#also when he cut his hand SO badly on that metal pipe or something and then had me superglue it shut

[redspringthorn]

Dude I miss reaching into that cremation furnace so bad. I so badly wish the owner of that cemetery wasn't fucking comically stupid and insufferable. But like I almost actually miss him even with how much he pissed me off because it was so funny working with him because he did stupid things no one else currently in my life can even compare to. I need to watch a bald man shovel molten hot bone and metal while wearing sandals, it makes me feel so alive

[jackrrabbit]

Sidekick /// Dabi x f!Reader x Shigaraki (18+)

Summary: During a rescue gone wrong, a rookie sidekick catches the attention of two villains.

A/N: Thanks for 1k followers!! This is the fic that made me create a smut blog/lowkey inspired this. imho this might be the spiciest thing I’ve ever written 😳 also wanted to call out @kazooli​ because this is highkey inspired by her lol thanks queen

Tags/warnings: quirk kink, reader’s quirk makes other quirks stronger, noncon, threesome, lots of foreplay, outdoor sex, mild overstimulation, degradation, mild violence, threats, chronological/temporal inaccuracies, fucking long

You can hardly be blamed for not recognizing them. It’s only been three weeks since you debuted as a pro, and you’re not even really a hero. You’re a sidekick, and apparently you’re not important enough to have been briefed on the major villains you need to look out for. You’re just…doing your duty. Rescuing civilians indiscriminately. Stupid, naive little sidekick. It’s not your fault that the lives you just saved belong to the two most notorious villains around.

Still, Shigaraki can’t wait to see the look on your face when you find out.

///

The disaster you ‘rescue’ them from—the League’s bar crashing down, the result of a small-time villain’s poisonous gas quirk—isn’t even a disaster. It’s a minor annoyance, sure, but Shigaraki and Dabi would have been fine without you…even though both of them missed Kurogiri’s warp gate and ended up trapped under a wooden beam in the wreckage of the building… Okay, it’s more than a minor annoyance. Shigaraki hacks violently as the cloud of foul-smelling steam and powdered debris enters his lungs. The poisonous quirk doesn’t seem to be having the same acid-burn effects on his body as it did on the building, but he can’t assume it’s harmless.

Father… Shigaraki took Father off his face to drink at the bar earlier before the gas hit, and now in the confusion the severed hand is either buried underneath the rubble that used to be the League’s main base or somewhere else out of view. “Father? Father!” Shigaraki calls out, attempting to shift under the crushing weight of the beam.

“Shut up,” Dabi says from somewhere to Shigaraki’s left. “Kurogiri took it in one of the portals, I saw it.” He looks worse than Shigaraki feels—something hit him in the face as the bar collapsed, and a few of the staples (piercings? stitches? whatever) on his right cheek are torn open and bleeding.

“Are you lying to me?”

Dabi sneers and rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get out of here.” His palms glow blue and Shigaraki follows suit, letting four fingers sit on the wood that’s pinning both of them to the ground. It’s too heavy to lift, so they’re going to have to get rid of it…a task that seems significantly more difficult when it becomes clear that neither of them are positioned at the right angle to touch it.

Shigaraki tries to wrest his arm out enough for his thumb to touch the wood, but it’s impossible. Beside him, Dabi’s having the same issue. “Shit, I can’t reach—“

“Is someone there?” Confident, clear, and oddly robotic, your voice cuts through the din of gurgling water from cracked pipes and police sirens like a lit flare in the darkness. Shigaraki tenses and halts his attempts to get free from the beam, and a second later Dabi mimics him.

“I heard voices.” The same unfamiliar voice rings out through the half-light, now accompanied by a body—your body, taking a series of awkward jumps down the piles of rubble to land in front of the two of them. The outfit you’re wearing is ridiculous: a pair of metal boots that clang against the cement wherever you step, matching braces on your arms, and a space-age chrome motorcycle helmet to top it all off.

A hero. Shigaraki’s lip curls in disgust as your head turns his way.

You scan the scene quickly, eyes resting on the two men trapped in front of you for a moment before you turn back to the opening in the wreckage. “Found two civilians!” you call out to the rescue workers just in case they’re within earshot, although it’s unlikely.

Dabi snickers under his breath. Civilians? Even in the chaos, you should’ve known the second you saw them who you’re looking at. Are you faking ignorance? Got something up your sleeve?  It’s either that, or you genuinely don’t recognize them. Priceless.

You kneel down in front of the fallen beam and give a half-hearted attempt to pick it up. It doesn’t budge. No surprises there—if it were light enough for you to lift by yourself, the two men held down by it would have no problem getting out with their combined strength. You’re going to have to use your support gear to get it off them.

But first—you search for a memory of your rescue training. Reassure the victims. They’re probably panicking.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell them, your voice coming out mechanical and distorted from the helmet you’re wearing. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here to save you.”

This time, Dabi has to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Ah, yes…they’re so lucky that there’s a do-gooder little hero around to rescue them, because they’d be helpless otherwise. The laugh is still audible, though, and Shigaraki shoots him a glare.

You raise an eyebrow at their expressions. Did he just laugh? Well…you’ve heard that people sometimes have inappropriate reactions in times of crisis. The dark-haired man seems more badly hurt, so you creep toward him first, careful not to disturb any of the debris and trigger an avalanche reaction. “I’m going to check your injuries now,” you tell him, and your gloved hand brushes away a sweep of spiky hair to examine the sizable red bump growing on his forehead.

Ouch…there’s no way that doesn’t hurt, but the man’s not letting any of the pain show on his face. Instead, he looks disinterested at best, and at worst? You almost get the feeling that he’s eyeing you up under your hero costume. Not that you can blame him. Damn this skin-tight bodysuit—it leaves basically nothing to the imagination.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask him. “I don’t think this is too serious, but they’ll look you over for a concussion when I get you to first aid.”

Dabi shrugs and you frown. Is the non-verbal response because of the ripped stitches in his face? Is it too painful to talk? Or could there be brain damage? Or maybe he’s just a man of few words or something…?

“Can you get on with it? Pick up the fucking beam already,” Shigaraki hisses.

Startled, you pull your hand away from the other man’s forehead. That ungrateful little…nope, nope, don’t get annoyed, he’s just in shock. “O-Of course, sorry. Just gotta make sure it’s okay to move.”

Luckily, the beam doesn’t look like it’s supporting anything else that’ll fall if you pick it up. You crouch down next to one end and steady your feet against the cement, lifting up with all your strength while activating the effects of the support items you’re wearing. When you feel the metal on your arm braces grow warm, you remind yourself again to thank the developer of your costume. You may not be a fan of the way-too-tight bodysuit that clings to everything, but the strength-enhancing armor that you wear on your arms and legs more than makes up for it.

A second later, you hold back a grin. It’s moving! You try to ignore the unpleasant screech of metal against stone as the beam slowly lifts into the air. As soon as the men get out from under it, you pant and let it crash back into the ground. “You guys okay?”

“Mm…yes,” Dabi replies, running a hand over the torn piercings in his cheek. “Got any more gas masks for the poison mist?”

“Don’t worry! The Commission is familiar with the villain who created it, and the gas isn’t harmful to anything living. Only buildings. It’s a troublesome quirk, but we’ve got it under control.”

“Then what’s with the helmet?”

He can hear the hesitation in your reply, even distorted and tinny through the metal speakers. “Uh…I, well…”

Now that you’re getting a good look at them, the two scarred faces in front of you seem weirdly intense, considering you’ve just saved them from a collapsed building. The dark-haired man’s eyes are…very, very blue next to the burned-looking skin underneath, and the other man’s greyish-blue hair isn’t quite long enough to obscure a pair of red irises that are scrutinizing your face with obvious hostility.

You give a nervous shake of your head to clear it. “Um, the helmet is…it’s dangerous if I take it off. I should get you guys back to the rescue area, I need to meet up with my hero…” Without thinking, you take a step back and then one more, not knowing exactly why you’re backing away when you’re supposed to be escorting them. “I’ll just lead the way?”

With your third step back, though, you bump into something hard. What was that? Your head jerks around but before you can identify what it is that stopped your retreat, you feel the faint sensation of something tapping lightly on the back of your helmet.

And then…it just…crumbles.

What just happened?

You cough and shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of dust. A breeze whips through your hair, sending a chill through you in more ways than one. How? No one pulled the helmet off; you would’ve felt it if they had. More dust sticks to your face, and you rub your eyes so you can open them.

Behind you, Shigaraki waits with outstretched fingers an inch away from your neck. If he had to explain the decision to decay your helmet strategically, he could—you’re a hero, a potential threat, and he wants to know what you’re hiding under that outfit just in case you figure out who they are and decide to turn on them.

But really? He didn’t think about it that much. It was an impulse reaction to you walking away from them; a tantrum. Child-like.

Once your stunned face is exposed, Dabi has to wonder what you were even trying to hide. You’re…surprisingly ordinary. Young-looking—a rookie, fresh from hero school graduations a few weeks ago maybe? Large, expressive eyes, lips parted in shock, but nothing particularly interesting. Shigaraki cocks his head to the side to study your face too, and both of them are so focused on your appearance that it takes a moment for them to notice the feeling.

Well, feeling isn’t really the right word, but there isn’t a word for the way your quirk works. Dabi’s eyes widen when it reaches him and behind you, Shigaraki stiffens. You notice.

There’s an involuntary quiver in your voice as you break the silence. “Y-You guys must have strong quirks if you can feel it just from that.”

Dabi sucks in a breath. So this is your quirk? It’s different…he’s never felt anything like it, not that he’s exactly sure what it is. There’s some kind of energy in the air around you that he’s breathing in, a feeling like taking a shot of espresso after days of sleep deprivation.

No, it’s stronger than that. The head rush after doing a line of cocaine would be a better metaphor.

Either way, he’s awake—more awake than he can remember feeling in a long time. Heat rises to the surfaces of his palms unbidden, his quirk appearing without him calling it. “What is this?”

“…It’s called Boost,” you say, licking your lips as a dry wave of heat radiates out from the man in front of you. “I can strengthen other people’s quirks. That’s why it’s dangerous—if the villain finds us—“

“It must have been hard to get through hero school with a quirk like that,” says a raspy voice from behind you.

What—? Your head twists around. When did he—

Shigaraki grips your shoulder with three fingers, holding just tightly enough to keep you from stumbling forward and away from him. His pinky and ring finger hover an inch over your costume, careful not to disintegrate the fabric he’s touching—although with the power sparking through his veins at the moment, it almost feels like three fingers would be enough.

“…Doesn’t really seem like the kind of quirk a hero has.” His voice, soft and pondering (a weird contrast to the harsh architecture of his facial features you’d seen earlier), feels very close to your ear. Something soft tickles your cheek. His hair?

A voice (an instinct?) deep inside of you is telling you to run. You ignore it. This is normal, right? It’s not uncommon for civilians who’ve just suffered a traumatic villain attack to have questions, even if those questions seem irrelevant to the situation at hand. You have to answer, even if your gut is churning. “I’m not really a hero. Not yet. For now, I’m a sidekick to one of the pros—and speaking of which, I really need to find—“

“But how does it work?” Dabi doesn’t notice himself making a conscious decision to step forward, but he does anyway and being closer to you feels right. He can see the trepidation on your face as he gets close enough to reach out and touch you, but you can’t really ask him to stay back, can you? Not when your quirk feels this good?

“I—“ Is it unreasonable that you think you’re being trapped right now? They’re just a couple of civilians, right? The question itself is common enough. People often wonder how you can be a hero. It’s a concern you’ve had to address dozens of times over the years. “Well, I work with rescue operations, especially with other heroes who have healing-type quirks. I can also assist in combat in some situations.”

“In combat? If you’re with a hero and a villain, you’ll enhance both quirks. Seems counterintuitive,” Dabi says, half aware that his voice is getting lower.

“And you clearly don’t have physical abilities. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have…these.” Shigaraki taps three fingers on the metal brace on your right arm.

“The effects can be unpredictable. And I can increase the degree of the enhancement with physical contact.”

“Contact?”

“Yeah. The gloves of my costume come off. My quirk is way stronger when it’s skin-to-skin.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

You shouldn’t have said that.

Shigaraki’s ring finger and pinky, which were hovering over the arm brace, come down to rest on the cold metal. The effect is instant: no crumbling, no slow decay—it’s there, and then it’s dust. His quirk in action, boosted by yours.

“What—What are you doing? What did you just do?” You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tight by your collar. His other hand comes up to grip your chin, and in one long sloppy stroke, he licks you from your neck up to your jawline.

You shudder. So does Shigaraki.

“It’s my quirk,” he tells you slowly. His breath is steamy warm on the cold, wet trail of saliva painting your throat. “Decay. Have you heard of it?”

You flinch away from his hand and your back falls against his chest. Of course you’ve heard of the Decay quirk. You might be a rookie, but even civilians know about the young, impetuous head of the League of Villains. Jesus, how had you not recognized him earlier? White hair, red eyes…you should have known. You should have left him under that beam. “Shigaraki…Tomura.”

“So you’re not completely clueless. Do you know me, then?” Dabi asks. He would think he’s the more noticeable of the two (the burn scars usually identify him), but you just stare up at him with the same deer-in-the-headlights look as before. Smirking, he lights a blue fire in his palm and it jumps up toward your face—not just the small spark he intended, but a bright, high flame. “Maybe this will help you remember.”

“The Forest of Beasts incident. You’re the one who started that fire,” you whisper. You’ve seen the TV coverage of the attack on UA’s training camp, the abduction of that teenage student, the forest lit up blue from wildfire. No wonder his skin looks burned.

“Dabi,” he corrects you.

Breath is coming out of your mouth in shallow puffs. Are you hyperventilating? Is this what hyperventilating feels like? You’re definitely panicking. They’re so close to you, caging you in between them. The smoke from the blue fire is uncomfortably hot over the exposed skin of your face, and Shigaraki’s lethal hands are still touching you. If they want to kill you—and why wouldn’t they?—you’re fucked.

The flame goes out and Dabi’s hands come down to squeeze your wrists. His palms are hot like he was holding them in front of a lit stove. It’s not painful, but it’s a threat.

“I’ll fight,” you say.

Your voice is trembling, and Shigaraki likes it. The effects of your quirk, the way he felt when he licked your face… And you’re afraid. He can see it in your shoulders, the quivering of your torso pressed into him. It’s nice. He wants to feel it more.

You’re struggling against their hold, and Dabi feels the urge to laugh. “You’ll fight…the two of us.”

“If you try to kill me, I’ll—“

Before you can finish your sentence, Shigaraki’s hands flit down to your metal support gear and disintegrate it. Shit. He’s fast, and you’re helpless.

Dabi releases your wrists and cups your face in a mockery of intimacy. His eyelids flutter closed as his skin meets yours… Fuck, he could get used to this. You smell so good, sweet and soft and clean, like fruity shampoo. What is that, watermelon?

Life must be difficult for you, hm… Everyone around you must want to touch you constantly. It seems like Shigaraki enjoyed licking you—maybe bodily fluids are an even stronger conductor of your quirk? Pushing easily past your resistance, Dabi forces your jaw upward and kisses you.

Oh…yesyesyes, just like that. Perfect. Dabi has to bite down a groan as his tongue enters your mouth. It’s ridiculous for someone else’s spit to taste this good, but he’s right—your quirk is amplified by the contact from the kiss.

After a moment he has to break it to regain focus and make sure he’s not burning you. You cringe away from him, your cheek brushing against Shigaraki’s neck, but Dabi tangles his hand in your hair to pull you back. He runs a finger against your closed lips, letting the pad of his fingertip heat up until your mouth drops open in response to the threat.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shigaraki asks, voice laced with revulsion. Privately, you agree. What’s going on? You were sure you were about to be either burned to a crisp or decayed into the equivalent.

Dabi laughs under his breath. “Try it. It feels crazy good.”

Curious now, Shigaraki wrenches your head around and tilts your jaw up to repeat Dabi’s action. When you refuse to open your mouth, he taps your jaw warningly and a hiss of fear escapes you. Would he really kill you? He decayed your support gear so quickly—would it be the same for your body?

Well, what’s going to stop them?

You open your mouth.

Shigaraki’s lips are harsh and unsentimental against yours. His tongue sweeps over the inside of your mouth, invasive and brutal. He grips you forcefully, his face pushing you deeper into the strained hold with your head twisted toward his. You’ve never been kissed like this before. His spit—it’s in your mouth.

And Dabi’s hands are on your waist. “How do you get this thing off?” he murmurs, pinching the fabric of your bodysuit.

A surge of panicked adrenaline gives you the strength to pull back away from Shigaraki. “What? No, you can’t!”

“Are you going to stop us, little sidekick?” Dabi mocks. “I think I can burn it off without too much damage.”

“Let me.” Shigaraki takes hold of the cloth, careful so when it dissolves into dust his hand isn’t touching you, and within a second—a second—you’re left shivering in just your underwear and boots.

“Help!” The plea squeaks out and you hope blindly that there’s a hero close enough to hear you. But is there even anyone who can fight them? You certainly can’t. “Help me! Somebody!”

“Shut up.” Dabi sends up a tongue of flame from a fingertip and you shriek as the heat sears against you. “Oh, come on. You should feel lucky. Bad guys like us usually don’t hesitate to take heroes out.”

“I don’t— Please, I’m just a sidekick, I’m a rookie— What do you even want from me? Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone! Please let me go.”

“Well, I think I know what I want.” Dabi traces circles over the tender skin of your hips, playing with the elastic of your underwear. He meets Shigaraki’s eye over your shoulder. “I think he wants that too. Right?”

“Yeah, I want…I want to fuck her,” Shigaraki hums. This isn’t like him, but he can’t help himself. You’re different. Leaving you here and never feeling this stimulant again isn’t an option. He buries his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, bites down on the soft skin there, and sucks.

You whimper, half from his answer and half from the sensation of his chapped lips on your neck. “Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…you smell like something I want to eat. Especially this.” Dabi kneels down in front of you and hitches one of your legs up over his shoulder so you feel his hot breath washing over your clothed pussy.

You whine and attempt to wriggle back away from him, but Dabi’s grip on your thigh holds firm. His other hand brushes against the fabric of your panties to rub up against your slit and another surge of panic jumps up your throat. You can’t let him do this.

You kick your foot against his back, desperately attempting to make contact using the heel of the high boot that’s the only piece of outerwear still left on your body. It hits him awkwardly and he growls. “Damn it. Can’t you keep her busy?”

“Ahh…” Shigaraki ceases his oral assault on your neck and scratches a fingernail against one of the bright red marks marring your skin. He feels almost dizzy from the way your quirk is affecting him. Behind him, the broken expanse of wall digging into his back is the only thing keeping his focus. “Behave, sidekick.”

Before you can respond to the mocking title, Shigaraki’s face is against yours and his tongue is in your mouth again. Rough fingertips work up under the band of your sports bra and pushes it up over your tits. You screw your eyes shut at the sudden feeling of cold air on your nipples, and you know without looking that they’re standing up. Shigaraki gropes you thoughtlessly, keeping one finger lifted off of your skin, and you gasp on his tongue.

“That’s better.” Dabi’s mouth returns to brush against your panties. To be honest, eating you out isn’t the first thing on his mind. What he wants—what he really wants—is to shove you up against the wall and fuck into you and find out what your quirk feels like when you’re wrapped around his cock. But you’re probably not wet enough for that, and it’s not like Shigaraki is going to do anything to take care of you. Dabi would be surprised if the other man’s ever eaten pussy before in his life.

Besides…you smell good. It’s not even just the feeling of your quirk exciting him. The rich, feminine scent of your pussy is inches away from him, and Dabi is dying to make you cum in his mouth.

A moan curls up from deep in your throat as Dabi caresses the lips of your pussy through your underwear. You don’t bother protesting—at this point, it’s unlikely that any plea you could muster would stop them. Your earlier begging didn’t do much besides spur them on, but you still cry out as softly as you can when an unnaturally warm fingertip slips under the cloth of your panties to dip into your slit.

“Oh? You’re wetter than I expected. Are you enjoying this?”

Your frantic denial falls on deaf ears. Shigaraki rasps out a laugh and bites down on your neck again. He’s supposed to be keeping you still, but he can’t help enjoying the way your almost-naked body feels as you press yourself back into his chest, trying to force some space between yourself and Dabi.

Your squirming is no problem for Dabi, though—you’re so soft and vulnerable and the velvety skin of your inner thigh looks so delicious… He nuzzles against the area of bare skin and latches on to it, sucking until he’s sure you’re going to have a mark in a few minutes. The thought of leaving hickeys on you like a teenager is sickeningly nostalgic. You’re probably going to try to forget this when they’re done, aren’t you? But you won’t be able to, not when you’re covered in love bites and bruises. You’re going to be marked up for weeks.

Fuck, he’s hard.

Too impatient to bother taking off your panties, Dabi just pushes them aside to gain access to your damp cunt. His fingers feel hot—too hot, almost unbearably hot; you feel like you could melt into a puddle and your pussy is certainly slick enough as he pets your clit and slides one finger in, then two… You whimper and shake your head, silently denying what’s happening to you. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but Dabi’s fingers quickly find that rough patch inside of you that makes you want to beg like an animal. You hate it, but it feels good.

“She’s so tight,” Dabi says with something like awe in his voice. You can hear Shigaraki panting behind your back.

“Get on with it,” Shigaraki says.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

For a second you just feel Dabi’s humid breath against your dripping cunt before he closes the space between the two of you and his tongue slides onto you, laving over your cunt to come to a rest on your clit. A sound you’ve never heard yourself make before forces its way out of your mouth as Dabi eats you out in earnest, rubbing his tongue against your clit in a stuttering rhythm that gives you no time to catch your breath.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Your head rolls back onto Shigaraki’s shoulder. You feel like crying for a million reasons at once. Maybe you’re already crying—the sounds you’re making are almost like sobs. You want him to stop. You never want him to stop. Your hands twitch as you fight the impulse to fist them in the villain’s hair and pin him down between your thighs.

“Fuck, oh fuck, no stop please stop, ah…!” The stream of gibberish coming out of your mouth crescendoes into a real sob as you feel your climax coming. No—you can’t—you can’t cum here, in this broken-down bar, on the tongue of a villain, but it doesn’t matter that you can’t, because you’re going to cum anyway.

“Please don’t, please let me go—“ You writhe uncontrollably as the desire to cum sweeps over you, but Dabi just curls one arm around your thigh and pulls his face away so he can push his fingers back in, angling his palm to grind roughly over your clit. The harsh, rough texture after the warm wet softness of his tongue is enough to push you over the edge and you cry out your orgasm, your pussy clenching onto Dabi’s fingers as he works them in and out of you.

Unable to support yourself, you crumple like paper, and only the two villains you’re sandwiched between keep you upright.

“Fucking finally,” Shigaraki growls, and he pushes you down so your knees scrape painfully into the rubble. Your earlier resistance was cute, but so is your dazed compliance as he pulls your hips up to meet his.

“You’re going first?” Dabi asks incredulously. After he did all that work getting you off? No way.

“You can use her mouth,” Shigaraki tells him. His cock is straining against his pants and he groans as he releases it and rubs it over your panties. He could decay them, but…they’re cute. Pale pink, peach-pink, except for the wet spot over your cunt. Precum is already dribbling out of his cock as he pulls your panties to the side and lines it up with your pussy. Jesus-fucking-christ, you’re wet, sopping and slimy. Doesn’t that mean you’re begging to get filled up? Shigaraki hears himself sigh as he slides the head of his cock up and down your slit so it’ll be wet enough to go in.

You’re still out of it, dizzy from your orgasm and the tension of the situation, but you snap back to your senses with the feeling of something hard pushed up to your entrance. “Wait!” you yelp for what feels like the hundredth time. The gravel scattered over the wreckage where you’ve been forced onto your hands and knees digs painfully into your flesh as you pull away from Shigaraki, but he holds fast to your hips with pinkies raised.

“Uh-uh,” Dabi admonishes with a grin, as if he’s reprimanding a dog for not coming when called. He settles himself in front of your front and kneels again. Your hair is mussed but still silky soft and he takes a moment to enjoy the way the strands slip over his skin before he tangles his fingers close to your scalp and yanks your head in his direction, forcing your cheek to chafe against the crotch of his pants. It’s not difficult to tell what the the thick bulge is through the fabric, and you try to flinch away only to be caught again and immobilized.

“You’re going to take care of us,” Dabi tells you. “Like I took care of you. Okay?”

No, it’s not okay, it’s absolutely not okay, and you would say so if you didn’t see Dabi’s expression darken at your obvious denial and feel a wave of acrid heat coming from his hand in your hair. The smell is worse than the feeling, honestly—you’ve had enough run-ins with hair curlers and flat irons to recognize the smell of hair when it’s three seconds away from burning. “Okay! Okay,” you answer, panicked, voice muffled by the fabric of Dabi’s pants.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and the heat fades.

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Shigaraki says from behind you.

“Then don’t.”

You whine, too scared to try to get away again or even plead with them to let you go, but it doesn’t matter. Shigaraki’s cock presses into your pussy, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him as he slides into you, inch by inch, torturously slow. Is there anything to bite down on? You need to do something, anything to distract from the pain of Shigaraki’s cock stretching you out. He’s big, impossibly big.

Eyes squeezed shut, you bite your lip until you can taste copper and scrabble around blindly until your hand finds loose fabric to grip. It’s something of Dabi’s, probably the coat he’s wearing if you remember correctly, but your brain isn’t exactly working right at the moment—

“You were right…shit, she’s…she’s so fucking tight.” Shigaraki’s voice is low and labored with the effort of not thrusting into you all at once. “Feels like…she’s trying to push me out…”

Fuck it, he thinks. Would it really be so bad if he did push all the way into you in one stroke? It’s better to just get it over with, isn’t it? Yeah…you’d probably prefer him to do it quickly. And besides, he can’t wait another second to feel you all the way up to the base of his cock.

Your strangled whimper is drowned out by his satisfied groan as he shoves the rest of the way into you in a single sudden thrust. The pain knocks the breath out of you in a gasp, and your eyes fly open as you clutch Dabi’s coat like a lifeline.

“It hurts—!”

“Yeah…yeah, I bet it does,” Shigaraki pants, holding your hips steady as he thrusts in and out of you. The bored nonchalance of earlier is gone, replaced by a feral intensity as his cock carves its way through your pussy. If you didn’t know better, you’d think there’s something affectionate in his voice.

For Shigaraki’s part, he can hardly think of anything aside from the soft, hot, wet cunt wrapped over his dick. It’s taking every vestige of concentration he has left to make sure he’s holding a single finger on each hand away from your skin. It’s pure bliss. Your body was made to be fucked like this. He wants to live inside your pussy, he wants to do this every day, every minute. Fucking you raw is the best he’s felt in months…years. And it doesn’t hurt that your quirk is still working on him, still sending pleasurable shocks of energy that make him feel simultaneously like he could keep you pinned down for hours and like he could cum any second.

“Oh, she’s crying,” Dabi says, tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. You flinch and try to jerk your head away, but his hand is still holding you by your hair and he’s so much stronger than you are. They both are, even without using their quirks. “Look at me.”

You comply, more by reflex than any real desire to obey. It’s pretty striking to Dabi how cute you look as Shigaraki pounds into you so fast and deep you can hardly catch your breath. Your eyes are glittering with unshed tears, your tits bounce with every thrust, and you’re still holding onto Dabi’s coat like your life depends on it. It’s almost like you’re pulling him closer. Adorable.

“She can…take it,” Shigaraki responds breathily between thrusts. “Such a good whore, taking my big cock in her tight little pussy…”

The backhanded compliment jars you and you feel hot tears spill over your cheeks. “I’m—not—a—whore,” you manage to say, each word punctuated with Shigaraki’s skin slapping against yours.

“Really?” Shigaraki’s pace slows and he leans closer to you so he can reach an arm around and swirl two fingers against your clit. You mewl like a kitten at the unexpected stimulation and he laughs rudely. “Feels so good…can’t believe the heroes don’t want to fuck you like this all the time…”

You shake your head desperately and bury your face in Dabi’s chest, barely noticing him stroking your hair and then reaching down to unzip his pants.

“No, no, I bet that’s what you do as a sidekick, right?” Shigaraki’s thrusts are back to frenzied jerks, and he rubs over your clit just as roughly. “Spread your legs for your hero…you’d make a great personal cocksleeve. Or maybe they rotate you around so every pro hero gets a turn…?”

“No, I don’t! No! Ah— ahnnn…” The denials pierce the air uselessly as the villain’s cock fills you up again and again. You’re not a whore, you’re not…even if it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the growing pressure of Shigaraki teasing your clit in time with his cock rubbing against your sweet spot. It still hurts—he’s so big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had sex with before, but there’s no way you’re going to admit to yourself that it’s starting to feel good.

“…Is my cock better than All Might’s?” Shigaraki’s words are cut off by his own grunt of pleasure as your cunt twitches around him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi cuts in. “I’m sick of hearing a guy’s voice moaning. I’m going to get soft.”

Past the point of comprehending the situation, you look up at him gratefully, only to reel back in shock as Dabi frees his own cock from his pants and it brushes against your cheek. Trying to pull away from him is more instinct than rational thought, but he holds you just as easily as before and forces two fingers into your mouth. You tense, ready to bite down, (and hopefully take a few knuckles off) but he sees it coming and suddenly your mouth is horribly burning hot.

“You’re going to suck my cock now,” says Dabi conversationally, extinguishing the flame almost as soon as he started it. It’s not so bad—probably more like a coffee burn than anything else—but you’re coughing and spitting anyway. “Say yes.”

“…Yes,” you whisper, voice barely intelligible.

“Good little sidekick. And you’re going to be very careful. You’re not going to use teeth.”

You nod, unable to mount a defense with Shigaraki mercilessly fucking you from behind.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeal as Shigaraki finds a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

“Good.” Dabi drags your head down to hover over his cock and massages your jaw until it falls open. “Suck.”

One of his hands falls to your shoulder to try to stabilize you, but you can’t help feeling the threat in the motion. You quickly duck down and attempt to ignore the heady smell of sweat and precum as you trace your tongue up the underside of his dick. He’s big too, maybe thicker than Shigaraki, and you hate yourself for feeling lucky that it’s not this cock inside your pussy right now.

The stunt Dabi pulled burning your mouth made you salivate, and you let drool coat your tongue as you lick around the head. But it’s not working—you rock forward every time Shigaraki stuffs his dick back in your aching pussy, and Dabi’s cock smears over your mouth haphazardly.

“I said suck. Not lick.” Suddenly (although you don’t know why you keep expecting some kind of warning before these villains find a new way to violate you), Dabi grabs the back of your head and shoves his cock into your mouth. Your throat constricts involuntarily as the thick head triggers your gag reflex, and all three of you shiver in unison.

“Do…do that again,” Shigaraki says, voice strained. “She tightens up…when you do that.”

Dabi smirks and thrusts into you again, relishing the warm, humid cavern of your throat around his cock along with the pure swell of energy from your quirk enhancing his. His rhythm matches Shigaraki’s and his cock hits the back of your throat with every rapid pump, making you gag and clench like you’re trying to milk the cum out of him. What a perfect little slut… He can see from Shigaraki’s sloppy movements that you’re squeezing around his cock every time too.

The feeling of having one villain cock buried in your pussy while another ravages your throat is unthinkable, even more so with Shigaraki’s fingers on your clit coaxing out an earth-shaking orgasm. But you’d almost be able to forget what’s happening—god knows you’re delirious with sensation, barely able to keep track of who’s doing what to you—if not for the sound. The wet slap of Shigaraki’s hips against your ass, the horrible squelching from your (dripping wet, even if you don’t want to admit it) pussy as his cock pistons in and out of you, your choked moans and gagging noises, and above it all, the unrestrained voices of the villains fucking into you.

You feel like a fuck toy, a sex doll, used without mercy by the two most evil people you can think of…and you’re about to cum.

Your voice is getting louder by the second, and the pulsing of your cunt around Shigaraki’s cock is telling him exactly how close you are. He curls his body over yours to get a better angle to rub your clit, enjoying your high-pitched whine in response. “Yeah…that’s right…good girl. Cum on my cock…like a good little sidekick.”

You keen and goosebumps rise on your skin as Shigaraki licks at the sheen of sweat on your back. He feels your climax almost as soon as you do… If your scream wasn’t stifled by Dabi’s dick in your mouth, everyone within a one-mile radius would know you were getting fucked silly, yeah? The walls of your pussy clamp down on Shigaraki’s cock, your body begging for his cum, and he grips your ass to make sure you can’t get away as he comes to his own orgasm inside of you.

Fuck… Shigaraki could die right now and be happy. He keeps stroking your clit, knowing it’s cruel, knowing you’ll be overstimulated and sensitive and that it’ll hurt to keep touching you like this after you already came, and not caring because every time the tips of his fingers push that little magic button, you shiver and squeeze him like you’re trying to milk him dry.

Shigaraki gives a few last thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into your body, fucking it into you so you’ll be dripping white for hours, and then finally pulls out. The slurping sound your cunt makes as his cock leaves your pussy is obscene. So is the cloudy trail of mixed white and clear fluid that connects your pussy and the head of his cock until he pulls it away. He loves it.

Knowing that Shigaraki came—inside you, no less, the inconsiderate bastard—Dabi grips the back of your head and tugs you down to deepthroat him. Your walls twitch involuntarily and Dabi groans, letting himself shoot his load down your throat. “Yes…yeah…yeah…just like that. Swallow.”

You don’t swallow. You don’t do anything but gag on his cum and gasp as he thrusts into you. Dabi pulls you off of him, annoyed and ready to threaten you into submission again…until your head lolls to the side and he can see that your eyes are closed.

“Shit, she passed out.”

“…What? Are you kidding?”

Dabi slaps your face lightly. You wince in your sleep but don’t wake up. “Nope. Must’ve been when she came the second time.”

“Is she…” Shigaraki trails off, not sure how to end the question. ‘Okay’ isn’t exactly right.

“She’s breathing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The two of them wait for a moment, but you don’t move. When he catches his breath, Shigaraki wipes off his dick and pulls up his pants. Dabi does the same. Without them holding you, you flop down into the fetal position on the broken concrete. “What now?” Shigaraki asks.

Dabi wipes the sweat from his forehead. “You tell me, leader. I’m surprised Kurogiri hasn’t opened another warp gate to get you back. Guessing you don’t have your phone either?”

“…We can go to Giran’s place to meet up. They’re probably waiting for us there,” Shigaraki says, scratching at his neck.

“Do you have cab fare?”

“I don’t have my wallet on me. You?”

“Not enough for a cab. We’ll have to take the train. You can owe me.”

Shigaraki looks down at you. You make a pitiful scene, naked except for your boots, sports bra, and cum-soaked panties. Your neck is bruised red and purple, and you’re shaking, shivering in the cool air now that the sun has sunk further toward the horizon and you’re not being touched. “Are we going to leave her here?”

“What, you want to bring her on the train with us? You don’t think that’s gonna look suspicious?”

“Well…” Their eyes meet and Shigaraki knows Dabi’s thinking the same thing he is. You have a lot of potential as an asset. They haven’t even had the chance to see how your quirk boosting works in combat, but Shigaraki almost wants to pick a fight just to give it a try.

And fighting power aside, Shigaraki isn’t a fan of the possibility that he’ll never get to fuck you again.

“Yeah, I know. But she’s a pro hero’s sidekick. She can’t be too hard to find.” Dabi shrugs off his coat and crouches next to you. You’re limp enough that he has no trouble lifting you into his lap and guiding your arms through the sleeves of his coat. Once you’re wrapped in the black fabric, he does up the buttons, combs through your hair with his fingers, wipes the mixed cum and spittle off your chin, and admires his handiwork. Sure, anyone looking closely at you will know at least a little about what happened—you’re still sweating in the cold, you have that undeniable ‘just got fucked’ look all over you, and the smell of sex is overpowering. But at least you won’t have to walk back to the rescue tent in your filthy underwear.

In your sleep, you nuzzle into Dabi’s chest, reaching blindly toward the source of warmth. He grins and strokes the back of your neck, soothing warm fingers over the bruised skin there and enjoying his last opportunity to touch you and feel your quirk working…for now, at least. “You know, I wonder why villains don’t get sidekicks. Seems a little unfair, right?”

Shigaraki’s sneer matches Dabi’s as he bends down to run his fingernails over your cheek, almost hard enough to hurt. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

[ragingbookdragon]

The Secrets Best Left In The Dark

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death

Author's Note: I thrive on angst, so I have no apologies for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

They’d never claim their eldest sibling was cowardly. Far from it, she put her life on the line every day, in and out of the suit, defending those she cared for with a strength that they’d never seen in anyone. But while everyone in their family was typically hot-tempered and ready for a beatdown, she was calm and quiet. Always kind, and never letting anger, or any type of other emotion show besides pleasantness. For a while, they merely assumed she was the doormat type, simply on the basis that she never argued with their dad over anything—the whole “It’s my way or the highway” and his way was what she always went with—and that made her seem like an alien surrounded by humans because everyone argued with Bruce. That, and the fact that whenever she got into the rare fight during patrol, she’d never hit anybody. She was trained to take down multiple combatants and not once did she ever punch, hit, or kick a single person.

It was practically abnormal to be in the Batfamily and never lay a hand on a criminal, and yet that was what their sister did. Hardly ever did she use force to get what she wanted, always relying on stealth. Even on the minute cases when she got caught in an infiltration and had to fight her way out, she used electrified gauntlets to subdue them, rarely coming to blows. So, in a sense while everyone in her family was an aggressive fighter, she was a defensive—or perhaps a passive one—and that’s how she acted in life too. Always passive by nature, but always playing the peacekeeper between brothers and between fathers and sons.

They never knew why she was such a way, from the stories that Diana and Clark used to tell, back when it was just their sister and Bruce, she was a whirlwind that got into fights with anything that dared breathe in her direction—apparently, she made her angriest siblings look like mice. But no matter how many times they pried or even asked Bruce (apparently, he didn’t know what changed either—and this was coming from the World’s Greatest Detective), she never talked about it, simply saying that she grew out of always being angry and wanted to be calmer.

They suspected she held a dark secret—but no one could’ve prepared for just how dark and damaging it had been to her all these years.

***

In hindsight, taking a trip into Scarecrow’s lab was a bad idea, but when the offer had come up in the cave from her father, (Y/N) was happy to lend a hand, knowing that with his recent injury, he wouldn’t’ve been able to get out there during the night. It was also amazing, in the twenty-seven years she’d been alive, and in the past nineteen years that she’d been a vigilante, she’d never seen her father take a break—she could count on one hand how many times he had, and even then, he was still working in the cave, so technically it wasn’t a break.

But after tangling with Bane and Croc, he’d broken a few ribs and after repeated complaints and worries from her, his sons, and Alfred, Bruce finally agreed to let his children handle patrol. Which is why when the quadrants of the city were split up between Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian, it left (Y/N) to pick up specific places that Bruce wanted checked out—she warmly agreed to do so. And while she was confident in her abilities to do everything, he asked of her, she should’ve called for backup when it came to infiltrating Scarecrow’s hideout.

***

Another vent went off above her and she ducked, eyes narrowing as she watched the orange fog, appearing blue through her detective mode, drift out. She would’ve sprayed it, but she’d used up all of her explosive gel covering the others. Now she simply had to avoid them and hope that her gas mask filtered properly—so far, it was. A shrill laugh echoed through the speakers above her, and shivers went down her spine.

Anytime now, Batgirl. You will fall too.

She frowned. “I’m not afraid of you, Doctor Crane.” Ducking under another pipe, she added, “I can help you if you’ll let me.”

Help me? Help…ME? You can’t even help YOURSELF!

Scarecrow had always been a talker, much like the majority of the villains they faced, and he was looking for a rise. She came to the end of the corridor where the pipes met a brick wall and she sighed, searching for a way through. A vent covered the top right corner and she pulled out the grapple gun, pointing it at the grate. She pressed the trigger and it latched onto the metal bars; grasping the cord, she yanked as hard as she could, stepping backwards when it fell, hitting the ground with a clang.

(Y/N) heaved herself up into the vent and crawled on her hands and knees, as quietly as she could, twisting and turning through the maze of confined metal. When she came to the end, another grate covered the exit and she pressed her foot against it, pushing until the bolts popped loose and she could slip out.

From the looks of it, if the advanced chemistry equipment were any help, she’d ended up in Scarecrow’s lab. He wasn’t in sight, but that gave her time to look around and see if he’d changed any formulas recently. She raised her wrist and tapped at the blue screen, taking a moment to run a program. When it beeped, (Y/N) sighed in relief and reached up, pulling the gas mask off—the air was clean.

She set the mask down on the counter and put a finger to her ear. “Batman, do you read me?” His voice came through a moment later.

“I read you Batgirl. Loud and clear.”

“I’m in Doctor Crane’s lab,” she said, poking around at the notes he’d scrawled out. “I don’t see anything new. The formulas all look the same.”

“Compounds?”

She frowned and read. “Honestly, it’s a bit hard to decipher. His handwriting is a lot like Red’s when he’s had one too many energy drinks.” A quiet huff came from over the line, telling her that he was amused. “I’ll send you pictures of it and see if you can.” (Y/N) snapped a few photos. “Get ‘em?”

“Just now,” he replied, and she walked over to one of the lit Bunsen burners.

“Looks like he’s got something brewing right now though,” (Y/N) leaned over and peered into it, careful to avoid any steam that was rising.

“Recognize it?”

She paused. “It’s not the usual stuff he’s got. It looks almost golden and—”

All at once the dish exploded and she had just enough time to cover her face from the shattering glass, letting out a gasp as she recoiled.

“Batgirl, what happened?”

(Y/N) coughed and waved a hand, and when her hand appeared double, she breathed out in shock. “Oh no,” she whispered.

“Batgirl, report.” She hurried to the exit of the lab as Scarecrow’s cackle sounded overhead.

“I’ve been hit with a blast of toxin.” Pulling open the door, she fumbled with her utility belt then let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

(Y/N) shook her head and weaved down the corridors, the faster she got to her bike, the faster she could get back to the cave.

“I don’t have any anti-toxin on me.” She pushed against the doors and stumbled out into the cold and rainy night. Her mind was already beginning to fog over as she climbed onto her bike, and she barely had enough focus to keep it steady while she programmed it to auto-drive.

“I’m sending one of the boys to you.”

She grunted and lifted her foot as the bike revved and shot forward. “Don’t. I’ve already programmed the bike to the cave’s coordinates. I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes.”

“You won’t make it that long.”

(Y/N) groaned as the lights began to flash around her and she saw faces and images passing her. “I just have to…focus.”

Horns blared around her as the bike weaved in and out of cars and she held onto the frame with all the strength she had. His voice started echoing in her ears and she shut her eyes, trying to block it out.

You could’ve saved me.

Another groan escaped her, and she heard, “(Y/N), talk to me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t—I have to—focus now.” But with every passing second, his voice got louder and more insistent.

You let me die. You watched me die.

(Y/N)’s eyes filled with tears and they dripped down her cheeks. I tried to save you. she thought, hoping it would suffice, but she knew it wouldn’t. I tried so hard to. The last thing she remembered was turning onto the street that led to the cave.

***

Bruce was already pushing away from the Batcomputer when the boys arrived back at the cave, Dick and Damian from the Batmobile, and Tim and Jason from their own rides. Knowing that their father wasn’t one to sit around, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be moving, but with how quick and worried his movements seemed, they knew something was wrong.

Dick pulled the cowl away from his face and asked, “B? What’s wrong?”

Bruce didn’t respond at first, hurrying towards the medical station they had. “Your sister was dosed with fear toxin and she doesn’t have anti-toxin to counteract it.”

Jason, who’d already taken his hood off, was already in the process of putting it back on. “Let one of us take it to her.”

Their father shook his head, rummaging for an antidote. “She’s coming back here.”

“Here?” Tim repeated, striding over. “Fear toxin works within seconds on normal people, minutes for us.” He looked at his brothers. “She won’t have enough time to get back here and not be under the effects.”

Bruce nodded, focusing as he poured a vial of glowing green liquid into the needle gun. “I know.” He looked at Tim. “That’s why I’m getting it ready for her.”

“Father, can we do anything?” Damian questioned, pulling away the domino mask from his eyes.

“Get ready to be on the defensive if she’s offensive,” he replied. “I don’t think she’ll hit anybody, but you never know.”

“She can’t hit that hard. (Y/N) only weighs—” Jason cut off as the rev of an engine cut though the air and they turned to see their eldest sister coming in on a sleek black motorcycle, that was shaking badly.

“(Y/N)!” Dick yelled and the bike suddenly shifted and toppled sideways, throwing her from it. It slid across the cave floor in a hail of sparks, metal, and plastic flying in every direction as (Y/N) rolled too.

They started running towards her, hoping to stop her when her back collided with one of the glass cases that held their suits, and she went limp.

Bruce reached her first, and knelt down, setting the antidote aside to check her first. The way she hit the case and with how hard, it was possible that she could be seriously injured—or worse.

“(Y/N)!” he called, hands coming to pull her away from the case. She whimpered and he let out a sigh—she was still alive. “(Y/N), can you hear me?” he inquired, reaching up to pull the cowl from her face.

Her brothers crowded behind him and they all stared in horror as tears streamed down her cheeks, and blood out of her nose.

“I’m sorry,” she bawled. “I tried to save you.” Bruce looked at her then grabbed the needle gun, bringing it up to her neck.

“Hang on, (Y/N). You’re gonna be okay.”

She grabbed his hand and cried, “I held on as long as I could, but my grip was slipping. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold onto you. I’m sorry I let you go. I let you die. I’m sor—” her sobs cut her off as she curled in on herself, and as if finally snapping out of a trance, Bruce pulled his hand from her grip and pulled the trigger of the gun.

(Y/N) jerked as the needle entered her skin and they watched the neon green liquid in the vial emptied. She fell into whimpers and mumbles of “I’m sorry” before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed in Bruce’s arms.

He stared at her for a second, feeling numb at his daughter’s admissions. Whatever her fear had been, it’d been there a long time, and he had no idea what it was about. Sighing heavily, he drew his eyes to his sons, to Jason.

“Will you take (Y/N) to her bedroom while I get an IV ready?”

Jason nodded and bent down, picking up his unconscious sister. He tucked her head in the crook of his neck and looked at Dick. “Get the doors, yeah?” Dick nodded and hurried ahead of him, while Tim and Damian followed in suit.

Bruce was left alone in a matter of moments, and all he could do was rise to his feet and ready the medical supplies, all the while, thinking back on every night that (Y/N) had gone on patrol in the last nineteen years—and the last time someone died in front of her.

***

Her head felt like an overripe melon ready to burst, and that first moment of cracking her eyes open was the biggest mistake since she told her dad what ‘Thot’ meant. The second she opened them, she shut them once more, inhaling deeply through her nose as the fog started to clear from her mind.

“Queenie, hey, you’re awake,” Jason murmured, and she nodded, blinking a few times before his face came into focus, Dick appearing Tim appearing behind him.

“Go get dad,” Dick said to someone, and she figured it was Damian since neither Jason nor Tim moved.

(Y/N) started shifting, trying to sit up when Dick put his hand on her shoulder, gentle, but firm as he said, “Don’t try to move, Barbie.”

“Where’s dad?” she asked, craning her neck to see.

“Damian’s going to get him sis,” Tim answered, smoothing out the blanket covering her. “Just relax. You took a beating when you came into the cave.”

“I did?” she questioned, eyes widening in shock when they nodded, faces pinched with worry.

The ceiling light turned on just bright enough to give sight and they looked at Bruce who was coming in, Damian following.

“(Y/N),” Dick moved, letting Bruce take his spot, and he took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “You had us all worried.”

She frowned and exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” She gazed between them, and something in their eyes made an emotion she couldn’t describe rise in her chest.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” (Y/N) met Bruce’s eyes. “What happened?” Before he could answer, she gasped and looked at her brothers. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

A chorus of hurried, “No’s!” rang out and she sighed in relief, reclining back on the pillows.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She went silent, then started, “But…something did happen, didn’t it?”

Her brothers glanced between themselves then they looked at Bruce who sighed and squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to him.

“What?” she asked and when he said nothing, she repeated, “Dad, what?”

His steel blue eyes met hers and he murmured, “You were apologizing for…letting someone die.”

Whatever had flashed in her eyes that told them she knew exactly what they were talking about was shocking enough because Jason said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna, Queenie.”

(Y/N) fell silent for a full minute and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet and the look in her eyes was far away. “Before Dick came to the manor it was just you and I patrolling Gotham. At eight, I wasn’t really let out of your sight, but one night I had wandered off while you were dealing with Two-Face.” She looked at Bruce. “I found an injured GCPD officer on a bridge. He had been tailing Killer Croc.”

She glanced at Tim. “His name was Grady Richards.”

Tim’s eyes fell to the tablet in his hands, and he tapped at the screen for a few moments, then read, “Hero cop Grady Richards honored after dying in line of duty. He fell off a broken bridge on Miagani Island.”

Bruce’s eyes found hers again. “He didn’t fall, did he?”

(Y/N) felt tears grow in her vision and she shook her head. “No…no he didn’t.” Inhaling deeply, she recounted, “Croc came back and there was no way either of us could’ve taken him, so we ran. And Croc chased us.” She shut her eyes, remembering the night.

***

Fear pulsed through her veins as she sprinted as far away from the overgrown crocodile as she could. The GCPD officer was ahead of her, but he stopped and spun around to see her.

“Hurry!” he yelled, pointing back to the car. “Get to the cruiser!”

She spared a glance over her shoulder, eyes going wide when she saw Killer Croc picking up one of the concrete guards.

“Duck!” was all she heard, and she hit the ground, watching as if in slow motion as it flew overhead, then smashed into the top of the cop’s car, glass and metal shattering under the pressure.

Someone grabbed her by the back of her suit and hauled her up, slinging her behind them, and the back of the GCPD officer’s uniform came into view.

“Start running, Batgirl! And don’t stop!” he yelled, and when he has his sidearm drawn, he looked down at her. “You’ve got as much time as I have bullets.” He turned, opening fire, and she took a moment to stare before scrambling to her feet to start running.

A cry of pain sounded behind her, and against her better judgement, she turned and looked, gaping as Croc’s arm sent the officer flying. He hit the guardrail and collapsed against it and her feet were moving before she could stop them.

The first punch went to the back of Croc’s knee and she knew it had to have hurt her more than it did him because he didn’t even flinch. But when those glowing yellow eyes peered down at her, she knew she was in trouble.

“Looks like I’ve got an appetizer for the night!” he laughed and reached for her, but she ducked and rolled out of his way, standing in front of the wounded GCPD officer, who weakly looked up at her.

“What are you—doing? I told you…to run.”

She couldn’t beat Killer Croc, and she knew it, but she shook her head and stared down the villain before her.

Croc’s attacks were wide and though she was small, she was pushed to her limit rolling and dodging every one. After a few moments, she was practically dead on her feet, huffing as her lungs begged for air. She kept wiping away the rain that splattered against her mask and on a particularly unlucky step, she found herself slipping.

And it was all the opening that Croc needed because he swiped at her and she flew backwards into the officer who’d managed to stand, just barely. Colliding with him tipped his balance and they went over the guardrail, barreling towards the ground.

She reached out as fast as she could and grabbed hold of the metal beam that ran the length of the under bridge, crying out in pain as it pulled the joints and bones. Her other hand gripped the officer’s and she held on tight. Croc leaned over the bridge, apparently not seeing them because his footsteps went off in the opposite direction, leaving them in silence.

Time passed and she wasn’t sure how long, but both her arms were getting tired, and she looked down at the officer.

“Sir?” she called, and he looked up at her. “You have to climb. I’m starting to lose grip.”

He tried to reach up but let out a cry and grabbed his side with his free hand. Pulling his hand away, she saw the crimson dilute with rainwater.

The hand that held the ledge began to cramp and she started hyperventilating. “Please, you need to hurry! I can’t hold on much longer!” Again, he tried, and she looked down at him as her fingers began to shake.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered and let go of his hand, and the last thing she saw until he hit the ground was the sight of his eyes, wide with fear and pleading.

***

“I watched his head explode when he hit the ground,” she said, tears pouring down her cheeks as she stared out the window, watching the rain hit against the glass. “I had to make a choice. Either both of us died or one of us lived.” (Y/N) looked at Bruce. “And I chose my life over his.”

No one could believe their ears at the story she’d told, but suddenly, the self-sacrificing attitude their sister had, the way she’d bend over backwards for anyone, made perfect sense—she did it out of atonement, for a wrong she carried since she was eight years old.

“I pulled myself back up onto the bridge and I ran as far as I could and didn’t look back,” she said. “I kept my mouth shut when the paper ran his story and never told anyone about it.”

(Y/N)’s breath shuddered. “I just pushed it down as far inside me as I could and tried to forget about it.” Her eyes met Bruce and she tearfully stated, “But every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face.”

He leaned forward and took her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly, dark brows furrowed in hurt.

She swallowed thickly and shook her head as she replied, “I killed someone that night. I was terrified about what you would’ve said. About what you would’ve done.” He gazed at her and (Y/N) whispered, “I’m sorry, dad.”

Bruce dropped her gaze and took a deep breath before murmuring, “It was just an accident, (Y/N).”

“I let go of—”

“I would’ve been more upset having to bury my daughter,” he interrupted, and she fell silent, gaping at him. He searched her face and reached up, placing a hand on her cheek. “I understand why you kept this secret, but you should’ve come to me, (Y/N).” Shaking his head, he added, “You didn’t deserve to be buried under this for nineteen years.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head and Bruce shook his head in response.

“No, I’m sorry.” When she met his eye, he continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you were carrying this. Then and now.”

(Y/N) swallowed and rested back against the bed. “I send his widow money on the anniversary of his death. I slip it into the pension she’s given.” She let out a sigh. “It’s the only way I’ve found that I could sleep at night.”

Her eyes drifted to the window and Bruce placed a kiss to her forehead. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” She nodded and before he left, he said, “And when you feel up for it, we’ll see about setting up a fund in his name.”

She wished it didn’t make her as emotional as it did, but silent tears dripped down her cheeks as the door closed, leaving her and her brothers alone. They gathered on her bed, leaning close to offer their support, and she was thankful for them doing so. And for the first time in nineteen years, when (Y/N) closed her eyes, she didn’t see Grady Richards’ face.

[theladyofdeath]

Engagement Pie {Elriel}

Naked Texts & Pie #5

Warning: nsfw. 18+. Dom/sub.

Written alongside @snelbz . Thank you for reading this awfully dirty mini-series that was just meant to be a drabble. (;

Azriel was about to have a panic attack.

Inside of his mind was not a pretty place to be, not that it lacked ideas of flowers and baked goods, but because it was a complete and utter mess.

All day, while Elain was gone, he had been running around like a chicken with his head cut off, unaware if he was doing everything right but sure hoping he was.

He was hoping it would be perfect.

He glanced at the clock.

He had about half an hour until she got home.

At this point, Azriel and Elain had been dating for a little over a year, and living with each other for nearly six months. Since Feyre and Rhysand’s wedding, they knew, without a doubt, that they were meant to be together.

Then again, they had always known, just had never confessed it.

Their families had been less surprised by their sudden relationship and more surprised by the state they returned to the wedding reception in, but neither of them could find it in themselves to care. They were happy, blissfully, wonderful happy and in love.

Azriel opened the oven for the hundredth time, peeking inside to make sure things were still going smoothly. The pie was still there, it hadn’t run away, but it still didn’t have that beautiful golden brown crust that Elain’s always did. Sure, he could text her, ask what exactly he had done wrong, but that would ruin the surprise. He’d done his best to keep everything a secret so far. He wouldn’t ruin it now by texting her a question he could easily ask Google.

After doing so, it looked like he had done everything right, so he let it cook longer, forcing him to wait longer in anxious anticipation.

Azriel paced back and forth, fully aware that he had everything in place. He just needed the damn pie to hurry up and get done.

Elain would be home in twenty minutes, and Azriel needed to be in place when she walked through the door.

At ten until six, Azriel looked in the oven once more. It looked a little bit better, but not as done as he wanted it to be.

He’d wait until the last possible second. It wasn’t ideal, as there were other parts of his plan that required that pie to be done and, preferably, not piping hot, but he’d make do.

So he continued to pace in the kitchen until he heard the garage door rising, signaling Elain’s arrival home.

Hurrying to the oven, he threw the door open and pulled the pie out. The second it was exposed to the natural light of the kitchen, and not the watery bulb of the oven, he knew he fucked up.

It had bypassed golden brown and gone straight to brown, but thanks to the lighting in the oven, he couldn’t tell. He swore under his breath as he laid a towel on top of the washer and set the pie on top of it, letting it cool.

He’d ordered take out from Elain’s favorite restaurant, which had been delivered just a few minutes before, so thankfully even he couldn’t mess up dinner.

Right at six, he could hear Elain’s feet climbing the wooden steps to the front porch and he quickly sat at the kitchen table and popped open a bottle of wine, filling the two glasses.

When Elain entered, her purse on one shoulder, her keys in her hand, she stopped and a slow smile spread across her lips at the display.

“Wine and Rita’s?” she asked, setting her belongings down on the counter. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Azriel smiled as he set the wine bottle down in the middle of the table. “Nothing special. You’ve just been working so hard that I wanted you to have a relaxing night with your favorite food.”

Her smile widened as she sat across from him, but then she stilled for a moment. “Do I smell…pie?”

“No,” Azriel said, then quickly changed his mind. “Yes. It was a candle.”

She blinked once, twice and said, “Huh. I didn’t know we had an apple pie candle.”

She let it drop after that, filling Azriel in on her day. It had been uneventful, a change from her usual hectic schedule, and she was grateful for that. The past month or so, she would come home, scarf something quick and easy down for dinner, and collapse in bed, ready to do it all again the next day. Tonight, she actually had some pep in her step.

“Dinner, wine,” Elain mused, running a finger over the back of Azriel’s hand. “Did you have anything else in mind tonight?”

One of her eyebrows was raised slightly and he knew exactly what she was referring to, which yes, he absolutely did, but first, he had something else he needed to do.

“Actually, yes,” he said, standing. He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Her other eyebrow had raised to match, clearly showing her surprise. “Okay.”

He disappeared for a moment, and when he returned, he held a pie in his hands, dark brown crust and all. It also had a massive “X” cut into the direct center. It didn’t look like a venting hole.

Covering the bottom half of her face with both of her hands, Elain tried to stop the giggles from bubbling from her lips, but she couldn’t. “I knew I smelled pie,” she said, still laughing.

“I sort of burnt it,” he admitted, setting it down in front of her.

“I see that,” she chuckled, leaning forward to kiss him. “I’m sure it will still be delicious.”

He was about to say something when she asked, “But what is that?” gesturing to the center of the pie.

“That….” Azriel started to say something, but wasn’t sure what. All he knew is that he was a nervous mess and not a lot currently made sense. “X marks the spot.”

Elain blinked. “What?”

“X marks the spot.”

She blinked, again. “I don’t follow.”

Azriel sighed. “Pirates… When they bury treasure… X marks the spot.”

Elain’s head fell to the side. “Babe, are you drunk? Are you high? Are you alright? You’re not-.”

Azriel sighed, and reached into the pie. His hand broke the crust, and Elain was so surprised by the gesture that she jumped, and a nervous laugh escaped her. “Az, what are you doing?”

His hand came back up a minute later, covered in apple filling. “You know, I had a whole, romantic thing planned out with the pie. Pie is our thing, and it was going to be cute as hell-.” His words fell off as he opened his hand, revealing a beautiful pear-shaped diamond on a thin, rose gold band.

Elain stared, her mind taking a second to process what she was looking at. He picked up one of the napkins from their dinner and wiped the ring off, as well as his hand, before dropping to one knee from the chair he was sitting in. With his clean hand, he took hers in his. He prayed she couldn’t feel it shaking as badly as he thought it was.

“I know we haven’t been together long, El, but I love you so much. You’re my entire world and my best friend. I can’t—.”

Elain’s lips crashed into his and they went tumbling to the kitchen floor. She pulled back, just enough to see his face and breathed, “Yes.”

Chuckling, Azriel said, “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, kissing him again. “My answer is yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

He sat up and Elain crawled off his lap, sitting next to him on the kitchen floor. He took her hand in his again. “Let me at least ask the important part, yeah?”

She was grinning like a fool, but she nodded, waiting for him to go on.

Resting the ring against the tip of her finger, Azriel asked, “Elain, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she breathed, and a tear slid down her cheek. “Yes. Yes! Of course, I will.”

He slid the ring onto her finger with shaky fingers before her mouth was crashing into his, once again.

Azriel wanted to ask that question for so long, and now that he had, not at all the way he had planned, it didn’t even seem like it had happened.

Yet, as she flung her arms around his neck, everything seemed completely and perfectly right.

Elain leaned back and peered at the ring. It was magnificent, lovely, perfect.

She slowly looked at Azriel. “You….hid it in the pie?”

He cringed, but laughed softly. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Her eyes went wide and she glanced at the ring again. “You didn’t bake it with the ring in there, did you?”

“No, of course not,” he chuckled, pulling her back into his lap.

She went willingly, straddling his hips and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Okay, good. The pie would have been inedible then.”

“I think it’s inedible now,” he scoffed, his hands gripping her hips, while his lips found her neck.

“I think I should be the one to decide that,” she said, her voice going high and breathy.

“There’s something else I’d rather eat instead,” he replied, tilting her face down to meet his as his lips crashed into hers.

Elain hummed against his mouth as she fell into the kiss. After the millions of kisses that they had shared and the constant lovemaking that had come along with being helplessly, madly in love, Azriel never grew tired of being intimate with Elain.

In fact, he couldn’t get enough of it. Every time he was with Elain, he just wanted it more and more. He couldn’t grow tired of it, ever - it was impossible.

His hands swept up her back and tangled into her hair, and she cupped Azriel’s face in her hands.

He could feel the cool metal of her ring against his cheek.

Azriel rose, taking Elain with him, and laid her down on top of the table. Her head fell right next to the pie. She couldn’t help but glance over at it.

She giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close.

“Something funny?” He asked, ducking away, trailing his nose down her neck as his lips found her collarbone.

“No.” It came out as more of a breathy moan than the sigh she was meaning it to be.

“Really?” His hands gripped her wrists, unwrapping them from around him, and he pinned them above her head with one hand. “That little laugh would suggest otherwise.”

His free hand began undoing the buttons on her shirt one by one, and Elain was practically vibrating beneath him by the time he was pushing her shirt to either side of her body.

Her bra was made of nothing but lace, and he could see her pebbled nipple through the fabric. He toyed with the idea of taking it off, but his lips closed over it, the rough lace scratching against the sensitive skin. She whimpered softly, her back arching off the table to better accommodate his mouth, and when he tugged on her nipple with his teeth, the whimper became a moan.

Gazing up at her, he said, “Is anything funny now?”

Elain sucked in her bottom lip as she slowly shook her head. “No.” Azriel raised a brow. “No, what?”

Elain couldn’t help her spreading grin as pure excitement radiated throughout her body. “No, sir.”

Azriel smirked in return as he gave her his first order. “Stay still.”

“And if I move?” she asked, quietly. Since their first time, Elain learned that she liked to test her boundaries.

Azriel liked it, too - when she was naughty.

“Then I’ll stop,” he said, and slowly let go of her wrists before putting his fingers in the band of her black skirt and yanking it off. “And you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

She shook her head, watching everything he did, biting her lip. Her hands were gripping the edge of the table to hold herself in place. As he dragged her panties down, as slowly as he could, she wanted to reach out and touch him. She was nearly naked, while he was still completely clothed, but she figured that was exactly how he wanted her.

It typically was.

He was quite the tease, but Elain secretly enjoyed that fact.

Azriel took a step back from where she lay and crossed his arms as his eyes swept across her body, taking in every beautiful inch.

In response, Elain spread her legs wide for him.

Azriel took in a deep breath and nearly growled.

He loved the sight of her, longed for it, thrived on it. It made him weak in the knees, still, and he was certain it always would.

“I am amazed,” Azriel breathed, “by your beauty.”

His comment only made her spread her legs wider.

He smirked. “What do you want, sweet girl?” He trailed a finger up the inside of her thigh, getting so close to where she needed him, but not quite.

“You,” she sighed, but it sounded more like a gasp.

“I know that,” he drawled. “Be more specific.”

“Your mouth on me, please,” she replied, gripping the edge of the table harder.

Azriel smirked again as he gently brushed his thumb over her entrance and then circled her clit once. “You’re saying you want me to eat your pie?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and looking up at her face.

“Yes, sir, please.” The words were breathy and quiet and he was fairly sure she was already trembling.

Azriel fell to his knees as Elain’s head fell back in pure ecstasy. It was the anticipation, the want, the need…

The second his tongue swept between her slick folds, Elain was already on edge.

Azriel had that effect on her.

Those hands that gripped the edge of the table tightened, and Elain’s eyes fluttered shut.

He knew exactly what he was doing. He had the first time, and he sure as hell did now as he took his clit between his lips and sucked, gently.

“Az,” she breathed, fully aware that when she said his name, it sent him wild.

He took her ass into his hands and pulled her closer to him.

She could never last long when his mouth was on her. The things he could do with his tongue made her see stars and she knew this time wasn’t going to be the exception. Azriel knew it, too.

He flicked his tongue over her clit and pushed a finger inside of her. “Are you close already, Lainey?”

She nodded, feeling his breath on her sex.

A second finger joined the first, and he curled them upward. “I couldn’t hear you. I said, are you close?”

“Yes, sir, I’m so close,” she panted.

Her arms were straining and he swore he heard the wood groan beneath her hands as she struggled to keep them where they were. It was surprising she’d held on for this long. He knew how badly she longed to have her hands in his hair or even kneading her own breast, still covered in that pretty, lace bra.

“Don’t come yet,” he crooned, pressing a kiss to the top of her sex.

He was torturous.

Purely evil, and yet, Elain thrived on it. Her entire body shook as pleasure swept through her. She was so close. So very close to the edge, ready to fall into the oblivion that was being loved by Azriel.

Her body jerked, and Azriel held onto her tighter.

Elain tried to obey, and tried to stay perfectly still, even though her entire body fought against it.

Azriel’s tongue continued to dance along her sex, continued to suck on her most sensitive of parts.

“I need you,” Elain begged.

Azriel didn’t respond, he only tugged her close, sucked her harder, praised her longer.

“Az, please.” It was more or a groan than anything else and he responded by sucking her clit between his lips and pulling hard. At the teeniest press of his teeth, she began to shake, and then he began to pump his fingers in and out.

Elain shattered, crying out and letting go of the table. Her hand dove into his hair and she lifted her hips, doing whatever she could to keep his face where it was.

Azriel worked her through her orgasm and when she stilled, he stood, wiping off his face and looking down at her. She was still breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling, but that full bottom lip was caught between her teeth again as she watched him. She knew what was coming.

“You weren’t supposed to come yet,” he breathed, dragging a finger from top of her sex up her stomach and between her breasts. He reached her face and worked her lip from between her teeth. “You disobeyed me.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, even though she really, really wasn’t. The last thing she was was sorry.

“You’ll have to be punished now,” Azriel said, softly.

“Punished how?” Elain asked.

Azriel watched her for a moment before he said, “Turn around.”

She did as she was told, rolling onto her stomach, her ass in the air. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, and raised his hand before smacking her across her ass.

Elain gasped at the contact and had to bite her lip to keep from exploding into a fit of delighted giggles.

The sharp intake of breath was her only response, she fought to keep in the quiet cry or moan that he wanted to draw from her. She was feeling bratty tonight.

Glancing down at the ring sparkling on her finger, she knew exactly why. She got to experience this sensual rush for the rest of her life. She was Azriel’s.

And he was hers. Forever.

His hand cracked against her skin again and she had to close her eyes and bite her lip to keep from moaning.

He did it again and again, but then he suddenly stopped.

“You’re getting even more wet for me,” he breathed, dragging a finger along her center. She was unable to stop her whimper. He added, “That’s not the point of a punishment.”

He knew exactly what his spankings did to her. He loved it, and if he kept on with it, she’d be dripping all over their kitchen table.

Without warning, he picked her up, carrying her into the living room and tossing her on the couch. She bounced gently, a pleased smile on her face.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he ordered, pulling his own shirt over his head.

Slipping the button down off her shoulders, Elain reached behind her and unclasped her bra. She watched as Azriel removed his belt and dropped it to the floor.

She tried not to let herself feel any disappointment as he discarded the belt. He’d used that once or twice before and the unyielding, stiff leather had drawn more than a few orgasms from her as he spanked her with it.

He popped the button on his jeans and said, “Touch yourself.”

Propping her feet up on the couch, she spread her legs for him and slid her hand over her pussy. He was right. She was soaked and so, so turned on. She circled her clit with one finger. She moaned softly, “But I want to touch you.”

“That’s too bad,” he replied, his eyes settling on her sex. “You’re being punished.”

She slid her finger between her folds, teasing herself. Adding a second finger, she just barely dipped them into her entrance, but no more than her finger tips. She was so sensitive, still riding the high of her orgasm and fought off a moan as she watched Azriel watch her.

Dragging the zipper down on his jeans, her eyes tracked the motion and she stilled, waiting for him to take them off.

“I don’t remember telling you to stop,” he said, regaining her attention.

Her fingers began slow motions, yet again, but she didn’t take her eyes off of where his own hands worked at removing his denim. She breathed, “And how long will this punishment last?”

Azriel’s eyes sparked as his chest rose and fell, slowly. “It’ll end when I want it to.”

Elain nodded as her fingers slid up inside of her and she let out a soft, low moan.

Azriel licked his lips as he tracked her every movement. “Keep up the good work and I may just let you choose your own punishment.”

“I’d rather have a reward.” Her voice was soft, low, but it was shaking slightly. The anticipation got her off just as much as her own fingers did.

He paused with his jeans hanging low on his hips. She could see the waistband of his black boxer-briefs underneath. “Oh? And what would that be?”

“I want to touch you,” she said again, slipping both fingers inside herself again, deeper this time. Curling her fingers up, she reached for her g-spot, eyes falling shut when she skimmed over it. Her head fell back against the cushions and she groaned.

His approach was silent, but she felt his hand on her face and when she opened her eyes, he was standing in front of her. His cock was in his hands and he stroked it once. “You want to touch me?” He asked.

“Yes, please.” She continued to pump her fingers in and out and licked her lips as her eyes bounced between his eyes and his thick, proud length. It was just a few inches from her face.

“How do you want to touch me, Elain,” he asked, dragging a thumb over her bottom lip.

It was that tone, that deep, sensual tone of his that drove her mad.

“I want to take your cock into my hands,” she breathed, the words hitched. “Into my mouth.”

Azriel hummed, as if he was debating it. He nodded to the fingers that were pumping in and out of herself. “You can touch me when you’re finished touching yourself.”

Elain nodded, her hand moving faster as she pumped those two fingers in and out, then another, easily sliding in alongside the others.

Azriel stroked himself, slowly, again and again as he watched.

Elain’s other hand trailed between her legs and she began to circle her clit, pulling a loud moan out of herself. As her two hands worked, she drew closer to the edge, and Azriel’s breathing grew shallower.

Her words were high pitched and she was struggling to keep her eyes open as she asked, “Can I come? Please, I’m so close.”

He ran his thumb over her lip again and waited until she was looking up at him. And then he smirked. “No, baby, you can’t.”

Elain wasn’t proud of the whine that she let out, but she slowed her fingers. She didn’t withdraw them, because she knew he wouldn’t like that, but stopped circling her clit. If she didn’t, she was going to come and as fun as another punishment really would be, she wanted her reward.

“Good girl,” he crooned, tilting her chin up to look at him. She’d been staring at his cock. There was a milky bead of precum on the tip and she wanted to lean forward and lick it off.

As if he could sense her thoughts, he ran his thumb over the thick head, spreading the wetness over the length. She tried not to whine again.

“You want me in your mouth?” He asked, shifting his hips forward slightly.

“Please,” Elain breathed, nodding eagerly.

“Do you think you’ve been punished enough?”

She frantically nodded, and Azriel wondered if she even knew she was bucking her hips, searching and needing release. He loved when she got like this, so needy and begging for whatever he’d give her.

Instead of giving her what she wanted though, he crouched, taking the hand that had been circling her clit in his. Raising it to his lips, he licked the tips of her fingers. He moaned quietly. “I will never get tired of the taste of you.”

Elain whimpered softly, her other hand still pumping in and out of herself.

“Do I taste as sweet to you as you do to me?” He asked, leading that hand back to her swollen clit and stood.

She began the slow circling again and nodded, and he knew if she was incapable of speaking, she was going wild with lust.

In the quietest of voices, Azriel said, “Prove it.”

Elain wasted no time wrapping her lips around the head of his cock and lathering him with her tongue. Azriel let out a long, slow breath at the contact and when her finger slowed against her clit, he shook his head. “Don’t stop.”

Elain moaned, and the vibrations against him had Azriel’s fingers weaving their way into her hair as Elain took Azriel further into her mouth.

She continued the slow circling of her clit, but slipped the rest of her fingers from wet pussy. She reached for his cock, to wrap around what wouldn’t fit in her mouth, but he caught her hand. Her fingers were glistening, still costed in her essence, and he brought them to his mouth. “We can’t waste that,” he murmured, before sucking them between his lips one by one.

Elain’s eyes fluttered shut and she moaned softly as he released her hand and slipped his free hand into her hair as well, absolutely controlling her and the pace with which she worshiped him.

Or so he thought.

Opening her throat, Elain took him as deeply as she could, gazing up at him as tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Azriel was unable to stop the groan as he fucked her mouth and throat with no abandon, until she began to gag softly.

He withdrew himself, dropping his jeans the rest of the way, and sat down on the couch next to her. He took her face in his hands and kissed her roughly. “That’s new,” he crooned, his lips dragging down her neck.

Her laughter was sensual as she continued to stroke him. “I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t think you’d be surprising me, too,” she admitted, bringing her hand up to admire the diamond sparkling on her finger.

Azriel wrapped his hand around hers and brought it to his lips, where he kissed the back of her hand, just below her ring.

“I’m just glad you’re not asking me to wait for this again until our wedding night,” he murmured.

Elain grinned. “I don’t think I would survive the wait. I’d have to marry you tomorrow.”

Azriel’s eyes sparkled as he took her hips and pulled her on top of him. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”

Elain moaned quietly as Azriel teased her at her opening. “I don’t know. I kinda wanna make you wait.”

“That, and you want a big wedding,” he said, leaning up and trailing kisses along her throat.

“Not a big wedding,” she replied, trying to lower her hips. His grip was firm though, and she only managed another inch, teasing herself just as much as he’d been teasing her.

Resting her hands on his shoulders, she tried to rock her hips, wanting more of him inside of her. He still held firm.

His smirk was devilish when she looked up into his face. “I never said you were done being punished.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise. She squirmed and his grip on her hips tightened, his smile growing. “Az, please.”

“Hmm?” He leaned up again, capturing her lips with his and his thumb found her clit. Her body gave a jerk and her thighs burned with how hard she was trying to lower herself onto him.

Pulling away, she pressed her forehead against his. “Please… I’ll be a good girl for you. I won’t come until you tell me to. I just need to feel you inside of me.”

He nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth and released his hold on her hips.

She sank down onto him, not gently in the slightest, and moaned as he filled her in one rough stroke. She bucked her hips, not rising but needing the friction as her lips crashed against his.

It was thrilling. There was always a rush that consumed Elain’s body the moment he filled her. A spark of excitement that never grew old, never faded.

Azriel knew it, too. There was a look that crossed her face that only showed itself the moment he entered her.

It was beautiful.

Consumingly gorgeous.

Elain’s head fell back as she rocked her hips - her hips that Azriel’s fingers were digging into, yet again, but he didn’t guide her.

She did that perfectly well on her own.

With his bottom lip sucked between his teeth, Azriel’s eyes scanned Elain’s body, from her tilted back head, to her breasts at eye level, then to where they were connected.

“Better?” Azriel asked, his voice low.

“Yes,” she breathed, eyelids fluttering shut.

He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and brought her lips to his. The kiss was not gentle, but he knew that wasn’t how she wanted it. Sure, they had sweet, soft sex sometimes, something they both adored on occasion, but nothing drove Elain wild as much as rough sex did. He had never dreamed she’d be as submissive as she was but gods, he was so glad of it. She was the other half he’d been waiting for and the fact that she was his for the rest of his life…

He growled quietly as he pressed his other hand to the small of her back and rocked his own hips up into her. She gasped against his lips and braced her hands on his shoulders as they found a rhythm that had her groaning his name.

There were very few things that pleased Azriel more than hearing his name on Elain’s mouth while they fucked. It broke him, unleashed something unearthly.

His hips thrust harder up into her, and each time he did so, his name grew louder and louder on her lips.

Azriel felt that magnificent, familiar feeling rising within him but he didn’t move his eyes from Elain. Her face was still close to his, her breath hot against his mouth. He cursed before kissing her, yet again, bringing her lip between his teeth and gently tugging.

Before she could anticipate it, he flipped them so they were laying on the couch, his body covering hers, and lifted one of her legs so it rested on his shoulder. It opened her up, allowing him to thrust harder, deeper, and she began clawing at his back. She cried out, and he groaned as she screamed his name.

His fingers gripped her chin and her lust-filled gaze found his. That hand slid between them and found her clit. The next thing he said wasn’t a request. It was a demand.

“Come for me.”

Elain did. She shattered, her body shaking with the force of the orgasm that slammed into her.

Azriel couldn’t hold on much longer, the feeling of her coating him, spasming around him, having him meeting his own end.

He came, one hand digging into the couch cushions, the other gripping her ass. His fingers would surely leave a mark.

Elain didn’t mind.

He fell onto her body, breathing heavily, sweat coating his skin. As Elain caught her breath, her arms wrapped around him.

His face was buried in her neck, and she felt his lips moving and heard him murmuring before she could understand what he was saying. But then she heard him, clearly, and she wondered how it had taken them years to realize it together.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His words weren’t just a quiet praise and reminder, but also a promise, as strong as the one that she now wore on her finger.

He pulled back, his eyes finding hers, even as his chest was still heaving as he caught his breath. Reaching up, she ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “I love you, too.”

His gaze was soft as she leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. They stayed like that for a few minutes, slowly kissing each other, not in any hurry to start anything up again, but just enjoying the taste and feel of each other.

When Elain’s stomach growled, however, Azriel pulled back and looked at her with a raised brow.

“Work up an appetite?”

She laughed, quietly. “Maybe so.”

“Well, Rita’s is gone,” Azriel muttered, “but, there’s pie.”

Elains laughter grew louder, and even Azriel couldn’t help but smile down at her.

“It’s a little burnt, but I’m sure it tastes alright,” he went on. "Maybe."

“Pie sounds good,” Elain said, eyes bright. “Even if we can only eat the filling.”

Azriel scoffed. “That’s the best part.”

“True,” she agreed, and rolled off the couch from beneath him. “I’m going upstairs to clean up. Meet me in bed.” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked over her shoulder. Azriel's eyes scanned every inch of her body as she said, “You bring the pie.”

Azriel was off the couch before she could finish her sentence, doing just that.

[ajbwasntwriting]

Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 8. Civil Unrest

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For all intents and purposes this is filler so the next chapter will be up in the next few minutes

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

In a few days you were up on your feet, your need to survive driving your fast recovery. As soon as you could sit up without nearly fainting and you could bend your fingers without much pain you started taking patients. Mainly burns and cuts. You kept your head down while working, adding to your intimidating reputation. They didn’t realise you were just trying to conceal yourself while looking for familiar faces. You rarely left the medical bay, even when it was icy cold.

Carol checked on you regularly, seemingly incredibly concerned for you. It almost pained you to suspect her to be out to get you. Luckily she seemed convinced that because you had been alone for so long that you’d take a long time getting used to the walls. Maybe she figured out that you were just biding time for leaving again.

“Are you okay?” Laura pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up suddenly, nodded, and went back to your reading. All these patient profiles from the previous physician were thorough. “Why would Emmett be this detailed with extremely basic medical care” you tought, then again he was a captive here just as much as you were. He probably had nothing better to do. “Are you sure? You look so serious.” She continued. You looked up to her. She was lying on one of the beds chewing on a piece of hard plastic. Having to keep a watch on ‘The New Doc’ would’ve been extremely boring.

“Just a lot of reading” you sat up and stretched your arms, not realising how long you had sat hunched over the hand-written pages. “Doctors have horrible handwriting and this guy sure likes to drag his point out”

“How bad is it?” She asked. You lifted the profile of another patient and followed along with your finger.

“The left Thenar has suffered tremendous infliction resulting in the loss of elasticity and possible avulsion of the tissue” You read aloud in a dramatic voice

“What?” Laura said, taking the plastic out of her mouth for a moment

“He pulled the muscle in his thumb, possibly tearing it” you flopped the paper down, rubbing your forehead.

“And all those pages are full of that shit” Laura pressed. You sighed with a nod.

“I never thought I’d be grateful to have done AP english.” you sighed

“Okay smart ass no need to show off” Laura chuckled, chewing on the plastic again.

“Please,” you sat back in the chair “My old man made me do it. ‘You already speak english so it should be a breeze’ he said”

“Those kind of parents?”

“You’re familiar?”

“Yep” Laura sat up, hunching over her now crossed legs. “My dad was a lawyer. Mom was an accountant. They kept pushing me to over achieve”

“Bet they weren’t happy with that” you spoke, pointing to your neck to reference Laura’s tattoo. Her hand went over it instinctively.

“I had already skipped town with my boyfriend before I got this.” She laughed. The smile melted away as she slowly stroked her neck. “Hadn’t seen them since. Probably dead.”

The room got a lot more quiet. It was crazy to think you both were so close in age but had gone through so much hell in the same world. But Laura was a saviour. You were Negan’s kid. If you were to be friends it would have to be at an arm’s reach.

The momentum changed when Carol arrived in, holding a small tray with cookies on them. The smell told you they were fresh. Your heart wanted to tell her to get out, but those cookies smelled too damn good.

“How’s the hard work going ladies.” she spoke with a cheery voice, setting the tray down in front of you. You were on it instantly. You took a cookie with you as you limped over to lock the door to the medical bay. “Any news?” Carol whispered

Carol had asked you and Laura to investigate the uprising of Negan supporters in the Sanctuary. Well, mainly Laura since she would know more people in Carol’s eyes. The payment, cookies. Though Laura would probably do it for free. She enjoyed the new peace that came with being aligned with the other settlements.

“Just the usual hot-heads” Laura sighed. You limped back to your chair.

“They like to complain to me.” you gently sat down. You’d only been back walking without the full splint for a couple days now but the clunky half splint on your lower leg wasn’t exactly walker friendly. “‘You should’ve seen how great we were when Negan was running the place’ and other shit”

“What do you think of it?” Carol asks you seriously. You suck the sugar off your fingers happily.

“He mustn’t have been that good if he’s not in charge anymore.”

They had their little meeting then as Carol was leaving you piped up,

“How’s the bridge team?”

“No.” Carol retorted quickly as if speaking to a child. “You are not going out there how many times do I have to tell you.”

“I could help-”

“You’re needed here Y/N” she spoke firmly.

“Yes, mom.” you groaned from your chair, earning a laugh from Laura. Carol left quickly.

“Why do you wanna join the bridge team so badly?” Laura asked through a mouthful of cookie.

“I miss the fresh air, I guess” and there’s more chances to get away from you all.

That evening you were restless. Normally it was the pain that kept you up late but it also exhausted you. You got out of the medical bed you’d claimed as your own, one of three that outfitted the med bay. You limped your way out of the medbay, not bothered if you woke Laura. The bathroom was down the hall so she would just assume you had to pee, especially since you had taken the torch dedicated to midnight bathroom visits. Being the medic gave you the luxury of a torch instead of matches and a candle.

It hurt to climb up so many stairs, with both your wounds and the cold seeping into your skin, but you’d be tired by the time you came back down anyway. You walked onto what used to be Negan’s floor. Your ‘family’s’ floor. You’d wanted to see it for a while now, out of curiosity more than anything else.

You first went to your father’s room. Pushing the door open you felt a burst of cold air whip around you viciously. The room has been stripped of its furnishings, right down to the carpets. Taken away to be burned most likely. The windows were shattered, the bullet holes in the ceiling giving away the method. It was so completely devoid of any sign of human life one would say it always had been. You closed the door and continued onto the parlour where the wives would spend their day. This room didn’t have windows but the room was still completely void of any of the glamour that once adorned it. The only remnants was the wall paper which was peeling off due to the damp.

The image of the forgotten rooms didn’t stir emotion in the way you thought they would. You imagined getting overwhelmed with emotion, but you felt nothing. No that wasn’t right, you felt a loss. Not a loss of the grandeur you had gotten to enjoy in captivity, not a loss of the fake smiles from your many ‘mothers’. You felt a loss of your father. You mourned the man you had called your father, and the idea that all that was left of the memory of him were these halls where cowards bowed to him. You felt an overwhelming realisation that the man you called ‘Pops’ had died long before ‘Negan’ formed.

Your final destination was your room. You figured it would also be empty but your room was a bit away, down the end of a hall few knew how to get too. You’d had more roaches as visitors than people. Your father had chosen it for you so the ‘common nobodies’ wouldn’t see you easily, another measure to keep you safe.

It also worked the other way as you round the corner and see a light coming from what used to be your room. The hall was lined with offices and storage rooms you knew you could dive into if someone appeared so you turned off your light and walked down the hall gingerly on your feet. You were now only a couple feet away from the door when you heard voices coming from the end of the hall, from what used to be your room.

“I still can’t believe they put this bitch here to keep an eye on us. That fucking redneck was an ass but atleast he didn’t pretend to be all fucking nice”

“It’s probably a play to get us to relax. They’ve got us locked in this factory and don’t give us nearly enough food, and they won’t let us go to the other settlements”

“We’re prisoners. They said they only wanted to lock up Negan but now we’re all starving.”

“Enough of your bitching.”

They went on to talk about how many people were on their side and their efforts to get weapons. They clearly had no idea you were listening. After all, what kind of idiot is gonna climb up over ten floors for no reason. Other than sentiment perhaps. It sounded like there were about four people in the room, but they spoke like they had a few under their influence. They were looking for weapons and a means to get back at ‘Rick and his posse’.

“We’ll bring them that bitch Carol’s head on a spike for them.”

“What about the bridge? We got people working there for food.”

“And then what? They’re just gonna keep extorting us for slave labour or let us starve.”

You were so drawn in by their words that the door opening startled you. You charged from your spot into an open room, a storage closet of a sort. You knew it was too risky to close the door so you stood against the wall next to the door. They walked along the hall bantering loudly. You sidestepped deeper into the room, knocking something with your foot making a loud metal sound. The voices stopped and you instantly froze, holding your breath like your life depended on it. A light shun into the closet, then the other way.

“Probably just a rat” one of the voices spoke. “We can set some traps and stew it for dinner”.

They continued down the hall, their steps growing faint a minute or so later. The adrenaline began to subside and the pain from the recent strain on your leg made itself very apparent. You stepped out of the closet and walked down the hall to your old room. Maybe they left some evidence you could use to barter for your freedom.

You opened the door to your room, only illuminated by the moonlight coming from the window. Unlike the other rooms, your room hadn’t been completely ransacked. The mattress had been taken off the frame but the metal skeleton remained as well as the rug under your bed. Other than that it appeared empty. You turned on your torch to get a better view.

On your bed frame lay what had to be near a hundred dead wild flowers. Your breath caught in your throat at the site. You moved and sat on the bed frame, the metal sending a chill up your body. You placed a hand on the dry stems and something hit the ground with a thump. You moved to look under the bed as quick as you could, reaching under the bed you cut yourself on something sharp. You moved your torch on it and grabbed it again, this time from a less dangerous end.

Under the bed you pulled out the knife that had your name engraved on it. The metal shun bright in the light as if lovingly polished until it’s inevitable abandonment. You hadn’t realized you had begun to cry until a tear fell onto the blade and began to fill the engraving.

~Tag List~

@bodeckersbitch @lauren-novak​ @aestthete

[kusagrasskusa]

Yandere Simulator Delinquents.

They're basically copy and paste. Sooo here's my version of them for future reference! I got too excited writing the last one lol- It's been a while since I've been to inspired to write. This is a nice feeling uvu

Umeji Kizuguchi - Yellow guy

He has blonde, previously pink, hair and golden eyes. He wears a yellow shirt under unbuttoned blazer and carries a baseball bat around. He has a scar over his right eye. Umeji is Oroso right hand man and takes over position while she's gone; these are the cannon versions of him and all that's said.

This is my fannon version of him: He was hurt the most during the bullying and therefore the most fearful of pain. He flinches when touched and gets pissed instantly. He's the most cold and aggressive out of the five and it helped him keep him as the most feared of the delinquents. He works out daily, therefore having a good build and likes bitter foods rather than sweets. He'a quite ignorant and refuses to share his likes out of fear of being judged. He still feels depression but now faces more anxiety than anything. He often cries about it late at night.

But despite his depression, he's so determined to stay as a threat to many. It's the kist alive he's ever felt. He's somewhat narcissistic and has both an inferiority and superiority complex, actually. Sensitive to touch and criticism but damn his ego is big. He uses his strength and speed as another threat to fellow students, to let them know that if they mess up then he'll catch and hurt them.

His home life isn't fun. Parents maybe fighting here and there or gone for work or something. It wasn't abusive in any way or anything; in fact, they get along well when they're together. It's just the parents weren't attentive. As Umeji puts it, "My mom, dad, bless their hearts, but they aren't great." They tend to brush things off quickly and spend too much time to themselves.

Dairoku Surikizu - Blue manz

He has blonde, previously blue, hair and blue eyes. He wears a blue shirt under an unbuttoned blazer and carries around a boten or some shit, idk I couldn't figure it out. He has a scar on his lip and from Mulberry's art, it looks like he's the tallest of the group.

Fannonly, he's the most anxious of the group. He never talks about it to anyone but Hokuto, who brushes it off. Dairoku got his scar a long time ago when his parents were agruing; he hid under his bed when he was nine and started to cry. To calm himself, he started to bite his lip and scratch himself on the forearms and face to calm himself down. He cut himself in the process badly and tried to hide it from his parents so he didn't get yelled at.

His home life wasn't too bad either; his dad left the family not long after that incident when he was nine so his mom has to take on the roles of two people. She never has time for him so the other delinquents make him feel so happy. He likes- no, loves to talk to them but tries to look sketchy in the process.

Hokuto Furukizu - Purple manz

He has blonde, previously golden, hair and purple eyes. From Mulberry's art, he seems to be the second tallest, but very close to Dairoku. He carried around a metal pipe and wears a purple shirt under his opened blazer. He has a scar on his cheek too btw.

Fannonly, he talks most to Dairoku. He usually brushed off what he says, but relates to him most. Of the 5, he desperately wants to be normal and free the most. He was well popular in middle school but his anger once got the best of him and a fight caused him to lose a lot of his reputation. It just got worse as time went on however; but he misses those days so much.

His scare on his cheek came from the fight and serves as a curse mark to him; "The day they ruined my life." He hates looking at it and gets pissed off when people even look at it. He's always been hot headed but his physical appearance is his number one insecurity. Hokuto's homelife is normal and he's goodboi at home. Cleans, cooks sometimes, has an equally good relationship with his mom as he does his dad.

He managed to convince them that his new appearance and signs of depression from last year was just influence from ex friends. Eventually they just took his word for it despite how terrible of a lie that is, so they stopped asking.

Gaku Hikitsuri - Red guyz

According to Mulberry's art, the blonde who once had light blue hair and red eyes is the second tallest. He has a scar on his forehead and carried around a crowbar. His shirt is red and under, you guessed it, an unbuttoned blazer.

He's a genuine tsundere; the angriest of the group. He easily crushes on people like a simp and gets nervous easily, so he acts all defensive and aggressive around them especially. Other than Umeji, he's the quickest to shove people around and assert his position. But for the most part, he intentionally shoves and shoulder checks people he finds attractive or who he thinks is superior than him, which is a lot of people.

He suffers from an inferiority complex that makes him think everyone judges him behind his back and talks about him especially. Therefore, he's the loudest and quickest to insults; he's also very self conscious. He's scared to make noise in class, talk, eat in front of people, and others because he's scared to be judged. Because as long as nothing is brought to the table, there's nothing to judge. His scar was actually from Kokoro, the bully who's just a sadist according to the character files from Yandev, who got pissed at him defending himself and hit him down with a ring. He got cut badly and almost passed out from the hit; but hey, it's not like he can do anything about since she's a girl, and he'd be expelled instantly. The bitch even resulted him with a broken arm at some point.

Home life isn't great; rundown trailerpark, alcoholic dad and whole of a step mom, dead mom, things like that. Damn, if only he got more than a mattress on the floor, a cover, pillow, dresser filled with all his clothes and school supplies to live on. But he can't even get a job without his scar making people think he's worse than what his persona displays.

Hayanari Tsumeato - Grey manz

The grey eyed, blonde hair man with natural red hair who carries around a lead pipe is Hayanari, who's last name "Tsumeato" means scratch mark. He has a grey shirt under his unbuttoned blazer and a scar over his nose.

Fannonly, he was the one with the no fucks given attitude. He was usually straight faced and brutally honest when talking to people, but wasn't necessarily judgemental. It's hard to explain but just because he says, "damn Daniel, you're built like a carrot," doesn't mean he cares about his appearance, even if whoever tf Daniel is actually looks like a carrot or not. He was the daredevil who did things solely for his entertainment.

In a way, it was almost sociopathic or narcissistic; he'd be fine with embarrassing someone in front of anyone because it got a smile our of him. If someone complained, he'd roll his eyes and convince whoever that they were overreacting and that they were the one at fault. He's very manipulative and sarcastic, usually just smiling cockily and speaking innocently. Kinda emo, but he wasn't against that title. He actually liked the occult and for the most part, was down for anything that didn't have too much time needed, like school or family.

He was in the middle of everything; okay with cooking, occult, art, science, reading, anine and games, so there wasn't much a person can dislike him for in terms of social standards. He wasn't appart of a dislikes group like the occult kids or science kids, not with a loved group like cooking or art kids. But when he started to express a bit of interest in the occult was when people could finally pin him down and bully him back for all those insulting jokes that sounded way too serious. And before he knew it, he got wrapped up in the hate and couldn't get himself free.

Home life is something he never, not even to his fellow delinquents, never talks about. But one thing worth noting is that he's never seen without a long sleeved shirt or jacket of some kind. He used to pass out time to time during gym classes because he was overheated due to bringing a long sleeved version of the gym shirt to school and never drank anything. When his parents were called, they always insisted on saying they'll do something about it but they never did, either. The delinquents do think there's some kind of abuse at his house; besides, Hayanari is adopted and those things happen often even if it's more common in the foster system.

His family is something he never talks about. Back in middle school, his friends were able to see his "parents" time to time when they picked him up from school. It was immediately obvious that he wasn't related to them; hell, he rarely called them mom or dad. At home, until adopted, was great. Friends coming over, happy family moments, being able to play games and use electronics, things like that. But when he was adopted was when it wouldn't be easy to just tell someone what was to come; quite obviously, it was abuse. Verbal and physical, nearly everyday. It was worse in the beginning but happened less often as he got older.

His "mom" would call the police a few times him because she felt "threatened." She hit him so he would hit back and yell while doing so, so she has evidence of an attack. But luckily, her skin isn't sensitive enough to show any marks unlike Hayanari's. Other times, his "dad" would get involved and hurt him badly.

[ficforce]

Joker/52 Relationship Alphabet

Two types of F!Reader

A- Activity (What is their favourite activity to do with Y/N.) Quiet Reader: Joker used to think it was funny when Y/N asked him to teach her card games, he didn’t know many himself as he liked to play around with the cards rather than use them for games but he knew at least one. She had been a quick learner and had trounced him from the start. Each time they met they would teach the other a new card game and now they played to pass a quiet night. Loud Reader: She was curious about the world and about The Nether. That’s where the Joker had found her - she had been wandering around the abandoned spaces beneath the city. Y/N had kicked him in the balls and hit him with a metal pipe after he had snuck up behind her, she had already been scared and his appearance had sent her into a violent panic. She still liked to explore The Nether, with a pole in her hand, but now he would hold her other hand. B- Beginnings (How do they act in the beginning of a relationship) Quiet Reader: He had been fooling around with the explosive dust Licht had made when he heard a scream come from the building he had been using as a target practice. Joker had found Y/N huddled up in the corner of the wrecked building and had approached her carefully, offering her his hand and trying not to grin too widely at her - he could see she was frightened. From her clothing he could see she was most likely homeless and he felt bad for disturbing her hiding place. She hadn’t trusted him at first and it took some doing for Joker to have her follow him down into The Nether so that he could offer her somewhere to wash and change her clothes. She ran back to the surface as soon as she could but Joker always found her to give her food. Eventually she stopped running away and stayed with him. Loud Reader: After beating him with a metal pole, Y/N had helped him up, not too disturbed by his manic giggles at her over reaction. She didn’t sense any malicious intent from him, he didn’t wear all white and he hadn’t been on fire at the time. Joker knew she was weird from the moment she grinned at him. He liked that she was curious and she had a million questions, she had a million answers for him too - both had been so excited to find someone so similar. They were two sides of the same coin.

C- Communication (Are they good communicators? How do they normally talk about their problems or solve issues)

Quiet Reader: She didn’t speak much to him at first, too nervous and unsure of him at first. Joker had done most of the talking, sometimes it was as simple as telling her what he had done that morning or how he turned his hideout into a functioning home with running water. When she had finally started to trust him Y/N told him anything he wanted to know. Now that they’re a couple she doesn’t hide anything from him, he’s a great listener and although he doesn’t always come up with conventional advice he always makes her feel better. Joker doesn’t like to burden her with his problems so he’s not a great communicator, he worries that if she knows too much then he could put her in danger. Y/N doesn’t probe him but she knows when he’s sitting on a problem. Loud Reader: Y/N tells him everything, even when she literally catches him trying to sneak away to catch a break she follows him. She likes that he will offer to help even when he thinks she’s over reacting. Sometimes he offers murder as a solution and she got really into it. Again, he doesn’t like to share too much for her own safety but she’ll encourage massacres to fix his issues… Joker doesn’t think that’s bad advice. D- Drunk (What are they like when they’re drunk) Quiet Reader: Joker had given her a glass of whisky to warm her up, her health wasn’t good to start with and her third generation ability was so weak she hadn’t been able to retain heat well. He hadn’t thought a double would affect her so much but he was pleasantly surprised. Y/N becomes very affectionate when she’s drunk, she wants to cuddle into Joker and he enjoys it immensely. Loud Reader: He had to persuade her not to fight everyone who looked at her for more than two seconds. Y/N got loud when she was drunk and Joker wondered how she hadn’t died yet. He’s all for fun and mischief but his girlfriend is nuts. E- Emergency (How are they in emergency situations? Y/N gets hurt, they get hurt, someone is dying etc..) Quiet Reader: Y/N is really good in an emergency, she once found Joker badly hurt after getting in a fight and sat him down whilst locating his first aid kit. She bandaged his broken ribs and made sure he rested. People didn’t think of Joker as much more than a misunderstood weirdo, he was a self proclaimed anti-hero but he had plenty of experience with blood and guts, he knew a mentally screwed up person when he saw one. He always knew what to do when Y/N would become anxious or frightened, he sat up with her many times when she was recovering from being left out in the streets for years. Loud Reader: She panics. Y/N is useless in an emergency and has proved it over and over again. Joker couldn’t count the times he had saved her from falling down a tunnel or running straight into danger whilst exploring the dark. Her first instinct was always to swing at the problem rather than think about it. He cut his finger once and she bandaged his entire arm… F- Free Spot (I’ll give you any headcanon I come up with) Quiet Reader: Joker is a pretty good cook, he’s mostly into making pastries and was really happy when Y/N taught him how to make a chocolate twist pastry - she had worked in a bakery before losing her home and ending up on the streets. Loud Reader:

Y/N and Joker like to try on clothes they find in abandoned malls underground, they have mini fashion shows and sometimes they dress up the mannequins for giggles. G- Gifts (What kind of gifts do they give? What kind of gifts do they get?) Quiet Reader: She’s really self conscious about not having any money or even a job, Y/N is always grateful when Joker brings her gifts, he’s a bit of a magpie and brings her pretty, shiny things he finds, but all she can offer him is food… made with ingredients he brings home. Y/N mends his clothing and bakes him treats, she likes to help him brush out his hair too. Joker enjoys the attention. Loud Reader: Joker knows what she likes from her habit of talking and talking. He goes out of his way to get very specific gifts for her, mainly things she mentions more than five times. He loves how excited she gets when he gives her a messily wrapped gift. Y/N buys Joker personalised accessories, pins, cufflinks, cute sweaters and decks of cards that are unusual. H- Hugs (How do they show affection/cuddle) Quiet Reader: It took a long time for her to allow physical comfort, when she finally approached him and timidly wrapped her arms around his waist he felt his heart melt. She likes to be held and if Joker is sat playing with his cards she will cuddle into his sides. Loud Reader: There’s always laughter and play fights between them, Joker is much stronger and Y/N usually gets exhausted trying to win. When she gives up he pulls her into his arms and nuzzles her neck. They’re not shy with each other and she always feels safer with his hand in hers. I- Irritation (What is something that irritates them? How do they show their irritation?) Quiet Reader: She finds entitled people irritating, she hates how they think they can look down on people and sometimes she’ll get angry when she sees them bullying someone. Y/N gets rather tearful when she’s frustrated,  then she gets angry with herself for being so weak Loud Reader: She hates repetitive noises, tapping fingers or feet, a song with an annoying beat, the sound of card edges being flipped endlessly. Y/N will usually be verbal about things annoying her and if it’s something she can stop - like snatching the cards out of his damn hands because he knows he’s driving her mad - she will. J- Jackpot (How would they spend their winnings if they won the lottery?) Quiet Reader: She would buy herself a little house and live modestly, she knows how easily money can disappear and how fast the debt collectors come. She would be frightened to spend it on luxuries but Joker would force her to go on at least one selfish trip. He’s not bothered about money, he has all he needs to get by comfortably. Loud Reader: Y/N is going on a spending spree, she’s going to buy more things to explore the dark in and then she’s going to travel across the sea to visit the other countries. When she runs out of money she hopes she’ll be rich in knowledge. Joker is allowed to come but only to carry her bags. K- Kryptonite (What is their ultimate weakness?) Quiet Reader: Y/N is anxious of new people and isn’t any good in a crowd. She’ll help someone in need though, this can leave her open to danger. Loud Reader: She’s petrified of spiders. She’s also weak against being tickled. L- Laughter (What makes them laugh?) Quiet Reader: Joker makes her laugh quite a lot, not when he tries to though, it’s the little things he does. He’s funny by accident. Sometimes it’s something like him mumbling to himself under his breath or making faces when he’s trying to think of a plan. Joker thinks her sarcasm is hilarious when she’s in a bad mood. Loud Reader: She the kind of person who laughs when someone falls down. Y/N laughs at her own jokes and never misses an opportunity for a pun. Joker gets a little scared when he’ll be sat quietly and then he’ll hear her cackling to herself for no reason, she’s giggling so much she can’t even tell him the joke and then she’ll forget. That drives him mad… M- Morning ( How do they wake up in the morning? Are

they a morning person or a morning grouch?) Quiet Reader: Y/N is very good in the mornings, she ready for the day and happy that she gets to make breakfast for herself and for Joker. He likes to sleep in and when he does come to eat he’s dazed and likes to cuddle. She usually wakes up around seven in the morning, it’s hard to tell the time in the Nether but she’s getting used to it. Loud Reader: Ten in the morning is still too early and Y/N rolls out of bed, puts on whatever she finds and heads to the train for work. Her days off are used exploring and hanging out with Joker but when she works she doesn’t expect to see a tall, well dressed man on the train. A coffee and breakfast roll in his hands just for her. It’s not everyday but it makes her mornings worth it when Joker comes to feed her. N- Needy (When do they feel particularly needy? How do they show it?) Quiet Reader: When it’s cold and the rain is so heavy it vibrates through the tunnels of The Nether, Y/N can’t help but need reassurance. If Joker knows the weather will be bad he leaves his coat for her to wear - it offers her a little comfort until he can come back to her. Seeing her so insecure reminds him of his time on the streets and he wants the comfort of another too. Loud Reader: Y/N isn’t good when she’s feeling ill, she behaves as if she only has hours to live and tells Joker how she wants her body disposed of. He tells her he’ll cut her up and put her all over the Empire like a jigsaw. She didn’t think it was funny and would whine until he got her food and agreed to sit with her. O- Oasis (Where is their happy place? Where would they go if they didn’t have anything holding them back?) Quiet Reader: Joker takes her on rooftop dates, the higher the better. It’s far from other people and he knows how much she enjoys the stars, The Nether isn’t a place for her and he likes to take her out of there whenever it’s safe to do so. He’d love to find her a home with a garden and plenty of sun. Maybe if he can shake off his past then he could join her. Loud Reader: Her favourite place is by the sea, she can spend hours looking out at the ocean and imagining what’s on the other side. The Empire says there’s nothing but she also knows the Empire lies. There’s a small area where she can take off her shoes and paddle in the water, it’s cold and the stones beneath are sharp - it’s where she feels her most content. Joker watches her sometimes but never makes his presence known. P- Pain (How do they handle pain? How do they handle when Y/N are in pain?) Quiet Reader: Joker hates when she’s hurting, since the moment he met her she was in pain, he had seen it in her eyes and all he had wanted was to make it stop. She was so stubborn at first, refusing his help and running away. She never tells him when she’s hurting but he knows and he’ll do what he can to help - including sneaking pain meds into her drinks. Loud Reader: Y/N whines about little injuries, she makes a big fuss and demands the man’s attention. Joker snorts at her and rolls his eye. The injuries that cause real pain put her into a kind of shock and she tell herself over and over that it’s okay, that it’ll go away. That’s when he knows it’s serious and he’ll get her whatever help she needs. Q- Quote (What’s a quote that fits them and your relationship) Quiet Reader: Lovers are patient and know that the moon needs time to become full. - Rumi Loud Reader: To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all. - Oscar Wilde

R- Reunion (How do they celebrate seeing Y/N after a long time of being apart) Quiet Reader: Y/N can’t let go of him, she throws herself into his arms and holds him tight like he might vanish if she doesn’t. She didn’t know if he would come back or if he had abandoned her. Joker holds onto her and makes sure she knows he’s with her.

Loud Reader: He likes to hide in her apartment and scare the shit out of her when she comes in - their reunion sometimes involves his bloody nose. Once the initial shock has worn off she’s happy to see him and even happier that he brought wine with him. S- Stress (What stresses them out? How do deal with stress and how do they relieve it?) Quiet Reader: Crowds of people stress her out, she feels very small and hugs the sides of buildings so she doesn’t get pushed around. It she gets too stressed it will escalate into a panic attack and she’ll huddle up out of the way. Joker has always calmed her down since meeting her, before him she would just wait until the crowds were gone and stagger away to hide. Loud Reader: Work stresses her out, she’s stuck in one place for 8 hours a day, being nice to all sorts of terrible people and feeling like she’s trapped. It’s busy where she works and her breaks are never long enough. In bad days she heads to the bar before getting the train home. Before she met Joker she would go home and dread the next day. He reminds her that she needs to make the best of her free time and getting out is better than staying in T- Terror (What are they afraid of?) Quiet Reader: There’s a particular person she’s scared of, she’s never told Joker and can’t even bear to think of that person. Loud Reader: Spiders, not the small ones but the large ones that run too fast and fall off the ceilings of the tunnels she likes to explore. U- Unique (What is a quirk that is unique to them?) Quiet Reader: Y/N can learn things very quickly, especially languages and games Loud Reader: She’s double jointed and oddly flexible. V- Violence (Do they fight a lot? Are they a good fighter? What is their fighting style?) Quiet Reader: Violence frightens her, she would be too petrified to fight back and Joker still doesn’t know what happened in her past to make her feel that way. Loud Reader: She fights a lot, especially after her drink. She’s not very well trained and in a real fight with someone who knew what they were doing - she would be destroyed W- Wow (What does Y/N do that really surprises them? What do they do that Y/N really likes?) Quiet Reader: When Y/N got strong enough to use her ability again, Joker was very excited, he asked her to show him again and again. It’s not a very useful power but he thinks it’s the prettiest ability he’s ever seen Loud Reader: Her ability to get herself in trouble amazes him every time. Also the metal pole she tried to beat him to death with was an interesting conversation piece. X- (Explicit headcanon. For all you degenerates) Quiet Reader: When they first slept together Joker was careful, he was slow and sweet with her. She was nervous of letting him become that close with her and a few times he told her they could stop but she didn’t want to. After the first time she would sometimes climb on top of him and kiss him until he got the hint. Loud Reader: Y/N had never thought she’d be into sex in public. She was very wrong. Joker surprises her at work or when she’s trying on clothes in changing rooms - he’s very good at sneaking into places. Keeping quiet is difficult when he picks her up and fucks her into the nearest wall. Y- Yucky (Is there something that grosses them out so badly that they can’t deal with it?) Quiet Reader: Y/N becomes physically ill when she sees extreme violence. She’s seen people get beat up and horribly injured before and it makes her sick. Joker hopes she never has to see him in action - he’d hate for her to be afraid of him again. Loud Reader: If it’s slimy or smells bad then she doesn’t like it, unfortunately there’s always slime or sludge in the places she explores and Joker isn’t above chasing her around with it. Z- ZZZ’s (What are their sleeping habits? Both with and without Y/N)

Quiet Reader: Joker both hates and adores the way Y/N curls up into a ball in bed, the blankets wrapped around her so tightly it’s hard to get to her. He knows she used to sleep out in the cold and that she was likely frightened, the ball probably felt safe. It looked cute. Joker is tall so he spoons her either from the front or behind, encasing her with his arms and legs so that she feels safe enough to uncurl just a little. Loud Reader: He’s her favourite pillow, she lays across his chest with her fingers wound in his long hair. Y/N doesn’t move much in her sleep but she has the cutest little snore and Joker finds it hilarious - especially when she denies it in the morning… he even recorded her once. She gets mad when he steals all of the covers.

[darksiderssin]

Keter Duty

This is gonna stay as a oneshot for now, I think. I want to make it longer and eventually make a more official looking entry like something off the SCP Wiki, but here we go. Tagging @imagine-darksiders because this was their idea. I promise there’s some semblance of a plot I’m cooking up for this, but it’ll be posted up on Ao3 if I write more.

“Enter the chamber, D-091337.”

You hated that voice on the P.A system- cold, clinical, uncaring. Just another Tuesday for these people, for you it could be your last day alive, like so many forced into the dens of the monsters they kept here, and it felt like you’d been marched to the gallows. You sighed- could be worse, you supposed. You could have been forced into the femur breaker, waiting for the unimaginable pain that heralded your impending death. You could have been put on 173 duty, having to rely on two other strangers in order to survive cleaning the mess that thing in there- you’d done it before and you never wanted to do that again. You took a breath to choke back the fear, only to have it knocked out of you as the butt of a rifle struck you between the shoulders, forcing you to stumble through the door as it slid open.

“If you turn around, you will be shot,” Says the gruff voice behind you. “Get in there, now.”

You wanted to give the man a nasty look as the door closed behind you, if you weren’t expecting your painful, bloody death. Your eyes were closed, still cringing from the developing bruise in your back as you hissed through your teeth, though you forced yourself to look up, deciding you wanted to at least see what was going to kill you, only to find four pairs of eyes from four different, humanlike individuals looking back at you- four very tall individuals, three of them male, and one female. One of the males, who was pale as a corpse and wore a skull-like mask, had a shaggy, mangy looking crow on his shoulder, that stared at you curiously with its beady little eyes, almost like it was judging whether or not you were a threat, much like the other individuals were doing as they watched you straighten up and press yourself against the door.

“A human?” One of the males piped up, this one wearing a silver helmet that only showed two amber eyes that looked you up and down, from your orange jumpsuit to the white sneakers to the dark circles under your eyes. He glanced to the others in the room, the fluorescent light glinting off the silver plated armour he wore. “Didn’t they say they were gonna send someone to talk to us?” Amazingly, their English was perfect, and the others responded in similarly perfect English.

It was the skull-masked male who spoke next, his wiry frame hunched in the way he sat, his eyes like smouldering embers. “No weapons,” He observed with a voice like a rattling sigh, a last word on a dying breath, and he glanced briefly to the panel of one-way glass before he spoke again. “What is your name, Human?” He almost sounded as if he was bored. You had taken a breath to reply, when the voice of one of the scientists gave you a warning over the P.A system.

“D-091337, you are not authorised to speak.” You froze, pressing yourself further against the door. “You are unauthorised to interact beyond the instructions we give you.”

The female, her dark lips pulled in a scowl, glared at the one-way glass with eyes like glowing moonstones. Despite the feeling of danger emanating off of her, she was beautiful, her olive skin smooth and unblemished, hair the colour of wine floating freely behind her. “They can talk when they decide to talk to us themselves,” She growled, the armour she wore clanking together as she shifted in her place leaning against the wall by the third male, a man built like a mountain who wore a red cloak around his shoulders- you couldn’t see his face past the massive pauldron on his shoulder. “I think we’ll decide who’s ‘worthy’. Now, answer my brother’s question.”

Well. The scientists wouldn’t like that. At first, it was hard to speak. You tried to say the first syllable, but your voice won't come because of your shock at what happened. Their eyes were all on you now. Eventually, you managed to croak it out, audible enough for them to hear. "(Y/N)...it's (Y/N)."

The skull-masked male nodded slowly. “Why have they sent you, Y/N?”

"I don't know." Your voice still croaked with nervousness and trembled as badly as your knees were. You'd seen other D-Class like you getting thrown to these monsters, and though you knew that some of them weren't bad, you knew that Keter classification sign outside the cell meant bad news. "Maybe to see if you'll turn my brain into mush, or eat me alive."

They all blink at you, then look at the one-way glass, then to each other, almost as if asking the same question. Finally, the helmeted male looked back at you, his voice sounding slightly disturbed at the suggestion. “Why would we do that?” He asked. “We said we weren’t here to kill any humans.”

"It's what these people do," You tell him. "They feed regular folks like us to monsters for their 'experiments'. Just to see what happens."

The skull-masked male hummed thoughtfully, pressing a hand to the one-way glass and pushing slightly to test how solid it was- you took some pleasure in imagining the scientists and soldiers shitting themselves at the sight. “Do they really think this is going to hold us?” He wasn’t really asking you, but you answered anyway.

"They say that you guys are Keter class. I think that means they think you're here to kill people." Usually the scientists said these things, and you swallowed a nervous lump in your throat as you mustered up the courage to ask, "...If you're not here to hurt humans, what are you here for?"

The female gave a derisive snort, the helmeted male choosing to answer instead. "We're just here for the monsters. Tall dark and sulky over there--" He jerked his chin in the direction of the other male with the skull mask. "He told us not to hurt anyone when we turned up to get the job done." The remark was met with a glance from the masked male, but not much else. Not much of a talker, you noted as you looked between them all, shuffling your feet awkwardly- they didn't seem like they were as much of a threat as the red sign outside the cell had made them out to be, if what they said was true. Maybe...

"D-091337. You are to leave the cell immediately. We're going to get someone to interview the subjects."

You jumped as the voice came over the P.A system, followed by the sound of heavy boots behind the door. You figured that meant they'd throw you back in your own cell and send in one of the scientists, but the skull-masked male stepped around you first and pushed you back with a large hand that paled against the bright orange of your jumpsuit as the door opened, causing the crow to squawk and flutter away, landing on your shoulder. The female dragged you further back by your arm, looking like she was ready to rip apart the guards as they levelled their rifles, but the skull-masked male was very calm.

"There's no need for those." He set his hand on the muzzle of one of the rifles and gently lowered it. "We've already made it clear that we're not here for you or your Foundation."

The guard shook his rifle away from under his hand, then raised it again. "Standard procedure," He remarked gruffly, then looked to you. "If you don't get over here now, we will shoot you."

The female didn't seem to like that, putting you behind her and reaching for something on her hip. The other two males looked ready to fight as well, slowly rising to their feet. "We'd prefer there be minimal conflict," The skull-masked male explained slowly, looking directly at the guard who had spoken. "We were in the middle of a conversation. It would be rude to shoot our guest."

"Not like you'd get a shot in anyway," The helmeted male added, and you swore you could sense a smirk behind the metal. "Fury's good with that whip, and your run of the mill bullets don't exactly work on us." That made the guards wary, a few of them looking between themselves as if reevaluating the situation. "Also," The helmeted male pulled a pistol, seemingly from out of nowhere, and held it up for the guards to see. "I'm a much better shot." You turned your eyes away from the door to look at the pistol, ornately engraved with beautiful spiralling patterns along the barrel.

Tension hangs heavy in the air, so thick you swear that the cliché of being able to cut it with a knife might actually be able to be proven if you tried. Eventually, one of the guard turns his head, one hand to his ear, and it takes a long moment before he motions to his fellows to stand down. “They’re sending in a researcher. The D-Class can stay.”

The helmeted male chuckled as the guards filed out and the door shut again, and he holstered the pistol. “Wise choice.” His eyes glance back at you. “You good?”

“Yeah.” You glanced at the door, then at the helmeted male. “Thanks.”

“What did they mean, ‘D-Class’?” Asked the skull-masked male as he turned to look at you, the crow fluttering off your shoulder and back onto his.

“It’s what they call us.” You shrugged and gave him a lopsided smile. “D-Class, D-Boys, the Disposables. Some of us are criminals, some are just folks down on their luck who were promised a hefty paycheck if they survive the month.”

“Criminals?” The helmeted male cocked his head. “What’d you do?”

You held up your hands defensively. “Nothing! I needed money!”

The tall individuals all look between each other again, their faces sharing an equal measure of concern, and you wish you could say you hated it. You’d never really known the things they kept here to care about humans, so why did they, when they were the dangerous ones? It almost seemed like an insult.

Eventually, it was the skull-masked male who spoke. “And all you have to do is...survive?” He asked, looking down at you with a gaze that made it seem that he was thinking about something.

“Well...yeah. I don’t think they’ll let me remember what I saw, though...” You sighed. “They...have ways of making people forget. And maybe that’s good. There’s nothing but nightmares down here.”

[cherry-gemz]

The City by The Bay: Part IV

Summary: Fates push you and a handsome and known stranger into each other's paths. His chivalry and good looks make you take a leap into his world and more.

Catch up HERE

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Y/N (F!Reader)

Word Count: 4k

Rating: Mature, N*FW, 18+ only please, TW Motorcycle accident

A/N: Was thirsty AF and ended up smutting this fic up 😂. We take a turn that I was not expecting...

A/N2: Excerpts from an interview are in bold, taken from here: https://www.keanu-reeves.net/post/162864242206/abdominal-scar-keanu-reeves-first-big-spill-came

Who might be interested: @whiskeyslullabye ​ @marissat1998 @aestheticallywinchester ​ @fookingbetch

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

It all happened so fast. The rain felt like pellets on your back and the wind sprayed the droplets onto your face, making the strand of your hair stick to your forehead. You had to close your eyes for just a second and that's when Keanu swerved out of the way as a black BMW ran the stop sign ahead. He maneuvered the bike as best as he could. With all his years of training, he was the best probability if ever you were to be in an accident. 

But as he jerked to the right, the slickness of the pavement made the grip of the tires useless and he lost control. 

"Keanu!" You yelled and held tight to his waist and buried your face in his jacket.

"Hold on!" He shouted back and slowed down as best he could. He released his grip and instead grabbed you into a tuck and roll. He grasped you in his possession and shielded you from the fall. 

You felt the impact to the ground instantaneously and prayed that the pain that seared through the impact would be temporary. You heard him grunt loudly as he took the majority of the fall for you. The scrap of metal reverberated in your eardrums and you grimaced at the thought of damaging his beloved motorcycle. The rain pounded harder onto your laying bodies on the street. You could hear cars whizz by and the splash from their tires against the curb. You were frightened, out of your element. But also reassured from his protection. He had given up the bike in efforts to make sure you were safe. You felt a sense of relief that he cared like that, but then also remorse as you were worried about his favorite motorcycle. 

He groaned as he held you tight, "Y/N? Are you okay?"

His voice shaken as you nod and sniff, the helmet heavy on your pounding head. He let out a sigh of relief. 

"What about you?" 

He nods, "Yeah...I'm alright." He groaned again and you could tell he was saving face. 

The two of you lay there for a few seconds and you hear people slowly approaching. 

"Omigosh, are you guys okay?" A stranger asks.

"That guy came out of nowhere!" Another pipes up. Keanu says you are and the tinnitus hits for a second and you're unable to hear what is going on. 

***

The garage door’s rollers rumbled as it closed and you both walked into the house, sheltering yourself from the downpour.

Keanu peels his leather jacket and places it in the foyer as well as his boots. You slip your shoes off and place your purse on a chair and slip off your jacket, laying it next to his. 

"This day is just out of this world," he says and shakes off the excess rain from his hair. He groaned as there's a stiffness to his shoulder blade. He massages it with his hand and tries to loosen the muscle unsuccessfully. 

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? I'd feel a lot better. They could take a look at your shoulder and check for any internal bleeding…"

He shakes his head no, "It's okay, Y/N. I've been in far worse accidents in my lifetime. I'm just glad you're okay...I don't know what I'd do had you gotten hurt."

You smile slightly at his endearment, but feel guilty still. 

"And the bike, it's not too much damage?"

"Nah, just a little buffering out here and there," he replies as he holds his shoulder with his opposing hand. 

“Let me start a fire and give you some extra clothes. By this time tonight you’ll have gone through my whole wardrobe,” he jokes as you snicker. 

He gazes at you momentarily and you shiver slightly, springing him back to reality. “Be back.”

You nod and peer down the hallway admiring some architecture photographs of the house. 

You’re reminded this isn’t his actual house, that he’s most likely renting it while on his project, but you’re still enamored. You're still in his presence. No one will believe your serendipitous encounter with the movie star. It all feels like a dream anyway. You rub your forearm and try to gain some heat, but your jeans are soaked and it’s difficult to move around.

“Keanu?” you call out down the hall.

“Yeah?” he shouts back.

“Sorry, I’m just freezing…” you cringe and you feel like you’re being a nuisance.

He appears around the corner, changed into black sweats. He's kept his white t-shirt on from earlier and even though he's in a casual form, it's intimate. 

"Here, I found some extra sweats," he says and hands you a pair of grey pants. "Do you need a sweater?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty chilled," you reply as you accept the pants. "I'm just gonna go change, that okay?"

"Sure, by all means. I'll be in the living room with that sweater," he says and you turn around to go change your clothes.

*

A short while later you walk down the hall in his oversized sweats, still wearing his black shirt from before as well and you bite your lip from beyond belief that you're spending the whole day with him. 

You hear the crackle of the fireplace as you enter the open spaced living room. He's sitting on the leather couch facing the fire with a glass of red wine in hand.

He turns his attention to you as you enter, "Hey." He gets up slowly as you can tell he's in a bit of pain and hands you a black ARCH hoodie and a glass of red wine. 

"Thank you," you flirt as you pull the hoodie over your senses and are enlightened with the hint of his cologne: woodsy, warm, and ephemeral. You could die right there and be in bliss.

"Not too early for wine, is it?" He asks genuinely. 

"No, definitely not," you smile and bring the glass to your lips and take a sip. 

"Good, I think we deserve it from what we've been through."

"Thanks for this...and the fire. It's all very inviting."

"Of course. I'd be beside myself if you caught a chill on my account."

You nod and he ushers you to the couch, placing his hand gently on the small of your back.

"My sweatshirt looks good on you," he says and you notice some blood on the back of his shoulder blade. 

"Oh no, Keanu…" you say and place the wine glass on the end table. 

He takes a sip and looks back to you, "Yeah?"

"There's...there's blood on your shirt. You hurt yourself from the fall."

"Really? I didn't feel anything," he peers over and tries to take a look. 

"Do you have a first aid kit?"

"I think there is one in the kitchen…" he slowly gets up and you grab his forearm. 

"No, let me. You have given me enough hospitality to last a lifetime. It's the least I can do. Drink your wine and relax."

He grins and relents as you head to the kitchen. You rummage around and finally find a kit underneath the sink. 

"Alright, now are you going to be a good patient?" You say and cock your brow. 

"No promises," he laughs and shakes his index finger at you. 

You sit next to him on the leather couch, "Alright, let's see the damage."

He peels his shirt off from the collar as all men do, least they are aware of how sexy the act is. You try not to hitch a breath, but your eyes wander as the peep of his ab muscles are exposed and his shoulders are defined and hard. 

You see the cuts from his shoulder and open the kit for an antiseptic. 

"What's the verdict, doc?" He asks as he holds his crumpled shirt in his hand and drinks his wine with the other.

"You'll live," you kid as you grab a cotton ball and apply the antiseptic to it and lightly dab it on his cuts. 

He flinched slightly, but refrained from making any movements. 

"So tell me about your other accidents," you ask as you continue first aid.

"Hmm, well once as I was going through the canyon, I lost control and got this," he points to a thick scar rising vertically up his stomach.

You frown and continue to gently cleanse away the blood from his back. 

"That was in LA?"

"Yeah, I call it a demon ride. That’s when things are going badly. But there’s other times when you go fast, or too fast, out of exhilaration.” 

"Were you speeding? I heard that canyon has insane blind spots," you ask and add an ointment to his cuts.

"Heh, you could say so. The turn I hit was unexpected. I remember saying in my head, ‘I’m going to die.’"

"Shit, Keanu…"

He shakes his head,“I remember calling out for help. And someone answering out of the darkness, and then the flashing lights of an ambulance coming down. This was after a truck ran over my helmet. I took it off because I couldn’t breathe, and a truck came down. I got out of the way, and it ran over my helmet.”

"So why do you still ride?" You laugh. "That would have scared me for life."

"Well, it taught me something. Something not to do, y'know? Something that taught me how to react with what happened today? Today I leaned into the turn when the car came out and released the break. If I hadn't had that experience in the canyon, I wouldn't be the rider I am today."

"Well I'm glad you're okay...from that ride...from any ride you have trouble with."

"Thanks...I'm glad, too. While I probably have some wild rides left in me, I wouldn't ever want to place you in danger."

You both are still and quiet from his words. The fire continued to crackle and you looked through the kit for gauze and tape. 

You cough into your fist and are slightly embarrassed that he would say something so sweet as that to you. You hardly knew each other, but he had a sense of genuine care and kindness towards you. Your feelings for him grew, he obviously was very handsome and kind. But he had a sense of an old soul in him that you wanted to get to know further. You hoped in your heart that this wouldn't be the last time seeing him.

"I find your presence extremely comforting, if I can say so," he turns his head to you.

"Yeah?" 

You ask as you place the gauze over his injury and seal it with surgical tape. Your fingertips lightly graze the outer parts of the tape where it meets his skin and you savor the moment. "All done here."

"Thank you," he smiles and reaches for your hand. 

"I know we just met, but you're so easy to talk to Y/N. I know I have a persona that people see being a celebrity and all, but while that is a side of me, there are also other sides. And I'm not afraid to show them to you."

As he leaned in and turned his torso, it caught your breath. The first aid kit wobbled in your lap as you sat on your knees. 

"What I want to say is that, I like you...I think you're very beautiful and incredibly sexy…"

"Keanu…" you whisper as he continues closer to you. 

"Y/N...I'd like...I'd like to kiss you..." he turned his neck and looked into your eyes and then at your lips. He was so subtle in his movements, a gentleman. You nod, without having the ability to speak at the moment, and close your eyes as he places his lips onto yours. 

There is heat surging through your body; jolts of excitement and wonder encompass your surroundings. He cups your face with his large hand and you instantly melt. He tastes of wine and rain: two of your now favorite things. The unexpected feelings engulf your inner core and you want more. He invites your tongue and opens his mouth slightly, changing the sweet kiss with more intensity. Both of his hands cup your face now and your hand roams down his biceps to his torso. 

"This isn't like a normal thing for me," you say in a heavy breath as your lips separate from his.

"What isn't?"

"Kissing someone I just met…and definitely not this..." you gasp as he kisses the nape of your neck. 

You sit up slightly and the first aid kit tips over and drops to the floor. Unphased, you wrap your legs around him into a straddle on the couch. He's surprised by this move, but doesn't relent and lightly bites your bottom lip. His hands roam from your face down to your neck and you crane it back, giving him ample opportunity to relish the soft, sensitive spot. 

He does so and places his lips on your skin, making you moan his name. 

"I don't normally do this either...but I can't help myself with you," he says. 

His other hand continues down your body and through the thickness of his hoodie, he slinks his way under your clothes and touches your breasts. 

"Uhnnh…" you moan again and he watches your enjoyment from his touch. You quickly peel off his sweater and his shirt, allowing your breasts to be fully exposed to him. Your now slightly dried hair hangs over your shoulder and he brushes it aside, giving it a kiss. You close your eyes and relish the fact that he has his lips on you. Your senses are in overload and you’ve never wanted anyone more. In the moment there is lust and the excitement of pleasure you’re wanting to experience, so you decide you want to move further. 

He trails his kisses and peppers them over your collarbone to your chest, and you hold him right in embrace. You hand lightly grazes the recent bandage and you give it a light kiss. 

"Y/N," he rasps. "Do...do you want me?" He bites your lip and you roll your eyes back for a moment. 

He brings his face back to yours and you reply, "More than you know."

A huge grin escapes his lips and ignites a growl deep within him. 

"Thank God, I want you so badly," he rasps as he holds you tight against his body. 

"Where do you…?" 

He continues to kiss your neck and his hand drifts down to your center. The baggy sweatpants give enough slack as he dives his hand and inserts his fingers. You mew and hold onto him as he tenderly tours your folds. 

"K-Keanu…" 

"You feel so soft…" his ministrations ramp up and he enjoys watching you unfold. His deep, brown eyes locked into yours and you crane your neck back as he hits all the spots and encircles his thumb perfectly over your little nub. 

"Uhhnnn…" 

Your mind starts to spin as you let go any restraint and close your eyes as he pumps his fingers in and out. Things become a blur and a mix of sensation and pleasure intensifies; you grind against his lap and can feel his excitement grow and it only turns you on more.

“I-I’m…” you stutter as you’re close to climax and then he slowly releases his fingers. “Why are you stopping…?”

"Can I taste you?" 

Never in a million years you thought you'd ever hear him say those words. It startles you and you freeze, brushing your hair away from your face to gain composure. He plants more kisses on your chest and cups a breast in his hand. 

"Let me taste you, Y/N. I want to taste you…" he whispers and begs. The heat between you two is almost unbearable. He's ignited something within your core and you want him, you need to give into your desires or you might explode. Wild, breathless kisses are exchanged and provide ample savour.

“Yes, please,” you ask and you unhook your legs as he gently lays you back on the couch. He kisses your taught stomach and runs his large hands over your hips until he finds what he is looking for. He hooks your thigh over his good shoulder and buries his face between your legs. You buck your hips from the intense sensation of his tongue and scream out his name as the rain and thunder roll outside. 

*

After what feels like an outer body experience, you are able to finally breathe and lay on the couch in disbelief. 

He smiles with a cocky grin and gets up to clean his face. You rub your eyes and stretch your toes. It had been awhile, well maybe never to have experienced that sense of euphoria. He was attentive in all the right places and relished at the fact that he loved the taste of you. You discreetly blush and reach for the throw blanket to cover up. 

As you sit up, he returns with the bottle of wine and tops your glass off. 

“Thank you,” you say and make eye contact. “And thank you…”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly on the lips. 

“I should be thanking you, I very much enjoyed it, too.”

“I can thank you in other ways, you know,” you purr and run your fingers through your hair. 

He waggled his eyebrows, “Is that so? I’d like to see in which ways…”

You take a sip of your wine and return it to the end table. As you stand, you let the throw blanket drop and expose your body to him once again. You’re braver now. What you experienced was an intimate moment together and your walls were down. You felt comfortable, sexy, and beautiful. You grab his hand to pull you closer and passionately seal your lips on his. 

He responds and holds your neck with his hand, while the other hand grabs one of your globes. His kiss is fervent and heeding; his lips are insatiable and the tongue explores your mouth. You open your eyes and as does he, with one swift motion you jump into his arms and straddle his waist. He grasps you by your inner thighs and walks down the hall to his bedroom. 

*

He carries you into his room and his kisses become sloppy and wet, it’s a hunger that you can tell burns within him. 

As he lays you on the bed, he trails his lips to your ear lobes and sucks on it and your eyelids flutter. 

“Keanu…” you breathe heavily as you display your sex on his bed. 

He quickly slips his pants and boxers off and you reach for his hard member and stroke it within your fingertips. He’s soft to touch and large in a way that you anticipate pleasure that will come. He grunts in approval and bites your neck softly. 

“Y/N...I want all of you...you’re so beautiful. What do you want, baby?”

You practically orgasm at the sound of him calling you baby and you moan in approval as he delves two digits into your folds. 

“I want you, too, Ke…”

He smiles, “Ke...I like that. I like you...a lot. I want you to scream my name just like that.”

You nod as he pumps harder and tantalizes your clit, sending waves of intensity all over your body. 

“Oh, yes! Ke!”

“Do we need protection, baby?” He asks earnestly and you shake your head no. 

“IUD,” you state in a breath and he nods in approval. 

He releases his fingers and you whimper softly as he slowly rubs his cock along your wet lips. 

“Uhhh, yes…” you moan and he watches the way your silky entrance throbs for him. He rubs his head in and out and you cannot take the heat that is building up inside you. 

“Baby…” you rasp and writhe as he teases you in the most sexy way. He enjoys unraveling you, the thought that he can make you unfold in his hands is his own viewing pleasure. 

He cascades his hand to your hip and then hooks your leg over his shoulder, giving him full access to his prize. He continues to rub his thumb over your clit and then with a few thrusts, inserts himself in you. Your eyes widen as your walls stretch for him; it takes a few seconds to completely allow him to go deep, but he’s given plenty of foreplay and pleasure that you invite all of him to enter you. You arch your back in agreement with his thrusts and you both moan in pleasure. 

“Ke…” his name rolls off your tongue as he picks up his pace and thrusts harder. He leans over you, still holding your leg on his shoulder and kisses your calf tenderly. It’s a beautiful moment and you love how he caresses your leg, all in while thrusting in and out in a rhythmic game. He holds your ankle and continues his kisses until you pull him to you and plant your lips on his. 

“C’mere,” you coo and rake your fingers through his hair. Besides the few grunts you both make while becoming one, the rain hits the window pane and is seared in your memory. 

“I love your breasts,” he says as he watches them playfully bounce with his set pace of thrusts. 

You cock your brow and cup them in your hand, “Do you?” you ask devilishly and massage them as his mouth widens in a state of complete adoration. 

“That’s not fair, let me…” he responds and replaces your hands with his mouth. His thrusts become faster and harder, each time stretches your walls and the euphoria kicks in. 

"Keanu…!" 

You shout and let go all inhibitions as your toes curl in utter bliss. Your walls tighten further and your body shakes as he rides you through, a tidal wave of pleasure surges your body. 

 He holds the small of your back as you arch yourself on the bed and murmurs praises into your shoulder as he comes and releases himself. He crashes his lips onto yours and stays in you as you both recover. He brushes your hair away from your face and looks deep into your eyes and smiles. 

"That was amazing," he grins and slowly pulls out. He collapses next to you and breathes in heavily. "Are...was everything alright?"

You giggle at his concern, "It was far better than alright. It was perfect."

He rolls to his side and props his head with his bicep. You cuddle yourself next to him and wrap his grey duvet around your body. 

"You're pretty perfect," he replies. 

You blush and he trails his finger up and down the side of your arm.

"I was not expecting my day to be so damn fantastic," he laughs. "Who knew running into you would lead to this?"

"Me, too. I can't believe this all happened."

"But you're glad?"

"Of course," you reply and give him a kiss. He holds you close and doesn't let go. You both listen to the sound of the rain for a moment and relish being in each other's arms. You're enjoying how he is so intimate and appreciates a cuddle afterwards. 

He kisses your forehead, "I'm going to go get the wine. Do you want anything?"

"Hmmm...I'm kind of hungry."

"What? You are? We just ate!" He laughs. 

"Well I mean, you made me work up a sweat!"

"Okay, okay," he says and holds up hands. "Let me see what I can muster up. I think there is some imported cheese in the fridge. Maybe some crackers with the wine?"

"That sounds divine," you reply. "But let me."

"What? No, you're my guest."

"I insist, you have an injury," you say and place your hand on his chest, rubbing it in a circular motion. You point your finger to his face, "Stay right here. I have all day and intend to spend it in this bed, mister."

"Whatever the lady desires," he smiles and watches you saunter out of the bed. "Take that shirt if you want," he points to a battered shirt on the chair.

"Don't want me walking naked around your house?"

"There are a lot of windows," he laughs. You not and reach for the shirt.

"Be right back."

"Sounds good."

You give him a kiss and walk out of the room, knowing quite well his eyes are on you as you leave with just his shirt on. You realize your underwear is still in the living room and head over there before the kitchen. As you slip them on, you grab your glass of wine and sip it in a felicitous manner. 

You daintily skip over to the kitchen as you recall the past hour and you are cheeky and find yourself blushing. As you open the fridge, you spot the cheese and grab the bag and open it up to sneak a little piece. You hear the front door open and the ring that alerts when it does. You quizzically think to yourself why that occurred and you closed the fridge door to see a woman standing in front of you holding a manila folder. 

Your mouth stuffed with cheese you almost choke. She looks you up and down as you are wearing panties and Keanu’s shirt. 

“Um, who are you?” She demands and places her free hand on her hip. 

​

[alienisticxo]

X Angel - Chapter 3

Elon Musk x Reader

{Authors Note} I am considering taking requests, so if you have anything Elon-y that you’d like me to write, feel free to send them in my asks <3

I hope you continue to enjoy! You can also find this on AO3 and Wattpad. xo

Warnings: None

My security team immediately took one step closer to me as though this were some sort of communicated threat. But a strikingly cool grin crossed Elon’s lips— one that told he clearly didn’t care what anyone else thought about the matter.

“You can’t try the merchandise before you buy, sorry,” Jett retorted with no actual indication of being sorry.

“That’s not it,” he assured with a light laugh. “I’d like to see her without being under so much pressure.”

I eyed Elon then, a metallic eyebrow arched. While I was very much everyone’s golden child, cash cow, etc., no one had ever made an attempt at considering my own feelings in any situation. I was only to do as I was told. My thoughts or emotions were the least of everyone and anyone’s concerns, even though I had very much capitalized off of their fear of my denying their requests. At the end of the day, I was just another toy to play with, and that had all become very clear, very quickly. Coming to terms with the fact that they seemed to have fooled me more than I thought I was fooling them was going to be another story altogether. Still, to hear Elon say something like that surprised me-- almost making me as skeptical as everyone else suddenly was. What would the real reason be? On another hand, I was in disbelief that he might also be as kind as I hoped he would be on top of it all.

“Mr. Musk,” began one of the men who remained at the table nervously, “Please don’t make this difficult.”

They were clearly afraid of saying the wrong thing to him, walking on eggshells so to speak. To keep from risking the successful purchase of myself, however, they must’ve felt they had to confront him regardless of their fear.

“I’m not making anything difficult,” he said plainly, beginning to approach me then. “These beings are far more intelligent than we are, clearly capable of mimicking human emotion. You’re all poking and prodding her and she’s programmed quite authentically. She looks…” he paused, his hand lightly motioning toward me as he kept a polite distance. “Well, she looks nervous.”

I immediately checked my facial expression and posture, loosening up the best I could without giving away that he was correct. He had been watching me the entire time without saying a word, studying me to a tee without catching anyone’s attention. So much so, even I hadn’t noticed him standing in the corner until he made his presence known. I should’ve expected he'd been doing so the moment my eyes landed on him, but I had been so preoccupied in my own thoughts about the entire ordeal. Now I still couldn’t shake the shock of his way of treating me… like a person.

The man sighed through his nostrils, clearly exasperated at the request. But the other men paused and exchanged thoughtful glances, seeming to begin to understand where Elon was coming from.

“Hm… I suppose you’re right,” one said, causing the original man to clench his jaw.

“No dice,” said Jett flatly.

The man who’d examined me’s eyes seemed to light up then, and he turned to Jett, suddenly yearning to oblige Elon. I decided it was because of Jett’s insistence on not allowing it, so he himself wouldn’t appear to be the ‘bad guy.’ However, the others seemed genuinely curious themselves once he’d mentioned the notion.

“Perhaps if not alone with one of us, we can put her behind a glass of some sort,” one spoke up convincingly. “See how she acts without any outside influence whatsoever. Either way, it’s very important. We can’t expect someone to be with her twenty-four-seven on Earth to make sure she's still the bright and shining star we all know and love. It would be impossible.”

Elon breathed a laugh then, shaking his head as he reached a hand into his jacket, revealing a holographic card only seconds later.

Jett’s eyes shone like crystals in the sun the moment they set on the translucent object, his attention quickly caught and his interest extremely piqued. He pretended to mull over Elon’s offer with a hum.

“I guess we could cut a deal, Musk,” he said, feigning contemplation. “How much we talkin’?”

How fast his voice grew gravely and intrigued again. I wondered how much he was making off of my purchase as I stood like a statue, only able to watch what was happening from what felt like miles away. I wasn’t sure of his intentions, but I felt compelled to allow him the request. I hoped it was for something important. Maybe even something that could help me get out of the situation I now found myself in. At the very least, I just wanted the opportunity that so many dreamt of- to have time with him, no matter what it was about.

“However much you’d like,” was all he said. “But I’d like to see her for myself in a more natural situation— a one on one setting.”

I bit my tongue before gathering enough courage to speak confidently in a room full of intimidating people, unsure of whether or not my tactics would still work.

Here goes.

“There’s no need for that. Let Mr. Musk do as he wants, Jett,” I demanded, holding my hand out in a gesture to push the card Elon held down. “Or I walk from Astra before you have a chance to sign me away at all.”

I didn’t mean to backhandedly mention their signing me away, but I couldn’t help it. It must’ve worked in my favor, as Jett’s nostrils flared, and if looks could kill, I wouldn’t have needed to walk. I would’ve dropped dead right there. Cybernetic stars didn’t demand much of anything, ever. But I certainly had a tendency to threaten to cut all functions when I didn’t get what I was after, and Astra needed me far too much.

Or at least, they did.

Who were they going to replace me with?

But I digress…

My human requests and reactions were a major part of what made me so lifelike to everyone I deal with. It was unheard of among the others and they just weren’t sure if I was bluffing or not. That was what made me the only one like me. The special one, the star I was. It was what purchased my penthouse with the idyllic view and each one of my Tesla’s; what kept me living in the lap of luxury and able to help those I needed to help. Though of course, I always had to play my cards right, using my demands only in opportune moments. That was what kept me afloat with Astra as well.

A.I. was just tricky that way, and while no one knew for sure, Jett knew better with me. I was tempted to use this strategy in the situation I was dealing with now. But I knew better, too. No one would want me if I opposed it altogether, and I’d be left to the crime ridden outskirts like a few before me had been, too. It was obvious I was no longer an asset to the label.

Jett pushed past Elon then, clearly fuming over my interference with his under-the-table payment.

“Five minutes,” was all Jett said as he approached the doors to leave the room, not turning back to look at anyone.  

There was a brief smirk on Elon’s lips before he nodded for the other men to follow Jett, who quite willingly did so, and before too long, I was alone with the only man I’d ever admired.

I knew I was supposed to be more at ease with the sudden lack of eyes prying into my entirety, but my nerves continued to get the better of me. How could they not when standing next to someone as awe inspiring as Elon Musk? Maybe to any other person who didn’t care, it would’ve been easy, a relief. But I found myself trying my best to keep my composure even though I’d pushed for the request.

Not sure what I was expecting, I remained silent, my metallic fingernails clicking against each other in front of me. I felt like a child who was waiting for punishment. But the silence wasn’t as awkward as I was waiting for it to become. That was clearly his doing and not mine, as he was cool as ever. I waited for him to speak first, my voice too caught in my throat, anyway.

He turned towards the beautiful view before us, looking out over it into the night sky. The bright lights cast the same glow they had when he stood beside the window, but slightly dimmer, adding a sultry shadow to his features that I damned myself for noticing. He exhaled audibly, but not dramatically, eyes scanning over the skyline.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” He asked.

Small talk. Odd.

“Yeah,” I responded quietly. “One of the reasons I wa-“

I caught myself, noticing his green eyes glance in my direction without facing towards me completely. Pausing a moment to feign an error, I started speaking again, facing out over the view myself, then. “One of the reasons I love it here so much.”

He either suspected it was an error, or wasn’t concerned as he continued the conversation with no reservations.

“Earth isn’t so terrible,” he said. “Sure, we’ve fucked it up pretty badly, but it could be worse.”

I smiled. He was absolutely correct.

“Aren’t you headed for Mars, anyway?” I piped up next, unable to conceal my admiration.

“You’ve heard about that, huh?” He asked, turning to face me then.

I discreetly stiffened up again as he studied my features, the slightest furrow in his brow. I could tell he was trying to figure me out; figure out who could’ve pieced me together. What kind of rival company he might be up against without even knowing it. A.I. lifeforms were lifelike, damn near realistic, but it hadn’t advanced to the point I exhibited yet. Most people didn’t think twice, just saw how phenomenal I was— the walking, talking, cybernetic pop star that everyone wanted to be just like.

Elon was far, far more intelligent than that.

“You’re synonymous with space travel,” I responded a bit flatly, as though I was simply pulling the information from a database in my mind instead of revealing I just knew about him. “Mars was your first target. NASA pushed for X, and here you are now.”

He lifted a brow, an almost amused expression on his features as he let me speak.

“Why are you here? Buying a pop star hardly seems like your forte,” I continued, not wanting to sound as confused and even a little hurt at the notion as I was.

His response was a chuckle. He was certainly amused now.

“You’ve got a point there. I’m here to figure you out, Miss {Y/L/N},” he said, wobbling his head to one side a bit. “You’ve been all the talk back on Earth. The latest and greatest A.I. creation. You’re scaring people, to be quite frank, and I’m interested in.. picking your brain, so to speak.”

My face fell. Something about that gave me an uneasy feeling. I hadn’t exactly put together that I was feared while everyone I encountered adored me for all that I was. Or.. All they thought I was. The last thing I wanted was to scare people-- It wasn’t even the last thing, it wasn’t a thing I wanted at all. I knew I was something of a puppet to pertain to the masses in order to get messages across, but being completely frightening wasn’t on my to-do list.

“Scaring people?” was all I could manage, the slightest twinge of hurt in my voice.

“You move, speak, act and react as though you are a human being. No company, and certainly no one, has been able to package all of this kind of complex engineering into a real, walking, talking cybernetic human form. At least, not without it looking completely fake. Other cybernetic celebrities, while convincing enough to the untrained eye, haven’t been able to hold a candle to your authenticity,” his expression was serious as he held my gaze. “You must realize the kind of trouble that could put humanity into.”

He paused, thinking for a moment.

“More trouble than we’re already in,” he finished then.

All at once, I was lost for words. What I had expected to be making an impact in a monetary way was only frightening people in other places. I wondered if Xian’s felt the same way, or if they just turned a blind eye to the fact that I was the way I was. Perhaps they felt as though Planet X had simply had it all under control with the advanced technology they were known for. I had questions, of course. Who wouldn’t? But I had to keep my own front up. I responded the only way I knew how.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m just here to be a star,” I forced a smile.

He breathed another quiet laugh then, his eyes dropping before looking back out at the view for a moment. He picked up on my programming side holding my guard up at the question. “Of course you are,” he said quietly.

I suddenly felt crushed. I didn’t want him to dislike me, or feel as though I was a threat to mankind or anyone who may have crossed my path. I also didn’t want him to feel as though I were nothing more than another dumb pop star that was so well-known around celebrity culture. A million things ran through my mind at once, but I couldn’t voice any of them. I was caught between what I should say and what would happen if I did. While I didn’t know him from anyone, I felt quite obligated to be honest with him. It seemed as though so far, while only a few sentences in, he had been nothing but honest with me. There was something about him that I couldn’t put my finger on; something I couldn’t get past. The desire to let him in was overwhelming, but I pushed it away, chalking it up to the grave admiration I felt for him and nothing more. I didn’t know him, after all.

His hands were in his pockets, but after a few more seconds of silence hanging between us, his eyes met mine again before averting to my neck. Looking as though he wanted to say something, I studied him with a fervent curiosity. He lifted a finger quickly then with an inhale, softly gesturing towards my hair.

“May I?” He asked gently.

I knew then what he was after. He wanted to check for an indication of a company himself, knowing where they usually hide their numbers and letters in etching rather than stamping it on in ink. I wondered if that was the only reason he wanted to get me alone in the first place, and tried not to feel the faint pang of hurt in my chest.

While the idea was clever, he wouldn’t find what he was looking for, and I knew this all too well. Still, playing ball as I knew I had to, I obliged.

“Of course,” I nodded once, tilting my head a bit to allow him more access to the area he was to begin searching.

With careful hands, he moved my hair, his fingers gliding under my ear and to the nape of my neck, delicately feeling for any indication of an etching. I could hear his hand brush against the cold metal of my body, and instead of the previous hurt, a sudden, surprising pang of longing struck me as I deeply wished I could feel the warmth of his fingers.

My brow furrowed just slightly while I sat with the unforgivable thought as he continued his hunt. His cologne seemed to emanate around me, and the scent alone relaxed me without my noticing at first. There was something kind about his hesitance, his desire to treat me as not something that simply made people made money, but someone, with feelings and opinions. The notion was something I’d have to get used to, but not unwelcome in the least. I couldn’t help but notice he was certainly attractive, even more so up close than I’d casually noticed in photos, and his consideration for me alone spoke volumes— asking my permission, the gentle touch he used when I allowed it; it was admirable in and of itself. Cybernetic beings were seldom cared for in such a way. He seemed to treat me as an equal.

“Hm,” he finally contemplated, taking me back out of my thoughts once more. “I don’t feel anything,” he thought aloud.

“Sometimes I wonder if I didn’t just create myself,” I joked, my voice airy as I tried to keep the mood light.

But he wasn’t laughing as he carefully removed his hand and let my {H/C} hair fall back into place. I’m fact, his countenance read quite grave as our eyes met once more.

“It’s troubling,” was all he said as the doors swung back open, slightly startling us both.

[steampunkglasses]

— sdr2 circus au; circus of talent 🎪

— requested by: anonymous

“Now, a big round of applause to our dearest duo of clowns, Ibuki Mioda and Mikan Tsumiki!” announced Nagito Komaeda, the circus owner.

In a second, the stage was filled with confetti, bubbles and soap foam of all colors, and a clown with black, pink and blue clothing with horns in her head blasted to the public from the foam in a spark and a loud “boom!” and landed impressively on her feet, striking a pose with both of her fists closed against her waist and her long fake, pointy nose tilted up, while having a blue spotlight focused on her. It was an escape from the traditional Japanese aesthetic the circus had, but it was still impressive to the public.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” yelled her, “Ibuki Mioda!”

Then, another clown with a badly cut purple hair and wearing a black kimono with pink flowers and carrying a pie stepped peacefully in, with a big smile on her face. Abruptly, some kind of mallet hit her on the back in a comic “bonk” and caused her to slip on the foam, which caused her to shout and slide until she hit Ibuki, throwing her into the ground and falling right above her. The pie fell right into Mikan’s face and slid over to her outfit.

The audience bursted in laugher. Even Ibuki herself did when she looked up and saw Mikan with her face stuffed with frosting and her clothes full of foam.

But Mikan didn’t laugh. On the contrary, she brought her hands to her cheeks and started crying. “Oh, no! My pie is r-ruined! And I-I’m ruined too!” she whined.

Ibuki got up and slid her fingers through her chin, thinking about what she could do. Her face lit up with an idea, as she lifted her index finger on a classic gesture of “eureka!” She rant to one of the foam mountains and shoved her hands inside it, taking a pie out of it and he over to Mikan. The purple haired clown was crying so comically loud that she had to take a bugle and blew it loudly, making Mikan skip up out of fright — which made the crowd giggle. They stared at each other for a second, waiting for something to happen. Quickly, Ibuki threw the pie in her own face; it slowly slid down her face, and, when it finally did fall to the ground, it made her nose bounce quickly up and down, causing even Mikan herself to giggle.

“See? Now we’re even!” she exclaimed, helping Mikan to get up, and pulling her into a messy hug. The audience warmed up to a “awww” sound.

While Ibuki is entertained hugging her friend, Mikan takes a bandage roll out of her sleeve and starts wrapping it around them. Her plan was to just get Mioda wrapped, but she ends up wrapping both of them together. As she tries to abruptly separate them to reveal to Ibuki she’s stuck in bandages, she realizes they’re stuck together, and they both end up falling on the ground.

“Oh, no, this wasn’t what I planned...” whined Mikan as the public and Ibuki laughed.

They comically tried to roll out of the stage, but the bandages that tied them together only made them swing left to right to the delight of the audience. The man with white, spiky hair and a megaphone on his hands had to come for their help to the stage, also laughing. He simply grabbed the end of the bandages with one hand and harshly pulled, causing the girls to roll out to the ground, and you could easily picture birds flying in circles over their heads.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mikan Tsumiki and Ibuki Mioda!” exclaimed Nagito into the megaphone, giggling and staring at the crowd.

The audience applauded, as the spotlight gently strolled to the entrance of the ring and the two clowns from the previous number ran and left through a secret exit that couldn’t be seen by the public and the mountains of foam gently disappeared into the air.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” the circus owner roared through the tent once more, “welcome Peko Pekoyama, the ultimate swordswoman!”

As he said that, a woman with her hair stuck on a braid behind her back and wearing a black attire tight to her body walked slowly into the ring. On her mouth, she had a fat cigar. On her back, there was a black and silver sheath, containing a katana. When she was already a few steps far from the entrance, she drew the sword out of the sheath, placed it right under her cigarette and spun it as it was made of leaves, cutting the tip of the cigar off and causing some dust to fall, gaining an applause from the crowd.

From the other side of the ring, a man in a tuxedo and a hat covering his eyes entered calmly walking on the stage, pulling a cart with a box on top. He stopped when he reached a catapult, placing the cart right beside it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he circus owner announced once again, “Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu.”

He tilted his hat up so his eyes were now uncovered staring at the catapult. The stage was a complete silence while Fuyuhiko opened the box and took something from it: an apple. He placed the apple in the bucket and started spinning a handle slowly, pulling a string and bringing the catapult down little by little. When he finally released it, the apple flew across the stage, and Pekoyama swung her sword and sliced the fruit perfectly in half. The two apple slices fell to the ground gracefully, as the woman stood in the same place, like she never even moved in the first place.

She gained more claps and surprised gasps from the crowd, but they didn’t even realize the act had just started.

Next, Fuyuhiko took another fruit from the box, a watermelon. He did the same as he did for the apple, and released the watermelon directly to Peko. This time, she jumped on what seemed like a flash, and the watermelon fell into the ground, sliced in half, while she landed still with her feet on the ground. Her braid or cigar didn’t even seem to have moved.

Once more, the public clapped, gasped and whistled with her performance.

Kuzuryu shoved his hand inside the box once more, this time picking up a megaphone. With one and holding the megaphone close to his lips and the other pulling the cart as he walked closer to Peko, he said, “Now, folks, prepare to see Pekoyama’s true act.”

They crossed eyes with each other and nodded. Fuyuhiko picked the box from the cart and put it on the ground right beside Peko. As he walked away pushing the cart to leave the stage, just stopping to pick up the fruit slices from the ground and take them out of the stage.

Peko swings her katana back to it’s sheath, leaning to the box and opening it completely. She searched for something using her hands, and found it: a lighter, and uses it to light up her giant cigar.

She throws the lighter back inside the box and takes something directly out of it, earning well-deserved gasps from the crowd.

Dynamite.

She brings the fuse close to the tip of her cigar, causing it to catch fire. The crowd whispers and gasps in awe and twinges of fear. Quickly, she throws the dynamite up and cuts the fuse before it can reach the dynamite, not letting it explode, getting one more applause.

She takes another dynamite from the box, puts it on fire using the tip of her cigar, but, instead of throwing it upwards, she throws it directly to the crowd.

The crowd started screaming, until something flashed in front of them, stopping the dynamite before it could reach them. Peko had jumped and cut the fuse like a thunder, and used the impact the bomb had on her sword to throw it down, or at least stop it from going forward to the crowd, causing the red pipe to fall on the stage ground. More applauses came.

Now, when she goes back to the box, she gets even more dynamite — a whole bundle. She spins the bundle to light it up using her cigar, and slices all the fuses she had to so it wouldn’t explode.

She just wouldn’t stop. She picked one firework, dynamite, or anything with a fuse she could cut and made the crowd believe it would explode until she cut it.

Until she saw she had one last explosive in the box, a firework. She takes the firework and lights it up with the tip of her massive cigar like she did with the others. The audience waits for the flash to strike and cut the fuse off, but that flash never came. A bright red explosion occurred behind her, as Pekoyama held the sharp tip of the sword against ser tongue, holding the grip with both hands. The crowd was in pure surprise while they watched the woman pushing the sword down her throat, slowly swallowing it. When the sword was already completely eaten by her, a loud gulp roars through the tent.

After a few seconds of digesting the sword, she sighs and takes the lighter from the box to lit her cigar one last time and blow smoke.

The tent was filled with claps, gasps, shouts, whistles, every impressed noise you can imagine. Peko bowed to thank the crowd, but didn’t leave the stage, just walked over to sit down in the first line on the audience, enjoy the rest of the show, seriously.

“Now, here they come,” announced the circus owner, as the spotlight strolled over to the entrance once more, “our best dancer and our best human cannon ball, Hiyoko Saionji and Teruteru Hanamura!”

From the entrance, a short man entered the stage. He wore an orange attire decorated with painted white flowers, and a white helmet to match. He waved at the crowd, calmly making his way into the stage. When the crowd least expected, he was knocked down by a huge mallet, getting a loud laugh from the crowd. The spotlight instantly switched to a blonde girl wearing a kimono that matched Teruteru’s outfit, only more detailed and with some kind of rocket bomb tied to her back, receiving a round of applause. She was standing on top of some kind of metal pedestal, tied to a tightrope. She held one green fan on each hand, and one long ornate pipe dangling from her lips. She looked so adorable it was hard to believe she was the one who threw the mallet at him.

Her sharp eyes rolled through the stage, as it was a sign for the music to start. A gentle traditional Japanese melody filled the silent tent, and Hiyoko slightly moved her arms, dancing with the fans.

Suddenly, the calming music stops, giving place for a loud cymbal sound, and then a suspicious and loud music starts as Hiyoko slowly moved one feet to step in the tightrope in front of her. The crowd gasped.

She slowly stepped again, and the rope shook. A tense music roared as she stepped again, and again, and again. Each of her arms were extended to her side, holding the fans tightly, while the pipe dangled on her lips every time she moved.

As she was on the middle of the rope, two fireworks went up and blew exactly beside her dangerously, the explosions not allowing her to continue. As soon as the two fireworks weren’t a threat anymore, she took a deep breath and continued, slowly, step by step.

At the end of the rope, there was only one last step left. Two fireworks erupted beside her again abruptly, surprising the public once more. She waited for the a bit after the explosion to continue once more, and, with one last step, she finished crossing the tightrope, reached the other metal pedestal.

A calming melody sounded again as the audience applauded and Hiyoko danced on top of the pedestal, moving her arms slowly while holding the fans open. As the music stopped, she stepped in some platform in front of the pedestal and, as Teruteru spun the handle, the platform descended with Saionji on top of it with the spotlight still focused on her. It took a few seconds until she was on the ground again.

While Hiyoko distracted the audience with her tightrope number, Teruteru set lots of fireworks, making some sort of oval arena inside the stage, with enough space for Hiyoko to dance.

She stepped inside the oval through a small opening Hanamura had left for her, as planned, and started a traditional Japanese soft melody started playing. She softly moved her arms and shook the fans on her hands while smoke of all colors coming out of the tip of the pipe, and sometimes even some sparkles. Sometimes she lowered her torso, keeping her head straight so the pipe wouldn’t fall off her mouth, and spinning so she could face every part of the audience. While she danced, Teruteru used a small lighter to light up some fireworks around her, causing light blue, orange and green explosions to happen right above them. As Hiyoko finished her dancing number, all the fireworks left exploded one right after one, as Saionji finished her performance with a cutesy pose, earning claps and shouts from the crowd.

After a few seconds holding her pose, Hiyoko walked over in Teruteru’s direction, who held her mallet with a smile that went from ear to ear. Now, the only spotlight had vanished, as all the tent lights turned on again, giving the audience a complete view of the stage.

“Yes, Miss Saionji?” questioned him with a sloppy voice while she stood right in front of him.

She didn’t answer due to the long ornate pipe on her mouth, but she put her fans on the ground and gestured with her hands in a sign of asking for the mallet, and he gave it to her. She held it with both hands and spun her arms around three times, releasing it on Hanamura and flinging him directly to the inside of the cannon, causing the audience to laugh. She walked calmly over to the cannon, as Teruteru waved dizzily to the public. Hiyoko positioned herself behind the canon fuse, leaning down to lit it up with a spark. The fuse sparkled away slowly, giving time to one more dancing act of hers. More colorful smoke came from the pipe dangling from her lips as she beautifully spun not only her arms and fans, but also herself around the stage, lighting up fireworks using the sparkles coming from the tip of the pipe.

Hiyoko knows exactly when the fuse finally burns down, which gave her time to strike an adorable pose while she plugged her ears as Teruteru was shot into the night sky, accompanied by an explosion of sparkles coming directly from her pipe.

“Yahoo!” he exclaimed as he flew over the audience. He went through a square opening on the tent — proper for him to pass — and disappearing into the night sky in a comical twinkle, causing the crowd to erupt with laughter.

The spotlight was back to Hiyoko and Hiyoko only. She walked calmly over to the center of the stage, tricking the audience to think she had magically made two fans appear on her hands using the ones she had just hidden using the space between her back and the rocket before the performance even started. The melody started again, and she went back to her dancing act, as all the members of the circus got in a line, with Saionji in the middle. When she was finished dancing, all the tent lights lit up again. Hiyoko threw her fans to the ground and Kazuichi, the mechanic that worked behind the whole show, gave her the mallet, that was comically big compared to Hiyoko herself.

Finally, the circus bowed to the public that shoved them with applause.

“Thank you all so much for coming!” said Nagito Komaeda as the crowd separated and left the tent. “Have a good night!”

As the crowd dissolved and there was only a few people left on the tent, the members were tired but extremely proud of one more extravagantly done performance, and were ready for a rest.

“Hey, now,” called Kazuichi, “why does Hiyoko has a rocket on her back?”

“For this,” said Peko, taking huge cigar out of her mouth and lit up the fuse, slowly bringing it back to her lips again.

“Wha— what—“ Hiyoko stuttered as she understood what was going to happen to her. In a few seconds, she was blasted into the sky and went through the same hole as Teruteru, screaming and cussing at her partners. While she flew up into the sky, she released the mallet, causing it to fall right over Hanamura’s head.

“Twinkle twinkle little star, oh-my-god-that-girl-went-far,” Ibuki sang a ditty, while Mikan had both her hands covering her eyes.

Pekoyama crossed her arms; she seemed weirdly proud of her action.

But it wasn’t done yet. The rocket exploded, causing a firework to erupt in a massive color explosion, forming a figure of Hiyoko herself to appear on the sky, visible to the public that had even left the tent already. The firework pipe in her mouth sparkled shooting even more fireworks. The firework Hiyoko cutely winks and blows a firework smoke ring, finally ending the show.

After the real Hiyoko came back from her blastoff, she went to help the other circus members to undo the tent and take down the decorations — it was their last presentation at that city, after all.

Now, her and Teruteru were removing the chairs, just like many of the others, as Hiyoko was back to smoking her funnily long pipe.

“Hey, Hiyoko,” said Teruteru, as him and Saionji removed the chairs, “I think our act was simply amazing. L-like, the way you danced and kept throwing me around the stage—“

His voiced made him sound like he was melting, and that exact tone was the one that made Hiyoko’s blood boil. She quickly got her hands on her mallet once again, held it close to the tip of her pipe so it was burning, spun it around and Teruteru was once again blasted into the night sky, this time creating a hole on the tent with an even brighter twinkle, that caused the others to cover their eyes like they were staring directly into the sun, even though the night was still outside.

It wasn’t exactly the sun, it was more of a fire, reflecting directly into Peko’s glasses as she carried one of the chairs that once held the public; it glowed just like the huge cigar that she wouldn’t remove from her lips. She looked at Fuyuhiko, that carried another chair behind her. “She might’ve broken a distance record this time. I wonder if he’ll reach the orbit again.”

Kuzuryu smiled behind her, trying not to laugh, “Just keep going.”

“Oh, no, this again...” cried Mikan.

Ibuki bursted into laughter, “This never gets old!” She watched him comically vanish, then put her palms around her lips and yelled, “Hey, shoot for the moon, Teruteru!”

“I can’t even tell if she’s joking or not,” commented Souda.

Hiyoko crossed her arms and used one hand to remove the pipe from her lips, “Keep going! Nothing to see here, morons.”

Nagito giggled, and they went back to working on undoing the tent. As she walked away, the smoke coming out Saionji’s pipe was forming heart shapes without her even realizing. Ibuki noticed it, and shook her head in Mikan’s direction as she was asking “Should I point it out?” and she frenetically shook her head as she was screaming “no!” and Ibuki immediately understood why.

[moonlightflower21]

Always, part 6

A/N: here you guys goooo! sorry for the long delay xD i kept trying to redo this chapter and i'm still not sure with how i feel about it :/ but hope you guys enjoy!

this is also pretty long, like... really long. sorry xD

Part 1- X

Part 2- X

Part 3- X

Part 4- X

Part 5- X

"No!" Karai bellowed out but it was too late; the turtles were up and within mere seconds threw their opponents down to the floor. She cursed at you, her breath shortening as the pain in her leg grew progressively worse. She could barely breathe but the anger and glare on her face remained perfectly intact.

"This place is guarded up, you're going to need a hell of plan to escape" she gritted out, snarling at you and the turtles as her fingers clenched around her thigh despite the blood leaking through her fingers. She sounded breathless, her back leaning up against a wall glaring daggers at you.

"Save your energy. The more you move, the further that rod cuts deeper into you" you replied back sarcastically, eyeing at her disgust. But looking around, the confidence you held was slowly diminishing. She wasn't wrong. The footbots that surrounded you all were beginning to circle closer toying with their weapons, waiting for the order from their leader. It wasn't as you though you could run to the exit, they had the door locked with a guard of footbots standing there keeping watch. Even if you escaped, you couldn't imagine how many lay outside waiting to take you all down. But now was not the time to panic, you had to find a way out of here.

"This is a nice reunion, isn't it Y/N? You with the turtles, especially one in particular. Your boyfriend... Oh wait.... Ex-boyfriend, isn't that right?" She chuckled, as someone tried to fix her thigh. She let out pained cry, when the object was removed and you allowed a small smirk on your lips. You wanted nothing more than to stab her again with the same object, this time making sure it penetrated deep within the muscles and tendons in her thigh. You knew she tried to get into your head, trying to get you to break down. You hated her for the same thing, because Donatello would always play such a big part in your life. No matter how many times you pretended he didn't. All the turtles did... but Donnie was different.

"We were never a couple to begin with, perhaps check your facts before you so confidently spill them" you counteracted calmly, a look of satisfaction at the pain she was in. You composed everything well on the outside, but inside it was all a mess. It had always been a mess since he left.

Donnie scanned you over with his intelligent eyes and from here, it seemed as though you were okay. Physically, yes. But mentally, maybe not so much. He saw the pain that flashed in your eyes when she mentioned him and his brothers, the hurt that you still carried over his actions and with that, the amount of guilt that flooded his gut increased. You were never obliged to stay with them, you could have done and lived your own life. But you didn't, you stuck with them even through the darkest moments. He pushed so far, you couldn't enter the lair without being hit with the reminder that he hated you. But he didn't hate you, why couldn't you see that?

Donnie was never one to believe in regrets, living his life as best as he could. There were few people who knew of his existence, you being one of them. And looking at you now, if only he could go back in time and reverse his actions, he would've done so in a heartbeat. Because this wasn't just some ordinary friendship, you were one of the few he told deep secrets to. The same person who would be there for him, chatting at 3am when his mind wouldn't rest. When the rest of his family were snoozing peacefully blissfully unaware of the nightmares that would sometimes haunt his mind. Or the times when after a bad patrol, he would come to his lab and sit in silence reflecting. You would help him realise he wasn't alone in what he was feeling, he didn't have to share the burden by himself. You were there during the lowest moments of his life as well as the happiest. A dull pain throbbed in his heart as he realised he may never be able to experience it ever again with you. He ruined it all. And despite being the genius of the group, he had no way of understanding how to fix it.

"Where even are we?" Mikey whispered, his hands curled around the hilt of his nunchucks. His wild eyes looked around frantically for an escape but it seemed barren, nothing clear to indicate their location. Or so he thought.

"I-I think we're underground... see those pipes over there..." Donnie looked up, trying to look for an escape route as his hand stretched out his bo staff for protection. The footbots were guarded around, their face nothing but a sneer at you all.

Yet there was a ladder, far across from where the footbots huddled up. The ladder seemed to trail upwards, leading to another pathway. Whether it was the correct escape route or not didn't exactly cross your mind, any sort of exit from here would be great. It was just a risk you were willing to take. The boys slowly backed up, their hands firmly placed on their weapons as their eyes scanned the room. Realisation settled on their features, knowing why Karai would pick such a location. Fighting wouldn't be the wisest, unless they attacked first. They needed their energy for later.

Leonardo noticed you looking to the side, following the trail with his eyes and let out a soft gasp when there was a ladder. With an arched brow, he looked to his brothers who too, found possibly the only escape they had. "Attack them!" Karai snapped angrily, trying to stand up but you all five ran for your lives. You stepped on the ladder first, quickly climbing to the top which lead to another alley. The walls were metals, and the thumps created by the enemies made your head pound loudly. It hurt to think but you had to get out. The boys were defending off the footbots as you searched blindly for a door to run out of. There was a little light that flickered above a door and with squinted eyes, you read the sign. EXIT.

"Through here!" You yelled, opening the door and finding the open ground and the fresh air hit your face. It seemed like you all were in some warehouse but you would cross the bridge when it came. It was dangerous to be here and you opened the large doors for the turtles to come in.

"Let's go, guys!" Leo ordered, kicking off a footbot from his frontal vision and running forwards towards the exit. You were about to follow them when you saw a shadow in the background, aiming something for the purple clad turtle. He was occupied with fighting off what was in front of him; he didn't spare a glance to the parts where he would be most vulnerable. The back of his head and shoulders.

"Y/N! Hurry!" Raph yelled out to you, opening the door and you looked to him and then back. Everything was playing in slow motion, it was so conflicting which one to choose from. "Donnie, bro!" Mikey shouted, about to rush back for his brother but you ran past him, instead.

It was as though instinct took over. Despite everything, despite what he had done you couldn't let him die. Not when you could save him. "Behind you!" You yelled, throwing him down and feeling something slice deep which you later found out was a knife. It punctured the skin of your stomach in a quick upward motion and with a soft breath, your body fell to the ground. Your name was screamed through the room as swords clashed against each other but the hammering in your head muted their sounds. Your body felt simultaneously numb and heavy, your eyes wanting to close by themselves as the darkness seemed to welcome you with open arms.

"Y/N?? Y/N! Oh my god- Stay with me! Leo!" a panicked voice overcame and you figured it was Donatello, but you couldn't hear him straight for your blood roared over your ears and the thumping in your head heightened with every minute. The warm blood oozed through your clothes, staining them in a deep red that would put Raphael's mask to shame.

"Take her, let's go!" Someone instructed in a clear and sharp voice, interrupting the ramble of the younger turtle. "I got it" He picked you up bridal, and all four turtles made their way to the exit, ramming the door shut as best as they could. "We gotta get home now! Any idea where we are?" Leo asked Donnie who looked down at you with fear and sadness. He snapped out of his trance as his brothers looked at him expectantly.

"Y-Yeah I just gotta...." He placed you in the arms of Raph and quickly tightened a piece of fabric over your stomach. "That should put pressure on the wound until I can properly access it" his voice was almost breathless, as though this was a nightmare he would wake up from. He couldn't believe this, you were stabbed here in his brothers arms and your blood spattered everywhere. He should have protected you, he should have taken the hit. Why did you jump in??

"S'gonna be okay, Don. We gotta get the hell outta here" Raphael spoke quietly, knowing that the genius was already overwhelmed as it was. It surprised him that Raphael could speak in this warm tone, only ever hearing him use this towards Mikey when he was badly hurt. The thumping in the distance grew louder and he knew that he had to get his acts and thoughts together.

"Yes, okay. You're right" he smiled softly at his older brother before looking at his team. They gave encouraging smiles back, even if danger was right behind them. "Let's go" and with a clear order, Donnie's brain seemed to work properly once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a gentle beeping that awoke you and without even thinking straight, you knew you were in the lair. Something covered your mouth and with a shaky hand you removed it weakly, stretching out your cramped arm a little. But in doing so, a shot of excruciating pain went through your stomach and you winced, clenching your jaw in pain. How far had this knife hit you?? You sighed exasperated, and leaned your head against the pillow. The smell of coffee, vanilla and mechanic oil wafted through the air, flooding your brain with memories of Donatello. Donnie....

Looking down, the end of your blouse was ripped for easy access to the wound. Though the top covered most of your stomach, the bandages peeked through which made the events of the night unfold. You looked to the ceiling, having no energy to pause the events from unfolding. You had remembered pushing Donnie out of the way, remembering the complete shock when your body came into contact with the ground. And the numbing pain that shot up your abdomen alongside warm blood which pooled out incessantly dripping down your arm and to the floor. You hated that, feeling so deeply for Donatello even if you thought he couldn't feel the same way. Because no matter how many times you repressed those very feeling, they seemed to be coming in stronger and more frequent. You heard a shift near the door, indicating you weren't alone.

"Y/N?? Dudette??" Someone called out warily and you turned your head slightly to see Mikey looking at you with shock and then happiness. His eyes widened when they captured you awake. Injured, but alive. Your heart stripped when you saw him. You couldn't help but feel sad leaving them, out of the blue.

"You're awake... you've been knocked out for hours" he came in, holding a jug of fresh water and your throat felt tightened, needing some of the refreshing liquid down your throat. It hit you how badly dehydrated you were.

"Oh, here ya go" he smiled, pouring some water in a glass and coming over to you. He held the glass and you held the rim of the cup as you drank the water. Something didn't seem quite right, the usual happy and bubbly personality he normally donned had gone. He smiled at you but you narrowed your eyes at him, his smile didn't seem genuine enough.

"What's wrong?" You whispered, voice a little groggy from having just woken up. You leaned up on one elbow, to take a real good look at the youngest turtle. "What- me? Nah, nah I'm good. I'm good..." he chuckled, coughing slightly to rid the tremble so easily heart in his voice; hoping you wouldn't see through it. But even so, you spent enough time with him to know there was something else he was hiding away from you.

"You're lying, what is it?" You asked more sternly, clear that you were in no mood to mess about. Carefully, he set the jug to the side and eyed the bandages in your stomach. His heart twisted in his chest, thinking about the whole situation. How easily he could have lost someone he cared about, whether it was you or Donnie.

"You-you took a knife for him Y/N. You could have died, tonight. Seeing you there, in your own blood..." he took a deep breath, trying to shake away the brutal image of your limp body passed out in Donnie's arms. "I.. it wasn't anything big. I would have done the same thing for any of you" You replied, softly patting his hand that was next to you.

"But Y/N, we have bulletproof shells. You have soft skin, on your back. I-I wasn't ready to bury my best friend, not now not ever" he whispered, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he finally raised his head to look at you. You looked to your lap, feeling the guilt way upon your heart. He called you best friend, which meant that he forgave you. "You did what was you thought was right. And you're okay. You're alright" he smiled softly, repeating the sentences softly as though he still couldn't believe it. You sure had a lucky escape tonight. Mikey rubbed the top of your hand with the pad of his thumb in a calming manner, as though to reaffirm your thoughts. You nodded, smiling slightly at him.

"I wanna say something else. Thank you for saving, Donatello. I know what he did to you... wasn't right. But you left us behind, you acted like we didn't exist" he spoke sadly, sighing softly at the whole situation. And there it was, the sentence you dreaded hearing. It made you sound like a bad guy and in a sense you were. They had done nothing but you chose to ignore them anyway.

"I'm so sorry Mikey. I couldn't come here without... remembering him. It's not a good excuse, I know. But I'm truly sorry" you looked in his eyes, meaning every word and he let out another sigh, giving you a chuckle. "I understand. You don't have to explain, we kinda figured. You're awake, now. I better tell Donnie-"

"No, I don't want to see him. I can't" you begged him and Mikey looked at you wide eyed before placing his hand gently over yours. "I'll tell him not to come here. As long as everything stays well with you" he smiled and you nodded hesitantly. "Okay, that's fine" you sighed and he chuckled. "Let me go tell the others" he rushed out of the room and you sat up slightly looking at the floor. If Mikey was hurt this bad, it made you wonder how Donnie must've felt. Hell, if even cared. Since he was so wrapped up with April.

"Y/N?" Leo knocked and came in, and your head snapped up to meet his look. This was scary, how would the leader react? Would he cold and calculating; would he be displeased to see you after a whole month of practically no communication?

"So I see you're doing quite well" he chuckled softly and sat down gingerly on the chair besides the bed. You raised a brow slightly, so sure he would talk about the whole situation with Donnie. But he seemed to avoid it, and you couldn't be more glad.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Thank you" you chuckled, until the red brute trickled in. And to your surprise, he gave you a half smile.

"That was one nasty cut you took. Still that fiery Y/N? Who never backs down from a challenge?" Raph smirked, sitting on the other chair and you laughed gently with him. This felt nice, having that communication back with the turtles with no awkwardness. The last turtle hadn't come into the room and while you were thankful for Mikey, a part of you missed him being so affectionate towards you. Making you feel so special and loved. But the laughter and jokes prevailed throughout the room, the sharp pain in your abdomen was soon forgotten as the boys helped cheer you up.

Donnie stood behind the door, a feeling of being relieved as you sounded okay. Yet his heart tightened up, he forgot how much he missed having you around and hearing your giggles. How much your jokes would make him chuckle and how how much your smile would make his day. He regretted everything he ever said to you that day. A tear trickled down his cheek, you hated him now and he couldn't blame you. But as long as you were okay, that was all that mattered. He couldn't help but feel so damn envious and jealous of his brothers, who so effortlessly got along with you.

Perhaps one day, you would talk to him.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Don’t Take Away Our Fun

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, minor characters

Word Count: 1,263

Warnings: fluff

request: Hey can I request something where reader just found out she's pregnant but she's a shield agent and in an unoffical relationship with Bucky. Like when they're alone they are cuddling and stuff but when they are around other people you wouldn't say they're together.

Summary: You have two sides: work you and home you. You’re having some difficulty keeping them seperate.

Squares Filled:

cheering each other on for @star-spangled-bingo​ (this is late for my first card) dark alleys for @buckybarnesbingo​ (this is also late for my first card)

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

I am doing an 800 Follower Challenge and it would be awesome if you participated! It’s still going on!

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

There’s nothing like going into work and being bombarded with questions, concerns, and the overwhelming feeling of neediness. The whole team is gathered in the conference room--Fury, Natasha, Bucky, Sharon, and many more SHIELD agents. There were many threats facing Earth, and each person had a certain person to focus on. The person who was assigned to you was Loki, and the fear that he might come back and decide to invade Earth again was too strong. There needed to be a set plan in case it does happen which is why Fury put you in charge of it.

“Y/L/N, what’s the status on the Loki situation?”

“I know of a way that we can keep Loki where he belongs,” Bucky spoke.

This is going to be good.

“What is it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“We make bigger weapons. We have the technology to make big and strong enough weapons to keep him at bay.”

“And what if he comes back with the Tesseract? Or his scepter? What then? Fury, I say we make a peace treaty with them. That way there is a set contract in place. If they break it, then it’s on them. This treaty can last for centuries if we can both follow it.”

Fury looked between you two, and he could see the annoyance in Bucky’s eyes. He knew there was something going on between you two, he just didn’t know what. You two didn’t exactly like each other. Whenever there was a meeting to make a plan or to come up with a solution to something, you two would be at each other’s throats trying to be the better agent. It drove him absolutely insane.

“Make a contract then,” Fury concluded.

The meeting went on to other discussion topics, but you couldn’t help but look at Bucky. His eyes were on you, and you stuck your tongue at him to show him that you won this round. Doing this with him was one of the reasons why you love work so much.

The arms around you were so strong, and they made you feel at home. They were your protectors, and the man attached to them had the best heart with only your interests in mind. You shifted in his arms, and the cold bite of his metal arm touched your exposed skin on the back. He felt your shudder which is why he moved it off you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you look like an idiot this morning,” you apologized, placing your chin on his chest to stare into his eyes.

“I had fun,” he grinned.

“I still won though.”

“We’ll see about tomorrow. You know, I think it’s fun to see how many people we can get to think we hate each other,” he laughed.

“But I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You leaned in and kissed him tenderly before pulling away. The rest of the night was spent lying in his arms and falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat underneath your ear.

Today is different. Today is so much different because you found out something that will change yours and Bucky’s lives forever. You are pregnant, and you didn’t know how it was possible since you used protection and everything. However, it’s happening, but you haven’t told anyone. You wanted Bucky to know first, but you needed to wait until you two were safe at home instead of at work deciding how to proceed with this arrest of a HYDRA agent. Much like a few days ago, you and bucky got to arguing even though it was more real for you than for him.

“We need to attack from below through pipes underneath the building. They won’t see us coming, and I think the surprise will give us an edge,” you suggested.

“We should go through the alley. It’s dark, and it’s the perfect way to escape if they do see us. If they decide to run, then we can chase them easier than if in the pipes,” Bucky argued.

“Of course, you would think that. Fury, tell him my idea is better.”

“Actually, we’re going with his.”

“What?”

“The alley gives us more leeway in case things go wrong. I want you two and Romanoff going through there while the rest of us goes inside the building. Do not hesitate to shoot and shoot to kill.”

“Yes, sir,” you sighed.

Bucky gloated silently at the fact that he won, but you weren't in the mood to deal with this today. He, of course, didn’t seem to notice otherwise he would have stopped. You’d go through the alley with him and Natasha, but you weren't going to like it.

“He’s going to see us if he looks out the window. You’re an idiot if you don’t see that,” you hissed with your gun trained in front of you.

Natasha was in the middle of you two, and she rolled her eyes when she felt another argument coming on. This mission was different because you used to not do this with him that much. There was something going on, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Maybe if you shut your mouth, then they wouldn’t hear you,” he jabbed back.

“Would you two cut it out? If you both don’t shut your damn mouths, then they’ll be sure to hear us!” Natasha hissed.

She was right, you two were acting like fools, but only because you were so worried about how he might react to your news later on. Instead of focusing on that, you tried to focus on the matter at hand.

“Bucky, I’m fine. It’s going to heal in a few days,” you sighed. 

While on the mission, the HYDRA agent pushed you into some stacked boxes, and you twisted your ankle pretty badly. Luckily for you and the baby, you landed on your ass and your stomach wasn’t touched at all. Regardless, you went to the hospital to have it checked out. The doctor told you that you and the baby are going to be just fine, and she sent you on your way.

“The doctor said to ice it, and that’s what we’re going to do,” he declared and placed the ice pack on your swollen ankle. “Are you okay? You seemed more irritated today than before.”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out.

“What?” he whispers.

“Yeah, I guess the condom broke or something, but we’re going to have a baby. That’s why I was so irritated. I was racked up with worry about how you might react to it. I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

Bucky didn’t say anything for the next few minutes before he let out the loudest cheer possible. He did a small victory dance which only made you smile wide.

“You can do it! We can definitely do it together!” he cheered.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled.

“Cheering for you! For us!” he laughed and got on his knees to be closer to your level. “We can make this work; I know we can. We’re us.”

“I love you,” you smiled and brought him up for a kiss.

“I love you too. Both of you,” he said and placed his hand over your stomach.

“Should we tell the others about us? I think they would notice in nine months when I have this baby,” you chuckled.

“Or we can still fuck with them. We’ll tell them eventually, but we can have fun first.”

“Or that, yeah,” you agreed.

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[shrouded-jed]

► You're not getting out of this so easily, Ghostface. What, have you gone soft? Your knife is going into Samantha. Wear what you want (though the shroud is most appropriate, given the title you've taken up). Keep her from running, kill her slowly, and make sure she sees and knows you're doing it. Kill her. Enjoy it as much as you can. Every last scream and beg for mercy. You can do that, can't you? Isn't the Ghostface supposed to be good at his job?

((so this got kinda long, just gonna pop an @unwilling-survivor in here cause that’s who this is about. Also... I know things.) TW: torture basically.  There is no moment of respite. This one is detailed, this one had it out for him. Did this also give him the chance to do the last command he got? Fuck, hopefully not. Please do not make him add insult to injury on this. He’s already hurting. 

There’s the urge, it rests on his fingertips. He has to, but god he really doesn’t want to. Being stripped of options or autonomy is just so painful.

This one mocks him. It chastises him like it knows him. He hates that it probably does. 

“What, have you gone soft?” 

Only for her.

“Kill her. Enjoy it as much as you can.”

That’s not how it works.

“You can do that, can't you? Isn't the Ghostface supposed to be good at his job?”

... 

He has to do this. While every bone in his being is telling him not to, there’s the pull. It’s other-worldly. It’s beyond what he can refuse. He wishes that the commands bring out the truly sinister version of himself. Seems compartmentalizing wasn’t as helpful as he first expected it to be. 

There’s so much rage running through him. He’s angry, it needs to be expelled right now- 

With a sharp scream, the glass is hurled across the kitchen, shattering instantly. He’ll deal with it later, Sam is not going to feel any anger from him. He’s not using her as a punching bag, not anymore. He’s filled with a strange haste. Just get it done, get it over with, hold her, do something to let her know he’s being forced to do this. 

The Shroud is back on in record time- mask as well- the knife is on his belt. He had the note with him, he was going to show it to her. He wasn’t told not to. He needed her to know he was desperate to do anything but this. He had no choice. 

--

Finding her is easy. Too easy, painfully easy in fact. Why did they have such poorly timed luck? No, this wasn’t luck. This was just cosmic torture. Forced and painful. 

“Keep her from running…” 

Goddamn it. He grumbles, his hands twitch. There’s too much anxiety, he can’t, he won’t- but he has to. There is literally no choice. Some random, tiny god said so. It was all so stupid. Even with his mind being defiant, he’s gotten into the stalking stance. His heart was pounding, it was uncomfortable, annoying. He hates this. 

He’s still moving forward, regardless of his loathing. Make it quick, they didn’t say he couldn’t do that. Spare her as much as possible, not painless, but swift. Aftercare is part of his routine, he can still do it, right? He wouldn’t be able to help himself either way. 

It’s instinct, the way he darts toward her from behind. One arm locks around her shoulders, the other over her mouth. He just.. Can’t handle her screams yet. Obviously, Sam is a spitfire of a human being. She’s not going down without a fight, she probably doesn’t even know it’s him.

Jed wants to keep it that way for as long as possible.

It takes a surprising bit of effort to wrestle Sam to the ground, he fears he might have to actually use Judas’ suggestion. Just to get her arms out of the way. He’d fully understand if she punched him.

He deserves it for this. 

Wrangling an angry redhead is hard, he needs his knife, so he gets it. She’s flat on her stomach, shouting at him. He needs her quiet, it’s too loud, too much. The knife is gently pressed between her shoulder blades, making her instantly pipe down. Something like this works too well, though, shouldn’t it? He’s basically threatening her. No- he’s promising pain. 

There’s a fucked up, sick rush of power. Why was he like this? Why could he not turn off his subconscious evil? The note did order him to ‘enjoy it’. He still didn’t want to, but he might not be able to really help it. He was born like this. 

Born a monster. 

“Make sure she sees and knows you're doing it.” 

Sam has to face him, so she does. He grabs her, turning her over to be on her back. There’s a look of realization on her face, she’s gone tense. It’s a familiar response, though how long has it been since he wore his mask around her? He’d stopped doing that ever since their first meeting. The majority of the time, then. Fuck. 

He has a chance to show her the note. Keeping the knife steady above her sternum, he fishes out the command. No words are said, he simply holds it in front of her for a solid ten seconds. Hopefully that would reduce the damage, mentally at least. He wasn’t betraying her trust for fun, he was being told to. 

The note is then crumpled up and tossed away. It needs to start, he can’t make either of them wait any longer. Jed shifts, he has to start. 

So he does.

The edge of his knife presses down, cutting into her skin, right along the middle of her sternum. Of course she bites out a hissed curse, her hands shoot up to grab his wrist- pushing him away. He almost let her, until the urge of the note said otherwise, “Stay still, just… Don’t move.” His tone is harsh, though not in the usual way. He’s stressed, he just wants to end this. How long would the note make him hurt her for? Hopefully he could decide that. 

Probably not. 

He grabs one of her hands, pushing it down to the ground so he had a bit more control over the resistance she gave. This was so much harder than he thought, “Don’t close your eyes.” Another order, all to preserve the rules they already had in place. Codes of comfort. He needed them. 

The knife is pulled away, he’s lost as to where to target next. Fuck, make it quick, right? Into her side it goes, just under her ribs. For some reason he does his best to miss anything important, as it kind of mattered outside of trials. As per requested, Sam screams. She shrieks, her grip on his wrist crushes him. He deserves it. It’s embedded all the way down to the hilt, something compels him to twist it clockwise, so he does. No, wait, no no stop. He didn’t want to do that, why did he do that? Sam is already agonized, he’d barely even started. 

“I’m sorry.” The weak apology is blurted, barely audible above her screaming. He hates this. He hates this so much.

“Eyes open.” 

Deadly metal is pulled from the nasty wound, only to be shoved right back into warm flesh. Her collarbone. Her literal collarbone. He hears the bone crunch and snap when the knife pierces it. God, that’s awful. It’s awful. Her screaming devolved into crying, Sam is thrashing around, attempting escape. She’s only making it worse, she needs to stop moving. 

His hand lets go of her wrist, going to grab her face and hold it in place, “Sit still.” He speaks with a bit more conviction this time. He twists the knife, hearing more hard things break. Stop, stop it, why can’t he stop? Yanking the knife out again, he stabs the wound in her shoulder three times. He can’t control half of these actions, how fucking powerful was that note? Stop, let him stop, please.  

Sam’s begging has begun. At this point, he’d have dropped everything to sooth her. But he can’t, he can’t comfort her. He can’t do anything other than obey this wretched command. 

She’s bawling, incoherently pleading with him. Emotionally, something in him breaks. He can’t. He wants so badly to listen, to stop, but he just can’t. 

The pain goes on for another twenty minutes. Sam’s screams are hoarse and gritty, painful to listen to. Jed’s hands are covered in blood, his knife even more so. End it, he’s gotta end it here. He can’t do this anymore. 

But how? He’s sure as hell not gonna slit her throat. What’s something less bloody? 

Choke her to death. End it. 

For the last time, he shoves his knife into a random wound, two shaky hands coil around her throat. All of his effort goes into literally crushing her windpipe. End it, just end it. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll find you, I’m sorry, Sam.” He finally lets his words slip just a bit. If there’s one thing that kills him most about this, it’s that he can’t hold her when it’s over. He can’t comfort a corpse, it won’t even stay. 

With a final squeeze, Sam is killed. It’s not at all what he intended. It was messy, rough, and anything but swift. He can’t stand staying here. He needs to go home, get out of the gear, erase this with alcohol, then find her. He can’t bring her back to the house, shit. Goddamn it. He’s so tired he can’t even punch the ground in a blind rage. All he can do is get up unsteadily and go home. 

He needs to know that she knows he’s so goddamn sorry for this. He needs to find her as soon as possible, but not like this. Not like this. 

Give it time.

[flightfoot]

We’re the Same Chapter 4

Thanks to @mini-minou for betaing, and @dfcfanfics and draxynnic for helping with brainstorming the fight scene!

AO3/FFN

Disclaimer:  This is a Lovesquare fic, with Identity Reveal, Hawkmoth Reveal, and Hawkmoth Defeat. It is NOT a salt fic.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marinette quickly scanned her surroundings. There wasn’t much. There was a door they could try to open, maybe regroup, but if Robin had locked it they were sunk. That would still make a good Plan A – bolt through the door, regroup, find supplies and maybe try to fashion a trap of some sort, or even get to Master Fu so they could use other Miraculous – but she needed a Plan B as well.

As her eyes darted to the side, she caught a glimpse of Adrien’s tense expression.

NOPE.

SHE COULD NOT THINK ABOUT HIM RIGHT NOW.

Not with how she’d been snuggling into his chest and he’d been holding her and he was also Chat Noir which meant he loved her back and the soft looks her kitty had given her and-

NO. BAD MARINETTE. THINK ABOUT ADRICHAT LOVE REVELATIONS LATER, CONCENTRATE ON GETTING MIRACULOUS BACK NOW.

Seriously, what was up with Robin?! If he really WAS Robin. At this point she had her doubts. Robin was supposed to be a good guy, and knocking out and kidnapping her and Adri- (CHAT, think of him as Chat, she knew how to function with Chat Noir, she couldn’t afford to get all flustered and clumsy now- ) –Chat, kidnapping her and Chat didn’t exactly scream ‘I’m a good guy you can totally trust’.

Maybe the Robin Lucky Charm hadn’t been a sign that she needed Robin, but a warning to look out for him? She thought she remembered him talking about having important information for them, but she’d been so out of it at the time, she could easily be imagining it.

Whatever, she’d figure it out later. If he was an enemy, they had to take him down and get the Miraculous back. If he was an ally (and if he was she was going to have a TALK with him about how to make friends) then they still needed to take him down and get the Miraculous back, since it was probably part of some stupid test. Either way, her path was clear.

At least they probably didn’t have to worry about him killing or injuring them too badly. If he wanted to do that, he could’ve done it while they were sleeping. Which meant that he probably WASN’T an enemy, because he didn’t have much to gain by doing this if he was.

She was SO yelling at him later if this was a test.

First, time to try the door. She darted over towards it, keeping one eye on Robin. He looked on, appearing bored. He didn’t move.

On the one hand, that was good. He wasn’t attacking right away. Maybe he was waiting for them to get their bearings? It increased in the odds that this was a test and that he probably wouldn’t try to hurt them too much or misuse the Miraculouses.

On the other hand him looking bored meant that he probably didn’t expect her to be successful and- yep, door was locked. If Chat was transformed, that wouldn’t be a problem. But if Chat was transformed, that would solve half the problem in the first place.

No use thinking about “what ifs” – she needed to deal with the here and now.

Ok, so she was limited to what was on the rooftop. What did she have?

Hm… no purse. That limited her options. All she had were the clothes she had on, and she imagined that Adrien was the same way.

On the rooftop itself, there were some bits of trash and debris. Let’s see – some stray candy wrappers, snack bags, plastic bags, some loose metal pipes and screws, probably left over from some sort of construction.

She could work with this. Nothing insanely complicated and convoluted, but she didn’t have time for her usual convoluted plans. Especially since she couldn’t communicate privately.

She darted over to the debris, handing the metal pipe to Chat. “Fight him as best you can, follow my lead,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Always, Milady.”

She blushed. DAMMIT Chat, did he have to look at her with those adoring eyes while unmasked? She’d been able to handle it while he was transformed, she’d gotten used to it from him and whenever those looks got to her, she’d been able to remind herself that she was in love with Adrien.

Knowing that Adrien and Chat Noir were the same person? Seeing those looks from Adrien? He was going to kill her. R.I.P. Marinette, she had a good run. Found dead on a random rooftop at age 14, still red from blushing.

Though… he’d ALWAYS had special looks for her. Chat had his adoring look at Ladybug, but as Adrien he’d often given her that soft look, the one that Alya pointed out in videos and photos of them – the one he’d given her when she’d fallen in love with him all those months ago.

Maybe Adrien hadn’t been in love with Marinette romantically – or hadn’t realized it at least – but he loved her, regardless of the combination of masked and unmasked.

She was beginning to realize that she did as well.

She shook her head. DAMMIT Ladybug, FOCUS! Love life later, battle now!

Chat rushed at Robin, pipe in hand. Hopefully he’d be able to keep Robin occupied, at least for a few seconds.

She snatched up a plastic bag, making sure her back was turned to Robin so he couldn’t see what she was doing, and tucked it into her sleeve. The only thing she had going for her was the element of surprise. She had to make it count.

She edged closer to where Adrien was fighting Robin. Though “fighting” might be a misnomer. Robin wasn’t making any moves towards Adrien. He wasn’t even trying to get away. He just dodged Adrien’s attacks, looking faintly bored.

It kept him occupied. That was good enough.

Robin’s eyes followed her, seemingly curious, but he made no move towards her either.

Not good. The element of surprise was all she had. She couldn’t really regain it now, not by herself.

Luckily she didn’t have to.

Long months of akuma battles had attuned Chat and Ladybug to each other’s movements. She knew her partner and he knew her. She didn’t have time to relay her plan to Chat.

She didn’t have to.

In one fluid movement she pulled the bag from her sleeve, unfurling it quickly. Simultaneously Adrien moved to the side, leaving her opposite himself with Robin in-between them. He aggressively swung the pipe at Robin’s midsection, forcing him to step backwards towards Marinette.

She brought down the bag over Robin’s head. Adrien dropped his makeshift weapon, lunging for Robin’s closed fist.

Just as Adrien made contact with his hand, Robin jumped back, actively putting distance between himself and Adrien for the first time in the fight.

“ENOUGH!”

Adrien and Marinette paused.

Robin shook his head, dislodging the plastic bag.

He narrowed his eyes. “If I’d been fighting back, you’d both have been dead in seconds. The two of you have little sense of self-preservation and no idea how to keep yourself from being injured in a serious fight.”

A smile slowly spread over his face. He turned to face Adrien. “Still… while it was obvious that you were used to battling with a lighter weapon – or at least with enhanced strength so it SEEMS lighter – your technique was passable, taking that into account.”

“As for you Marinette, using the plastic bag to obscure my vision wouldn’t have worked. I can fight blind if I have to. There’s a reason why my costume has a hood when no other Robin’s did – I can afford it. Even if a foe pulls it over my head to blindfold me, I can still fight. Conceptually it was a decent idea, considering what you had to work with.”

He gave them a gap-toothed grin. “You two are overly reliant on your Miraculous. You’re sitting ducks as civilians, and if someone competent guns for you, you’re dead. But you have potential.”

He extended his hand towards them, unfurling it to reveal their Miraculous.

Glaring at him, Marinette and Adrien snatched them back. Slipping her earrings back on, she let out a silent prayer. Please let these be real. Please don’t let this be some cruel trick. Please let Tikki be-

A light shown, expelling itself from her earrings.

“TIKKI!”

She caught the little bug in her hands. “Are you okay? He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

Tikki shook her head. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t manifested, that’s all.”

Then she seemed to fully take in exactly who all was there. With herself in full view. And talking.

“Uh… meow meow?”

Robin crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

Marinette sighed. “It’s no use pretending, Tikki. Robin’s the one who kidnapped us in the first place.”

“You, a red-and-black spotted bug-like floating creature the size of the hamster, meowed as a way of pretending you were a cat,” Robin stated, drumming his fingers against his arm.

“Hey, it’s worked before!” Marinette cut in.

He gave her a look.

She didn’t waver. This boy had kidnapped her and Adrien, stolen Tikki and Plagg, and he had the nerve to make fun of Tikki afterwards?

No. She would NOT be intimidated by him. She was not going to put up with him looking down on her or her friends.

He wanted to throw shade? Fine. She’d throw it right back.

“You don’t get to criticize Tikki, me, or any of us for making poor decisions. YOU KIDNAPPED US. YOU HAVE NO ROOM TO TALK.”

He snorted. She resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“I needed to see whether you’d be a help or a hindrance. After seeing how you did without powers, I believe you two could be useful.”

“And why should we help you?” Marinette said through gritted teeth.

Robin looked at Marinette, then Adrien, who had stopped cuddling Plagg and been watching their confrontation.

“Because I know who Hawkmoth is.”

Wait, WHAT?!

Adrien stared at Robin, slack-jawed. He knew? HOW?

Robin looked at Adrien with something like… was that pity?

“I needed to know who you two were, so I placed trackers on both of you. Ducard followed Ladybug while I followed Chat Noir. It didn’t take me long to figure out that Chat Noir was Adrien Agreste… but that wasn’t all I discovered.”

  Dread pooled in Adrien’s stomach. How could following him home have possibly led to Hawkmoth’s identity? He didn’t have anything to do with Hawkmoth! (Well, aside from the obvious.)

…Right?

Robin looked Adrien in the eyes. “Hawkmoth is your father, Gabriel Agreste.”

Adrien’s heart stopped.

There’s… there’s no way.

“No. No, you’re LYING! I know he hasn’t always been around much, but… but he cares about me! He’s not a bad person, you HAVE to be lying. Or- or maybe just mistaken. Yeah! He CAN’T be Hawkmoth, we suspected that before, but then he was akumatized right afterwards! You’re WRONG!”

He glanced over at Marinette. Why hadn’t she responded, backed him up?

“Right, my Lady?”

She stared blankly ahead, frozen.

Icy tendrils crept up Adrien’s chest. “Marinette, what’s wrong?”

That snapped her out of her reverie. She bit her lip. “Chat… I don’t think we can rule him out based on that. Not after Heroes Day. He had an accomplice, remember? Whoever was using the Peacock Miraculous to create that Sentimonster moth could easily have just switched Miraculous with him. We can’t rule anyone out based on them being akumatized before. And the timing was highly suspicious. He just happens to become akumatized right when we start suspecting him of being Hawkmoth? It might not have been a coincidence.”

“No, that can’t be right! It CAN’T!” Adrien pleaded. Whether it was to Marinette, Robin, or himself, he wasn’t sure.

“It can, and it is,” Robin said. He took out a device from his toolbelt and pressed a few buttons. A holographic display flickered into existence, showing what appeared to be live feeds from Adrien’s house.

Except for one feed.

“…Mother?”

Why… why was she there? They’d never found a body. It made sense for her to be in a coffin, but… it’d been nearly a year since she’d disappeared. She shouldn’t look this… intact.

Adrien’s stomach turned thinking about it, but he knew at least the basics of how decomposition worked. Even if she was embalmed, she still shouldn’t look this good after all this time.

Unless…

Robin met his gaze. “I checked her over while I was down there. I couldn’t detect any vital signs, but based on the lack of any sign of degradation or rot, I believe that she’s not dead either – most likely in some sort of suspended animation, though how that is being achieved, I’m not sure.”

Not dead?

She… she was alive?

His mother was alive?

He could see her?

He jolted, breathing heavily, palms sweating.

Robin had seen her. In person. He’d been close enough to check for vital signs.

“Where is she?” he breathed out, barely above a whisper, eyes locked to the screen.

A white butterfly fluttered past her pod. Then another. And another. The same kind that Hawkmoth used.

“In Hawkmoth’s lair,” Robin said gently. “In a giant cavern beneath the Agreste Manor.”

All this time.

ALL. THIS. TIME.

She was RIGHT THERE.

Right below him.

And he never knew.

How many sleepless nights had he spent sobbing into his pillow, his mother gone with no explanation?

How long had he wondered what had happened to her?

And the whole time she’d been only a few hundred meters away.

His father had never told him.

Never bothered to confess that she was alive, that he knew where she was.

His father who… who was almost certainly Hawkmoth.

Oh GOD. The- the butterflies.

His father was Hawkmoth.

“…Why?” he asked, quivering. Why would he do this? HOW could he do this? This – he’d thought – he’d thought that his father cared about him, in his own way. At least cared about his safety.

But his father was the one putting him in the most danger. Not even counting when he was Chat Noir, his father had deliberately made akumas in his vicinity, where he should have known that he’d be in danger. He’d even made akumas whose MAIN GOAL was to attack him, to hurt him.

And yet he claimed to care about his safety? That that was the main reason why he kept Adrien on such a tight leash, locked away from the rest of the world?

No. That had never been the true reason.

Marinette placed a hand on his shoulder. He was grateful for that. He felt like he’d shake apart without her touch.

His mother wasn’t dead and wasn’t missing. She’d been near him all along

His father was an evil man who had never really cared whether he was safe. Had never cared about him as a person at all.

His world was crumbling, and the only constant-

A low rumble vibrated through his body, different from his usual purrs.

Vaguely he remembered reading that cats purr when they’re happy and content – but also when they were injured in an attempt to help heal.

But there was no healing this.

“Kitty,” Marinette spoke softly, turning so that they were face-to face. “Whatever happens, whatever your father’s reasons, I’m here for you. Never forget that. We’re a team. You and me against the world, remember?”

 “I- I can’t pretend to know how you’re feeling. What it’s like to have everything you thought you knew disintegrate before your eyes. But I won’t leave you.”

Marinette. Ladybug. She- she was still here.

Maybe things had changed. Two of the most important people in his life were the same person. But that didn’t change who she was.

His mother was alive, but still gone, in a way. His father wasn’t who he thought he was, wasn’t the sort of person he had told himself he must be.

But he still had Marinette.

And not just her.

He had Plagg.

He had Nino.

He even had Chloe, though she had a lot of growing to do.

He had people he could rely on.

He wasn’t alone.

With a sob, he collapsed into Marinette’s arms.

She hugged him tight, whispering quiet assurances, stroking his back. He couldn’t even parse what she was saying – she was too quiet and he was too out of it for that – but he appreciated the soft, comforting tone of her voice nonetheless.

After a few moments she shifted, lifting her gaze from Adrien to Damian. “I need to talk with Adrien for a while. Help him process. Plus – well, there’s a high chance of him being akumatized right now. I need to be ready to catch butterflies. We can talk about what to do about Gabriel later. Not much later, Adrien is NOT going to spend another night in that house, but once he’s in a better place.”

Oh. Oh CRAP. He hadn’t even thought of that! The idea of being turned against His Lady…? He shuddered. Surely Gabriel wouldn’t- oh who was he kidding, of course he would. If he thought it would give him half a chance of winning, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d certainly proven that he was fine with throwing Adrien’s in harm’s way. Making him harm others, harm the people closest to him? Well since when had Gabriel given a crap about Adrien’s feelings or the people he cared about (aside from the people that Gabriel also happened to care about. Probably. At this point Adrien wasn’t sure whether Gabriel had ever truly cared for anyone.)

Adrien would rather die than harm Marinette. She was the person he cared the most about it in the world. Besides, she was more important than him. Without her, Paris couldn’t be restored. The world could survive without Adrien for a little while. Without Marinette? Not so much.

He trusted her to fix everything. To bring him back. She was Marinette after all. She always found a way.

“Tikki, Spots on!”

A pink light ran up Marinette’s body. Bare skin and cotton clothing replaced by a red-and-black suit.

“Hold on, kitty,” she whispered in his ear, gripping him tightly.

He nodded mutely. He’d known that Marinette was Ladybug of course, but seeing it so obviously, so undeniably? He just wanted to sit for another few minutes and process.

If only Ladybug’s secret identity was the only thing he had to think about.

Gripping an arm around his waist (his cheeks pinkened at the sensation), she threw her yo-yo, flinging herself and Adrien away.

[ficforce]

Little Wound Part 2

Joker/52 x Little Lady Reader SFWish Mentions of abuse and non-con

“What are you doing?” Joker threw a glance over his shoulder to Licht and gave a small shrug, The scientist hadn’t visited him for well over a month and a half, “I thought you just wanted to lay in bed all day, now you’re building furniture - why?” “Because flat pack furniture is easier to move through The Nether than already built pieces.” Licht rolled his eyes and entered the room that used to be where they stored random finds, “I know why you’re having to build it from scratch, I meant, why are you doing it in the first place?” Tightening a screw on the metal frame of the double bed and then picking up a vacuum-sealed bag, Joker heaved a sigh at the scientist, “Because,” he threw the bag on top of the frame and cut it open so that the mattress inside could grow, “You said, ‘Get up and do something’.” “I meant to fight the bad guys, investigate Ameratsu, go stalk the kusakabe kid… Not make a better bedroom to lay around in…” He was trying to keep his tone amicable but he really wanted to blow the long-haired man up with some faulty concoction. The room wasn’t at all how Licht would expect Joker to like it, the steel walls had been sprayed a soft colour, the steel ceiling was white, the usual bare bulb now sported a nice lampshade that matched the… “Did… did you lay a carpet?” Joker smiled proudly, “Yeah, so take your damn shoes off.” It hadn’t been easy for him to set up, what was essentially a steel box like most of the manmade hideaways in The Nether, into something that looked like it belonged on the surface in a regular house. “I’m going to get a wardrobe built, a chest of drawers, gonna have a dressing table too. Later I’ll grab some bedding and what do you think of a bedside table with a lamp?” “I think you’ve finally lost it.” This time he did frown and his voice dropped, he couldn’t hide how disappointed he was that Joker wasn’t taking the truth seriously anymore.

He wasn’t blind and Joker lit up a new cigarette, sitting down on the bed to rest his aching body, “It’s for Y/N, Licht. For when I rescue her.” Licht was quiet for a moment, staring at Joker and then at the room and the work going into it, “I think you’ll need help stealing more electric and diverting clean water pipes to make a little bathroom.” x - - When Y/N opened her eyes and she saw a ceiling above her and a lamp on a little table beside the bed she was on, she was confused. She sat up slowly, looking all around her to take in the bedroom she appeared to be in and when she looked down at herself she wasn’t in the shapeless, white uniform of the shadows but in pair of clean pyjamas. The last thing she remembered was fighting with a man with mismatched eyes and then the world morphing and changing as something made her think she’d finally gone mad. Then… “Fuck!” Her eyes widened and Y/N looked around the room harder than before, she stumbled out of the bed and hit the main light switch to disperse all the dark corners of the room. She was alone. Opening one of the two doors she found a tiny room containing a toilet, the smallest sink in the world and a shower. There was an artificial mirror stuck to the wall, she wouldn’t be able to smash it for shards to use as a weapon, a shelf with a few cosmetics she recognised from her time at Company 3 and a towel hanging neatly on a hook - no rail for her to use as a weapon either. Heading for the second door, Y/N wasn’t surprised to find it locked. This was a prison made to look like a cosy room. What was Joker up to? Was he going to lull her into thinking she was safe and then kill her - it was hardly any different from what she had done to him… would he try to humiliate her too? Not a day had gone by where she hadn’t thought of his pleading eye and the way he had reached for her; how he hadn’t stopped even after she had poured her drink over him as he lay there helpless. And now he was back. He had killed the Captain and taken her as his prisoner. Y/N hid beneath the bed, it was obvious he could find her there but as she balled herself up as small as she could go, the tiny space was somehow comforting, despite her claustrophobia beginning to act up and telling her to get out into the open. A scared gasp left her lips and she shoved a shaking hand against her mouth to muffle the onslaught of panicked sounds trying to force their way out. What was he going to do? Was he going to torture her? Cut her? Strangle her? Whip her? Would he… no, this was Joker… but then she had betrayed him. The thought of going through more torture was more than she could stand. The captain had continued to hurt her even after she completed her mission, he had beat her and whipped her and he had continued to defile her at every opportunity. He told her it was for her own good, that he was making her stronger. Sometimes suffering was just suffering. It didn’t make her stronger, it didn’t build her character… it had only hurt. So maybe if she could find that kind part of Joker, the one he had let her see, she could convince him to just kill her quickly. Y/N had wanted the pain to stop and the Captain had told her that the only way she would ever truly be one of them was to get rid of the original Five-Two, until then she would always be a spare card.

Her teeth began to chatter as she hugged herself tighter and her eyes stayed glued to the door. Unable to tell if it was night or day or even how long she had hidden for, Y/N fell into an exhausted half-sleep.

When they opened again she was back in the bed, the small lamp dimly lighting the room as it had before, only this time there was a tall figure sat at the dressing table with his back to her. Y/N felt her body move before her mind could register it, she scrambled into the corn of the bed, the blanket tangled around her legs and heard shaped pillows tumbled to the floor in her rush. The movement made Joker turn around to face her, he figured if he stayed sat she might not freak out too much, “Hey, it’s alright, Little Lady. I swear I’m not gonna hurt you.” He doubted she would believe him. “I don’t believe you.” See? He gave a little sigh, “I don’t blame you. I get it - I was in that same shitty situation. That green-eyed bastard used to beat me to a bloody pulp, he got worse the older we got. He beat me, got into my head, whipped me down to the muscle and on the odd occasion he was feeling a little randy, he’d fuck me too.” He’d been the one to change her out of her old uniform and clean her up, Joker had seen old scars and marks he vaguely remembered from their time together but he had also seen the new marks and scars - she’d really been through hell. “If I had been in your place, I would have done the same thing… I don’t think I would have been kind enough to leave you unfinished though.” He saw her flinch and he gave her a small grin, “But nice job on recognising you couldn’t take me head-on, gaining my trust and stealthily attempting murder like that - that was impressive!”

She had so many opportunities to kill him before that night. Like the times he would fall asleep beside her and be completely vulnerable. That had been one of the things that plagued his mind the last year but also gave him a scrap of hope; she hadn’t even finished him off and that had allowed him the chance to survive. The Shadows would have taught her to always make sure the target was dead before leaving… maybe she had wanted to give him that chance to survive. “Let’s just talk about it, Little Lady,” the man stood up from the chair and took a step toward her, “You said talking was how normal people do thi- Y/N? Wait, hey, it’s oka-” Joker stopped and lifted his hands in surrender as she got off of the bed to run into the bathroom, slamming the door after her. Leaning against the door he called through to her, “Y/N, Little Lady…” she didn’t reply and he heaved out a loud sigh; he had known this would be hard. “Don’t be scared of me, I forgive you.” He had forgiven her the moment he had felt the knife in his body. “I just want to help…” From the other side of the door he heard her begin to vomit and he opened the door, he had guessed she would try to lock it so made sure it wasn’t an option, “I’m going to touch you.” Joker wasn’t asking if he could, he was informing her so that she might not react too badly. He placed his open palm on the middle of her back and stroked up and down until she stopped being sick, the retching sounded painful and it was hardly a surprise because it must have been a while since she had eaten - she’d been there for less than forty-eight hours already. “Okay, let’s get you back to bed.”

“No!” Y/N’s reaction was almost violent as she threw herself away from him in the tiny space and he winced at the force that her body hit the wall, it was enough to shake the shelf above. He watched her breathing become rapid and shallow, her chest heaving and a cold sweat had started to break over her brow. She was beyond terrified. Joker gave her a little space, wary of the wildness in her eyes, “You’re scared this is all a lie and that I’m going to do worse to you than the Captain did. I get that, I know you won’t believe a word I say and I know that if I let you leave here then you’ll either get yourself killed or do it by your own hand. So you either stay here and be scared or let the Stockholm Syndrome start to kick in.” How was he still so bad at people-ing? Did he even register what he was saying half the time? Y/N was half tempted to yell at him for being so stupid but she didn’t have the energy. Instead, she huddled up and hid her face again, “I did everything the Captain told me to… he just kept pushing and pushing and pushing me until I fucked up.” The words were muffled and her breathing was still too fast but Joker understood her just fine, he noticed her nails biting into her skin and without thinking her reached for her wrists to stop her. The action made her scream so loud that couldn’t avoid wincing as it shredded his ears; he didn’t let go even as she struggled and thrashed in his hold. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you but you’re hurting yourself,” Despite knowing it was probably the wrong thing to do, Joker dragged her to him, he let her wrists go and her nails soon found their way into his clothed arms and even into his hair as she tried to escape the forced embrace. It was better to attack him than herself he supposed. “Listen,” he said as firmly as he could to make her understand he was serious, “He was a bastard. A sick, twisted, son of a bitch, who thought he had the right to take what he wanted, that he could punish and treat people however he wanted and tell them it was their fault. He didn’t teach you a damn thing, his lessons were just his excuse for raping you. For making you think you deserved to be violated and defiled.” Y/N froze completely at his words, “He did the same fucking thing to me, from the time he was old enough to get an erection to the time I ran away. If I had thought for a second that killing just one person, no matter who that person was, that it would save my ass for even just one time - I would have fucking done it. Man, woman or fucking child.” He could hear her still struggling to breathe properly but it was enough for him that she wasn’t fighting him anymore, “He’s fucking dead, Y/N. I sliced him up into pieces and now the rats are chewing on what’s left.”

Y/N’s grip in his hair didn’t loosen and he had to twist his head a little to relieve the pressure on his scalp, “He’s dead?” “Dead.” “Then why… why can I still… why is he still in-“

“In your head?” he murmured, “Yeah, he was in mine too - drove me kinda mad.” Finally, she seemed to be able to take a deep breath and her urge to fight him was replaced with a trembling that seemed to go through every nerve and limb. The man loosened his hold a little, giving her the chance to get away if she wanted; to his surprise she stayed in his embrace, her fingers unlatching from his hair as she slowly dropped them to his shoulders and put her face into his neck.“I know you’re scared and I know you can’t trust me yet… But listen up, I promise I’ll let you feel the warmth of the sun again.”