as she calls it. Because sometimes, even during the most innocent of actions, like cooking soup, or watching TV together or starting the washing machine, Kim sees Jimmy transform - face dropping, eyes vacant, hands shaking - and she knows he sees not the flat, or her, or the screen, but the desert, vast and unforgiving. Something terrible has happened, or is happening, and he denies telling her. Kim cannot decide whether she is angrier at or sorrier for him. Right now, the two feelings are equal in her, arguing. 

"You're early!'' Jimmy is on the couch, fresh out of the shower, laptop in his hand. "You want to order Chinese?"

He looks a bit pale, as if not have seen the light today.

"Sure" sighs Kim, throwing herself next to him. "Anything important happen today?"

"Well. I kinda fucked up, Kim." he turns his head. "Khalil found me today. With that detective you mentioned."

"Roberts" nods Kim, tense. "What did they want?"

"Called me out on the fake family. No phone, no address. By the way, how did you find them?"

"It was buried in the back of your other folder, the red one. Got lucky."

The folder, alongside all documents regarding de Guzman's case (and Ignacio Varga's, coincidentally) was destroyed when they moved back to the apartment. Jimmy shred them to smithereens, but when Kim got a whiff of his plan, she insisted they burn the remnants as well.

  "Point is" continues Jimmy. "I...got carried away, and said Lalo's name."

"Shit" says Kim with a dry mouth. "Did they notice it?"

"Yeah, Khalil repeated his name back at me. Y'know... interrogation style."

"Shit" Kim repeats. 

"I acted confused, but I'm sot sure they bought it. I bet they ran to Ericsen right away."

There was a silence. The uncomfortable kind this time - sand in the shoes, sand in the eyes. 

Kim takes a big breath. 

"Okay. No point in panicking." This would, of course, accelerate some things. ''What if... what if this was a way out?"

"What... what do you mean?" Jimmy stammers.

Though feels he won't take it well, Kim leans forward, reaching for her husband's hand, still dry from the days spent wandering. How deep he still carries the desert with him, within his body!

Indeed, where can he put it down?

"Jimmy" her voice is soft, hushed. "If we fold now, we might have a chance to get out. It is your choice, always has been. But from where I'm standing, you don't seem so happy to have been caught in this."

"But..." Jimmy smiles at first, as if she was joking. Falters. "It's all good now. I just need... no, listen. We just need some more time. This will blow over." There must be doubt on her face, because he continues.

"Worst case, they're gonna be angry with us for a few weeks? And then - what can they do: shake their fists at us?" he waves, but it's half-hearted. "Come on!"

"And when it blows over, will it be really over?" she asks, sharply. "From where I'm standing, it looks like you are wandering around comatose, and it has nothing to do with the courthouse. It has to do with the desert."

"I'm just tired, that's all. Look, maybe I haven't drunk enough water in the past few weeks, and maybe, I should see a doctor. You were right before, maybe I will see a shrink, but.... Kim?"

His voice trails off, because Kim stands up suddenly, both alarmed and ecstatic. 

"Jimmy... the man. The man who wanted to kill Lalo!"

"You told me he killed him." her husband says, alarmed. 

"One of them. The cellmate. But the other one... the one from outside..."

"He is in the hospital." Jimmy's breath hitches. "In a coma."

"Listen. We might be able to solve this, without incriminating us further. Hear me out..."

.

Allegedly, the man who attempted to kill Lalo Salamanca in his cell (the very same man who almost got killed by him) is called Stephen Olarfsson, 39, an accountant born in Oregon. 

It takes her three days and - she avoids writing emails altogether - at least a dozen calls to track down the man. During this interval Kim is a chameleon: posing as a legal administrator, police clerk, member of the Neurocritical Care Society requesting a one-on-one with the patient, who she learns has woken up four days ago, disoriented and discomfited. He denies answering any questions and in turn, remaining chained to his hospital bed until the Rehabilitation Center of Rio Rancho discharges him, which, one of the nurses tells Kim's pseudonym, may take at least a month, but more realistically, three. 

Apart from the sever head-trauma (causing hemorrhage in his brain, rendering him comatose for a few weeks), the shiv which killed Lalo's cellmate has founds its way into him as well, more specifically his thighs and stomach (so he was to be operated twice at the end of the month and fed intravenously in the time being). 

He remains under close supervision, from both outside and inside of his hospital room. 

He remains silent, despite threats and pleads and deals. 

This suits Kim perfectly. She does not want to talk. 

She just wants him to deliver a message. 

 .

Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong - is what Kim's mom used to say, usually after waking up hungover. Yet on those mornings, it was Kim tasting yellow acid in her mouth, as if she had been the one drinking. Bitterness, by any other name. 

It's the same acidic bitterness in her mouth when Erickson finds her one morning, coffee in her right hand, and flattery in her mouth, and Kim knows they are in trouble. De Guzman's name could only hold up for so long - it's a damn miracle it lasted at all. 

"Here" Ericsen says after leading Kim to her office, placing two photographs next to each other on the table. They are not shaking, her hands, but she puts them under the desk anyway, so that they wouldn´t betray her. "Same person."

On one of the photos is a black-and-white mugshot of Lalo, a close up of his all-angles face, mouth downturned. On the other, he is violently alive, all colorful, laughing, while embracing two older women in a garden. Maybe one of them is his mother, or perhaps both of them are his aunts - Kim cannot tell from the picture. She can only guess, and the smile on Lalo's face seems genuine in its warmth. But then again, Kim cannot quite tell.

"Who is Eduardo Salamanca?" she asks, easing the edges of the questions. For she knows him, seems like she has known him for ages, even though it's only been a month and a half. 

"A major drug dealer south of the border" it's different, hearing it from Ericsen. There is a slight bite to her tone, meant to criticize. "It seems Salamanca jumped bail, fled to Mexico where he consequently died in a gunfight. Half dozen people were killed."

Dead.

Kim resists the urge to stare at the colored photo again. 

When? she wants to ask, to get proof. It seems laughable, unbelievable to her, that a man like that would die, as if he was too much for death to bear. A month ago, he was towering above them, and staring at her with his knife-gaze, the gaze that seemed sharp enough to cut through her mask. And now -

The word is on the tip of her tongue. 

When? 

But instead, she says: 

"And?"

Ericsen looks strict. 

"I think there's a question here, Kim: How much did you know?"

The question is piercing.

Tell her, sensible Kim says. Here's the chance. 

Not like this, survivor Kim whispers. She won't believe you. Or worse, she will believe you - but not Jimmy. 

And without Jimmy McGill, Kim Wexler won't make a deal. 

.

Kim returns to the hospital the next week. 

Olarfsson, patient-assailant, is gone. 

Kim's note, the one which he gave him to deliver, hid it under his mattress and told him to try, that note is gone, too. 

Worse, as she leaves the hospital in a rush, confused if Olarfsson disappearing is a good or bad news, she spots a car that she has spotted before, when they returned home from the hotel. 

A blue sedan with two men in it. 

Otherwise forgettable. 

Until they are not. 

.

Jimmy's mood blackens in the upcoming days. 

Hearsay starts and all the other lawyers ostracize him - the news reaches her not through Jimmy, but from here and there after hearings. This is how she knows his shunning is widespread, ugly in its depth.

He needs cheering up, Kim decides. 

In fact, she needs cheering up as well. 

Deserves it. 

The plan presents itself in the form of Howard stopping her one day at the Forque Bar, voice polite but words biting, telling her to make her own decisions and insulting Jimmy. That is all it takes. 

Rushing home, an idea forms in her mind, ugly in its depth, but rewarding too, she knows. 

A well-deserved prank.

A lesson, if you would. 

Nothing too serious.

.

"They're gone" says a gruff voice, grave and gravelly. "The two men who were following you. They're gone."

Kim turns, there is almost no one in the elegant, but shabby little café. It's a dead part of town, dead part of the day. 

An old man looks back at her with shrewd eyed at the bar top. 

"Would you mind sitting down for a moment? And I'll answer any questions you have. If I can."

Once seated, he fishes a paper out of his front pocket, unfolds it neatly, and sets it in front of her.

"This" he says. "wasn't very clever."

It's Kim's note, the offer, crumpled, but still eligible.

July heat scorches the back of her clothes, makes it stick to her back, however she resists it, whatever she wears. 

"Doesn't fortune favor the bold?" she asks evenly. 

"Sometimes" the man agrees with a small nod. "When you busted my men, that was brave. Not wise perhaps, but I'll give you credit."

"Were you..."

"The one who hired Olarffson? No." he shakes his head, for emphasis. "That is why you should not leave notes like that around. And I would advise against leaving a note like that at the District Attorney's office as well."

Kim picks up her note, and puts in her bag, slow. 

"But the men who followed me" she asks, sharp. "They were yours, weren't they?"

"Yes. Both you and your husband. I'm not police. They are not investigating you either, in case you were wondering. I also know you have been doing things you should not be doing. But this is not what it is about."

"What is this about then?"

As if to brace himself, he man breathes in deeply. He has a tough look, but a calm kind of face. Grounding. 

"Lalo Salamanca."

"Lalo Salamanca is dead."

The old man says nothing.

And by saying nothing, Kim knows. 

.

Paranoia is just a fancy word for intuition - was another favorite saying of her mother.

The same intuition that made her find out about the attendant's men is now heightened three-fold. Now that she knows he isn't dead, it's as if the pavement, the canals, hell, even the high windows downtown grew eyes, watching her. 

Made of sterner stuff, he said. It echoes in her mind, her child self, the survivor jeers at it. It is a praise but so what? She thumbs the note she has written, the offer of information in exchange for information, so that she can see better, understand Lalo, who is very much alive, and could be anywhere in the world. 

So why is she so certain he is here somewhere, watching and smiling and knowing? Knowing what she does not? Sterner stuff, yet she is powerless. No move, no motivation given.

The note, she puts it next to the half-drafted affidavit. Both these papers, she puts in the cabinet under the fish tank, where they keep receipts, letter of guarantees and different sized rubber bands. Perhaps later she will have need of it, perhaps later, they can forget about it. 

When cornered, an animal will attack. Kim, with a beer in one hand, and a cigarette in another, cannot attack a fanthom, a ghost. Takes a great inhale of smoke and watches the board where the Hamlin-scam's planning stages are almost all ticked. 

A career-setback.

Or else, an attack. 

.

You never listen, Kim. 

It is true. She never listened to her mother, who she deeemed irresponsible and self-destructive in more ways than one. But then, how was she different? Where was the line, the line which she never should have crossed? Was it the Howard-scam? Or planning the affidavit? Or standing up against Lalo? Or going to the Detention Center to meet him? Or lying to Ericsen; laughing at Howard? Or marrying Jimmy? Where did it turn into a tragedy? 

She doesn't reflect on these questions yet. Not on the sunniest day of July, the last day of the month, when the prank has succeeded, the deed done. Sex with Jimmy has never been this amazing. There must be something to be said about the euphoria found in the vulgar, and Kim is basking in it, her worries near-forgotten, so is her guilt. She has had no time to ponder about the affidavit too much in the last couple of days, so deep they were into executing the Howard-prank. 

"Drinks?" Jimmy asks, half-clothed. 

"I will get some snacks, we have nothing now." yawns Kim, who wants nothing more than sleep for a bit, but it has been a long time since they celebrated anything. "Not even toothpaste."

She drives to the nearest supermarket. On the way, Howard calls her, which she declines with a scoff. Gets the toothpaste and the snacks, but also  washing powder, and a new set of towels for the kitchen, feeling festive, as if they have renovated their house, or else, moved into a new one. As if she should not hurry, because why would she need to? 

One of her clients, an unemployed guy from Nevada who moved recently, calls her, she takes it, tells him the basics, asks him to write an email, tells him everything will be alright. Calms him. 

Then she sees then Ericsen has called while she talked with Nevada. Calls her back with the patience of a saint. Ericsen just wants an update that she cannot give her, they talk of ongoing cases and how Jimmy fares, which Kim decided to color in a better light than it is. 

"Oh, I forgot" Suzanne says before hanging up. Kim, who has been in the supermarket for two hours now, starts to get a bit impatient. "Police in Chihuahua tracked Ignacio Varga. He was first spotted at the border, then near Albuquerque around a fortnight ago."

Vertigo claims her, suddenly. 

"That's great help, Suzanne. Gotta go now." she says, hangs up. 

The first sign: when she checks her phone again, she sees that Howard has not tried to call her again, nor did Jimmy. 

Not once.

.

Just paranoia, she repeats to herself, but goes over the speed limit anyway, rushing home despite her rational self soothing her. Nothing wrong, he probably fell asleep. 

The second sign appears though: her key gets stuck into the lock - with a creaking, splitting sound, as if something has already been forced into it. 

Kim will remember the sound for the rest of her life. 

It is stuck, however forcefully she wants to pull it out. 

"Kim!" Jimmy shouts from inside, and he sounds desperate, so Kim leaves her keys in the door. 

Decides to step inside. 

An act that cannot be undone. 

.

Inside is a slaughterhouse. 

She barely has time to register Jimmy's voice, which is shrill, begging her to run, when another person steps from behind the door, closing it, barring it.

  "Mrs. Goodman" beams Lalo, dominating the dmall space around him. Smile so wide, so wild. "So nice to see you again - come, join us!"

He has specks of blood on his face, but he does not seem to mind as he leads her to the living room, where everything is either overturned, on the floor, or bloody. Or all three. 

On the couch is Jimmy, crumpled and worn, so small. Around him are books opened and smaller storage boxes emptied on the floor, a mass of paper, most of them bloody, and god, where did the blood come from? She studies Jimmy who seems unharmed, though thoroughly shaken, like he was struck by lightning. Lalo does not seem to be hurt either - a bit tired and worn, but still very virile for lack of a better word. 

All she has to do, however, is to step closer. There lies the answer. Lies, literally, because Howard is on the floor, sprawled on the ground, a stranger, because it is not him anymore, only his body: bloody and unbothered by the happenings around him. Some of his blood has been mixed with water, diluting it, increasing its spread on the floor. The water comes from the fish tank that has been shattered on the floor, the fish dead on the ground, the cabinets in the kitchen with the utensils and the pots scattered on the ground, as well as the papers from the filing compartment, soaking in the salty water and the fresh blood. 

"God" Kim hears herself uttering the words, automatic and from far away. 

She cannot see the note or the affidavit on the ground. 

.

Once he sends Jimmy away, - because obviously he would send him to kill a man, as if the choice mattered - they are alone. Lalo simply makes Kim sit on the sofa, setting a glass of water before her. 

"Can I get something stronger, please?" she hates how weak her voice sounds. It's like her energy was inside this room and by destroying its order, Lalo decimated her powers. 

"Sure" says Lalo, amused. He has been walking up and down ceaselessly since Jimmy left, not one moment at ease. "Where you keep your liquor?"

"I thought you ransacked everything."

"You came home before I could get everything."

"It's above the fridge."

He whistles while stepping over Howard's body, on the way to the kitchen. 

"You have a preference, Mrs. Goodman?"

"Gin."

"Blue or red?"

Kim looks into the unseeing eyes of Howard Hamlin, close yet far, and she has a sudden urge to cry. 

"Blue."

He pours them both a glass and sits down on a chair, facing her. 

"Drink up."

He gulps his in a second, sighing when finishing. Waits until Kim finishes hers, stares at her with a pensive look, thumbing his gun again. 

"You were an only child, weren´t you?" he says after a second or so. "A lonely one, eh? You have that independence about you, real toughness, no fake macho shit. Could see it the first time you turned up, even if you were shaking down to your boots. Real courage. It's rare."

"Is this about Olarfsson?"

"Olarfsson?" smiles Lalo. "That the guy who I almost killed with my bare hands?"

Kim is very careful to keep her face blank as Lalo peers down at her. 

"Seems like you´ve been bad" he murmurs to himself, licking his lips. "and there I thought you are all goody two shoes."

He scratches his chin with the gun, then pushes his chair closer to the sofa, to her. 

"But then, you got me thinking."

The smell of him hits her nose this close: smoke, sweat and day old gasoline. 

"Gotta hand it to you, your mask is real good. Almost fooled me too. But then again, you have some tells."

"Tells?" repeats Kim, voice far, mind on the floor, next to Howard´s body.

"Yeah" he drawls, holding up his fingers to count, comical. "The first being married to Mr. Big Mouth. The second chasing me down in jail. And the third, well... I saw the look you gave me across the table. You throw that look around often?"

"I dont´t often dislike people." 

"Dislike" Lalo sneers, smile going cold. "Now that´s a funny word. You know what I dislike?"

He leans in, confidential. 

"Disloyalty."

Her blood curls. Whatever happened to Varga must be something terrible, and there is not an ounce of her that wants to know. Not this, nor where her note or her affidavit went. 

"Disloyalty is really ugly to me." continues Lalo breezily, as if they were having a coffee downtown, not playing russian roulette. "Hate and blood, that's part of the business, you know, but when you really trust someone - let's take your lovely husband, as an example, shall we? - it's all give and take. Al que a buen árbol se arrima, you know? And to betray a bond like this, well that's just a shame."

"Tell me what does this have to do with us?" Kim bites back. She can feel a swollen drop of sweat make its way down from the nape of her neck, and the blood of Howard Hamlin streaming its way to the carpet, near her feet. "You have asked for a service which Jimmy and I delivered. And now our business is done."

A deep cut appears in between Lalo's eyebrows: scorn. 

"I told your husband the moment I left that cell: this business between you and me is not over. Great things were waiting for us. And then you two spit in my face."

"The job you gave us" argues Kim with a heaving chest. "wasn´t easy and it wasn´t quick, but we did it - and we did not rat."

"You are a liar, Mrs. Goodman" Lalo says a bit too calmly for her taste. "First time, I almost bought what you said, I even admired it. Thought to myself: this Goodman is one lucky pendejo, eh? But then your esposo comes back and suddenly, you don't know nothing about anything, despite being top of the class."

Some of the blood reaches her left sock - wet and warm. 

What was that thing Howard told her some months ago, about forgiveness? Her mind feels a maze, but arguing gives some of her strength back so as she continues, so fear eludes her voice entirely.

"Threatening situations make people scared and desperate. And desperate people often look guilty."  

"A nice defense, councellor. Maybe that´s why you went running to a hotel, afraid I´ll come back here, huh?"

"Which you did." Kim points out.

Lalo spreads his legs in sitting, and leans in closer. His knees are just touching hers like at the garden at the Center, when Kim wrote her number on the map of his hand. When she thought him human. 

Lalo strokes his moustache before speaking.

"Funny coincidence, no? I leave this apartment, and they come to kill me two days later."

"One might say you could not get your house in order." she says coldly, pressing all her nails into her palm with full force. Small crescents of small moons.

Now, a snarl appears, yet Lalo manages some mirth into his voice - the contrast between his facade and his face quite disturbing.

  "As you kindly warned me so. How can I ever repay you, Mrs. Goodman?"

"You can start by not killing me."

"Is this what you think I'll do?" his voice is low.

The thudding of her heart becomes almost unbearable. When she looks up straight onto Lalo´s eyes, only to find him already looking back at her, a mirroring. The sliver of his brown eyes seemingly warm in the living light of the room - but it's only veneer. She knows by now it melts off easy.

"What you think I want to do?"

Without looking at the table itself, Lalo puts his gun on the far end of it, and rests his hands on the sides of Kim's head, caging her in. Then he bends even closer, breath blowing some here-there slips of her hair. 

"The worst thing that can happen?"

His pupils are so large, they seem to have devoured half of his gaze. 

Fear, Kim realizes suddenly, is a very lax word. She thought she was afraid before, but it is nothing compared to what she is feeling now. It's as if her body was falling off a balcony, or her nerves were stacked on each other, aflame. 

"Look -" she gives reason one last shot.

But he cuts her off immediately by pushing his hands from the sides of her head to the nape of her neck. Kim feels heavy and light at the same time. 

"We talked about family, remember?" Lalo says in a strange tone. "Family...well it's everything. And the people back in my home, well, they were part of my family. And every one of them is now dead, thanks to Varga, and that hijo de puta, and maybe, just maybe... " he thumbs Kim's temples as an afterthought. "Because of you."

Terror is a stone that sits inside of her. 

"That's insane" she whispers, looking down to Howard and then back at his murderer. Her face feels wet, and why is it wet? "You think we wanted this?"

Lalo angles his head to the side, examining.

"You might not have sent the men or pulled the trigger. But I'm sure you got a wind of what would happen. What has happened. And didn't tell me. Isn't that against law, too?"

Then with an almost uncanny gentleness, he caresses her face. 

"You should have run further away, you know?" he whispers. "Just like your mama made you run before, huh?"

Time freezes. 

It freezes with a special kind of carelessness, the one you don't expect coming, that makes the heart of you shudder.

Howard's voice, in her head: 

Your debt is forgiven, but anything else? That's on you.

"You look shocked!" Lalo continues, toothful of mirth in his mouth. "But I check on everyone I employ. People I want to work with in the long run, y'know."

It's not so abstract anymore, the terror in her blood - indeed, it has turned entirely tangible, something to become entirely. Terror, personified, chewing on her brain, devouring it whole. 

"Checked on your husband before Varga introduced us" then he points at her, just below her neck, near the jugular. "And I checked on you, too, just after we had that nice talk right in this room. Kimberly Wexler. Goodman's name doesn't suit you as much as your own does. Lots of, consonantes, hard on the tongue. Hard name for a hard woman."

He licks his lips. 

"How many schools did you go to, exactly?" he asks. It would be a very polite question, were he a polite man. Were this a polite scenario.

Kim opens her mouth to say something. 

But nothing comes out.

So Lalo reaches for one of her wrists resting on her lap.

"Hey, hey" he says, smile flattening. "Don't get panicky on me now, hm? We're just having a conversation. You, me, just like back in the garden."

His hand doesn't let go - his index finger measures her pulse. 

"You can ask me anything in turn. Talking is nice, no? As long as we're honest with each other. Mira!"

He holds out his other hand, for Kim to shake it. 

With a clammy palm, Kim shakes it, her body shaking itself into acceptance. This is not a dream. This is happening. Howard on the floor, a body, nothing more. Lalo sitting on the chair, in front of her, nearer than near, with frenzied eyes, oozing blood. 

"So... Kimberly! How many schools did you go to, exactly?"

"I can't... can't remember." Kim confesses, teeth chattering. "Twelve, or maybe more. Didn't reach twenty, I think."

"Dios mio! Hell of an education!" he cocks his head. "But that's not what made you smart, isn't it?"

Kim says nothing. Thinks nothing. 

Lalo continues. 

"Must have been hard, growing up with a mama like that. You moved cause of her job?"

"Not really."

"Did she have a lot of men to run around with?"

"No, I wouldn't say that."

There is a sharp flash entering his gaze now.

Knowledge. 

"But you moved because of her, no?"

"Yes" there is no danger in confessing this, at least.

"Was she a drunk? Or a gambler?"

"Bit of both."

Lalo hums, thoughtful. 

"And your dad?"

"My dad left when I was very small." her answers come automatically - all she need is time. Maybe some curiosity where there is no sympathy.  "Don't remember him."

"Must have been hard. I should know - I don't remember my papá either" says Lalo wistfully. "But he didn't leave."

"Did he die?" Kim asks, sure of the answer. 

"Yes, he was killed when I was four. My brother too, y'know." he reaches for the hem of Kim's blouse, a soft kind of material, blue. He inspects it with a tender sort of care, like he wants to imprint it in his memory. 

Jimmy loved the color of it, said so in the morning. 

"Only brother I had. Mi madre estaba tan triste, she got locked in a madhouse. Did you know that grief can make you insane?"

"That's terrible" says Kim, fighting the urge to be sick. Her mind cannot comprehend it yet, but in her soul, she already feels what is about to bloom in between them. 

"Yeah" Lalo says, still caressing the material, hands wandering near the skin of her abdomen. "You talked with Olarfsson?"

"No."

"And a gringo called Mike?"

"I do not know who that is."

Lalo hums again, the sound reverbarating on Kim's stomach, in her body.

"And does Goodman know?"

"Know what?" her mouth is so dry she has difficulty swallowing.

  Finally, Lalo looks up from her blouse to her face, clenching both of her wrist this time, his hands hot and his eyes dark. But only when he starts talking, voice raspy and an octave deeper from arousal, does Kim realize his strategy as a whole. 

"How much you want to be punished."

"That's not - " she tries, but Lalo raises one of his fingers against her face - his face severe in its fury.

"If you lie to me again, I´ll make Goodman eat that fish on the floor before I gut him before you."

Whether it's a revolt, an instict, it matters not.

What matter is it makes Kim spit on him.

For a moment, Lalo does nothing. Stunned completely as the wetness trickles down his face - Kim's spit landed just above his left eye, where there is a week old graze, perhaps from the day they tried to kill him. 

"Bien" Lalo's face is blank as a baptism. "If you want to play it like this."

He thumbs the spit away, eyes bright, and there, just next to the craving, there is an animal coming out of his stare now, gentle reminiscing and the light mannerisms all gone, gone with the spittle. And Kim can see clearly now how the dark window of his eyes have splintered, and something wild and mad had spilled in between the cracks. 

The hold on her hands is definitely painful now, she can feel his fingernails leaving red crescents on her in his wake. 

"Turn" it's an order. 

And he is reaching for the gun. 

Kim has been waiting for this move since he put the gun down in the first place. 

So when he moves to hold both her hands in one, she can feel his hold loosening a bit, and then, then she yanks her hands, preferably knocking him on the head. She also tries to kick him. 

But that never happens. 

Lalo is a seasoned one, it was clear from the first moment they talked. 

It's past talking now, and even in actions, he feels experienced enough. The moment she moves to dislodge herself, he halts his movement and kicks the coffeetable away, so as to drag her by the waist, down, down to the floor that is all bloody and watery. 

"Here she is!" he is panting, but his voice sounds triumphant. "¡Una mujer de fuego! I knew you were there somewhere, Kimberly."

He pushes himself on her so easily - and he is smiling again, the look on her face, the crack in her composure so intoxicating. 

"Fuck" Kim hisses, strained. Lalo's body is a bulk. But the heaviness she feels now, in her abdomen, is both new and familiar.

"I'm trying, Mrs. Goodman." he chides her, cruel again, despite the plea now in her eyes, because he invoked him again. 

Not him, he doesn't have a place here. Leave him out of this.

"What a temper you have, huh?" he moves deftly this time, moving her wrists into one hand, and pulling the hem of the blouse up, stroking the hardened skin there, seemingly a solid shell, yet soft nevertheless. Goosebumps appear on her abdomen as he caresses it. "The first time you got into trouble, you must have felt so bad. That made you do all the stupid things in the last few months?"

"At least I feel bad" Kim says dryly. 

"Yes, I'm sure it made a lot difference." he looks around, cocking his head. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I really hope you will die soon and painfully" Kim bites back, childish. "I hope they shoot your brains out or else hang you by your feet to rot."

As this was an invitation, Lalo leans in to kiss her with a devouring sort of hunger, pressing his forehead to hers and cupping her breast. Her breath hitches when he bites on her tongue, hard. As she taste of copper floods her mouth, and she sinks her teeth into his lips as a rebuttal.

Lalo grunts. His eyes are pitch-dark, and his lips vivid-red when he breaks the kiss. 

"The moment you stood up to defend that clown of a husband, I knew. Almost took you on the spot. I got so fucking hard I got almost blind. Here, feel it."

Almost gently, he guides her hand to his trousers tenting. 

You still have weapons, y’know, says the dark and dead voice again in the back of her brain. Think fast, Mrs. Goodman.

So Kim palms his erection through the fabric of his jeans - hears him inhale, hard. 

"Qué inteligente" he drawls against her mouth, breathless. "Veamos que mojada estas."

So Kim helps him discard the rest of his clothes.

So Kim does not mind when he tears her blouse into two, and simply pulls her panties away, sticking two of his fingers deep inside of her, curling them. Does not mind when he groans against her neck when she pulls on his thick hair, dishevelled in their rutting because this is far from lovemaking, she wouldn't even call it fucking. It's something more violent, bordering on biological. 

A whimper emerges from her mouth when he sticks a third finger in her, and he leans in close to swallow the sound with a kiss, searing. He licks her teeth before sticking his fingers into her mouth. 

"Just get it over with" Kim chokes when he pulls his fingers out to lick them. Feels strung-out, feels seen. Does not like how Lalo keeps his eyes on fixed on hers, fixed on her - rooted, grounded. Does not like it at all. 

She thought he'd cease talking once he is in her, but he is only silent as he unbuckles his belt with one hand, and takes out his cock. There is little to no fumblings, but Kim wishes there would be so she could be prepared. Still, the suddenness and harshness of it all is quite fitting. After all, judgement and punishment rarely comes expected. 

It hurts, when he enters her - even wet, he is so big. She gasps into his mouth when he starts moving, resuming his speech. 

"Can you imagine" he breathes into the hollow of her pale neck, as he presses her into the floor, the woodboard hard on her back, her hips. His golden necklace is cold on her bare breasts. "What Goodman would say if he found out? That would be something, no? Him walking in while I'm balls deep in you."

It is almost vulgar, the sound between the meeting of their flesh, because she is wet, shamefully so, and he, so eager that he is now slipping inside of her effortlessly. 

"Enough..." she pleads, and when he smiles her down, she bites him on his shoulder, until she feels the skin break and the sinews shake and his shivering voice, low in her ears. 

"Enough?" he pulls out of her only to turn her over, on her stomach, only to hoist her skirt to her waist, and enter her from behind. "We're just getting started - or is this..." 

This time, his breath halts, as Kim feels her walls squeeze involuntarily, shuddering through her orgasm, throwing back her head, her ponytail slipping from its keep, the world with it too, falling apart. She feels as if she was being impaled, cut in half. 

"Jesús" his left hand finds her hair, gripping, then pulling. Her back arches instinctively, and she mewls despite her discipline, despite this being a game. Because it is still a game, a chess game. Isn't it?

He is close to climaxing too - she can feel it as he grips her by the narrow slope of her neck and drags her closer, skin on skin, want on want. 

"A woman like you, I could give her the world... ¿No lo quieres dulce, querida?" he bends to her right ear, his face next to her, their breath mingling. "You wouldn't have to act good, wouldn't have to act at all, you can be as cold...Don't you want it sweet though? Sweet from me alone? Cristó..." 

His cock swells, and then he empties himself in her, his cum hot in her womb, his body almost lifeless as his orgasm take him by full force. 

"It wasn't so bad, wasn't it?" he says, later, as he climbs down from her laid down body, resembling the corpse in the room, stiff and spiritless. "Miss Wexler?"

Kim turns her face away, and finally, finally, starts crying.

.

After, when Mike tells them that Lalo is dead, she also tells her he destroyed the note with the affidavit a long time ago. 

"Knew you would keep it." he shakes his hands. The dawning light seeps in, and Kim feels a thousand year old. "And some things, you should let go of."

"Thanks." it sounds empty, because it is. 

The apartment is a mess.

She wouldn't meet Jimmy's eyes, though he tries to catch her gaze. 

They have to leave, so that they can clean the place, Mike and his men. 

Most of the blood is Howard's, she wants to tell them in passing. Some of them is mine.

But there is a strange smell around the blood, heaviest in the living room.

Must be the same for them so it must means nothing for them. 

So she tells them nothing. 

Thinks of nothing. 

[azaleaspirit]

This is Part One of my Twst MC!Overblot story for one of my Yuusonas. It's been a long time since I sat down and actually wrote anything, so sorry in advanced for my awful writing. I'm gonna pretty up this post later. I just wanted to get this out. Let me know what you all think and if you are interested in a Part Two!

________________________________________

Tired. He was so tired. No matter how much sleep he got, it was never enough. No amount of naps that Leona suggested he take when he saw the dark circles under the Prefect’s eyes changed anything. No amount of soothing teas Riddle had gifted him in the hopes that it would give him respite helped. Everyone could see that something was wrong with the beloved Prefect of Night Raven. Even Grim had tried to make his hench-human skip a day while the feline monster went to classes for them. Nothing helped.

It wasn’t a tired where he needed more sleep. No. This was a tired that was bone deep. Like an ooze that clung to Yuu’s soul, threatening to suffocate him. Dragging him down into a black pool where he no longer had the strength to fight as he sunk deeper and deeper. He couldn’t focus. He had no appetite. He had no energy. Yet he tried to convince his worried schoolmates that he was alright. He would bounce back. Yuu would muster up as convincing a smile as he could, but his more perceptive friends weren’t convinced.

He was alright. He had to be. A pillar of strength can’t crumble.

It can’t crumble…

“Pup!”

Yuu’s head snapped up. Professor Crewel was before him with furrowed brows and concerned eyes. Glancing next to him, Jack was also looking at Yuu with an equal amount of worry. Sighing and shaking his head of the rest of the fog, Yuu placed down the vial of potion ingredients that he had been unknowingly staring at.

“Sorry, Professor. I got lost in thought,” Yuu apologized with a smile that had too many teeth.

The two magic users didn’t look convinced with the way they quickly glanced at each other, but they didn’t pry.

“It’s fine, Pup. I came to tell you that you are excused for the rest of my class. The Headmage would like a word with you in his office.”

“Oh? Ah… alright,” Yuu stammered before shedding his lab coat and glasses. Grabbing his bag and waving a quick goodbye to his fellow first years and Crewel, Yuu hurried out the classroom - not before hearing in the background Crewel’s signature whip and Grim’s whine that he couldn’t go along with Yuu.

The hallways of Night Raven College with their twists and turns had become familiar to Yuu in the months that he had been there. Friendly portraits that waved or gladly struck up a conversation used to unease the Prefect, but - like everything else in this magical world - he got used to it and now enjoyed it. It was a world of endless discovery beyond the college’s walls and the island it shared with their rival school. A world full of magic, beastmen, fae, ghosts, and who knew what else.

A world… that he didn’t belong in.

“Ah~! There’s our wonderful Prefect! Come in and have a seat!” Crowley enthusiastically greeted once Yuu had entered his office. Said Headmage was seated at his extravagant desk with the portraits of the Great Seven floating above him. Yuu gave a small smile and nod in greeting to the crow-decorated man as he took a seat in front of the desk.

“You wanted to see me, Headmage?”

“Yes, of course! But before that, I can have one of our chefs bring up a snack or a drink for you. Aren’t I so kind?”

Yuu declined the offer. Something was up. The Headmage was known for being a little flamboyant and downright manipulative with his “kindly Headmage'' act. Sure it had helped with some situations that had happened when Yuu’s classmates didn’t want to help solve them, but the entire act was exhausting for everyone. Then again those situations should have been handled by the Headmage instead of his students.

Having Yuu decline his offer, Crowley’s cheerful demeanor sank away into an air of uncertainty. The black mask upon the man’s face made it hard to see what he was thinking, but his slumped shoulders and laced fingers upon his desk made him look… regretful? Hesitant? Crowley let out a deep sigh.

“As you know, I have been looking meticulously for a way to send you back home. Even spending my winter vacation looking into the matter! Every book, every scroll, every tome. Not everyone would be so kind as I to help you find a way back to your world. But-” he let out another sigh, “- I’m sorry, Yuu. There is no way to send you back home.”

Cold dread ran down Yuu’s back and froze every nerve in his body. The words the Headmage spoke punched the air from his lungs and stabbed at his thumping heart. The world around him fell away into a black abyss, ready to swallow him whole.

‘There is no way to send you back home.’

‘There is no way to send you back home.’

‘...no way…back home.’

Again and again those words echoed inside of Yuu. Words that formed a chain to drag him down into hopelessness.

“Not all hope is lost!” Crowley’s words pulled him back to the real world, “I’m not so cruel as to kick you out of this college. You are still one of my precious students! I still expect you to be the first magicless student to graduate from this prestigious school! Of course, if you stay in Ramshackle during summer and winter breaks, I will have you do tasks for me to earn your keep. Aren’t I so kind~?”

Too lost in a daze to understand the words that Crowley spoke, Yuu just nodded and fought back the tears that wanted to run down his cheeks. Seeing the Prefect silent and in shock, Crowley hesitated in what to do next. Clearing his throat, he rose from his chair and went to the large window at the back of his office. He stared out the window to the courtyard of the school below all while tapping his finger on the handle of his cane. The Headmage cleared his throat once more after a moment of silence.

“You are dismissed, Prefect. Take a few days off classes. I’ll inform your professors,” he said, his voice solemn and soft, as if speaking any louder would be a sin.

Yuu’s body felt like lead as he stood. His school bag was all but forgotten as he left the office; his feet dragging with each step.

The bell had rung to signal the end of class, and the hallways of the school filled with students. The mass of people swirled into a mess of colors that Yuu trudged through like an encompassing fog. If anyone said anything to him, he wouldn't have heard them. If they bumped into him, he would just carry on forward like nothing happened. The faces of his fellow students became blank. Nothing. He couldn’t see who was who. He needed to get to Ramshackle. The mass of swirling colors was suffocating him. He couldn’t breathe! Before he knew it, Yuu was running through the hallways and out the front of the school. His lungs burned and his mind raced with nothing but the words the Headmage said to him looping again and again. He made it back to Ramshackle with the door slamming behind him.

Ramshackle was silent. Empty. All there was was Yuu’s own labored breath and pounding heart. The trio of ghosts that Yuu had come to think of as friends weren’t there. They had gone out to do who knows what. It was for the best.

Yuu’s legs shook violently before they gave out. The boy slid down the door until he sat against the wood. His throat tightened and long overdue tears cascaded down his face. Yuu let out a broken sob. Then another. Then another. He hugged his legs to his chest and buried his face in his knees. What was once a silent dorm was now broken by the sobs of its Prefect.

Minutes? Hours? Yuu didn’t know how long he let his sorrow and despair out. When the tears finally dried, any energy that he had left was gone. His limbs felt numb. He felt numb. Getting up wasn’t what he wanted to do. But he needed to. He needed to get to the bathroom to wash his face of any sign of his sorrows. Grim would soon be coming back to the dorm. The golden rays of the setting sun through the windows meant that classes had ended a while ago. Yuu didn’t want Grim to see him like this.

Yuu’s body trembled as he got up. His limbs felt so heavy that he needed the walls to support him. Going up the stairs and to his room was like climbing a mountain. Making it to the bathroom, he leaned over the porcelain sink trying to catch his breath. When he looked up, he saw his face.

Dull, lifeless brown eyes set in a pale and clammy face. His eyes were red and puffy with dark circles under his eyes. Dried trails of tears stained his cheeks. Even his mousy brown hair was limp and dead against his head and neck. Grim may be oblivious sometimes, but even he would know that something was very wrong.

Turning the faucets on high, Yuu washed and scrubbed away any traces of his tears and even hoped that it would rid him of the dark circles. Grabbing a towel, he dried off his face.

“I’m fine. Everything’s okay. I’m fine… I’m fine,” he muttered like a mantra at his reflection, “I’m fine. I’m… fine.”

“Liar.”

The sudden voice shocked Yuu, making him whip his head around to find who it belonged to. His brows furrowed when there was no one else. No Grim. No ghosts. Not anyone.

“How much longer are you going to lie to yourself?” the voice questioned, its tone sharp and bitter. Yuu swallowed down his unease.

“Who’s there? Where are you?” he called shakily.

“Behind you.”

Yuu looked back at the mirror and his eyes widened. What stared back at him wasn’t him. It wasn’t even human despite its silhouette being human shaped. A face nor any defining features could be made out as if the being was made of darkness itself. Drops of darkness fell off of the being like droplets of ink. A pair of white shapes that resembled eyes narrowed at Yuu.

“I’ll ask again: How much longer are you going to lie to yourself?” the being’s voice demanded.

“I’m… I’m not lying. I’m fine,” Yuu answered, his own voice not sounding convincing to his own ears. The being in the mirror didn’t like Yuu’s answer as it slammed its hand against the barrier separating them. The loud bang made Yuu flinch and take a step back.

“Stop lying!” it snarled, “We both know you aren’t fine! You haven’t been fine since you ended up in this place! If ending up in another world wasn’t enough, every single one of them just made it worse!”

“‘Them?’ Who are you talking about?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Every single one of your so-called classmates. Your professors. That annoying feline. That lazy, manipulative man who calls himself the Headmage of this place! That’s who!”

“They’re my friends!”

“Friends?!” the being let out a hysterical laugh before mockingly saying, “Of course they are! What great friends they are to have treated you like dirt beneath their feet before you had to risk your life to even earn an ounce of respect. All because you are a magicless freak from another world!”

“You’re wrong!”

“And don’t forget about the Overblots! How unlucky you have been to be in the center of every single one of them. I suppose lucky for them since you’re the one who saved them. Not bad for a magicless student! You would think they would at least thank you for saving their hides, but nope! Nothing! Too good to apologize to the magicless worm after everything they put you through!”

“Shut up!”

“Let’s recount everything that your so-called friends have done to you, shall we? Mocked you, belittled you, attacked you, stolen from you, roped you into their mess, kicked you out of your own dorm, threatened you, hypnotized you, lied to you, poisoned you, put you through absolute hell, cast spells on you, used you, and to top it all off you are stuck in a world where you don’t belong!”

“Stop it!” Yuu screamed. His labored breaths filled the bathroom. The being’s words were… true.

Everything that it had pointed out had happened in a never ending barrage that assaulted Yuu since the day he was pulled into Twisted Wonderland. It hurt. It grasped at his heart painfully yet he just went about his days as best as he could. They never apologized to him. They never asked him how he was doing. All they did was give him pitying looks or went about their days like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t been hurt by any of it.

Yuu’s lips trembled and his eyes welled with tears once more. He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t be the pillar of strength that he hid behind when the cracks threatened to topple the whole thing down.

“They’re all so selfish, aren’t they?” the being said, its voice quiet and comforting, “You did everything for them. Gave them your heart. Been kind and there when they needed you. You gave them promises that you kept, but they took away your chance to fulfill your first promise. Your most important promise. Your promise to her.”

It was like a shard of ice pierced his heart. Images that he had buried away came back to the front of his mind. A lonely home. A woman with a kind face that morphed into a sunken and sick look. The beeping of monitors. A doctor’s words. The promise Yuu had made.

A promise he now couldn’t keep to the most important person in the world.

“Yuu! Come on! Let’s go to dinner! I’m star-” Grim’s voice cut off when Yuu turned to look at him. The cat monster’s eyes widened and his ears flattened.

Down Yuu’s face dripped black ink.

_______________________________________

There we go! Part One done! Let me know what you think!

[aizawasbestie]

Crimson eyes and those stupid little white lies

Part 1: Before you, there was him.

——————————————————

The prologue is up on my page now! (Go give it a read) along with the introductions for each character :)

Song: Nirvana (smells like teen spirit)

"We still feel as if we're teenagers because we don't follow the guidelines of what's expected of us to be adults, this song also has a teen revolutionary theme."

11 months earlier, day 1 of UA:

April 24th 2022

Mission plan: find the successor of one for all.

I pull out a cigarette from my jacket pocket, a dirty habit I'd picked up from my so called brother, I sigh, leaning against the bus stop, the fog dense today.

I light it and take a drag as I look down at the uniform surrounding my body, UA, the most prestigious school, the one I'd be attending, I smirk slightly and wonder to myself how they'd managed to pull this off.

I take another drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs, it was currently 7:15, the bus was due at 7:30, HE didn't want me to be late, opting for me to make a good first impression, if that even mattered at this point.

I roll my eyes at the thought, the music flowing through my body from my earphones, I close my eyes as I hum slightly, my foot tapping along, if only I'd been born 30 years earlier.

I open my eyes once again as I throw the cigarette to the side, suddenly feeling nauseous, I step on it with my boots, the platforms making loud contact with the ground, it was cold even though it was the end of April time, the tights uncomfortable against my legs as the green plaited skirt flowed just to the mid section of my thighs, I didn't wear the blazer, not really caring for being told off, I was here to do a job, not make friends, I still maintained the red tie with the white button up shirt, and a black sweater over the top, trying to be normal was never something that sat right with me, not like I'd ever get a chance of that.

I stare out in my own little world, checking the time once again...7:19 time seemed to go so fucking slow, I hear footsteps over the small hum of my music, I don't pay much attention, putting the lighter back into my pocket, not noticing that I'd been playing with it, I sigh once again, my foot still tapping along to the rhythm.

"Y'know that shit will kill you right?"

Says the voice, I turn ever so slightly, my dual-coloured white and slightly burgundy eyes making contact with the stranger, I make a mental note of the purple staring back at me.

"Maybe, but at least I can control that outcome."

I shrug slightly taking an ear bud out.

He raises his eyebrow amused for a second.

"Nice scar."

I look at him as he stares at me emotionlessly, the scar prominent but healed, on the left side of my face, large enough to be noticed but only if you want to be a prick, going from the end of my eyebrow to the top of my lip.

"Kinda rude don't you think? At least I don't look like I've slept rough, trouble at home?"

I challenge back to him.

He snickers as he puts his hands up in surrender, he does a once over taking note of my uniform. "UA? Same here, what class?"

I notice the change in his demeanour, and take account of the exhaustion written on his face, I lean back against the bus stop plastic wall.

"1A, you?"

He looked surprised for a moment.

"Same. I didn't see you at the entrance exam."

"Got in through recommendation." I say to him repeating what I'd been told to say the night before.

"Oh, you must be pretty powerful them, what's your quirk?"

I smirk slightly with a teasing tone "you'll just have to wait and see but from the likes of you I can sense that you have a mind control type of quirk."

He stills slightly, his resolve shifting.

"How do you know that?"

I smile sweetly

"just a guess."

He looks at me suspiciously before nodding "you're mysterious, I like that, you wanna get some coffee? I'm in need for caffeine before school."

I look at him for a second "I don't even know what to call you and you want to go and get coffee?"

He smiles slightly as he holds out his hand "Hitoshi shinso and yourself?"

I grasp his hand and shake it back

"Y/N"

He pauses "what no last name?"

"Nothing of importance."

He nods and I look at him before I interrupt the silence.

"Coffee sounds good, black two sugars if you're offering to pay"

He rolls his eyes before slowly leaving the bus stop, it's 7:29 and I see the bus coming down the road, I sigh before following him out.

"Maybe I should take it as a warning that you don't have milk in your coffee." He says suddenly

"Prefer the bitterness." I reply simply

He chuckles.

"Yeah I can tell.." he pauses before speaking again "what are you listening to?"

He motions to my remaining headphone in my ear.

"Smells like teen spirit." I say and offer him the other not currently in my ear.

He accepts and smirks, "I like you even more now."

———————————————————————

Flash forward - March 29th 2023

He looks at me, shock and hurt written on his face, it's silent between us both as we stare at one another.

I start to speak, the words on my tongue but he beats me to it.

"Don't. How could you fucking do this?!"

He shouts the last part making me wince, the corridors of UA becoming a ghost town due to recent events.

I stay quiet, looking away, ashamed.

"I trusted you. you were my friend.”

I turn and look at him harshly, tears threatening to fall.

"Well that was your mistake Hitoshi." I say quickly before taking a step towards him.

He steps back.

"I'm sorry." I try to reason with him.

"Those words mean nothing to me anymore, as far as I'm aware, you. are. dead. to. me."

The words cut through me like a knife would to a lamb but I know I deserve this, I nod once and step back, starting to turn away, I pause.

"Be careful, who knows what may be lurking in the dark."

I warn him, he's confused I can feel it, he looks away before opening his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, I vanish, leaving him, cold, alone and betrayed.

————————————————————————

April 24th 2022

7:55am

The things I've learnt about Hitoshi Shinso in the 30 minutes that I've known him:

• he likes cats

• he's an insomniac

• he also likes his coffee black

• introverted

He's weird, but not in the 'I'll haunt you in your dreams' weird but in the sense that he doesn't like people, he's to the point, honest, in an embarrassing word he's cool.

I hold the coffee against both my hands, as we leave the coffee shop, it was busy mostly packed of other students excited to return or start their journey at UA.

'They're fucking eager' I think to myself as I subtly roll my eyes.

Hitsohi sees me doing this and shakes his head amused.

"Not a fan of people?"

He questions.

I look at him, "you could say that."

"Should I be honoured that you joined me on this beautiful morning?"

He asks sarcastically but with a hint of playfulness.

"Maybe." I say as I smirk at him.

Maybe in another life you both could have been friends, my brain points out, as I continue to glance at him.

"Do I have something on my face or am I just that handsome?" He teasingly asks me.

"Just wondering how you tame your hair in a morning." I glare slightly "it's like a birds nest on there"

He rolls his eyes, "Geez thanks for that, I'll keep that in mind."

I snicker.

“Sorry that came out insensitive.”

"It's fine, I'm also wondering why you've decided to go for the 'good girl French braids' this morning, as you are far from good."

He shoots back with his own smirk.

I raise my eyebrow

"how do you know about French braids?"

"I've got a sister"

he replies.

I smile slightly as I nod

"Oh, must be nice."

Is all I say as we continue our way to school.

We walk in comfortable silence, it's nice to not have the exhaustion of having to talk, I check the time 8:05am, 10 minutes until class starts, I feel some nervousness but shove it down.

Emotion is weakness, weakness is sin.

I breathe out as UA comes into view.

"You ready?"

I ask him.

He shrugs.

"I suppose, ladies first."

He says putting his arm out, insinuating that I entered through the gates before him.

I roll my eyes.

"You do realise there is literally enough room for the both of us."

He chuckles, "I'm just being nice."

"Come on you idiot, you'll make us late."

I say amused as I grab his arm and pull him through the crowds, we end up just outside the doors, I stop for a second to admire the building before looking at Hitoshi, we nod at each other before entering, making our way to the first official class of the day.

This, as it would come to be, the first day I met you

————————————————————————

So this is the first official chapter, it's a little slow I know but she'll be meeting Katsuki very soon ;)

Any ideas/guesses on what her quirk is?

Let me know your thoughts!

[buglyknight]

338) The Trunk

My chest is tight

Overloaded heart on stimulants

Every time I leave you it is as if a year has passed

Chasing fresh memories as if looking through stained glass

A hazy fog of chemical love

I talk to God again on the walk back to my car

We're in this one deep, huh, you fucking cunt

I'm going to tear you from heaven

And beat you with my own two hands

Is everything predetermined?

If you knew all of me would you be able to know

I would continue choosing you?

I sprint under the lamp post again

We walk to the car

You yell at me as I set everything up

Playfully, of course

I climb in the trunk with you

You are the greatest feeling in the world

How long was a smile plastered on my face?

Until my cheeks grew sore and still I smiled

Oh, sweet everything of mine, touch me more

Watch my skin react as you melt me

Abs and chest tensing

Deep breaths as if I could engulf the feeling into my lungs

Leave me fluttering

Eyes unfocused as I come to

Blink the feeling away

Come back and I see your face

Looking at my body

Eye contact

You lean in, try to peer at me in the shadows

In these moments I really feel as if it's just us

That you are mine

I am becoming more deluded

But God, do I wish it was you

Every day waking up to this

You stare at the plate in your hand

As if to dare the noodle to fall

And it does, as if in protest to your glare

I am a fly on the wall, here

I love watching you for hours

We talk in the car for a bit after your shift

I am exhausted, can you tell?

Yet you light that fire in me, still

You teach me how to play rummy in the trunk

I crush you three times in a row!

DO NOT MESS WITH ME!

YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT ME!

I stare at you as you shuffle the cards

Are you doing the same when I do?

Isn't this so cruel?

Am I digging a grave

Or bathing in heaven's grace

Which answer is worse?

Which one of us will leave first?

When will the light fade?

Or the dirt smother me, permanently?

You can't focus when I massage your back

Are you melting?

Your eyes flutter when I play with your hair

Is my touch too much?

Relax into my hands

I want to make you feel amazing

Let me touch something as beautiful as your skin

Let me feel like I can be good

Your legs are sore, but you won't let me touch them

Won't you let me make you feel better?

You are worth the weight of the world

I will carry the sky for you

Won't you let me show you?

Unconditional love.

Perhaps, it feels like that

Maybe there is a condition somewhere I haven't found yet

I suppose I was trying to, once

In ten years I haven't found one

You tell me to keep my hands to myself

I don't have to massage you

Of course not, I know that

I want to, so badly

But you say it's enough

So I resist touching you

Keep my hands to myself

You set them aside

And you melt me with yours

I hastily take off my shirt

Please, touch my skin

I want to feel it

Do you have fun with me at your mercy?

I can't do anything as you trace me, there

I am a speck in the infinity you wield

Do you see me begging wordlessly?

Your hands cup my face

Oh, how could heaven ever compare?

Pinch my cheeks

Oh, how will I resist?

I can't

I won't

You would crumble any wall I set

You are the force of nuclear detonation

A black hole's gamma radiation

Leave yourself in my every cell

I will carry them with me forever

You slap my face lightly

Oh my god

wow

I didn't think I'd be into that

Hit me harder

You tug on my hair

How are you doing that?

I've never even been into anything close to this before

Slap me

Grab my chin and turn me to face you

I am nothing in your hands

You are creator and destroyer

I don't think you understand

Good GOD! HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?

Please slap me more

I am your play thing

Ugh

Shape me like clay

I will take whatever form you desire

Do you enjoy making me squirm beneath your hands?

A tsunami across my torso

Sink me into the blanket

Let's never leave

Won't you be a statue here, with me?

Blissful harmony

We walk back and you mention

You wanted Friday to be the last time

You planned to never speak to me again

You say, you can't stay away

Neither can I

Is this right?

Are we both avoiding the truth?

I grab two hugs before I leave

I cry on the drive to work in the morning

I am up for 44 hours before I find sleep again

It was worth every second

Every second in this heaven

I'll shoot for the stars

If i miss I'll just

Die alone, in the vacuum of space

[yea-izdo]

overthinking (lyrics) produced by Syndrome.

hard to carry my weight, i'm embarrassed to say/

i been squinting through the glare, it hit me square in the face/

i be overthinking pockets 'tween the snare and the bass/

walls is caving in around me while i stare into space/

what im smoking on so strong that you would swear it was laced/

halt my ticks; without a spliff pull out the hairs from my face/

try to change, the cycle bring me back to where i was placed/

ion think i should have kids lest they inherit this angst.

long rainy weekend, couldn't wait to stay indoors/

this morning all my calls ignored, was squeezing at my pores/

when it rains it pours, im steady picking at my skin/

the fog within my thoughts get thick, i listen to the wind/

a pinch of powder really adds a kick to that pint of gin/

pop another bean and pop the top up off a hienekein/

and now i'm finally high again, i've primed my mind to lie in bed/

don't matter if the coals is hot, i tune out when the fire's dead/

uh...my habits they inspire dread/

surroundings could be calm, but the chatter loud inside my head/

the patter of the storm help to drown out all the noise/

patterns stop appearing, closest thing i've found to joy/

and recently there's not too many things that i enjoy/

i cease to eat for periods and stare off in the void/

but somehow still been gaining weight, suppose that's from the drinking/

overthinking be the reason that i feel my soul been shrinking/

hard to carry my weight, i'm embarrassed to say/

i been squinting through the glare, it hit me square in the face/

i be overthinking pockets 'tween the snare and the bass/

walls is caving in around me while i stare into space/

what im smoking on so strong that you would swear it was laced/

halt my ticks; without a spliff pull out the hairs from my face/

try to change, the cycle bring me back to where i was placed/

ion think i should have kids lest they inherit this angst.

overthinking every problem, never learned it don't solve it/

it make me lose my patience, make me overindulgent/

i stepped into the shower while the water was scalding/

overthinking till i'm stressed out, wrinkled lines and i'm balding/

i wake up feeling panic, the sensation of falling/

i aint took my meds in days although i know i'm withdrawling/

struggling to write some songs, and socially i'm withdrawing/

can't express myself with lyrics, so i tried it with drawings/

another failed attempt, cluttered papers 'round my room/

filling with familiar feelings of that impending doom/

what happens when ya hobbies feeling more like obligations?/

happens when you got no way to bring on home the bacon/

working all the time and all my muscles exhausted/

so i'm feeling like i got thrown down and stomped in a moshpit/

weather ain't gone change no matter how much i watch it/

overthinking, all i had to do is switch up the topic/

hard to carry my weight, i'm embarrassed to say/

i been squinting through the glare, it hit me square in the face/

i be overthinking pockets 'tween the snare and the bass/

walls is caving in around me while i stare into space/

what im smoking on so strong that you would swear it was laced/

halt my ticks; without a spliff pull out the hairs from my face/

try to change, the cycle bring me back to where i was placed/

ion think i should have kids lest they inherit this angst.