#cafeteria pin pads

[pandorascripts]

unknowingly yours

warnings: dark themes, stalking, possessiveness, obsession, gore, murder, biting, jealousy, and im probably forgetting something too. (you’re responsible for ur own media consumption buddy)

pairing: dark!wednesday addams x vampire!fem!reader

(all characters aged up to 18)

notes: this was written on a whim at like 1am, and I’ve just now completed it. it’s kinda rushed and half-assed. enjoy :)

————

Gomez had tried to warn his daughter what it meant to be an Addams. What it meant to be so deeply in love with someone, that’d you do anything for them. You’d murder, abandon your morales, just to get one more taste of them. Wednesday had repeatedly shoved him off, claiming it would never happen, but it did. The moment Wednesday laid eyes on you, she could feel the obsession turning dark, horrific. She reveled in it. 

Wednesday loved the thrill of sneaking into your dorm, watching you whilst slept. She loved sitting in the back of her class, watching you do anything and everything. Every time your shoulders raised, taking a breath, Wednesday could praise you for it. She never understood what her father meant, until people got too touchy. After countless victims, it Yoko became the newest.

Wednesday sat in the back of the cafeteria, watching you chat with your friends. Yoko slung her arm over you shoulder, and Wednesday felt the can in her hand crack. She tried calming breaths, something her father taught her. They didn’t work. She shook with rage, the can splitting in half with her might and slicing her palm clean. She didn’t care though, all that mattered now was Yoko, who was now leaning into your ear, whispering something.

 Wednesday took in another shaky breath, how dare she touch what was hers. Wednesday decided she would show that vampire not to mess with her territory, and you, you were in trouble. You were hers, and it’s just about time you started acting like it. 

She watched with rapt attention as you leaned back, giggling. You lightly slapped Yoko on the shoulder, blushing deeply and scolding her. Wednesday stood up, food untouched, and walked over to your table. 

She bumped into the wood, her tray flying upwards and landing in Yoko’s lap. 

“The hell, dude?” Yoko yelled, her hands in the air, away from the mess. 

You rushed into action, picking up bits of food with a napkin. 

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it, Yoko. Calm down.”

Wednesday stared at you. Oh, you were so kind, beautifully unaware, and completely vulnerable. Wednesday filled with glee at the mere thought of ruining you. 

“Yes, precisely.” Wednesday nodded to you, her eyes never leaving yours. 

You smiled at her. “See you in botany, Wednesday?”

She nodded stiffly once again, her insides doing summersaults. You were so sweet, deliciously so. Wednesday walked away, her tray still on Yoko’s lap. That bloodsucker could deal with it, after all, it was only part of Wednesday’s much needed apology. She’d get the rest tonight, when Yoko was begging her for mercy. Her lips nearly twitched at the thought. 

Wednesday walked back up to her dorm, still having fifteen minutes until botany with you. She set her bag down on her dark bed, the empty side of the room creaking. She was so pleased she didn’t have a roommate, that’d make this next part harder. Wednesday leaned under her bed, pulling out a huge poster board. She raced back to the door, double checking its lock, and set it up. 

Her fingers traced over the red strings and pins delicately, stopping at a photo of you. You were laying down, enjoying the sun, your eyes closed and wearing your uniform. She remembered that day like yesterday, it was the first time you’d two had spoken. She only fell deeper. 

Wednesday strolled down to the lake, watching as the lily pads drifted slowly. Canoes splashed across the water, people yelling and cheering. 

“Hey! You mind if I sit here?”

Wednesday looked up, ready to dismember who ever decided to ruin her quiet. Her eyes laid on yours and, oh, Wednesday could’ve fainted. You were beautiful, an ethereal smile plastered on your face, eyes deep and true. It only solidified Wednesday’s desire for you. 

“No, not at all.”

Wednesday scooted to the left, offering you more room against the tree. 

You muttered a thank you. 

“So, why are you all out here alone?”

Wednesday sighed, your voice was so pleasing, and it was bending her to your will even more so. 

“I’ve decided to observe the Poe Cup. Thought it’d be amusing when they sink and fall. What about you, bellissima?

The Italian caught you by surprise, you were rusty, not really remembering most of it, so you shoved the nickname aside. 

“Figured I’d get away from all the yelling. It’s more peaceful down here. I’m glad you’ve found my spot though.”

“Your spot?” Wednesday questioned, her hands itching to hold yours and never let it go. 

“Yes, it’s been mine for a bit. Glad to share it though, been getting a bit lonely.”

Wednesday felt the Italian bubbling up, her father warned her about this too. She’d want to call you names, anything to give you a temporary mark as hers. She swallowed it though, choosing to instead ask you question with no flirtation. 

“Lonely? You don’t have someone?”

You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Wednesday wished she could’ve done it for you, she truly believed it was a crime that you’d do it yourself. A goddess like you shouldn’t waste precious time. 

“No— I— No, I don’t. You?”

Wednesday shook her head. “I’ll have them soon.” 

You smiled. “Do I know them?”

“You’re very familiar.”

You chuckled again. “What are they like?”

“They’re beautiful, out of the world so, and they make me crazy.”

You cracked a huge smile. “That’s cute. Sounds like you adore them.”

“Più di quanto tu possa sapere, mia amata.”

“I’m afraid my Italians a bit rusty. What’d you say?”

“Nothing of importance. No need to fret.”

Wednesday sighed. She traced her board again, documents and other people plastered up on there. Gently, she flipped it over, the backside littered with more photos. Everyone who was a threat. 

She traced the X’s over their eyes, a wicked smile covering her face. Wednesday uncapped a red sharpie, drawing slow, deep X’s over Yoko’s eyes.

“Non ci disturberà più, amore mio,” she sighed. 

Wednesday ordered Thing to put the board back under again. She marched off to her drawer, unlocking a secret section. Carefully, she pulled it out. 

“Which one, Thing? The mace, my machete? Or should we do it in style? After all, we are aiming to impress her.”

Her fingers grazed over her arsenal of weapons. 

“Let’s go old fashioned, hm?” She asked, pulling out a wooden stake. “Yoko’s barely even a threat.”

Wednesday set the oak down on her bed, taking out garlic spray before locking it back up. She slipped on a black pair of medical gloves, releasing them so they smacked painfully against her skin. Wednesday sighed in contempt. 

“Thing, put on a glove. Nevermore’s already worried about their students. They keep disappearing don’t they?”

He tapped in agreement. 

“What. A. Pity.”

She waited until dark, skipping her class, deciding to get more items like flashlights and garlic bombs to neutralize Yoko. Wednesday knew you wouldn’t be there, she always knew what you were doing. The psychic flipped open her pocket watch. 

Two A.M, perfect time to strike. 

Wednesday crept out of Ophelia Hall, traveling in the shadows until she reached Persephone’s Wing. Crouching down under room two-hundred and forty-three, Wednesday pulled the pin on the garlic grenade and rolled it under the door. It exploded silently, a jagged choking noise filling the room. Wednesday tossed another one, slipping out her crowbar and cracking the door open. 

The anger from earlier surged through her as Wednesday marched inwards, she closed the door behind her. Knowing the lock was broken, she slid Yoko’s desk against the wooden frame. 

Yoko choked out pleas, desperate to justify herself for an unknown crime. Wednesday looked up, inhaling deeply as she soaked in Yoko’s cries. The vampire continued crying, bloody tears streaking down her face as she choked. 

Wednesday looked to her. Oh, it was exquisite. Yoko’s skin was burned and sores opened up, her neck straining for air, only to be poisoned a second later. 

“Useless, bloodsucker,” Wednesday spat, stomping on Yoko’s stomach. A sharp crack echoed and Wednesday was delighted to hear a rib brake. 

She crouched drown, driving the stake a mere inch from Yoko’s heart. 

“You do not touch what is mine,” she spat again, her stake driving into her repeatedly, missing by an inch. 

“I don’t—“ Yoko gasped, hoping to save herself. 

“LIAR!” Wednesday shouted, diving the stake into her stomach and twisting it. 

Blood gurgled out of Yoko’s mouth, her back arching upwards. 

Wednesday leaned down into Yoko’s ear, stabbing her once again near her heart. 

“She is mine. You are beneath her.” Pure venom erupted from Wednesday. 

She cracked the stake up, driving it into Yoko’s heart. Wednesday panted, leaning back on her knees. She watched with glee as Yoko’s body disintegrated, burning into ash. At least vampires were easy to kill. 

Wednesday picked up her stake. Tilting her neck to the left, she heard it pop and repeated the action. 

“Thing, get the broom.”

Thing shuffled forward, the tall broom too much for him. Wednesday took it, sweeping the vampire remains.

“Nothing like a good murder, hm, Thing?”

He tapped, some ash flying up. 

“Get out of her, I don’t wish for you to smell like garlic and cheap perfume.”

She tossed the bloody gloves into the trash bag, and replaced them with a new set. Wednesday set the broom down, pulling a record player out of her bag. She gently set it aside, shuffling through her travel collection until she reached Debussy: Cello Sonata in D Minor. She put the record on, breathing in heavily as it rang through her ears. 

Wednesday held the garbage bag, filling it with Yoko’s ashes. She wiped her sweaty forehead, dust sticking to it. 

“Thing, clean up the rest.”

She walked away, browsing the vampire’s trinkets. Wednesday paced to her jewelry box, flicking through the accessories. She gasped, a beautiful black skull ring, sat buried under hideous silver and gold necklaces. Wednesday gently pulled it out, holding it in her fingers. 

Now this would make a lovely gift for you. See, Wednesday had a ritual, she’d kill your suitors, fake their leave and give you a gift from their collections. You’d yet to notice, considering all the beautiful gifts she gave were deemed ugly by the owner. For Rowan, she gave you a blood red ring, he probably received it from a family member, for Davina, it was a simple black hair clip. The others were less important, but she remembered them nonetheless. Whether it was a pining fool from across the room, or someone that had written you a love letter, only to scrap it moments later, Wednesday wouldn’t stand for that. The only person you should be with, is her, she was the only one who could treat you right. No one else understood you the way she did. Wednesday wasn’t going to let people stop her from achieving you. 

Her next plan was set in action when you knocked on the door.

“Yoko, I thought we talked about this. I don’t gotta key, you cant lock the door,” you whined. “I’m so tired, please let me in.”

Wednesday frowned. Were there nights she didn’t let you in? She stood behind the door, opening it. 

You walked through, glancing at Yoko’s bed. 

“Yoko?” You called out, shuffling forward. You took note of the odd cello music. Classical was definitely not one of Yoko’s genres. 

You closed the door, and Wednesday smashed a grenade in your face. Unfortunately, you weren’t like other vampires. Garlic wouldn’t affect you, but she knew vervain would.

You hissed, eyes burning. “Who’s there?” You cried out, the pain only getting worse. You tumbled down to the floor. 

Wednesday crouched down to your level, cupping your jaw. You breathed heavily, still not understanding what was happening. 

“Non mi diverto nel tuo dolore. Mi dispiace molto, ma deve essere fatto, amore mio,” Wednesday whispered. 

You whimpered, only one person spoke to you in Italian. 

“What did you do with Yoko?” You cried, rejecting her hand. 

Wednesday seethed. She knew you’d be upset, but couldn’t you see? This was for you. All of it. 

“I killed that useless bimbo. I had to.”

A sob racked through you, your eyes still clamped shut. You scrambled back again, hitting Yoko’s bed.

“You didn’t have to,” you cried, hugging your knees. 

Wednesday walked over to you. She lifted your head up, wincing at the damage. Your eyes were bright red, bubbling and oozing. 

“Mio cuore,” Wednesday whispered. She straightened your legs, sitting down on your thighs. Gently, she brushed back your hair, trying to remove it from your tear-soaked cheeks. 

You continued crying, wishing she’d just go away, but she wouldn’t. You hated yourself because in some twisted, screwed up way, Wednesdays sweet nothings calmed you down. She was a murderer, she killed Yoko ruthlessly, and vervained you, so why did you feel for her? 

“La mia amata, this is going to cause you pain, okay? It’s going to be alright though.”

Wednesday kissed your forehead, raking her hand through your hair. Then, her hand pulled back and tied something around your wrist. 

You screamed out in pain, only to be muffled. She had restrained your hands with vervain-soaked cloth, and tied another one around your mouth.

Your eyes darted open and you lurched forward. The restraints burned your mouth and wrists. Wednesday cupped your face again, placing delicate kisses on your head. 

She shushed you softly, one of her hands supporting your neck as you sobbed. Your breathing became labored and you could only focus on the pain. Your hands felt numb, wrists burning and screaming for release.

Every breath you took scorched your nose and seared your tongue. Your eyes clamped shut, the tears only increasing.

Wednesday hushed you once again, asking you questions. They all just faded away, the pain drowning them out. She leaned in close to your ear. 

“It’s okay. Breathe.” 

You followed her instructions, her words grounding you. The pain trickled into the background, and you let her voice guide you. 

“Good girl,” she husked out. 

You took in another breath with her, shaking. 

“That’s it.” 

Your eyes flickered open, meeting her dark face. You wondered how she could see when the lights were off, but you shoved that aside. You focused on her touch, her breaths, her weight on your thighs. You breathed in deeply again.

“I don’t want to tie up your legs.”

You stiffened, the last thing you wanted right now was more vervain coursing through your veins. Wednesday quickly hushed you. 

“I’m not going to, but you must promise me something.”

You nodded.

“Do not, under any circumstance, run away from me. I’ve waited too long for this moment.” Her voice faded into a whisper as her sentence closed, and you shivered. 

“Do you agree to my terms?”

You nodded your head. 

“Good,” she whispered. 

Slowly Wednesday got off you. The cold enveloped you, and you greedily missed her warmth. You were sick, you thought. This psycho murdered your friend, and here you were, pining. Disgusting. 

You breathed in again, the vervain killing you every time. 

You were too wrapped up in your head, that you hadn’t even notice Wednesday packing up some of your belongings. 

Your eyes darted around the room, her dark figuring jumping all over the place. You wanted to ask her what she was doing, but the sizzling in your mouth wasn’t worth it. 

You breathed in shakily, gaining courage. You chomped downwards, your hands spreading apart, and an involuntary scream racked through you. Wednesday rushed over to you, trying to figure out what you were doing. You clamped your mouth down again, and tried to pull the restraints off. 

“Hey! No, no, no,” she yelled. 

There wasn’t anything Wednesday could do though, she watched as you dropped down. You made yourself pass out from the pain, all so you wouldn’t experience this. Wednesday sighed in annoyance.

She cracked the door open, checking the halls. After seeing no one, she walked back over to you. Wednesday grunted as she picked you up, slinging you over her shoulder. She hated doing this, bodies were so heavy and always a pain to carry. Wednesday decided that she’d get the rest of her stuff later, you were more important. 

Wednesday walked back to her dorm, ducking behind pillars and walls when voices were near. She sighed in relief, placing you on her bed. Wednesday carefully undid your binds, tying them to her bedpost so you couldn’t run. She flinched as the sizzle from your skin filled the silent room. 

Wednesday walked back to Yoko’s room, picking up your stash of belongings that she’d packed for you, returning the room as it was. She packed up her other duffel bag, making sure not forget her record player, and walked out. Thing trailed after her. 

“Lurch has been notified to pick us up?”

Thing tapped. 

“He needs to get her before five. No exceptions.”

He tapped again.

“I don’t care about weather, Thing. He will get here, or he’ll go back in the grave where we discovered him.”

Thing scampered off, racing in front of her. 

She reached her dorm once again and let out a breath of relief. Her bags were all packed, no sign of her existence anywhere. Thing did a good job for once. 

Wednesday flicked out her pocket watch, checking the time. 

3:16, the whole ordeal had lasted roughly an hour. Wednesday frowned, her new lowest not at all pleasing. She walked over to you, kissing you on the forehead softly. Wednesday untied your mouth piece and hoisted you against the head board. 

She unsheathed her pocket knife from her boot and flicked it open. Wednesday shrugged off her plastic gloves, drawing blood over the wound she’d gotten previously. It opened easily, barely even closed, and rubbed it against your lips. The scent of blood had you drooling, waking you up instantly. You growled, looking possessed, and took her hand into your mouth. You fought against your restraints, trying to grab her hand for more. You removed your fangs out of her for a moment, trying to lick them off, and Wednesday retracted her hand. She waived it around, watching as you desperately nipped at it. The veins under your eyes turned a deep purple, blood smeared over your mouth. Your shoulders shook as you pulled at the restraints, trying to get free. The headboard would’ve been completely shattered by now if not for the dose of vervain you’d been hit with. As Wednesday observed your behavior, she realized something, you were a ripper. She moved her hand closer, watching as you shot forward and chomped down. Oh, this was glorious. 

The perfect, sweet, charming goodie-two-shoes, was a killer beast. Wednesday knew she had to be careful with you, but an apart of her desperately wanted to ripped to shreds by your pointy fangs.

Wednesday got off the bed and walked into the bathroom. Your groans and snarls were music to her ears as she poked her skin, drawing more blood to taunt you. She cleaned up her hand, wrapping it in bandage. Wednesday took out a small vial and downed it, grimacing at the taste afterwards. That was for the compulsion. She shook, the taste alone not pleasing. Wednesday would usually hide it in her coffee, the flavor weighing it out, but she was running out of time. 

Thing scampered into the bathroom. 

“He’s here? See, it wasn’t too difficult was it?”

Thing tapped. 

“Keep your distance, she’s hungry. Unfortunately for you, you can’t afford to have a chunk missing.” 

He shivered, scampering off to meet Lurch. 

Wednesday walked back up to you. You were crying once again, whimpering against the headboard. Wednesday went to wipe your tears, her red bandage nearing you. Your expression flipped like a dime, immediately going to ripper mode with the drug-like scent overwhelming you. Wednesday whipped her hand back. 

She was quite curious. You’d been around blood before, whether it was other vampires drinking it, or some kid piercing his skin, you’d never had a problem. So why was it one with her? 

“You need to behave,” Wednesday sighed out. 

You snarled, bloody fangs flashing out at her. 

“I will vervain you. This is your only warning,” she sneered. 

You hissed once again, slumping backwards in defeat. 

Wednesday slowly raised her hand, watching as you shivered with restraint. Your jaw clamped, eyes stuck on red. Your fangs pierced through your gums, and you bit into your own mouth to prevent yourself. Wednesday slowly untied your restrains, quickly tying them behind your back, and shoved you off the bed. She leaned into your ear. 

“I stole your daylight ring whilst you slept. Thing has it now. Your only chance is to come with me, willingly, without causing problems. Do you understand? I willfry you.”

You shuddered, nodding hastily. Wednesday kissed the side of your neck and pushed you forward. The vervain burned your skin, but you trudged through it. You didn’t dare make a sound as you walked, the occasional wince was muffled by biting into your tongue. 

Wednesday whispered praises into your ear as you walked down, your bags already taken care of. 

Wednesday knew this facade had to look real, her parents were under the impression that you’d been dating for awhile. She informed you of this, walking down a flight of stairs. 

“Do not say one word to them, Lurch, or any authorities, understood? Don’t worry about your daylight ring, we only do activities during the night. You’ll fit right in.”

Wednesday undid your restraints, and you gingerly rubbed at them. She raised her hand up to your face, and you looked in surprise at her. 

“My bloods laced with vervain, so you’ll be unable to compel, and vulnerable. It’ll keep you in control, and your ripper side should despise it,” she explained.

You nodded, holding her arm. Shakily, you raised it against your mouth. You fangs ripped through her flesh, and you sighed in relief. Her blood was intoxicating if you ignored the sting of vervain, and your ripper side was going feral. The thought of you biting her neck, her shoulders, anywhere on her had you biting harder. You shook the thoughts from your mind, abruptly tearing her wrist away. You turned your back to her, blinking rapidly and heaving.

“Let me see you,” she whispered. 

You shook your head. Getting wrapped up in your thoughts, you began to spiral, your victims faces flashing in your memories. You curled your hand into a fist, hitting the side of you head hard, trying to get them out. Wednesday’s hands shot up, stopping your hand from striking once again.

You clenched your eyes shut, panicking. Wednesday’s cold hands wrapped around your face, squeezing slightly as she wiped some fallen tears. The pressure lassoed you back to reality, your thoughts swimming into the dark basement of your mind. 

Wednesday lowered your head, choosing to place it on her chest. Her loud heartbeat filled your ears, and your breathing settled. You inhaled deeply, shakily releasing it. 

Her hands slowly started scratching the base of your neck, and she hummed quietly.

You focused on her heart again, hearing it pump steadily. Your ears picked up other noises too, her digestive system slowly working, the acid in her stomach bubbling slightly, and the blood coursing through her veins. The blood moving slowly drowned out her heartbeat, the image of you biting into her jugular filled your thoughts. Your fangs pierced out again, your eyes going darker. Clearing your throat hastily, you blinked rapidly. The whiff of lavender reeled you back to her, Wednesday’s presence returning. You sighed out heavily, leaning most of your weight on Wednesday. 

God, you were so tired. Sometimes the thought of staking yourself seemed better than this, but you knew you couldn’t. You wouldn’t give up. Not until you’d served your sentence. 

“Are you ready to go out to the car?” Wednesday quietly asked. You wouldn’t have picked it up if your senses weren’t heightened.

You nodded slowly, raising your head away from her. You gulped, not meeting her eyes. Wednesday may have been a murderous psycho, but you were a cold hearted ripper. It was hypocritical of you to judge her, especially since Wednesday’s never ripped off a head before. Wallowing in self-loathing, you walked of Nevermore’s doors hand in hand with Wednesday.

[collywobbles-n-whatnot]

Extra extra! Arthur x Reader: part 1

Tabloid Journalist! Undercover! Reader x Old money! Yandere! Tutor

“What are your socials?” He thumbs through his phone as he waits for you to pack up, rather impatiently. Arthur had been tutoring you for the last hour or two. While he started with just English it was clear after a couple sessions that your math, history, science, and- well pretty much everything needed a spruce up. The idea of someone under his tutelage looking that dumb under his care ground his gears. So now the study sessions lasted hours for most days of the week. 

“You getting soft on me Artie? What happened to- This is just tutoring. I’m not your friend and I never will be,” You made your voice nasally and pushed up some imaginary glasses. 

“And we won’t be. I just want your instagram,” He rolls his eyes and subconsciously adjusts his very real glasses. You were everything he detested in most people his age. You had no manners, you didn’t take much of anything seriously, you were all play and no work. Or so he thought. The longer the two of you spent time with one another he realized maybe the things he thought were common were actually quite… good. 

“I don’t have one. I don’t have any social media actually. I find life more zen without them,” You shrug and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

“Pretentious, but alright.” 

“Oh, I do not want to hear that from you. Mr. I only read classic literature and drink plain hot black tea,” the empty library and setting sun added to the pressure of getting going, “Can you watch my things real quick actually. I have to run to the bathroom before I skedattle.”

“Got a hot date?” He leaned back on the hind legs of his chair. The question left a bitter taste in his mouth but it was entirely plausible. You shouldn’t be focusing on dates with the state of your grades but you weren’t unattractive. It wouldn’t surprise him if you were asked out by some of the jackasses he sees hanging all over you upon occasion. Maybe if you shared socials he can keep tabs and make sure you’re putting your energy in the right activities. 

“No, I just have dinner with Professor Lysander a couple nights a week in town. A home cooked meal beats the cafeteria any day,” The school cafeteria was nothing to sniff at. Five star chefs catered every meal of the day and even snacks. There was always something about home cooked meals though, growing up with family dinners you were elated to finally be rid of them as an adult, but as it turns out it just wasn’t the same without them. You try and not let on just how urgent the whole bathroom thing was weighing on you but you definitely wanted to finish this conversation quickly. Arthur pulled a disgusted face that just screamed ‘Egads! How uncouth!’ In that posh accent of his. 

“At his house? That’s a bit inappropriate, don’t you think? What if he’s some kind of closet psycho?” He let his chair fall back into place with a muted thud. 

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be right back,” you waved him off absentmindedly and subtly sped off to the restroom. Arthur scoffed and eyed your bag sitting where you sat in your stead. He looked around to see if there was anyone else around before flipping it open and peering inside, your pins jingled softly with the motion.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. There were books, pens, pads, and a tube of lipgloss. The pockets however were also full. Keys, gum, and… a camera. Cameras were strictly forbidden on campus, this college was as close to a secret at you could get and the staff intended to keep it that way. A loud buzz made him nearly jump out of his chair, he put everything back in your bag and looked for the source of the noise. Your phone’s Lock Screen was aglow with notifications. While the content was hidden on the standby screen, the apps were clear as day. Instagram, Snapchat, BeReal, even Pinterest. Did you seriously not want him to follow you that badly? 

The sound of your heels clicked and he leaned back in his chair, forcing a casual posture. “Thanks, for watching my stuff and thanks again for tutoring. You might be an asshole but you aren’t a half bad teacher,” You picked up your bag once more and gestured to the door. 

“Yeah, sure, fine,” he waved his hand dismissively, “I’m going with you to Lysander’s. If there isn’t anything weird going on, surly the invitation is open to all his students,” his hand just barely ghosted the small of your back as you both left the library. 

“Okay, I don’t see why not. Whatever helps you sleep at night man. I hope you like quiche,” You shrugged. 

[gardenialver]

Delinquent

synopsis - perhaps the school's delinquent wasn't as bad as they had thought

pairing - kiyoko shimizu

content - fluffy, there are violent parts, mentions/allusions of blood, fights, sexual harassment (similar to terushima), mentions of drugs

Kiyoko Shimizu

Kiyoko's heard of Karasuno's infamous delinquent, they were after all in the same year, she's seen peeks of her every now and then at school, during sports festivals, orientations, club meetings, in the halls, in the cafeteria

Your appearance never bothered her despite the fact that it was very delinquent like, coloured hair, pierced ears, tousled uniform and a tie or bow that hung around your shoulders

However, there were many parts of your appearance that said otherwise to you being so delinquent like, the little pins on your bag and keychains that hung off of it, the tinted lip balm she'd see you reapply every now and then, your cute rings and bento boxes, even your earrings were cute and only punkish on your lazy days

She has heard the stories about you, the girl who shoved the head of the school council into the school's dumpster, the girl who smashed someone's entire lab experiment and didn't even wince at the glass stuck in your skin, the girl who once emptied Takehiko Oishi's bag, the bag that belonged to the most sought after boy in school and smashed his phone and embarassed him in front of the school, there were also rumors that you had tattoos and did drugs

But, Kiyoko has never minded them, she's never minded you and doesn't really look into you, even if you were her type

At the moment, all Kiyoko Shimizu wished someone like the "Karasuno Demon" would appear and get rid of all the middle aged men who were asking her to follow them.

"Oh come on, a sweet girl like you should know what a good time is," "I'm sorry but I have some where to be," "Don't worry doll we can take better care of you," They begun to touch Kiyoko and seemed to become even more smug as she recoiled from their touch.

One of them seemed to be aiming to grab her chest, that was until it was slapped off of her, someone appeared in front of her in a flash. A side kick was delivered to the stomach of the man who had attempted to touch Kiyoko and he was blown away into a wall.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't have come here sooner, please find a safer place and look away and cover your ears, madamoiselle," A hand pointed to a sidewalk closer to a more populated area, looking behind to the source of the hand, dark ocean eyes met warm ones, the feeling your eyes held were one of warmth and compassion, like honey, large fluffy plushies, and sweet tea.

That was until another word was thrown towards Kiyoko about her body, eyes that once looked at her with such gentleness became sharp, a glint of fiercity and loathing.

You sprinted towards the group of men, turning around to mouth a 'stay safe please' to Kiyoko. Kiyoko jogged towards the spot you told her to go to, clutching the fabric close to her chest. That was the Karasuno demon and the Karasuno demon had saved her.

More importantly the Karasuno demon looked at her as if-as if she were the most bewitching person ever, Kiyoko felt, enchanted but there was something else, you called her madamoiselle, how odd. She couldn't help but giggle about it and as she turned her attention to where you once were, you were gone with the men having been piled up and left on the ground.

"Is this yours mademoiselle?" Kiyoko spun around in surprise to see you holding her hat, it must've fallen as she ran away, "Are you by chance [Name] [Last Name]."

You stared at the girl, and Kiyoko saw that same warmth return to your eyes, as if she had slipped into her bed into the winter while the heating pad was on. "Oh, why yes that is me, um, you're Kiyoko Shimizu?" She nodded with a smile.

"Um, Ms. Shimizu, would you be ok if I accompany you to your destination, just to ensure that you arrive without facing harm," "Why yes, Ms. [Last Name] that would be ok, but may I ask about your vocabulary, it's a bit different from the dialect you usually hear here in Miyagi."

You smiled at her, "It's alright, I have been adjusting but I grew up in a different country than Japan so I am still adjusting my dialect, I believe I may be grasping the idea of it but it still catches me confused," A giggle came out of the girll and you looked at her in shock, even her laugh sounded like bells, but bell sounds that would come from flowers in specific.

The two of you walked beside each other. "Is it ok if I ask you some questions [Last Name]-san," "Please just [Name] and go ahead," "By any chance do any of the rumors spoken about you bother you?" You looked at her with a grin, offering her a candy, "Well if they're true there's nothing I can do against them can I, I mean either then the one's that aren't, I don't do drugs, um, and I never will."

"It's simply that those rumors were innate in having the inability to possess information that is necessary to understand the full capacity of these situations, Takehiko Oishi took unsolicited photos of girls he would be with without their consent to do so and would show them to his friends, one of those girl's confided in me which is how I knew, I decided to take action on what was right to me, after all rumors don't affect me much now, unless they're about me doing drugs and hurting people recklessly, I promise I don't do drugs."

You seemed to be pouty after saying that and Kiyoko couldn't happen but to laugh in the irony of the situation, "I believe you [Name], would it be ok if I were to eat lunch with you on some days," Your eyes lit up and your cow lick began moving back and forth like a dog's tail.

"Yes, of course, it would be my pleasure," "Please say hi to me in the halls then, oh there are the friends I'll be meeting up with, thank you for protecting me [Name]," You handed her a small machine.

Kiyoko's head tilted in confusion, "It's a beepy, if you're in trouble, press the button there and I'll come running for you, it'll share your location and everything but only when you beep it so I promise I won't stalk you,"

You stared at it for a bit before taking it back, arms waving in panic, "Of-of course you don't have to accept it though, it's obviously kinda creepy if you think more in-depth into it, and it definitely crosses many boundaries that you may have so I shouldn't be offering this so carelessy, I'm so sorry,"

Another laugh rang through your ears and slender fingers took the machine from your own, "Thank you so much, now I have a guardian angel looking after me, thank you so much [Name], good bye now,"

As she jogged off you waved at her until she turned away and you went to walk off on your own. Kiyoko made her way to the other third years, "Was that the Karasuno demon just now?" Asahi asked nervously, "Yeah, she's particularly sweet," Kiyoko smiled at your fleeting figure.

The Kiyoko Effect

Kiyoko would seek you out every other lunch period and the two of you would sit together under a tree a bit away from the school, the first time she ate lunch with you, she was surprised at how informal your speech became, you however watched as many shows you could, reality, variety, animation, documentary, romcom, horror, thriller, game, dramas, sports, just to be able to have something to talk about with her

The volleyball team was not really fond of the idea of their older manager being around someone referred to as a "demon" but Kiyoko got really angry really quickly at them and so they shut up

Their images of you changed when they saw you feeding Kiyoko, flexing your muscles only in a way to tell her she should eat more to get stronger and that she shouldn't care about body image, the way the next lunch you were braiding flowers to place on her head as she ranted passionately, the next lunch a few crows sat on your head and suddenly you became really flustered, offering them some of your rice, so it was safe to say that they viewed the "Karasuno demon" as they viewed their ace

Yachi was the first one Kiyoko introduced to you, you had switched out all your piercings that day to look as friendly as possible, you even prepared a small cake to give to her so you wouldn't look too scary, after a lot of reassurance from Kiyoko, you and Yachi sspent a few hours talking together, about desserts and favourites

One day Kiyoko asked you what you would do outside of school and why you would always be in a rush to leave school, "Oh, I have 6 younger siblings," and you emitted a sigh, "I have another one coming on the way," Kiyoko was so shocked to hear that, "Oh, at least your parents have a good relationship?" You laughed at the way she tried to comfort you, "It's ok but I have a brother three years younger than me, a sister five, another brother eight, another sister twelve, fraternal twins one boy one girl fifteen, and the one coming is also girl, but I pick up the two from middle school, drop him off at soccer, me and my sister go pick up the other two from elementary school, I drop the older one off at gymnastics, I take the two and get them a snack and then I pick up the twins from daycare and we go to a park, then I do some groceries, and then I take the dogs on a walk, technically I'm taking the four of them on a walk, get my siblings started on their homework, drop the twins off at their friends house, I take the two middle kids with me to do some extra shopping and then they help me make dinner, every other day they do fencing though, I used to do kick boxing and taekwondo but I quit after we moved to Japan." "Wow you're so cool [Name],"

Around school people eventually began to refer to you as Kiyoko's dark knight, how Kiyoko has a demon protecting her. This mainly stemmed from the fact that half of the student population watched you punch Terushima

Kiyoko likes to buy earrings and rings for you, and given your many siblings, it wasn't a surprise that you also had 6 favourite characters. However, that number grew to 7 when you confessed to her and Chelsea from beatcats was soon a plush keychain you carried around everywhere but also a plush you'd go to sleep with

Your delinquency also changed a bit when you and Kiyoko started dating and everyone would smile to her in the halls, but Kiyoko changing you didn't mean you'd glare at anyone who'd look at her with anything more than respect and admiration

Bonus

"Kiyoko, are you cold," You look worriedly at your girlfriend who came out in a thin jacket, "I'm alright [Name], don't worry," She kissed your nose.

The more you walked, the more uncomfortable you began to feel and Kiyoko felt a weight pressing on her shoulders. Your parka had been removed from your body and placed on top of her, holding it out you motioned for your girlfriend to place her arms in one sleeve then moved to the other.

The snow crunched as you ran around to help her but you didn't mind, soon your scarves were also traded, a thin pink scarf wrapped around your neck while a thicker, fluffy white scarf was wrapped around hers, you pulled the back of the scarf up to make a hood, covering her ears.

You crouched down to her feet and placed a heat back in each shoe, "There, now my baby is all warm," You run away cheekily and your lovely track girlfriend catches up to you, slipping her arm into yours.

"You know [Name], although people call you the Karasuno demon, you feel more like a guardian angel," You kissed her free hand, pretending to bite it.

"Well, your role in your club is to look after 13 others so now it's time for me to look after you, my precious, and sweet, and pretty, and cute, and lovely, and beautiful, and divine, and angelic, and darling girlfriend,"

Kiyoko's flowery, bell-like laughter fills the cold air and she leans into you. Your fingers move to wrap her hand and she moved her hands into the jacket you placed her in, "My dark knight," And the two of you kiss, just as sweet as the day the two of you met.

[si11yw0rm]

Day 2 (Face Fucking/M Rec. x Miguel O' Hara)

blurb: your boyfriend invited you for lunch at his office because he is stressed, and you decide to help him out. (it's not assistant x boss)

reader is a sub/brat afab and has being dating Miguel for 10+ months (no use of y/n)

tags: oral (m rec.), dirty talk (praise and degradation), semi public (on couch inside his office. you dont take off your clothes.), swallowing, hair pulling, Miguel whimpers (i cant help it, i am sorry), you don't get caught. use of little spider, baby, and love.

again, mdni.

no beta read (ignore the mistakes i would correct them when i wake up lol) and again no word count, idk. i am barely awake as is. (LMAOOOO, i am sane dw)

edit: i took my partner's advice and went to bed. i am however ready to start. i slept for four hours. so not good, but i am used to that.

edit:i am sorry. i actually forgot😭i had a shit ton on my schedule too

fanart credit to artist!

Miguel had his head across your lap, and you were playing with his hair. His eyes were closed, but you knew he wasn't sleeping. You had just finished lunch, picking up some empanadas from the cafeteria for him.

You knew whatever was stressing him out was really bad when he didn't eat any of them. "Miggy."

He made a grumbling sound of acknowledgement, his hands lifting to guide your hands to the hair closer to his forehead.

It wasn't a secret that the head of the spider society had trauma of his own, though it had taken a while for him to open up to you and let you past that hard shell to see the inner still grumpy but soft bear inside him.

Still, he rarely talked unless it was necessary.

Or when he was shouting Spanish curse words at recruits who messed up.

"Miggy." You said again, this time tugging on his hair until he cursed, his eyes opening.

"Yes, baby?"

"You are so tense." You whispered, running your hands through his hair, sliding your hands down the side of his chin.

He sighed, his eyes fluttering close before his hands come up in his hair to link with yours.

"It's work. Jess brought in a new batch, and they are causing unnecessary problems. And that fucking anomaly in the..." He trailed off, cursing off and sighing.

You noticed his claws had come out and you take his hands in yours, pressing into his palm to watch them softly retract into the pads of his fingers.

"I could help you destress."

Miguel always said no whenever you asked because he was afraid he would hurt you with how big he was. But you wanted him to.

If he understood what you meant, he didn't show it. But you knew he did.

He laughed instead, his eyes still closed as you press against his palm again. "You do enough just being here, little spider."

You bit your lip, dropping his hand. "That's not what I meant by destress."

Miguel's eyes snapped open and the lust that burned in them before the blanket came on had you smirking. You had always known that he wanted it too.

"Baby..."

"I want to, Miggy. Please." You slid your hands into the small spot behnd his ear and he groaned, his hips already lifting off the couch.

"I am going to hurt you." He was getting off your lap now, and you almost whined at the loss of contact.

"I can handle it." You said, sliding your hands over his chest.

Miguel shook his head, pinning your hands to his chest. "Mi vida, you don't understand. I barely control myself with you as it is."

One hand slid up your chest, before sweeping across your throat and his finger tugged your lips down.

"If I hurt you, I would never be able to live with myself, baby." You saw the unposken trauma in his eyes, one that you knew stemmed from his backstory.

You wished you could cover him and protect him from what he had gone through, and you grabbed his hand, wrapping your fingers around his wrist.

"Miguel."

He stared at you, his eyes running over every feature of your face before he sighed, snaking his hand up higher to grab the back of your head.

"On one condition."

"Anything."

"You tell me if it gets too much." You thought of protesting, but the look he pinned you with made your mouth snap shut and you nodded.

"Dios, you really want to do this." He muttered as you got off the couch, sliding to your knees in front of him.

He slipped his hands in your hair, and laughed, before grabbing your hands at his belt buckle. "Slowly, baby."

"Sorry." You whispered, even though you weren't sorry at all.

He stared at you, before dropping those eyes to your lips. "You remember your promise?"

You nodded and he let go of your hands, and you started undoing his belt buckle, keeping your eyes on your hands. You could feel his eyes burning a hole at the top of your head.

You finally got it free, and you pushed it aside to reveal his black briefs, the one you had helped him pick when you went shopping last week.

"Take me out." His voice had gotten that bedroom tilt, the one it always got whenever you were both about to lose yourselves in each other.

But you could also hear the shake behind it.

You could still feel how tight his body was strung up, and you let your eyes lift up to meet his, and you straightened, and he brought his lips down to meet yours.

He sighed when your lips met, and his hands cup your face, pulling you into him. "I could never get over this."

His tongue swept over your bottom lip, and you wordlessly opened your lips in invitation. His hands moved to your neck, not choking or squeezing, just holding you in place.

"Christ, you drive me insane, baby."

He traced the line of your jaw, his lips making a path upward toward your nose, before coming down to kiss your neck again.

It was muscle memory that made you roll your neck to the side to allow him better access, and Miguel took full advantage, leaving a litter of hickeys on your neck.

The skin of your neck was getting warm beneath his breath and lips, and the burning twisting sensation inside you started spreading, building into a bundle in your core where it gathered and grew with each brush of his lips.

A small, soft moan escaped your lips and Miguel hissed, pulling away to stare at you. "Dios mío, nunca podría cansarme de mirarte así."

You barely understood what he was saying, but you didn't need to. The look in his eyes were enough words.

"Be a good girl and take me out."

You slipped yours hands into his boxers, tugging it down as his hips lifted off the couch. He was already obscenely hard, and you could have sworn your mouth watered.

He was thick, long and curved in a way that made you remember how well he hit the spots inside you and make you break apart.

"If you are going to keep staring at me like that, I am not responsible for my actions." He muttered, his tone careful as if he was afraid to set you off.

"You are beautiful." You whispered and lifted your eyes in time to see him blush, and he lifted one hand to cover his face.

You took that opportunity to ease him into your mouth, and Miguel swore, both hands dropping to grip your hair and you could feel the sharp ting of his claws.

You groaned, and you felt them retract, but before you could complain he started talking.

"You have no idea how amazing your mouth feels right now, little spider." He groaned as you ease him more into your throat, breathing slowly through your nose.

"Baby, you need..." You ignored him, easing him further down and lifting your hands to softly grip his balls.

Miguel made a weird noise in the back of his throat, and you bit back a grin, moving backwards before swirling your tongue over and around the smooth head.

You couldn't help yourself as you looked up at him, and he had his hands over his face, and you could tell he was holding himself back, so you jerked forward until you gagged and he let out a string of Spanish curses.

“Yes, Christ, you are perfect.” he whispered and his eyes snapped open and he looked at you, the pride you saw there made its way down your spine.

“Just like that, baby.”

His hand climbed its way into your hair and he stared at you, halting your movements. “You want more, baby? You want me to take over?”

Miguel's iris's were red, and his hair was falling over his face as he leaned forward, and you nodded.

You would take anything he gave you.

Using the grip he had on your hair, he pulled your head toward his hips, feeding his cock even deeper into your mouth.

It made your jaw ache, considering how big he was and how little you had taken in before, but you didn't feel nervous. Even though you had no control over how much he tried to shove in.

But Miguel went slowly at first, stopping when he hit the back of your throat and before hissing and pulling out again.

He waited for your nod before he did it again, and this time you leaned into it and tried to take him deeper. You knew when he breached the back of your throat, sliding in and you forced yourself to relax, breathing in through your nose.

Miguel whimpered, making a pained groan afterwards before running his other hand over your jaw and throat. “That feels fucking amazing, querida.”

His hand remained in your hair, easing your mouth into soft strokes, while you tried to focus on working your tongue along his dick.

It made you think you were a little sick to enjoy the way he was using your mouth, but you couldn't form a single thought as he thrust gently between your lips.

“Oh fuck. Yeah. Yeah, just like that. You are doing so good for me, baby.” His praise caused a fire to ignite in your belly, and he curled his fingers into your hair, effectively ruining your hair further.

You let him take control, and you could tell he was getting close when he let out a string of Spanish and gripped your hair so hard you actually lost you felt a twinge of pain shoot up your scalp.

You ignored his tugging, clearly telling you to get off if you didn't want his cum down your throat, but you ignored him, sucking harder while your hands snaked up to cup and caress his balls.

"Ah Dios."

You felt him shoot down your throat and his grip in your slacked as you lifted your eyes to see him rest his head against the couch.

"You like?" You asked, moving off him and helping him tuck himself back into his briefs.

Miguel's head lifted, his eyes dropping down to your lips and his thumb pulled it down. "Open."

You did, and it should be sick how the pride in his smile made your entire body lit up, but his hands slid over to rub that spot behind your ear and all your thoughts flew outside the window.

"My dirty little girl got what she wanted, didn't she?"

You nodded, smiling and dropping your eyes to his cock, which was already forming a bulge in his trousers. "Can I go again?"

"Oh no, love." His hands snaked under your arms, pulling you off the floor and onto his lap.

"Now? Now it's your turn."

You didn't argue.

[dandorime]

Continued from Part 1

Reginald Crane took a moment to scan the empty cafeteria space. Other Agency staff were surely working late somewhere in the building on other floors, but he needed this one to himself for a while. The janitor, Peter, had been along to empty the trash a minute ago, but he and his yellow cart were far down the hall now.

The lack of an audience didn't make Crane feel any less anxious about what he had to say, unfortunately.

"Agent Phoenix..." he haltingly enunciated into the microphone, "has... uh, confided in me, recently, that he has...er... died."

Roxana Prism, on the other end, said nothing.

"Okay, so..."

"... multiple times," Reginald added, with emphasis.

There was lengthy, worrisome silence on the frequency.

Prism didn't sound annoyed this time. She sounded... well, what was that tone? Curious? Intrigued?

"Isn't that Cotard's delusion or something? I think I remember that from my second year of neuropsych..."

"It's certainly some kind of delusion," Crane continued, "He told me he dies quite regularly, in fact. Furthermore, he's developed what I can only surmise is a hallucination to cope with the, uh, incidents."

Crane gave an inward sigh of relief. Good, he thought, she was going to take this seriously, as a doctor and a woman of science.

The way he desperately needed her to.

Prism was definitely interested now, speaking quietly and directly into the microphone pinned to her collar. He imagined her stepping away from her robotic prototypes for the moment to focus on this issue with him, and it gave him hope.

"What kind of hallucination?"

"It's strange how specifically he described it. He told me that, having just, uh, died, he always finds himself in a 'little room' somewhere. There is no way in or out, although he says the shape and size of it have changed over the years-..."

"Years?" Prism's voice strained the slightest bit on the word, "this has been going on for years?"

The concern in her voice was a genuine relief to Crane. For the past week, he had kept his agent's confounding revelations to himself, mulling over the potentialities of revealing them further. How best to reach out for help? How not to break his agent's trust in the process? How to live with the consequences if he maintained his silence on the matter, and let the neuroticism develop further?

Finally he had someone to share his anxiety with.

"Yes," he said tiredly, "for years."

"What's in the room?"

Prism's voice cut through Crane's sense of relief.

"Pardon?"

"The little room where your agent wakes up every time he dies," she demanded, "What's in the room with him?"

Crane heard the click of a door closing on Prism's end of the conversation, and the squeak of someone sitting down in a rolling chair.

"In the room? Ah... there's, well, he says he receives a report about how he died..."

"Morbid. What else?"

Crane hesitated. He had wanted Prism's ear, and now he had it, but there was something... unnerving about the sudden urgency of her questions.

"Reginald?" the radio crackled sharply in his ear. "Talk to me. What else does Agent Phoenix see in the room?"

"He... told me that he sees a button. If he presses it, he's suddenly alive again. Everything is... undone."

There was more to say, but in that moment, Crane decided to stop revealing details.

"That must be how he breaks out of it," Prism muttered, almost to herself, "a definite symbol he can activate to return to..."

Crane could hear the furious scratching of pencil on a steno pad behind her words.

"Do NOT write any of this down, please, Roxana!"

"Sorry, scientist habit. I'll burn it," she assured him, "But listen, you need to get your agent a full psychological evaluation, like, yesterday."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable doing that," Crane admitted, "Which is why I'm reaching out, you see. I was hoping you could, er, suggest some technology or technique to help me solve this matter internally, so to speak."

There was a pause. The rattle of the rolling chair in Prism's office told Crane she had just stood up sharply, leaving it behind.

"I'm not that kind of doctor, Reginald."

"But the implants," Crane pleaded, "you've designed and installed them yourself, in dozens of agents! Your research on neural pathways is internationally lauded. Certainly you have some advice-..."

"Get him to psych," Prism said flatly. "That's my advice."

Crane heard a click, then the static of an empty frequency. He gazed forlornly down into his slightly soggy paper cup of tepid tea.

Now there were two people in the Agency who knew Agent Phoenix was insane, and Crane only felt worse.

_____

Dr. Prism stared for a solid ten minutes at the pale yellow pages on her desk. She really hadn't recorded more than a few words of her conversation with Crane, but from the minute she recognized what was occurring, she knew she had to write down something to keep from screaming aloud:

- Thinks he's died (lots of times)

- Wakes up in a room somewhere (???)

- Learns how he died (!)

- CAN START OVER

Prism took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She carefully tore the sheet of paper from the pad, folded it neatly, and tucked it inside the breast pocket of her lab coat. She then calmly walked to the door and locked it.

Prism lifted the receiver of the secure internal phone in the corner of the office. Dialing was unnecessary: this line was direct.

There was a click on the other end.

"Sir," Dr. Prism said softly, "we've got a second one."

[solerwolf21]

Aerith One-Shot?

It was a normal day in the cafeteria as you sat next to your friend, like normal. And much like normal your attention wasn’t on the conversation at hand, but it was focused on a certain girl, like normal. You watched the auburn-haired girl who keeps her long hair in a single braid with a red bow with the rest falling down her shoulders. Her bangs, which she was currently moving to the side, sat above her gentle green eyes that were focused on her art pad that she was doodling in. Her pink dress stopped at her knees where her white long socks met at her knees and ended in her boot. She also had her signature red leather crop jacket. She accessories with her gold bracelets that clinked as she moved her arm. 

You watched as she sat alone at the same table she always does and has since you both entered high school, her tray with partially eaten food to the side, backpack next to her as she continued her drawings. You never understood why Aerith sat alone but you hated it every time. She wasn’t someone who should be alone.

“So you going to talk to her or keep staring a hole into her?” Your attention was drawn from your starting as you met the red eyes of Tifa who was giving you a knowing smile. She and Cloud sat next to each other and with you at your table. The two had been friends with you since freshman year and were the only ones to notice the massive crush you had on Aerith. Cloud was usually the quietest out of your trio much like he was now just silently eating his meal. Tifa however after finding out you pinning for Aerith hadn’t hidden the teasing but was always pushing you to go and talk to her. Which was something you were planning to do…at some point. 

Tifa giggled at your flustered expression,

“You know she’s hard to talk to. We all know how nice she is. She’s even friendly to Cloud here,” she said. Cloud gazed at her for a moment before looking at you,

“I’m not that hard to talk to,” he said after a moment of thought. Tifa rolled her eyes playfully while you sighed,

“Sure thing Cloud,” you anf Tifa said in unison. This got an annoyed grumble from the Blond as he went back to his food. As he did your gaze went back to Aerith who was as busy as ever in her drawings,

“Ya know she won’t bite,’ your eyes went back to Tifa’s pleading expression, “Come on what's stopping you from at least talking to her?” she asked,

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that she’s Aerith and I’m me? She way out of my league,” you said followed by a sigh,

“That's not true and you know it. You gotta believe in yourself more,” she said. You only considered it for a moment but resigned at that thought,

“As if. Plus I don’t stand a candle to Zack,” you responded. Tifa tapped your arm which was still with enough force to sting a bit,

“Ow! You know your punches even light hurt,” you said rubbing the spot and looking at her. But you were met with her angry eyes which wasn’t a good site,

“I know you aren’t comparing yourself to her ex. She and Zack broke up before he left and that was a long time ago. And you know Aeirth wouldn’t compare you to anybody but yourself. It’s not in her personality to be like that,” she said. You put your hands up in surrender,

“Ok, ok you’re right. Aerith isn’t like that. But still, Zack had a lot more going for him than I do. The guy was awesome while me? I’m just me,” you said with a sigh. Tifa pouted at you though you didn’t notice as you looked at the food that you’d barely touched. She nudged Cloud who snapped out of his own thoughts to pay attention to the conversation. He met her annoyed eyes and your downtrodden expression,

“Hey you can’t give up before you start,” he said getting an approving nod from Tifa. You played with your grapes moving them around with your fork. Tifa and Cloud looked at you concerned and took each other wondering what they could say. Yet before they could speak the two looked up at the new person approaching the table and sly smiles spread to their faces. You were wrapped up in your thoughts as you felt a tap,

“Not now Tifa. Can’t you see I’m sulking,” you said,

“I’m not Tifa,” the new voice said. Your heart hitched at the voice as your whipped your head up fast enough to get whiplash. Before you stood Aerith who just looked at you with curiosity in her eyes,

“You ok?” she asked her voice sounding sweeter than anything you've ever tasted. It took you a full minute of silence before you realized you hadn’t talked yet. You should probably do that,

“Ok? Me? Y-Yeah I’m uh, yeah I’m good, good. W-What about you?” smooth. Your behavior got a giggle out of her as she smiled,

“Me? I’m good. I just noticed you looking down and was curious. I’m not interrupting anything am I?” she asked as she looked at Tifa and Cloud. Tifa smiled and shook her head,

“Of course not. Hey, why do you sit with us today? We got plenty of room for you,” she offered. You felt your heart jump again at the thought of her sitting here,

“Really? You don't mind?” 

“Of course not we’d love to have you, right Cloud?” Cloud gave her nod which was much as him saying yes. Aerith's eyes lit up with glee,

“Great I’ll get my stuff,” and she was back at her table quickly. In the moments of her gathering her things, you looked to Tifa desperately,

“What are you doing?” you said in a harsh whisper. Tifa smiled that familiar mischievous smile you’ve learned to hate,

“You’ll thank me later,” she said. Before you could reply Aeirth had returned and placed her tray next to your filling up the seat on the other side of you effectively trapping you between her and Tifa. You watched her get comfy placing her bag down and then looking at you with that smile at point-blank range. If her being so close wasn’t dangerous enough that smile at this range would be the finishing blow. Unconsciously you scooted a bit away and yet to your surprise she scooted closer giving you a similar mischievous look as Tifa,

“Don’t tell me I scare you?” she said teasingly. You felt the heat on your neck raise at that,

“No. Why would you scare me?” you managed. She didn’t lessen the distance if only inching a bit closer,

“I don’t know you tell me since you scooted away,” she responded. Your words were caught in your throat as she was close enough to get her scent, She smelled like flowers and the earth. When it felt like your heart was going to explode she relented moving her face away to go into her bag and pull back out her art pad. Though she never did scoot back over. You looked at Tifa for a moment but noticed that conveniently she and Cloud were in the middle of a conversation,

‘Of course you are.’ you thought. Realizing the futility of fighting back so you took a silent breath to calm yourself. You looked back over to Aerith to see was wrapped back up into her drawing. You’ve seen her drawing from a distance for so long that seeing it up close you could see how focused her eyes were as she sketched. The way she slouched when working on a specific part which caused her bangs to fall in her eyes which in turn caused her to move them. Or how at times she'd stick her tongue just a bit as she worked which only added to her cuteness. You felt your blush rising and she wasn't even talking to you. But you couldn't help it for this was Aerith.

You felt a nudge to your side and you glanced to see Tifa and Cloud eyeing you. You didn't need them to speak to know what they were telling you and you internally sighed for they were right after all. Looking to Aerith your mind quickly went over all the possible ways to start a conversation. It's not like you hadn't ever spoken to her in fact you have a few times. But they were mainly in passing or for the times she was inviting people to join the gardening club. In fact, Aerith had initiated all of those interactions.

'Time to change that,' you thought as you steeled yourself,

"Hey Aerith," you began but her eyes focused on you too quickly giving you their full attention causing you to freeze,

"Yes?" She asked and you just looked at her too stunned to speak yet again. A few seconds rolled by of your awkward silence and staring until Aerith took the lead and bopped you on the nose effectively resetting you. She smiled as you focused in,

"Good to know a simple bop to the nose and you're back," she said in a teasing tone. You chuckled off some of the nerves,

"Y-Yeah that is good to know," you said. She nodded and turned her full body to accidentally touch your knees but not seeming to care,

"Now then what was it you wanted? Or did you just want to stare at me?" She asked. You felt your knees touching, noticed the close proximity, and had her full attention on you. It was a trifecta of things to get you close up with nerves. But you felt the eyes of your friends burning on your back and knew if you messed this opportunity up they wouldn't let you live it down. Ever. 

"W-Well I was wondering…what it is that you're drawing? You looked so focused on it," you said finally. Aerith's eyes brightened in excitement at the question,

"Let me show you," she quickly got her pad and showed you the picture she was working on. It was incomplete but you were surprised to notice how good of a hand she had as you could easily make out that it looked to be a flower of some sort. In fact, it was several flowers sitting in a vase on a table. It looked like she was going for realism. At least that's what you remembered, your art teacher called it,

"Woah, this is amazing.  really good at drawing," you said as you looked at the picture closer. You didn't notice the slight blush that came to Aerith at your compliment,

"Thanks, I have more if you want to see," you nodded and that started the rest of your lunch. Aerith flipped through the rest of her pad showing you the dozens of sketches and drawings she's done. They were a mix of styles ranging from realism to more anime style. Your favorite was the dog she made. At least you think it was a dog for it also had features of a cat as well yet it these tribe-like markings on its arm and the number 13,

"Why 13?" You asked her when looking it over. She shrugged,

"Cause it looked cool?" You wanted to ask her more but the sound of the bell disrupted the pleasant conversation between you. She sighed as she put away her things,

“Sadly classes must resume,” she said as she stood with her tray, “It was fun sitting with you guys,” she said with a smile. Tifa smiled back,

“Your welcome to sit with us anytime Aerith,” she said with Cloud nodding. That only made her smile brighter,

“Thank you. I might just take you up on that offer,” she said. Then her eyes fell on you once again, “It was fun going over art with you,” she said her tone sounding a bit sadder yet you didn’t know why,

“Yeah, it was,” you said in response. There was a pause as she just stood there her gaze locked on yours and you could swear it looked as if she was waiting for something, or for you to do something. When you didn’t respond she kept her smile and turned to leave. And when she did you felt weight press down on your chest as you felt that you missed something, missed some quiet cue. So without thought, you stood,

“Hey Aerith,’ she paused and looked back to you curious yet again. You felt your face flush with nervousness as your heart hammered away yet you couldn’t stop now, “Um if you ever want I’d like to talk more art with you and see any more of your drawings. I think there really cool,” a smile so genuine spread on her face you couldn’t stop the blush that you had been holding back,

“I’d love to! Maybe I could get you to draw something as well,” she said. She gave a wave and you watched her walk off. When she did you fell back into your seat as your brain was slowly catching up to reality,

“What just happened?” you asked quietly before placing your hand on your head. Tifa was practically bouncing with excitement,

“You were great! I’m so proud of you!” she said. You just looked at her confused,

“W-What?” She gave you a playful shove,

“Don’t what me. With Aerith. I saw you two going over and talking about her art. It was cute,”  she said. It still hadn’t sunk in that you basically invited Aerith to share her art with you whenever she pleased, but aslo that you had a pleasant conversation with her as well? It was too much to take in at once but here you were getting confirmation from your friends that all of that happened. And that you survived it,

“Woah,” Tifa laughed while Cloud gave a half smile,

“You did good,” he said as he gathered his things. Tifa followed his lead,

“I think you got a real chance here so don’t mess it up,” she said as the two went to their classes. You sat there for a few moments longer just processing. It wasn’t until the second bell range did you pop out of your daze to gather your things to make it to your next class quickly. 

***

The last bell of school rang and like most teenagers on a Friday their first thought was to get as far away as possible from the prison that is school. And while typically you were the same this time however you got pulled after class by your homeroom teacher. You weren’t in trouble or anything but she wanted to go over some future prospects for your next level of education and if you needed a recommendation she’d be happy to give you one. Of course, you were polite to listen but your mind couldn’t be anywhere but here. 

After your talk, most of the student body had left except those in extracurricular activities. And you weren’t in any clubs or sports so no reason to stay. Tifa and Cloud messaged you about meeting up online tonight. It was something you guys did daily so you never really knew why it was always discussed. But they were your best friends and it did little to argue with a set pattern. Plus you knew that they wanted to talk about what happened at lunch with Aerith. And you couldn’t lie talking about it would help you figure everything out.

After a trip to your locker for some books for homework you set your sights on home. As you made it to the entrance the sounds of struggling caught your ears as the voice sounded familiar. Walking out the door you were met with the sight of Aerith struggling with what looked to be several large bags of either dirt or fertilizer. She had a cart but there were a lot of bags to stack up. You paused and watched her for a few moments as she heaved the bag on top of the others with effort. She took a moment to wipe her brow and you noticed she was wearing an apron and gloves. Very much looking like a florist. Very cute. But when you saw her go for the next bag you didn’t hesitate to walk over. She didn’t even notice your approach as she started to lift the bag. You noticed the struggle and before she could drop it you caught the other end surprising her,

“Oh nice catch,” she said as you both lifted the bag onto the others,

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t mean to startle you. I just saw you heaving these bags and thought you could use a hand,” you said. She looked genuinely surprised at that but it switched to a just as genuine smile,

“My knight in shining armor. I thank you for the help,” she said. You felt a blush threatening to show at her words but masked it with a cough,

“I-I wouldn’t say all that. But I got time so I could help you with the rest of these,” 

“As long as you don’t mind getting a bit dirty then I welcome the help. Even with muscles like mine these can get a bit heavy,” she said and then proceed to flex her arms showing small muscles. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the display which seemed to be her goal as she giggled with you. The two of you got to work and quickly packed up the bags into the cart,

“Cool. So where is it that you're taking these?” you asked,

“To roof top silly. Thats where the greenhouse is after all,” she said. She then started to push the cart. Yet with all the bag's weight, it was barely moving. So doing your next courageous act you moved next to her and helped her push the cart getting it rolling. You didn’t see the slight blush on her face as you both pushed the cart. It took you both a bit of time to move them all but with some effort, you both got the bags up to the rooftop greenhouse. After placing the last bag down you sighed as you felt sweat on your brow,

“Man those bags were no joke. I worked up a sweat,” a rag entered your view and the hand holding it was none other than Aerith who had one herself,

“This should help,” she said. You gladly took the rag and wiped off the sweat feeling a bit of relief,

“Thanks,”

“It's the least I can do for all your help today. It would’ve taken me a lot longer to get these all up here. I only learned of the delivery coming early after classes,”  She said as she took off her apron and gloves placing them back in their spots. You readjusted your bag and took a look around the greenhouse. While there was a considerable amount of beautiful and maintained flowers you could feel a sense of loneliness. There was only one set of gloves and apron, one water can, and one set of gardening tools,

“Aerith why didn’t you ask the other members to help?” you asked as you looked at her. She was finishing messing with her jacket when she turned to you,

“Well there would have be members for that to happen,” she said with a smile. You felt a pang in your heart at hearing that,

‘She’s been doing this alone?’ Aerith noticed the change in your demeanor and looked at you curiously, 

“Everything ok?” You didn’t respond right away which only added to her curiosity. Without thought, you took a step toward her getting close enough to catch that scent of hers, flowers and earth,

“I-I wanted to know if it’d be alright if I joined gardening club,” you said. She just looked at you for a moment,

"As much as I'd like that gardening doesn't really seem like something you'd be into and I'd rather not waste your time. I appreciate the thought though really. " the rejection, even though it was sound, hurt a bit. Yet you noticed the small glimmer in her eyes at the offer quickly dimmed and you wouldn’t stand for it,

“W-Well would it be ok if I stopped by to…hang out?” you asked. She just stared at you for a moment. You knew those eyes were reading your expression for anything hidden, anything you weren’t showing. You noticed she did that often, yet you were honest with the question so you stood your ground and held her gaze. A silent moment passed and when her eyes widened you saw a faint blush on her face as that wonderful smile of hers came back,

“Since I am the president of the club I think guest visits can be allowed. We meet every Wednesday and Friday after school. Though the space is open whenever,” she said. You smiled at that,

“R-Right! Wednesday and Friday’s,” Aerith then did something you weren’t expecting. She strolled up and poked your nose once more confusing you,

“What was that for?” you asked. She just gazed at you fondly a moment before shrugging,

“Don’t know. Just felt like it. Come on let's head out. I’ll go through the sorting next week,” she said turning to get her bag and leave. You paused a moment as your hand went to your nose as you could still feel where she touched. But at her voice, you snapped back to reality and jogged to catch up. You two returned to the entrance exiting the main gates. Aerith stopped at the entrance and turned to you,

“Welp I gotta this way,’ she pointed to the opposite direction of your house, “And I rather not take you out of your way,” she said. You felt that sadness again at the thought of splitting but a different thought came to you,

“Wait, you know which way I live?” you asked. She quickly grew flustered at that,

“I’ve just noticed that you go that way when leaving is all. Nothing creepy,’ she said with a pout. You grinned at the cute display, “But that aside seriously I can handle myself till home. Thanks again for helping. It means a lot,” 

“Oh, yeah of course. If you ever need help again just ask me I don’t mind,” you said. She just smiled and nodded signaling the end of the conversation. Yet neither one of you moved as if your feet were glued to the spot. It didn’t that neither of you talked either and as the silence lingered the one thing you feared began to happen. It got awkward.

You had a feeling about why it got this way you felt, no knew, it was because you wanted to ask for her number. But being who you are was a task on par with climbing the tallest mountain. You met her gaze and she yours and there was a moment of her looking at you curiously almost waiting and yet you wanted to ask but again nothing came out only adding to the awkward air between. After another moment you gained the strength to speak,

“W-Well I best get moving. See you next week,” you said awkwardly and turned away. You took a few steps and already began to mentally chide yourself for your cowardness,

‘And just when everything was going well,’ you thought as you walked. But the sound of quickening footsteps and her voice stopped you,

“Wait up a second,” you turned back to see Aerith stopping before you, “Give me your phone,” she said and you did without question unlocking it. You watched her a few moments as she typed something in and once satisfied she gave it back with a smile,

“Ok now see you later!” she said as she jogged away from you. You stood there and watched until she was out of view confused,

‘What just…’ your thoughts ended as your notification sound rang. Without thinking, you figured it was Cloud or Tifa wondering where you were but when a new name showed on your screen you felt your heart skip a beat. It was Aerith and she said, Hi! 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello! Don't If I'll do more but if you want more let me know. It was really fun to write honestly.

[earth2rin]

SHITTY TAMAKI

bakugo katsuki x support!femreader

fluff, bakugo being bakugo, support course reader :)

i have been thinking about this for a LONG time but i suck at writing so it’s a little ficlet for you guys lol

also just pretend hatsume is a year older LOL

~

bakugo was fuming. he had just gotten his gauntlets fixed from the last round of training with the big 3 (tamaki had used his giant octopus arm to smash his gauntlets causing utter destruction to the devices.) and here goes stupid tamaki, once again, using his octo-arms to smoosh the damn things. bakugo quickly ended the battle by lunging on the poor boy and pinning him down to the ground.

and now he was on his way to the support class to ask hatsume to fix his shit. he flings the door open and his eyes search and search for hatsume.

instead he sees you. a girl with a long braid and in a welding mask.

“where the hell is hatsume?” he grumbles. you look over to him, lift the mask up and give him a gentle smile that made him weak in the knees.

“im sorry, what was that you said?” as you tilt your head to the side, your eyes so wide he swore he could see his own reflection in them.

his throat runs try, he clears it and replies, “where’s that pink-headed freak?” he says much more clearly.

you chuckle and turn to look at the clock behind you. “her and maijime-sensei went to go showcase some of her support items. she has to go big since this is her last year here at u-a. they should be back around 3.”

“so then who are you?” he blurts and immediately regrets it but you let out a hearty laugh and his nerves ease.

“dont you know? why im only hatsumes protege.” you say wiggling your eyebrows. he lifts a brow and then rolls his eyes and you can’t help the smile on your face.

what an odd girl he thinks and shakes his head.

“did you need something?” you query tilting your head to the side.

he needed you to stop looking at him with those damn puppy eyes or else he’d be nothing more than a puddle soon.

he sighs and places his gauntlets in front of you. “shitty tamaki ruined the damn things.” he says as he rubs his temples. you nod at him and inspect the damage.

the way your thick brows furrow and plush pink lips turn down in a frown has his stomach doing somersaults.

“yeah these things are done for, i’m gonna have to make a new pair. i can’t believe you guys smashed industrial grade steel.” you chuckle as you grab a pad of paper and begin sketching the new design of his gauntlets.

he watches you scribble on the piece of paper over your shoulder, uncharacteristically quiet, awestruck by the way your face contorts in different expressions as your brain process things.

he was also quite confused at the fact of how he had never seen you before. surely he had to have seen you at one point. after all you were in the support class and there had only been a handful of teenagers in said class. he never saw you in the hallways either, nor cafeteria, so how the hell have you managed to sneak by all this time? bakugo was no good at names but he sure can remember a face after seeing it once, but he could not recall yours.

“so, the ones i just drew are a little different from your old ones. first, these ones are the same metal but a lot thicker, id like to see how these hold up about a month from now if you don’t mind. i also got rid of the handles because let’s be honest, those were just for decoration, there really was no need for those, they were just a hinderance. i also-“

yada yada yada was all that bakugo heard. he was absolutely enamored by you. the way you’d nibble your glossy lips while concentrating, the way your nose would scrunch when you changed your mind, the way your beautiful hair framed your face perfectly. gosh were you a sight to see.

“so whaddya think about that?” you smile at him catching him off guard.

he stumbles and straightens up. “um yeah that sounds good or whatever. whatever it takes to beat that damn food eating freak.” you laugh and nod, telling bakugo he can be on his way now.

he couldn’t wait to pick up his gauntlets when they were ready. only because he needed the damn things, certainly not because he wanted to see you again.

[valeskawhore]

“Patients; 07 and 08.”

Written and edited by: @valeskawhore

Word(s): 3.k

Characters/parings: Jerome Valeska x Female! Psychiatrist reader! X Jeremiah Valeska

PART 1

Warning(s): profanity, brothers being creepy, mentions of murder, obsession, yandere tendencies.

Summary: Jeremiah and Jerome landed themselves in Arkham, together. A special grade psychiatrist gets assigned to both of them but either of them know about it at first. The brothers end up falling deeply in love (In obsession) with the psychiatrist reader. They feel a connection with her, alive almost. but what happens when they find out about each other? More importantly, when y/n suddenly gets transferred to a new facility somewhere on the mainland AWAY from Gotham?

———-

“So Jerome,” I leaned forward over my desk, rolling the pen between the pads of my finger tips.. “How did you feel when Jeremiah fed your mother all those lies?” I asked calmly.

His face contracted into a murderous glare. He shifted in his seat, arms bound by the straight jacket he was wearing. “Well, ya see doc,” He grumbled,

“I wanted to kill the little four-eyed bitch.”

My words choked in my throat and halted to a stop by the look on his face. So serious, the most serious I had ever seen Jerome.

I cleared my throat, taking a breath. “I see,” I nodded slightly, giving a small smile.

I picked up my notepad and began to update everything from our session. Jerome watched me with disappointed eyes. He sighed, “Is it that time already? ”

Jerome always seemed to hate whenever our sessions would come to an end, he enjoyed them so much. Finally getting time alone, and actually having a decent conversation with someone who hasn't eaten, stabbed, or killed someone else.

He felt normal, accepted.

“Yes Jerome. Unfortunately, our time has come to an end.” You frowned, flipping your notepad closed and setting it back on your desk. He was such a different person behind closed doors, they both were, It was such a shame that they grew up with the life-style they did.

“Of course it is.” He sighed, sitting up in his seat, “Everytime we get to the good part too.”

“Well if this subject is something you want to put a pin in, we can definitely pick it back up during tomorrow's session?” you offered, “Really?” He popped up, a hopeful glint swirled in his eyes.

“Yes, of course, Jerome,” I smiled, discreetly reaching down to hit the button under my desktop. “We will pick this back up tomorrow.”

Within seconds, correctional officers swarmed the area and carried Jerome out by his straight jacket. He didn’t fight them, instead he looked behind him and gave you a small wink, flashing a cut smile. He was very much looking forward to tomorrow.

Once Jerome was out of the room, I sighed, stamping my documents and pulling them into a stack. I picked myself up from my desk and exited the room, grabbing my keycard and ID on the way out.

My heels clicking against the cemented tiled floor echoed through the building as I walked. Finally coming close to reaching my destination at the front office, I took a sharp turn left, bumping into a fragile figure. They barely caught themselves from the contact, almost falling over as well. The Files slipped out of my hands. They burst open on the ground everywhere, papers flying, and documents torn.

I apologize over a thousand times, not even taking a look at the figure in front of me. I hadn’t realized who they were until I heard a familiar gasp and saw blurs of black and white of a prisoner's uniform bending down to help me as much as they could.“I-im so sorry- Miss y/n! I-i-i- didn't mean it! I promised.” Oswald sputtered, his hands frantically picking up as much paper as he possibly could. Not even caring what folder he shoved it into, he was trying to help anyways.

Once we had them all back safely in my grasp, Oswald apologized again. The officers who were apparently escorting him to the cafeteria, shoved him forwards, mumbling out curses. I frowned at this, but quickly covered up to give him one last wave before being forced forwards.

Yes. I understand these are criminal masterminds who probably deserved to be executed instead of thrown in Arkham, but for the ones who are actually making an effort to put behind all their differences, officers could at least be more considerate.

As a special class psychiatrist like myself, it is my job to help open up a person mentally and It is my job to help someone work through their trauma. Some people genuinely cannot help what they’ve become, for some folks, it’s really not their fault.

I can’t stand close-minded people, they have no place in this world.

I sighed, adjusting my glasses up the bridge of my nose and turning back on my heel.

I needed to get these papers signed so I could continue with my next patient.

—----

“Miss Y/n,” My radio buzzed, I shifted in my seat, reaching for the device and putting it close to my lips. “Speaking.” I answered. “Jeremiah is here to see you ma’am, he’s ready.”

“Yes, of course,” I smiled. “Send him in.”

Jeremiah smirked at me, entering the room with grace. He directed his way towards one of the love seats, his arms bound to the straight jacket just like his brothers were, I waved the guards off.

“Coffee?” I gestured to the steaming mug sitting next to his loveseat on the small glass table. I always left a mug there for him. He appreciated the caffeine since- well, he couldn't get any here. “Of course,” He smiled, “Would you be so kind as to..?” He gestured to his straight jacket.

“Yes.” I laughed light heartedly, reaching down to my secret drawer and pulling out a ring of keys I definitely was NOT supposed to have. I walked over to Jeremiah and searched for the keys to his jacket on the ring. Once I found it, I unlocked each individual bolt on his jacket.

He shrugged the jacket off with a huff of approval and reached for his coffee, taking a sip with a groan. “Jesus, this is exactly what I needed today.” I arched an eyebrow. He smiled, gesturing to the mug, “Caffeine, it's been a rough morning..”

“Do elaborate Miah, It’s what I'm here for after all.” I leaned back in my chair, my eyes trained on his.

He smiled.

<3333

Should I make a part two? Lemme know in the comments!!!

[parvulous-writings]

Soot // Liu Kang X Reader

Request:    Tumblr seems to know I'm on a Mortal Kombat kick and showed me some of your work for it. They're wonderful!I was hoping you could indulge a bit? How about Liu Kang with the prompt, "Shh, stop fussing. I like how your hair feels when you wash it."Poor boy in the movie looks like his hair is constantly being singed and washed with soot.

Requested by: ​@rhyske

Summary:  Some fluffy Liu Kang, using the prompt  "Shh, stop fussing. I like how your hair feels when you wash it."

Warnings: none

Words: 1.4K

Notes: Am I on a Mortal Kombat rampage? Yes.  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

A day’s training was always a grind.  It wasn’t that you truly lacked motivation, or the energy to train alongside him, it was just so repetitive. Day in, day out, the same motions, occasionally with a different training partner. Even with Liu Kang, your favourite sparring partner, sessions seemed to drag on for much longer than they actually did. You didn’t know what it was, but Liu let you leave the fight pit around mid morning, much earlier than usual.  “I can see your restlessness.” He told you, “Perhaps you  need a change of routine?” He suggested, and who were you to argue? He was most likely right, and you knew it. “I have a few things to do myself, today,” He told you, “So spend your free time as you wish.” He gave a brief, respectful bow, before striding off down a hallway and out of sight. What he could possibly need to do besides his rarely uncompleted chores was beyond you; he had always completed his chores long before everyone else had gotten up, he worked like clockwork. He was up at least two hours before dawn, just to make sure that he had enough time to finish off his allotted chores. It never changed. You tried not to think too much on what he could be doing, and instead tried to focus on clearing your mind, on something other than daily life in the temple. 

You went to sit on one of the high balconies of the temple, your eyes scanning over the horizon, it’s greenery and it’s barrenness. It was almost amusing, how diametrically opposed the horizon seemed to be, how conflicting it was. It showed how fickle the world could be- in it’s natural state, as well as it’s man-made counterpart. But the man-made portion could be brushed off, easily explained away; whilst the natural confliction... That was harder to explain, and there was beauty in that. It comforted and relaxed you, lulling you into a state of peace. Your eyes drift closed as your muscles find more relaxation than they had in a long time, even during late, peaceful nights. You don’t know how many hours it had been when you finally come to again. All you could tell is that it has been a fair while- the sun only just peaked through the clouds and the mountains in the distance, painting what you could see of the sky marvelous shades of rose, and merigold. Though you were momentarily transfixed by the beautiful sight, you forced yourself to push away from where you had ended up nesting, taking a moment to regain your footing; you made sure that you didn’t fall over when your head spun slightly by placing a palm against the wall, perhaps it was not such a good idea to rise from your resting place so suddenly. 

You start to wind your way through the endless corridors of Raiden’s temple, trekking your way through the structure until you arrived at the communal dining area. Not a cafeteria or canteen in the Western sense, but a large room where all the inhabitants of the temple could eat with their cohorts and companions during mealtimes. It was often used as a meeting place for more trivial matters amongst the monks, as well, as it was a landmark in some sense of the word. Only one other person occupied the space at the current time, and you sure didn’t mind his company. It was, of course, none other than Liu Kang. You slide into the seat next to him after grabbing yourself a few, dry snacks, leaving ample space between you both so that you didn’t intrude on his personal boundaries, you were aware of how highly he valued them outside of the fight pit and other training areas. He glanced to you, giving a subtle nod, and a tiny smile. You didn’t need words to greet each other, and you hadn’t done for a long time. There was something different about him, though. You couldn’t quite place it at first, but then it struck you. The side of his face and just under his his nose, frequent contact points of his face, were clean, not clad with specks of soot as they normally were. You looked a bit closer, and saw that his hair- usually clumped together, bound by soot and other fire-based grime- was back in it’s natural, clean state, a few individual strands flowing free in the gentle breeze from a few open-arch windows just behind the pair of you. You start to smile lightly, you always felt your heart beat just that little bit faster when you saw he was taking even a few minutes to look after himself rather than anyone else. He was such a selfless soul, to the point where he often neglected himself. You shuffle a little bit closer to him, which he didn’t mind- he thought you were trying to get warm, as you often did when you sat next to him, whether you were aware of it or not. Your hand starts to snake up over his shoulder to the raven hued strands, and Liu doesn’t notice at first. It isn’t until you carefully tugged at his hair that it got his attention. 

His eyes move to you, and he isn’t sure whether to move away from you or not. “What... What are you doing?” He questioned, his voice not much more than a whisper. His furrowed brows conveys his confusion, and it was a rather adorable look on him. He started to move his hand to take your wrist, his prayer beads clacking quietly, “(Y/N)?” He asked when he got no response from you, and you carefully bat his hand away.  "Shh, stop fussing. I like how your hair feels when you wash it." You tell him, and he seems genuinely surprised by the news.  “You do?” Liu pauses briefly, lowering his hand, placing it back down on the table, by his bowl of soup. “You noticed?” He asked, tilting his head ever so slightly as he spoke.  “Of course I noticed!” You laugh gently, shaking your head at him a little bit. Your hand moved higher into his hair after his silent nod of consent, and you smile slightly as the pads of your fingers massaged his scalp. “You’re usually covered head to toe in soot...” You tease, causing him to smile along with you.  “The drawbacks of a fire arcana...” He mused, sighing contentedly as you run your fingers through his hair. It’s a heavenly feeling for him, your touch is perhaps the only one he is accustomed to in this intimate way. 

“Perhaps you should wash it more often.” You suggested playfully to him, and he chuckles in amusement. He turns his head ever so slightly, so that he could look at you and still have your hand in his hair.  “I hardly think that there’s time for that.” He said to you, half serious about the statement.  “Of course there is.” You tell him, still smiling warmly. “If not... You can get up just a little bit earlier to do it every other day.” You teased him, pulling your hand away from his scalp as you spoke, so you could nudge his shoulder gently. He nudged you back, though it was considerably weaker than your initial bump.  “Perhaps...” He mused, mentally entertaining the idea for a brief moment.  “If not... I can always do it for you in the evening.” You offered, shrugging lightly as he gave you a look as if to say ‘are you sure?’

You sat quietly together for a moment, both of your hands moving into his hair as he shuffled round to lay across your lap, wanting to make the most of the moment and the feeling of you being so sweet to him. His eyes start to close as his muscles lose most of their tension, his breathing becoming even and the epitome of calm. For a moment, you could have sworn he had fallen asleep there- not that you would have minded all that much. “Liu?” Your whisper broke the comfortable sheen of silence that had fallen over the pair of you. He hummed quietly in response, his eyes not opening, and he felt too relaxed to reply verbally just yet. “Should we get back to training, soon?” You asked him, and he sighs quietly.  “Alright... But let us just have a little while longer like this.” He tells you, patting your thigh gently. You smile down at his peaceful expression, and though you didn’t want to disturb him, you knew you would get in trouble with Lord Raiden if you slacked off for too long.  “Okay... Five more minutes?” You suggested to him, and he nods slightly in reply. “Five more minutes.” He confirms.

[sergeantsporks]

Day After Day

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Life in the coven seems glamorous on the surface, but there's a lot of work in being a coven leader. Hunter can handle it. He CAN.

Ao3

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter blinked blearily at the tiny demon determinedly chomping his arm. He flicked its eye to get it to stop and peeled it off, tossing it to his counter. He rubbed his eyes, lying in bed for just a second—just one more minute.

Okay. That was enough. It was time to get up.

He needed to get up.

Up, or you’re late, and Kikimora will notice, and Belos will notice, and the whole coven will notice.

Technically, he was up an hour earlier than he had to be. Technically, he wasn’t even close to being late, because the rest of the coven wouldn’t even begin to get up for another hour.

Get up.

Hunter rolled off of his bed, flipping on the lights, because the sun hadn’t risen yet. His alarm demon had gone back to sleep.

Wish that were me.

Tunic, on, armor, on, cloak, on, pinned with the symbol of the emperor’s coven. Shoulder pad, on. Hunter picked up his mask, and a sick feeling swept over him.

I don’t want to put it on. I’m so sick of it. I just want to leave it off and breathe without it tasting like metal.

No. It kept him safe. It was protection from the outside world. He needed it.

Mask on. Hood up.

Down to the mess hall. No one else was up, and that included the chef demons—they’d wake up in about half an hour to start cooking breakfast for the coven scouts and guards. Hunter turned on the lights. Half an hour to cook something up, eat, clean, put everything back.

He set on a kettle, grabbing a mug and a tea ball. Too tired to make breakfast. He usually was. So, tea it was, and he’d get lunch with the rest of the coven—no avoiding that.

The kettle whistled, and Hunter poured the water. Wait awkwardly for the tea to steep. Pour the rest of the water out of the kettle, return it to its place, wipe off the counter where the mug had been to avoid spillage, take tea to cafeteria.

Just like every other day.

Titan.

Sit alone at the table, his mask pulled up just enough that he could fit the mug under, sipping tea that was just a little too hot and a little too bitter.

Good, it would wake him up.

Just like every other morning.

Finish the tea. Ten minutes until the kitchen staff showed up. Wipe off table, clean mug, return it to cabinet. Turn off lights. It was like he’d never been there.

Go to the center office and check for the night patrol reports. There were 2, one for each shift. Both were a quick read and a quick file. Nothing eventful.

The coven was starting to stir, a few early risers up and about. They gave respectful nods to him as he passed them in the hallway, and he gave them acknowledgement nods back.

Wish I had time for a nap.

But it was just about time for him to designate the day’s patrols, and after that he had guard duty in the Emperor’s throne room for matters of state, and then it would be time for lunch, and then the first round of reports would be in, and he’d have to read those, and then he’d have his own patrol, and then it would be time for his daily exercise routine and then it would be dinner time, and then finally he’d have just a little bit of time to himself, but at that point it would be too late to take a nap, because that would mean he wouldn’t fall asleep later, and anyway, he’d need to be awake to read and file the last set of reports before the night shift, and then it would be time to do a sweep of the castle before everything settled down and then it would be time to go to sleep so that he could get an adequate amount of rest for tomorrow.

Obviously he didn’t have any time to take a nap right now.

And the day progressed exactly as he knew it would. Organize the scouts, guard the emperor, lunch, reports, patrol (nothing eventful), training, dinner. And then he was in his room, and he could finally take off the mask completely and breathe freely.

Hunter flipped the cover of a book back and forth. Opened it up to the page he’d left out on. Sighed. Set it aside. Picked up a different book. Set it down. Picked up his staff, starting to polish it, then setting that aside, too. Picked up the first book again, and stared at the page he’d been on for a few minutes without reading it. Closed it again.

He really just wanted to go to sleep. But he couldn’t, or he wouldn’t sleep tonight.

You like reading. Just read a book. It’ll make you happy.

He picked up the book, flipping the cover back and forth again, staring at the page.

He just couldn’t summon the willpower to actually read it.

You’ve been looking forward to it all day, what’s wrong with you? You like to read, just read the book!

I just don’t have the energy.

And then it was time to look at the patrol reports. Mask back on, trudge back to the office.

See, you didn’t really have the time to read anyway.

Hunter flipped through reports without reading them, putting his head down on the desk.

I’m too tired for this.

I should have taken that nap.

He flicked himself in the head. “Focus, you need to get this done. You said you’d get it done, you came down here to do it, no getting distracted, just do it.”

One of the reports contained a demon sighting, a real nasty large one.

Huh. He’d have to make sure the patrols to that area were briefed on the possible danger, maybe assign larger patrols. He felt sick just thinking about rearranging the size, changing the routine of the coven—it was a lot of work.

Sounds like a tomorrow problem.

Yes. It was too late to worry about it now—there was nothing he could do at the moment, he’d just have to figure out the change tomorrow, when he assigned patrols.

Nightly inspection.

Nothing wrong. Everything in order. No problems.

Hunter unpinned his cape, hanging it up neatly. Tunic left for laundry, armor and belt hung up with cape. Helmet on the bedside table.

Teeth brushed, face washed, all in order.

Hunter was asleep when his head hit the pillow.

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter didn’t for a minute, until the biting of the alarm demon got too painful to ignore. He flicked it away.

Titan. Just. Let me lie here for a second.

No. You put off redesigning those patrols, so you have to get an extra early start, now get up.

Uniform.

Tea.

Night shift reports—a little faster than usual, mostly skimming. No sighting of that demon.

Figure out those patrols.

Hunter thumped his head against the desk repeatedly.

Figure out the patrols.

Come on, stupid brain, focus.

Okay. He could make the patrols not going through the area with the sighting a bit smaller—there hadn’t been any incidents in those sectors, so they didn’t need a full patrol. And then he could just add those extra people to the patrols going through the hot spot, warn all patrols to be on the lookout, and… the new patrols needed to be particularly well-balanced, with a mix of defense and offense. So he couldn’t just shift patrol members from one side to another, he had to redesign the entire schedule to make the best teams.

Should have looked at this last night.

Well, you didn’t, because you never learn this lesson, now redesign the patrols.

He was late out of the office to see the early risers, hurrying to the briefing room where he explained the situation, handed out the new assignments, warned the scouts to be on their guard and to call for backup if necessary, then hurried off to the throne room.

This was the closest thing he got to a break until after dinner. Sure, he had to stand ramrod straight and hold still unless it was necessary to move, but at least he didn’t have to think, at least not the way he had to when he was designing patrols. He just had to be alert.

Lunch.

Reports.

Patrol was nice. He finally got to be alone, no one looking for direction or asking him to do something.

Lilith had never done patrols when she was coven head—but then, she’d had her special assignment of capturing the owl lady.

Oh. Oh, right, Lilith had also had to organize Covention, which would… now be his job. He should probably get on that—except he didn’t really have the time to organize Covention, because he only barely had enough time to get the DAILY things done, he didn’t have time for a major project like Covention!

Whatever. Whatever, he’d just have to get ahead on some patrol schedules, and then he’d have the time. It would be fine, he just had to work a little harder now, and start planning early. He could use some of his free time, it wasn’t like he was managing to do anything he actually wanted to do anyway.

Hunter finished the patrol—nothing to report, nothing of note.

Training.

Dinner—he just grabbed some food from the mess hall and headed up to his room, scarfing down a piece of bread while he planned the next week’s worth of patrols.

He could skip the nightly check tonight—it technically wasn’t one of his official duties, it just made him feel safer. But tonight he was too busy, he lost track of time looking at old covention shows and speeches.

Hunter rubbed his eyes with a yawn, clearing away his plate. Time… time to go to sleep.

Titan.

Alarm. Shut it off.

I don’t want to.

Get up. Get up, get up, get up.

Hunter ripped the alarm demon off of his arm with a groan, sitting up and scattering old covention records. Titan.

He stacked the papers neatly.

Mask on.

Tea.

Reports.

The patrol reports he’d missed from yesterday marked another demon sighting—and there were a few citizen reports, too, the creature was destroying local shops. Not just a watch anymore, then—he needed to put a price on its head, which meant he needed to take a look at the coven budget.

Later problem.

Shift assignments.

Emperor’s guard.

Titan. Was this it? Doing this for the rest of his life? Was that what he wanted?

Of course it was. Of course it was, of course it was. This was a bright future—looked up to, in command of the most powerful coven, right hand man to his uncle. So what if it got a little monotonous, a little stressful? There were plenty of people who would kill to be in his position.

Public time over. The throne room doors closed. “Golden Guard. It has come to my attention that we have a bit of a demon problem.”

Hunter inclined his head. “Yes, sir. I’ve increased patrol size, and was planning to put out a reward for its capture or destruction.”

“I would prefer if you oversaw this one personally.”

“Personally?” Whoops—he hadn’t meant for that to come out questioning.

“Personally. I know you have a lot on your plate, managing the coven. But I’m certain you can handle this as well, yes?”

Yes, he could handle it. Of course he could handle it, it just meant shifting priorities, and taking up the time he’d set aside for planning covention, and maybe getting behind on the reports for a couple of days while he solved this problem. He could handle it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. You don’t have to. You could outsource the job to scouts, or put that reward up.

But Emperor Belos wanted him to do it, and Emperor Belos believed he could do it—which he could, no problem—so of course he would, because he couldn’t disappoint the emperor, no matter how much he wished he could just have one focus.

“Of course, Emperor Belos. You can rely on me.”

Okay, okay, okay, he just had to find and kill this thing quick. He skipped lunch, re-reading the reports of the demon. It always appeared in the same spot at around the same time—luckily during his report-reading time, not in the time he would be in the throne room. Simple, easy, go to spot, kill monster, get on with life.

Hunter took a deep breath. Okay. He’d just go with the patrol tomorrow. No big deal.

Patrol, reading a few more reports as roamed his set area.

You wished for something new to break up the monotony, he scolded himself, tucking reports away on his way back.

Training—nope, he was too tired. Not today. He was hungry, too, but mostly he was just. Exhausted. He kept himself together long enough to get to his room, then passed out on his bed.

What time is it?

Hunter blinked blearily at the setting sun outside—past dinner, then. That was fine, he was fine. He’d gotten sleep, and that was what really mattered.

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter peeled himself off of his bed with a groan. He didn’t remember falling asleep again.

Maybe I should leave the demon hunt for tomorrow.

No. Nope. He’d put it off long enough, waiting for its normal appearance time instead of tracking it down. He just needed to grit his teeth and get it done.

So after his time guarding the emperor, he went out with the next patrol. And then, there it was, a giant cat-like creature with bat wings and the tail of a scorpion. The rest of the patrol assumed defensive positions, and Hunter zipped forward, shooting bolts of magic at the creature. It yowled, swiping a paw at him. Hunter just barely dodged it—his mind was fuzzy, slow. Maybe he should have made an effort to eat something this morning. Another blast of magic—but that just seemed to be irritating it. Hunter zipped to the side, hitting a tree with his magic instead. It crashed down on top of the demon, pinning it, and he came in for a closer look. Where was its weak—

Hunter rolled to the side as its tail stabbed down towards him. It grazed his leg, and hot pain flooded from the wound.

Too slow, too slow, too slow.

Wait—

Hunter dodged the next tail strike, then slammed his staff against the creature’s tail, using a burst of magic to send the tip of the tail into the creature’s eye. It howled, thrashing.

The scouts jogged up, binding the demon. Some help they’d been—no wonder this thing had been terrorizing people. “Sir! Are you alright?”

Hunter waved them away. “Fine. Just a scratch. Can you handle this?”

“Sir!”

“Good.”

Hunter climbed onto his staff, warping away. Ow—that stung. It was just a scratch, but the creature’s venom made the whole thing throb and itch. He didn’t think it was deadly—none of its attacks on citizens had been fatal, and even stabbing itself in the eye hadn’t killed it. But it sure did hurt.

It’s fine, it’s fine.

Back to the coven. Wrap up the leg, sew up the rip in his pant leg, slap a healing patch on to stop the pain so he could carry through the rest of the day.

Finally eat a meal—but not scarf it down like he wanted to, because other coven members were there, so slow and dignified it was.

Those reports were piling up—I’ll do them later.

Pass out, barely managing to hang up his uniform.

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter didn’t move, just staring up at the ceiling, his leg throbbing and pulsing.

Come on. You can do it. Just like every other day. Just… get up.

Just five more minutes. Five more minutes, and then we’ll get up.

No. You have to catch up on all of those reports—because if you can’t get the reports done, you won’t even be caught up to today, and it will just pile up, and you won’t be able to do Covention plans.

Hunter pulled the alarm demon off.

You can do it.

No one will notice if you’re struggling as long as you continue to succeed.

One day at a time.

[echo-hiraeth]

Vanity - Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader

Summary: Part of the Ikea series. Being a Statesman means that Jack has traveled a bunch, and during one of his particular trips he picks up on an idea to modify your own shared bedroom.

Warnings: cussing, spice, nsfw stuff, just 18+

Masterlist

As he stood there, slightly panting and rolling his whip back up, Jack smiled to himself. Knowing he had a missus to come home to nowadays made it all the more exciting. Jack hadn’t thought himself to be lucky enough to meet someone ever again but yet he met you. The two of you had been dating for about three years now and Jack had popped the big question a couple weeks ago, right before he left for his next mission. That mission had come to an end today and the poor ole’ cowboy couldn’t way to have you in his arms again.

“Holy shit”, Tequila panted as he walked into the bedroom.

Jack grinned as he followed the young man’s gaze, which was trained on the ceiling, more precisely what was on the ceiling. “Imma need me one of those.”

“You think your lady would be okay with you looking at yourself all the time?”, the younger Statesman taunted.

“Oh imma be looking at her boy.”

Jack knew your working hours by heart and was aware of the fact that he’d be home before you. So when he finally arrived back in town,he headed to the nearest furniture store, the “big blue and yellow one” as he liked to call it. He spent a good hour trying to find the perfect mirrors and another good hour in the cafeteria. He even picked up some of those smell-candle thingies you loved so much.

Once home he headed straight to the bedroom, but not before picking up the tool-belt you’d gifted him for Christmas last year. He knew how much you liked that thing and had every intention of driving you crazy as soon as you set foot through that door. He had a little less than two hours left before you’d come home so he had to make it quick. 

Being the stubborn man that he was, Jack had set his mind on doing this all by himself. A decision which he soon regretted, his neck absolutely straining at the angle with which he stared at the ceiling, slowly drilling some holes. There was also the aspect of gravity, you know, heavy mirror on a ceiling, it wasn’t the easiest job, but he eventually managed with about half an hour to spare.

He used that half hour to freshen up, poor out some drinks and light those candles. Just as he placed the bottle of champagne back in the fridge, he heard your key turning in the lock. You didn’t even notice him at first, earbuds pressed in your ears and shoulders slumped in exhaustion. But as soon as you yanked the darn things out of your ears you were met with a husky “welcome home sugar”.

You ran up to him, launching yourself into his arms, exhaustion gone within seconds. He stumbled back a little bit, your enthusiasm having a bigger impact than you’d anticipated. He smiled down at you before pressing his lips to yours, expressing his need for you in a hungry kiss.

“I missed you so much”, you whimpered against his lips, hands clinging to the collar of his shirt.

He moved his hands to the curve of your hips, lifting you off the ground and pressing you to his body. “Let me make it up to you, doll.”

The trip to the bedroom was one full of needy, woeful sighs and lingering touches. And in between whispered words of adoration and longing he found himself bumping into the bed, softly setting you down. You move back on the bed, propping yourself up against the decorative pillows as you fiancé unbuttons his shirt. He soon crawled back on top of you, and that’s when you saw it - yourself, well a reflection of. As he kissed down your neck, sucking and biting, you quirked a brow at yourself in the mirror.

“Honey”, he stopped his movements, looking up at you with a tinge of concern, “what the hell did you do to the ceiling?”

He huffed out a hot breath, flipping the both of you over to where you were straddling his hips. “I want to see you”, he purred.

You would be lying if you said that didn’t turn you on. He lifted your shirt over your head, revealing a more than gorgeous, lacy bralette. Jack let out a guttural groan as he cupped your soft breasts through the arousing material. You put your hands over his as you let out a sweet moan. He proceeded to bring your left hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the ring, it was an intimate gesture, and his tongue swirling around the band drove you absolutely insane. You lunged forwards, pinning both of his hands down beside his head. 

“Agent Whiskey, shouldn’t you consult your wife before making such rash decisions?”, you tutted, moving your hips just the slightest bit.

His lips quirked up in a teasing grin as he looked at you, slowly and lowly saying: “I’m sure she’d approve.. but a fiancée..”

You hummed a bit as you trailed the tips of your fingers down his chest. “Guess you’ll have to convince her then, cowboy.”

He didn’t need to hear you say it twice, quickly wrapping his arms around you once again as he rolled you over. You groaned as your back hit the mattress, his hot mouth locking onto your breasts almost immediately. Somewhere along the way he’s managed to unclasp the back of it, allowing him to drag the piece of lace down even further, granting him full, unapologetic access to your chest. 

"I want you to see how gorgeous you look when I play with that pretty little pussy of yours", he grumbled, ripping your panties off of you.

You let out a whine at this, hands tangling in his slicked back hair, roughing it up. "Please baby.. touch me", you begged, numb with anticipation.

He dipped a set of fingers into your mouth, which you obediently licked and sucked on, then he proceeded to retract them, only to let them work their magic on your heat.

When the pad of his thumb brushed against your clit you nearly screamed. The teasing and lack of touching made you more sensitive than you'd ever been. He muffled your moans and mewls by dipping his tongue into your mouth.

You bit down on his bottom lip as he slipped the two fingers inside of you, hands moving to his bare back. As he expertly curled and twisted his fingers you scratched away at the skin between his shoulder blades. You had to admit that looking up and seeing the writing mess that you were has something ecstatic about it. You could feel Jack grinning against the skin of your neck as he softly nipped you there, taunting you. Even his movements inside of you were teasing, the slow pace absolutely torturous.

But there was only so much you could take before pushing him away and crawling on top of him. Your fingers worked frantically on his belt, the urgency to have him inside you, pulsing and stretching the only thing on your mind. You didn't even bother to discard the jeans he was wearing, you just dragged them down his thighs, enough for you to pull his hardened cock out of his briefs.

"My beautiful girl", Jack croaked out as he caressed the underside of your left breast.

The affirmation made you even more eager and soon you lowered yourself onto him in a beautiful symphony of moans and praises. The familiar feeling of his member stretching you lower half out was much needed and you didn’t even realise how much you missed it until that very moment.

His head was thrown back against the pillow gaze trained on the ceiling as he watched you rock your hips back and forth. Just the sight alone would be enough to cum, well that and the lack of sex due to his mission. He roughly started circling your clit, making you moan out his name as you held on to your own breasts.

The way your mouth hung open and eyes were screwed shot was fucking hot and he couldn’t help himself when he started bucking his hips, meeting yours with each new thrust.

“Fuck baby, I’m close”, he panted.

You braced your hands on his chest as you kissed his swollen lips. “Me too.”

It was then, in the height of his pleasure as he released within you, that Jack noticed something, something was off. Within mere seconds he rolled the two of you off the bed, bracing you with his body as the mirror fell from the ceiling, shattering apart on the bed.

You let out a yelp of surprise as your backside hit the wooden floors with a painful thud. With his cock still sheathed within your warmth Jack looked over to check for injuries. When he noticed you were fine he gave a small chuckle.

“I don’t think my lady would approve of this.”

It was safe to say that ceiling mirrors were a no-go from there on out. And the four holes in the ceiling were filled up the next day, which gave you a perfect excuse to finally paint the room a new colour. It was a win-win, Jack got to fulfill his visual fantasies and you finally got rid of the boring brown colour in the bedroom.

[professional-dikut]

ooh ooh a request? tech/crosshair, crosshair being supportive of tech's interest tangents and making sure he takes care of himself when he gets too invested and distracted with work? idk how to write requests lol. ps. i read your latest echo/cross one and it was freaking amazing wow so fluff much angst yes comfort :)))

Ahhhh so sorry this took so long! I love this idea sm and i had many plans for this req so i hope you enjoy! (Fic under cut⬇️)

Word Count: 2673

TW: minor bad eating habits?

"Ouch!"

Crosshair snapped his eyes up towards a muffled hiss from Tech.

The man was sitting at his small work table, shaking his right hand around as sparks began to die down on a small bundle of wires in front of him. He had a stylus between his teeth and there was a tiny pair of pliers in his left hand. His leg bounced and his eyes darted back and fourth between the flimsy next to him and the bundle of wires.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow and swung his legs off his bunk to rest his feet on the ground.

Tech grumbled some incoherent curses before snatching the stylus out of his mouth and jamming down a few messy scribbles onto the flimsy.

Hunter had randomly decided to head down to the training facilities for a few hours, and Wrecker and Echo were in the cafeteria having some late night snacks. Crosshair had grabbed a snack on the way back from their simulator course earlier, though he hadnt eaten since lunch. So He and Tech were left in the barracks to do their own thing for a while until they decided to sleep.

Slowly, he pulled a leg up to his chest as he watched Tech move.

His hands flew across the pieces and parts that only he understood. His eyebrows were furrowed in the way they always were when he was deep in thought, and his eyes were zeroed in on what was in front of him and nothing else. His leg continued to bounce up and down while he twirled the stylus in his hand.

Crosshair smirked.

He stood up, quietly, and began to make his way around and over to Tech's table.

Tech muttered something and scribbled down some more notes, readjusting the bundle of wires.

The sniper slowly pulled a stool around to sit across from Tech, making as little noise as possible.

Tech didnt look up. His eyes stayed narrowed on his project, hyper focused on the goal in front of him. He picked at a few of the wires with the pliers, before twisting some together into a pattern.

Crosshair watched and got comfortable in the stool, crossing his arms and resting a leg on one of the bars around the middle of it.

Still twisting and pulling the wires into a weird pattern, Tech glanced aside to look at a black panel with some buttons and screens on it. He looked back and fourth between the wires he was still messing with, and the panel, as if he was deciding which one he should focus on. The wires were starting to look less jumbled as he wove them together, and he chewed his lip before switching to only one hand on the wires.

Crosshair's eyes widened, watching as Tech worked the wires with one hand, as the other fiddled with the panel.

His right hand moved—somehow—still weaving the wires together in a perfect pattern. It was slower than both hands, of course, but it seemed to be working and he hadn't messed up yet. Crosshair watched with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

The panel had lit up at some point and was blinking in a few spots. Tech put a small screwdriver between his teeth as he tapped at the panel. Every few seconds, he'd grab the screwdriver and poke around the buttons, causing tiny colorful sparks that reflected in his goggles.

Eventually, the wires came together into one part, and Tech pinned the ends together with small ties. Pulling the panel towards him, he flipped it over and set the wires aside as he opened a small flap in the back of the panel.

He poked around in the small flap a bit with the screwdriver before grabbing the wires again.

Crosshair watched while Techs eyes narrowed and squinted at the wires, as he slowly placed them into the panel. Sparks jumped around his fingers as he attached the wires from the top and bottom, allowing them to sear together by them selves. Every few minutes a hand would fly up to readjust his goggles.

Shaking his head, Crosshair tried to suppress a grin as Tech finished up his project, swatting sparks away here and there.

"What is it?" Crosshair asked quietly, finding an opening where Tech wasnt as focused.

He waited a minute or two as Tech caught up to the question while putting things back together and into their original places.

"It is..." Tech mumbled, stuffing screws and tools into small containers and pouches.

Crosshair watched, waiting with patience as Tech finally gave a satisfied sigh.

"A power calibrator that I constructed to connect into the rear nose cannons." Tech began to say all at once. Crosshair listened intently. "It will allow more power to be transferred to the shields while the rear cannon is being fired, so that way we can do both at once without losing one mid-battle."

Crosshair squinted. It was actually genius. Half the time during missions, their shields would fail while firing the rear cannons due to the power usage. Though they had more power in the firing, the Marauder almost always got a pretty good beating if they used the cannons for to long.

"What wires did you use?" Crosshair asked, scooting his stool closer the table so that he could rest an arm in it.

"Twinaxial cables, acutally." Tech said spinning around in his own stool to toss something onto his bunk. "They're a variant of the coaxial cables, and have more than one conductor. They are good for short-range and high-speed power signals so they'll work well for what I'm using them for."

Crosshair nodded. He knew most of what Tech was talking about, and tried to understand what he didn't. Tech would usually explain if he was confused, but at the moment, he was pretty educated on what he was talking about.

"Great idea, Tech." Crosshair praised. Now that he had a quick opening, he could do their little routine that they always went through around these times.

"What did you have for lunch?"

Tech shut a drawer and froze.

Slowly, he turned in his stool to face the sniper with a look of deep thought on his face. He furrowed his eyebrows and rested his hand on his chin as Crosshair waited. Slowly, Tech conjured up an answer.

"It was a..." Tech began, tapping a finget on his chin. "A ration bar, I believe."

Crosshair raised an eyebrow and turned his head to the side.

"You had one for breakfast." He implied quietly.

Tech blinked and looked down at his hands.

"It's possible Ive had two, today." Said Tech, picking at his gloved hands.

"Any real food?" Cross asked.

A defeated look rested onto Tech’s face and he readjusted his goggles.

"Water?" He asked again.

Tech stared.

Crosshair sighed and turned in his seat, glancing at the snack next to his bed that he'd grabbed from the cafeteria earlier. He hadn't been hungry much then, but he did plan on eating it. He was pretty sure there was some soup, maybe a biscuit or two and possibly some meat.

He hopped out of his stool and Tech looked up in surprise.

Stalking over to his bunk, he grabbed the biscuits and a small thermal of soup. The meat was in a foil like bag and had a jerky texture and taste that Tech always liked, even since they were cadets. Cross took the bag and tossed it on his bed, poking around for any spoons or silverware. When he didnt find any, he shrugged and popped open the little thermal.

Crosshair caught Techs look of confusion as he spun around to sit down in his bunk, taking a whiff of the soup.

It smelled good, and it was still somewhat warm. If he didn't eat it soon, it would get cold in the next thirty minutes or so. He took a sip from the thermal and sighed as the warm liquid trickled into his belly and the bland taste settled on his tongue.

He looked up.

Tech frowned as he pulled his second glove off, the first one already on the table. His head was hung low and his eyebrows were still furrowed like he was thinking hard about something. His lips parted slightly as if he was going to say something, but he shut his mouth and froze as he looked up.

"Come here." Crosshair spoke, patting the spot next to him on his bunk.

Tech blinked and rested his hands on each other.

"The soup is gonna get cold." He spoke again, nodding to the thermal before taking another sip.

Tech looked at the soup, and then back up at Crosshair before scrambling out of his stool and padding over to the spot next to him on the bunk.

Cross leaned back to get the jerky/meat stuff as Tech got comfortable, pulling a leg up to his chest and turning towards the sniper.

Techs eyes lit up behind his goggles as Crosshair opened the bad of jerky, and quickly grabbed for a piece.

Crosshair caught his hand and swatted it away as Tech gave him an offended look.

"Excuse me?" Tech frowned, trying to maneuver around Cross's hand.

"Water first." The sniper said, shrugging and pulling the bag away from Tech and taking a bite of the jerky himself.

"Ugh." Tech grumbled and stood to stalk over to his own bunk, grabbing a flask of water that he took a few angry sips of on the way back.

"There."

Crosshair smirked as Tech plopped back down and snatched a piece of jerky out of the bag, taking a bite with a small smile on his face.

Cross handed Tech the thermal so he could open the small plastic container that had three biscuits in it. He peeled the plastic seal top off and took one if the biscuits out. They were a little deformed, and kind of stale and soggy at the same time, but thats what they got; And truthfully, they didn't really care.

Tech went between the thermal and the jerky, starting to realize how hungry he really was.

Cross handed him one if the biscuits and he took it happily, taking a bite and washing it down with some water from his flask.

"When's the last time you slept?" Crosshair asked randomly while Tech chewed.

Tech looked up up in thought and shoved another piece of jerky in his mouth. Crosshair sighed and moved the bag of jerky away for a second so Tech could finish chewing and not choke. He narrowed his eyes behind his goggles and stared at Crosshair as he took another sip of the soup.

"I woke up at five-hundred thirty like always." Tech said, wiping his mouth and shrugging.

Cross cocked an eyebrow at him. It was already nearing close to twenty-hundred, so Tech had been awake for longer than twelve hours at the least. He sighed again.

"Okay, what time did you go to sleep last night?" Crosshair asked.

"Around the time when I finished fixing Wrecker's blaster." Tech answered easily, looking around Cross for the bag of jerky.

The sniper was pretty sure he had fallen asleep before Tech finished up on Wreckers blaster. The amount of time spent fixing them depended in the damage, and depending on Wrecker, the damage was usually pretty major. Cross had fallen asleep at around twenty-four hundred, and Tech had only started working on the blaster a little bit before that.

"And when did you finish that." Crosshair questioned.

"Around four-hundred thir-"

Tech stopped, thermal tipped halfway towards his mouth.

Crosshairs eyes widened and the crease deepened between his brows.

"I meant-"

"No," Crosshair cut Tech off, turning to face him more. "You got an hour of sleep?!"

"Well, more like forty five minutes because it takes me a while to fall asleep sometimes." Tech said simply and then winced as Crosshair let his jaw drop.

"You need to sleep." Crosshair stated, closing the bag of jerky and standing.

"Wait," Tech whined, reaching after the bag of jerky. "Im not tired yet."

Crosshair tossed the bag of jerky onto the little work table and whipped back around towards Tech.

"Yes you are." The sniper said, looking pointedly at the bags under Techs eyes that he tried to hid behind his goggles.

"But-"

"Finish your soup, then you are sleeping."

Crosshair raised an eyebrow as Tech began to protest again, but wearily sipped the last of the soup and took the last bite of the biscuit.

Soon, Tech was out of his armor and in his blacks, pouting around as Crosshair nudged him towards his bunk. He had also gotten out of his armor, as encouragement to Tech so that he didn't feel like Crosshair was prodding too much or being too bossy. Even as cadets, Tech was never one for normal sleep; he loved to use the late hours of the night to get things done.

Crosshair paused as he looked at Techs bed.

"Well no wonder you don't sleep." Cross muttered, poking at cords and wires that were hanging from the ceiling of the bunk.

"They are projects." Tech argued, sliding a box away and onto the floor.

"I see that." Crosshair said and scanned the writing on the walls.

Tech yawned, and Crosshair found himself yawning too. He didn't feel too tired, but he didn't sleep well these days.

They usually didn't.

Tech gave a tired sigh before climbing into his bunk, and grabbing for the thin blanket.

"Are you- Oh." Tech stuttered in surprise as Crosshair climbed in after him.

The sniper wrapped an arm around Tech's waist and pulled him close as he tugged the blanket over the two of them. Tech wriggled around and tried to get comfortable under the blanket as Crosshair reached up to the light switch on the wall of the bunk. A wave of sleepiness surged over Cross as the lights slowly dimmed, until the only light was the faint glow of Tipoca City outside of the large wide window.

"You need to start getting better sleep," Crosshair started, closing his eyes as Tech scooted closer to him. "You're gonna stunt your growth."

Tech snorted and nuzzled farther into the snipers chest.

"Right." Tech whispered and yawned again.

Rain pattered against the window, and Crosshair could never tell if it was gentle or not. He'd gotten used to the ever present rain of Kamino, and wasn't sure there was such thing as gentle rain on the ocean planet. It was cool growing up, but it got old eventually.

"Do you remember when we went off-planet for the first time?" Crosshair asked randomly.

Tech pulled his head away from Cross's chest to look up at him with a confused face.

"Remember how fascinated you were by the karking grass." He said, grinning down at Tech.

Tech laughed and buried his face into the pillow, shaking his head a little.

"I thought it was so interesting." Tech said, voice muffled by the pillow.

He looked up at Crosshair and smiled sadly.

"It's so colorful." He sighed, resting his head next to Crosshair’s.

"I know." Cross whispered, pressing a kiss to Tech's forehead and nosing his dark curls as he closed his eyes.

Tech was out quick, snoring softly next to him within minutes. Crosshair smiled, a real smile, and gently pulled Tech’s goggles off. His eyes were tired, but his breathing was steady and his body was relaxed.

He looked so peaceful. So different from his constant state of either jumping around from project to project and rambling about different information and facts—or hyper focused and oblivious to everything around him. It was rare to have time like this with Tech.

Crosshair appreciated Tech.

He loved Tech.

He let that settle proudly in his thoughts as he slowly began to drift to sleep too.

[fleckcmscott]

Stepping Stones - Chapter 2

Chapter links: 1

Summary: Y/N and Arthur share a delightful life, one that isn’t perfect but wholly theirs. When his struggles take a serious turn, she's surprised by the toll it exacts. Though the steps they'll have to take aren't easy, walking them together makes all the difference.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Struggles with mental illness

Words: 3,739

A/N: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to @sweet-nothings04​ for offering to beta-read this story and her encouragement. Her contributions have been invaluable! Also, thank you guys for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. And don’t worry: there may be angst - but there’s love, too. 

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask! I’m still working on requests and Way Back Home!

Y/N wasn't used to being searched. It'd last happened at the District Courthouse when she'd gotten in the wrong line and nearly wound up in the jury room for a murder trial. At least the stout woman in Arkham's visitor entrance lobby was more pleasant than the bailiffs.

Unassuming in a white polo shirt and black pants, her nametag introduced her as Gladys, and the split "I Can Help!" sticker along the top cemented her as a fixture. She was friendly for a Gothamite, commenting on the sunny weather while unceremoniously dumping the contents of Y/N's handbag onto a plastic table pad. Asking about the ride over as she politely ignored tampons and confiscated a nail file. She spelled Y/N's name back to her before jotting it on the sign-in sheet and offered a genuine smile. "You have a nice time with your husband, dear. Just check out with me before you leave."

Visitor's badge pinned above her left breast, Y/N adjusted the collar of her red silk blouse, ensured the heart pendent around her neck was centered, and pushed through the door marked "Visitation."

Her kitten heels click-clacked across the checkerboard linoleum floor. The cafeteria was large, like an elementary school gymnasium without the scoreboards. Lack of funding had turned the once pristine walls to the off-white of a bathtub that had seen too few scrubbings. Large windows dotted them in sets of two, each covered with grate from the inside. Metal fans were riveted to their frames, a poor attempt to compensate for the lack of fresh air. To her left, six rows of steel tables stretched halfway across the room, about a third full of staff and patients, family members and friends. A metal buffet stood to her right, along with a sign stating a menu of beef cutlets and gravy would be served at 5:30 PM. A pony wall separated a family area on the far end. She spotted a patient with his wife and daughter watching cartoons together, ones that were old enough for Y/N to have grown up on.

It struck her how average the place felt, similar to the hospital back home she'd spent far too many hours in. It made sense: the people here were patients like any other, even if they were under lock and key. When she headed to the aluminum coffee urn on a rickety steel cart, there was a woman, around thirty, making conversation with a new wave chick, holding a ragged teddy bear and pulling her hair. Their eyes met and Y/N attempted a friendly smile. Once she'd purchased two cups, she sat by a window and crossed her legs, foot swinging back and forth as she sipped the stale liquid.

She tried to quell her nervous anticipation. Due to his time of admittance, Arthur's forty-eight-hour observation period had stretched late into Thursday night, well after visiting hours. Tasks big and small had punctuated the wait. One of Arthur's clients called to confirm a birthday party, and Y/N, hazy from lack of sleep, explained there'd been a family emergency.

Then it dawned on her that she'd have to find Arthur's gig list, which meant rummaging through his desk, a private space she'd respected since presenting him with it for their anniversary. Thank god he no longer locked the drawers, because she had no idea where he kept the key. (There were only so many hiding places in their three-room apartment, but she had no desire to search every nook and cranny.) The yellow legal pad resided in the top left drawer, under a prop catalog and kraft paper notebook. After ringing Gary and asking him to fill in ("I'm not sure I can do all these, but I can mention them at HaHa's." "That'd be great but don't get yourself in trouble. And, please, leave out Randall."), she telephoned eight households and three businesses with his contact information and apologies.

She worked extra hours in the evening to make up for the time she'd inevitably take off when Arthur was home, an arrangement that wasn't strictly legal, but she didn't see the harm in. Her colleagues graciously ignored the number of personal calls she made, to ask how Arthur was doing and learn about policies. While he wasn't yet rational, staff said, he was cooperative. Well, mostly cooperative. He'd eaten breakfast and referred to everyone as sir or ma'am, but he'd also caused a ruckus when he'd come to and found his wedding ring missing. They'd made an exception to the no jewelry rule and given it back. Personal clothing wasn't permitted, either, besides underwear, and toiletries were out of the question. It irked her - he deserved the dignity of his own hairbrush - but she didn't want to single him out by arguing for further favors. So she shuttled over a week's worth of briefs on her lunch break, chest tight as she gave it to the man with headphones at reception.

Despite the setting, despite the weight of not knowing what mood he'd be in, a thrill bubbled through her veins. Whenever a silhouette appeared behind the glue chip glass of the patient entrance, her pulse skipped. Y/N knew it was silly to expect a lot this first visit but she couldn't help it. She missed him. She missed him. Like it had been thirty days instead of three.

It took about six minutes for the door to crack an inch, and a full ten seconds for it to open completely. An orderly propped his weight against it, pointing in her general direction with his head. She stood and smoothed her palm down her A-line skirt, ensured the hem was at her knee. Maybe it was selfish, perhaps even foolish, but she hoped the surprise would be a highlight of Arthur's day, make him feel better, and she hoped seeing him would be one of hers. He was still her partner, after all. Still her Arthur. That would never change.

Clad in white scrubs and white shoes and about twenty feet away, Arthur stepped over the threshold and scanned the room. She gave him a modest wave when she caught his eye. His approach was more tentative than she would have liked, his steps shorter than usual, fists balled at his sides. As he drew closer, she noted the oiliness of his hair, the two-day black and grey stubble on his chin. His crow's feet had grown deeper, his eyelids slightly purple. Exhaustion dripped from every pore. The cut on his forehead had scabbed over into a thin line, quite modest considering its origin and how much he'd bled.

But he was as beautiful to her as always. The hint of a smile tipped her mouth. "Hi, Arthur."

"Hi," he said lowly. A reservation she barely recognized clouded his light green irises.

Part of her began to suspect popping in like this had been a mistake. Giving up wasn't in her nature, however, especially when it came to the love of her life. She forged ahead, closing the gap between them. Dr. Kellerman had advised her to let Arthur set the pace of their visits, to offer support while respecting his boundaries. Yet, touching him had become as vital to her as breathing, and it didn't occur to her to ask for permission before she reached to cup his face.

His skin felt papery under her fingertips, and red, flakey spots of dermatitis bloomed next to his nose and below his eye. He smelled of cheap bar soap and detergent, though whiffs of his woodsy masculine scent lurked underneath. But his clothes were clean and fit him well, better than half his own wardrobe. "I'm so happy to see you," she said, tracing his sharpened cheeks.

He nodded weakly, lips pursed into a grimace of disbelief. "Good."

"I got us some coffee. We can sit here or on one of the sofas."

"Here's fine."

She took his hand and led him to their table, itching for him to entwine their fingers, lamenting a little when he didn't. While he followed closely, his posture radiated tension like an oven radiated heat. Rather than the gait they'd adopted over the years, he moved as if he was afraid to touch her, as if he feared she'd disappear. Or reject him. Once he was situated and stirring sugar into his cup, she sat beside him and bumped their legs, refusing to let his fears go unchallenged. "How's your room?"

"It's okay. Just me. I'm not there much." He blew lightly on his steaming brew. "I haven't seen this part of the hospital before."

Y/N arched her brow. "No?"

"Penny had trouble getting over here to visit. When I had episodes."

Flabbergasted, a huff of disapproval escaped her. Arthur had been in out Arkham six or seven times, and Penny hadn't made it over once? According to Arthur, she'd been sick for a while, but what about twenty years ago? Even later, they hadn't had any money, which meant she would've had to care for herself while he was away. If she had had the wherewithal to go through the process of committing her son, couldn't she have at least called a cab? Y/N pushed her ire aside, not wanting it to affect Arthur. "Did you see your therapist today?"

"Mhm."

"Is he good? Does he listen to you?"

"He's fine."

She took a long drink. "Did you get the underwear I brought over?"

"Yeah." he sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "They wrote my name on the waistband."

"I'll get new ones," she said, tapping her chin in contemplation, opting for a little cheer. "Donahue's has a racy number from Mad Mod. How'd you feel about zig-zag bikinis in maroon?" Instead of the laugh she'd craved, the incredulous smirk he saved for ridiculous suggestions, his knees quaked, bouncing and bouncing, freshly wound springs in bleached cotton.

None of this was going as she'd pictured.

Self-consciousness was atypical for her, a personality trait she'd shed in her late twenties after a failed marriage and the beginning of her parents' declines. Being with Arthur felt secure, open, even during his worst days. When he'd discovered his mother's Arkham file, learned the details of his abuse. Or the weeks after she'd passed and any chance of finding out more about himself, the truth about his father and chance to get a crumb of paternal affection, had died along with her.

Gathered at this table with her husband and bad coffee, old insecurities returned with the force of a subway careening at full speed. She sought to encourage him but didn't want to dismiss his feelings, harken back when he'd been burdened with "Happy." Her questions were obviously getting on his nerves - she was at a loss as to how he'd react to more of them. Their banter had vanished. The clues she had to follow were based on an old map, comprised of well-worn paths to joy she could walk with her eyes closed. Now those paths were overgrown with weeds.

But she wouldn't stop trying to trim them. Some shears were in reach: a woman's magazine lay abandoned on a nearby table, famous for its relationship quizzes and bedroom advice. She snagged it, scooted her chair closer to Arthur, and flipped through the glossy pages until the headline "Are You Meant To Be?" screamed in bright pink font. She cleared her throat and read aloud. "'You and your husband are shipwrecked on a desert island. You can take any household item with you. What item would you bring?'" She paused, then went with what first came to mind. "Toothbrush. I can't expect you to kiss me when I-"

"Why are you acting like this?"

Her gaze locked on him. "Like what?"

"Like I haven't fucked everything up."

Automatically, she reached for his thigh, not heeding the angry twitch of his jaw. "You haven-"

He batted her arm away, inadvertently knocking the magazine to the floor. "Don't lie to me," he rasped. "I don't like you seeing me like this. I don't want you to have to come visit and pretend." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, an anger she recognized as shame dripping from every word. "Can you please just go?"

Pain lanced through her, pain she hadn't felt since her father, deep in the throes of dementia, had accused her of stealing from him. Her lashes lowered to hide her hurt. Arthur acting like this was proof of how out of sorts he was, how much he was struggling with his illnesses. But it didn't make his behavior any easier to take, even if she firmly believed it should. She had to try to accept him as he was in the moment. To forgive him and herself for pressing him too far, too quickly. To listen to his request for time, the way he'd listened to hers after the Murray show, giving her the gift of patience and understanding. A gift he also deserved.

Pushing herself to stand, she glanced at the orderly and lay a gentle palm on Arthur's back. To her relief, he didn't retreat. "I'm here if you need me," she said softly. "If you feel up to it, give me a ring. We could both use a joke or two." Fingertips caressed his distended shoulder, and she pecked the crown of his head, breathed in the oily musk of his scalp. Not entirely pleasant but him all the same. "We'll see each other soon. Get some rest and remember I love you."

~~~~~

"This woman wandered in off the street the other day. Pointy-toed shoes, fur coat, pillbox hat like she thinks she's Jackie Kennedy..." Perched on Y/N's side of the bed, Patricia dunked her orange pekoe teabag, gave it a good squeeze, laid it on her saucer. "She wanted to sue the Wayne Estate for damages to her Bentley, because Thomas Wayne had broken a legally binding oral agreement - she must have read a legal thriller and gotten haughty - to fix the potholes in Old Gotham when he was mayor. I told her to complain to Public Works, but she decided to camp out at your old desk to clip her nails. Finally, Matt had enough and offered her a phone call to Gotham PD or ten bucks for her trouble." She shook her head with a chuckle. "What a jackass. Retirement can't come soon enough."

"Don't wish your life away," Y/N retorted, inadvertently quoting a pamphlet she'd gotten from the Arkham gift shop, "Care for the Caregiver." The title had made her balk: Arthur bathed himself, fed himself, knew who she was. But it had been a straw to hold onto, albeit feebly. She retrieved a curved, wooden hanger from the closet and stuck one end in the arm of her freshly ironed blouse. "Besides, you've been working since you were sixteen, right? I give it a year before you'd go stir-crazy."

"Actually, I've been thinking about taking a class or two at the learning center," said Patricia.

"Oh, really? What kind? Pottery, advanced baking, conversational Spanish?"

"How to find nicer friends."

Hand on her hip, Y/N smirked over her shoulder to find Patricia's teacup raised for a toast. "Let me know what you learn," Y/N said, hoisting the laundry basket onto the bed. "I could use a few pointers." She batted the older woman with a dress sock, then fished for its companion. She shook them out. Aligned the cuffs and toes, smoothed the nylon with the side of her hand, folded the fabric into thirds. The top drawer's left ball-bearing slide stuck when she tried to pull it open, and she made a mental note to ask Arthur to take a look at it.

Without warning, a profound sense of loss swept over her, flushing her cheeks, her forehead. He'd been gone almost a week, the longest they'd been apart aside from conferences and training. Her days had been blessedly busy but dragged on nonetheless, slow as the secondhand on her watch when the battery had to be replaced.

Arthur had gotten in the habit of leaving a note whenever he had an early gig or errand to run, just a few words stating where he was, that he'd be home later, that he loved her. Though she knew he was in Arkham, she couldn't stop her heart from expecting one when she made morning coffee. She ached to pull him inside before he lit a second cigarette, and for his teasing kisses when he'd resist. The way he brushed his teeth from side-to-side, eschewing her method of small circles and daily flossing. Last night, a hot flash had kept her awake, and she'd longed for the feel of his strong, slender hands rubbing refrigerated lotion into her calves, a trick he'd learned to quiet his mother when she'd gone through what he politely referred to as The Change.

Y/N had never wanted to love someone so much she needed them, but Arthur had made it safe. And now here she was, anguishing over a stubborn piece of furniture. She gave the knob another good, hard heave until it popped off into her palm. With a groan, she slapped it on the top of the dresser, between his wallet and her jewelry box.

A gentle hold on her elbow halted her. "The clothes'll keep," Patricia said.

The compassion in her voice, subtle chords that would sound like judgement to others, loosened Y/N's stance. Granted permission for her to take a break from coping and give into grief. Slinking down onto the mattress, she picked up Arthur's blue house pants from the mound of panties and trousers and hugged them to her breast.

"Your anniversary is coming up," Patricia continued. "Will Arthur be home for it?"

"Yes. Three weeks is all the insurance will pay for, and Dr. Kellerman said we were lucky to get that." Most patients were discharged after two, even if they had nowhere else to go.

"How is he? Do you think he'll be ready then?"

"I'm not sure. He barely comes to the phone." She'd tried letters, too. Written on her office letterhead, declarations of her support and affection that were as stilted as the motions she regularly drafted. Something for him to read when they couldn't speak, when they couldn't touch. But he hadn't responded.

Although Y/N was the sole person he'd added to his list of allowed visitors, he hadn't signed the release. Sure, she'd learn the details of his care if a court remanded him, but she wasn't about to have him declared legally incompetent, not unless everything went to shit. But she had deduced his schedule by calling and asking if he could come to the phone. He's in group, Mrs. Fleck, the charge nurse had let slip. Or, You can try in an hour. He should be out of one-on-one by then.

Therapy three times a day. Safety and daily living skills. Goal setting before bed. No wonder he hadn't had the energy to say good night.

"I know what you're going through," Patricia said. She stretched to put her empty teacup on the nightstand. "When Robert got back from Korea, he kept his distance. Buried himself in starting his business, was gone most nights on extra late repair jobs, worked, worked, worked. It was nearly a year before he really came home. But he made it and Arthur will, too."

The intimacy behind the disclosure was a welcome invitation, a hook that tugged at Y/N's core and confirmed honesty would be all right. She drew a shaky breath, fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of Arthur's pajamas. "I thought I'd seen everything. Losing my mother, going out of my mind with my father. Those were finalities I couldn't prevent." Rapid blinking fought the wetness of her eyes. She swiped at them with the heel of her hand. "If you had seen him, Patricia... I just hope Arthur understands. I don't want him to think I wanted him to leave."

"Listen to me." Patricia adopted her mentor tone and hugged her tight around the middle. "There's no way he'd believe that. Remember when we doubled at Kao Wah? When we were in the restroom, and he ordered your favorite dish without having to ask what it was? He adores you." She swept her hand through the air as if she could sweep away Y/N's woes. "You promised to take care of him through everything. You did what you had to to keep him safe. You couldn't have done anything else, Y/N. Don't doubt yourself."

After some moments Y/N nodded. "You know, my parents had a swimming hole on our property. When I was young, I used to skip stones across it and make wishes. For my doll's arm to mend, for my parents to say safe, for my sister's surgeries to go well." She chuckled and dabbed at her cheeks with Arthur's house pants. "I guess it was like praying, which I never had use for." The slightest smile edging her lips, she turned to Patricia. "Let's go to Gotham Park and throw some rocks."

~~~~~

The next morning, eleven percent of her worries cast away by a currently sore right arm, Y/N walked past Sherwood Florist, a closet of a shop around the corner from her office. Storefront freshly washed, robust floral arrangements on display in large, spotless windows, and an owner in horn-rimmed glasses checking the temperature of the nearest cooler, she decided to stop in. Yes, the florist told her, an expression of dubious curiosity on his face. They delivered to Arkham. Just include the patient's full name and ward in the address, and it'd be sent this afternoon.

She chose a squat, plastic vase filled with daisies and a yellow enclosure card with a bumblebee in the lower left corner. A bit cutsie for her taste, but it was the only neutral choice among birthdays and congratulations. She pondered what to write, pushing back the urge to ask him to reach out. A minute later, she put her pen to the cardstock. "I miss you like thread misses a needle. (Good thing you're the comedian - that was terrible.) You're not alone in this. You have my whole heart. - Y/N."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara​ @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​ @jokerownsmysoul​ @rafaelbottom​ @ralugraphics​ @iartsometimes​

[susiequaz12]

Whumptober 10- Oops I Did it Again

Whumptober day 10, and number 12 of Superhero and Sidekick’s story. Masterlist here. Prompts: hospital, flare up.

CW: hospitals, mentions of old injuries, manhandling, restraints.

- - -

“Okay Teddy. I’ll go grab the nurse and they can come figure out what you’re able to eat. I might grab myself something from the cafeteria too. I think I’ve been craving some red Jello-”

“but you don’t li-”

“Just rest now Teddy okay? We’ll get you some food.”

That small conversation kept playing in his mind. It was the last conversation they had had before her disappearance- and it was how he knew something was wrong. She despised red jello- after eating some that had been expired once, it was ruined for her completely.

But that was all he had. His only clues.

So he decided to go back to that hospital- see if there was any trace of her disappearance.

He had to start somewhere.

Teddy’s heart started beating faster as soon as he got into the hospital parking lot. He stepped into the waiting room, and looked around- realizing he had no good explanation as to why he was there. 

He decided to go to his old room- maybe see if something was left, or if there were any clues- something. He headed upstairs to the patient’s wing, and as he had reached the right floor, he was stopped by the nurses station.

“Excuse me sir, do you have a visitor’s badge?” One lady asked. She was fairly tall, with a square face and a tight bun. 

“I- um- I just need to get into a-”

“Sir you can’t be up here without a pass. I can help you over at the desk if you want to follow me.”

He sighed and walked over to the desk, trying to think of numerous excuses.

“Why are you here sir?”

“I- I stayed here a couple days ago and I think I left something in my hospital room. I was just going to check-”

“Belongings that are left in the rooms are taking to the front desk and placed in the lost and found. I can show you to the main entrance if you would like.”

“No- please, I- I just need to get into the room, there’s-”

“Sir calm down. I assure you, anything that was left will be at the front. If you want to give me a moment I can have someone help you find your way.”

He was getting frustrated but he sat there, thinking of other things he could say.

The nurse picked up the phone and listened for a few minutes, explaining the situation.

“Alright, of course. Will do, thank you so much.”

Within a few moments several people had come down the hall and Teddy soon found himself surrounded. 

“You’ll need to come with us, sir.”

He glanced up, jumping out of his seat. There were two security guards, and four nurses, and it took every single one of them to get Teddy to comply.

The guards grabbed him by each arm, pulling him down the hallway.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Sir calm down, we’re here to help.” The guard on his right stated. 

“No- please, just let me go-” His voice began to break as they wrenched his arms behind his back- panic crept up in his throat.

They reached further down the hallway and entered a separate wing of the hospital he had never seen before. When they entered a room, panic began to flair even more.

The bed had no blankets, or a pillow on it, there were fabric straps coming from the sides, attached to padded cuffs- and Teddy realized why he didn’t recognize this part of the hospital.

This was where they took their “dangerous” patients. The mentally unstable ones- the ones who fought, or were prone to hurting themselves. So why was he here?

“Sir, we’re going to need you to cooperate please.”

“No- please, just let me go-” he pleaded, as he was guided towards the bed.

It took both security guards and all four of the nurses to get him up onto the bed.

He cried out as they pinned him down, one of the nurses climbing on top of his chest- brushing up against his old wound, the stitches threatening to pop. His wrists were grabbed and attached to the cuffs. Teddy didn’t want to hurt anyone as he flailed about and squirmed- but he didn’t want to be restrained either. He wasn’t dangerous, or aggressive, or a threat to anyone- 

But they still pinned him down. They cuffed his wrists and ankles, restraining him to the bed until he couldn’t move or thrash about. His stomach ached and screamed at him as his wound was bothered, stitches ripping open as he thrashed about and fought.

“Let me go! Please just- just let me go!”

A heavy force leaned against his shoulder and someone was holding his wrist tight. An iv was placed in his arm, and one nurse was flushing something through it. Someone was holding him down, someone was rushing about, and something was flushing into his veins. 

His limbs grew heavy, his breathing slowed- he stopped fighting. Not because he didn’t want to anymore- but because his body would not let him. He groaned as his pain slowly died down- his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as he pleaded- but he was soon asleep.

The nurse at the front desk was still on the phone. She scribbled away uselessly on a clipboard as the man on the other end spoke, occasionally nodding or murmuring her agreements.

“I believe they have him sedated now. He shouldn’t be causing any issues.”

“Good.” The man stated. “We wouldn’t want him causing any trouble. Is he steadily watched?” 

“Yes sir, I have the cameras planted on him that I’m monitoring right now, the feed should be connecting to your office here shortly.”

“Perfect. You’re a doll. I’ll be making a call here soon to his room, I have some plans lined up with the girl that I think he would like to be involved in.”

“Yes, sir.”

- - -

Julian clicked on the tv across from his desk. The screen came on to show a hospital room- bright white walls, with a large, unconscious figure lying restrained in the hospital bed. He glanced behind him where Anne was lying, chained up to the wall. She had passed out a while ago too, and he thought he might as well let her rest. She’d need her strength for what he had planned next.