#i’d be completely willing to lol

[honimello]

making memes for a fic i haven’t even written yet.. yes i’m sane :)

[myname-isnia]

I usually hate whenever people tell me I remind them of my father, for obvious reasons, but also… if being able to put on a papa’s girl persona and going “Daddy, could you bring me some pomegranate?” gets me the damn pomegranate, I willing to slip into the role more often

[nereidprinc3ss]

early seasons spencer and bau reader undercover at a club and it’s just like. he is so flustered but also weirdly confident and do with this what you will

in which spencer reid and BAU fem!reader have to pose as a couple at a club. she's more than a little flirty. the conversation actually gets quite suggestive. he's cute when he gets flustered.

warnings/tags: discussions of sex, reader wears a tight dress and makeup and heels, discussions of blushing but r's skin color is not implied to be light, i just needed a reason to talk about sex flush LOL, if u don't visibly blush this will still read fine

a/n: I LOVE EARLY SEASONS SPENCER X FLIRTY READER OH MY GODDD thank you for this request angel from heaven I hope you all like this as much as I do teehee

The bass buzzes through the floor and vibrates your teeth. House music has never really been your thing. Neither have tight dresses and high heels while on the job—but you’re willing to objectify yourself just a little if it will lure yet another loser who likes to chop up young couples into the awaiting arms of the American correctional system. 

Or to the wrong end of Emily's Glock. Whatever comes first.  

You scan the club—it’s not your usual scene, and you can only imagine how Dr. Reid is faring. As far as you can tell this is essentially his nightmare. It’s sensory overload central even for you. 

Your eyes catch on him at the bar, tucked away from the writhing crowd. He’s standing near the end, one arm resting on the surface while the other hand is jammed in his pocket. He seems completely unaware of the several women circling closer and closer. The whole earnest and dorky but still handsome thing seems to work well for him. Or, it would, if he had any interest in utilizing it. He’s dressed a little sharper than usual—no doubt styled by Morgan and Prentiss. Hell, the earnest dorkiness and the well fitted dark suit is working for you if nobody else. 

Sometimes he just looks… edible. 

And self-discipline doesn't always come naturally to you. 

“Doctor,” you purr in greeting, grazing the forearm propped up on the bar with white-tipped nails as you insert yourself in front of him. His fingers twitch under your light touch. 

Spencer doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes sink down your frame, sticking to every highlighted curve like you’re dripping honey. Or maybe he just doesn’t realize that you can see that’s what he’s doing. 

“Hi. You look nice.”

“Aw,” you smile, dulling the salacious edge to your voice, “you didn’t have to say that. Someone’s improvising.”

“I meant it. That dress looks nice on you,” he says, simply, and you hate his specific brand of charm because it’s not intentional. It’s not something he puts on. It comes out of nowhere and always knocks you on your ass when it hits—even in the smallest doses. His eyes narrow and he leans closer. You can feel the energy rippling around him like a force field as he examines you. “You’re wearing more makeup than you normally do.”

“Do you like it? Penelope ordered the wrong shade of blush and gave it to me. Supposedly it’s meant to make me look like I just had an orgasm. I don’t know if I believe it.”

Much to your disappointment, Spencer leans back, scanning the crowd for your target and speaking as if he’s only half-interested. 

“That’s not what you would look like. Sex flush deepens the color of your entire face and chest, not just your cheeks.”

Your brows knit as you contend with unwelcome butterflies. 

“Buy me a drink before you start telling me what I’ll look like after I orgasm.”

That catches his attention, and his suddenly wide eyes snap to you. If he had a drink, he’d be choking on it. 

“I wasn’t—it was a general you, I’d never—that would be inappropriate. It was. It was inappropriate. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You lean with your back to the bar, elbows propped on black granite, and swing your hair over your shoulder. Spencer’s eyes dart back down to your décolletage and then up to the ceiling like he regrets being born. You smile wickedly. Much better. This is the way God intended for you to interact with Spencer Reid. 

“I’ll consider forgiving you. And I don’t blush. Not when I orgasm, not ever.”

Admittedly, you just want to milk the whole talking about you orgasming thing to see how pink you can make him. It’s not often you’re gifted with an opportunity to be so candid about your sexuality or flirt this unabashedly. But you are supposed to be posing as a couple. Maybe you’re just feeling extra in character. 

Instead of stumbling over his words some more, Spencer smiles with a degree of bemusement like he’s caught you in a white lie. 

His smile is so nice. His teeth are perfect, and his lips—

“Yes you do.”

Always so convinced he’s right, this one. 

It’s annoying. And kind of hot. 

“Uh, I promise you I do not.”

“Everyone blushes. It's a sympathetic nervous system activation response wherein blood rushes to your face. Your blood vessels dilate when you get flustered or anxious. Your face gets hot and your undertone changes.”

You raise your brows. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was challenging you. 

“Yeah? Wanna bet?”

“Actually, no,” he mutters, losing any bravado and casting his eyes downward subserviently. “You have a habit of proving me wrong.”

“That’s right,” you gloat, smiling wide. Someone bumps into you, and you turn around, highly unprofessional insult locked and loaded—but it’s just a drunk girl who apologizes and stumbles off. The encounter does, however, remind you that you’re supposed to be finding a killer. “Do you think this is the best positioning? He might not be able to find us way over here.”

“You think we should move?”

You look back at him and nod, holding your hand out. He looks at it uncertainly. You waggle your fingers and infuse your words with sugar. 

“Oh, come on. I don’t want to lose you. And we’re supposed to look like a couple, remember?”

Gingerly he accepts your hand. His is bigger than you’d have thought. Not nearly as freezing as your own perpetually are. It occurs to you as you grab his hand that his bone structure really is bigger than yours. He’s… tall. He is, at the end of the day, a real life adult man. His presence is palpable behind you and you enjoy the weight of his hand in yours as you tug him through the crowd, perhaps not taking the most direct route through the throng just so you can savor being able to touch him like this for a little longer. 

Miraculously you spot an empty booth and slide into it. It’s a deep alcove, shadowy and secluded at the back. That’s where you settle, against black vinyl, and where you wave at Spencer to join you. 

He lingers at the edge of the table, glancing around at the groups of dancing and drinking young adults. 

“I don’t know. Can you even see the dance floor from back there?”

“Part of it. But I’m sure he’ll be looking in the booths for couples. He’ll come to us.”

Spencer faces you again and sighs ruefully, a begrudging smirk playing at his lips as he slides into the booth and joins you against the back wall. His side is warm against yours. He smells nice. Clean. Almost herbal, like patchouli or vetiver. 

“What? You really hate sitting next to me that much?”

Spencer’s lips part wryly before he speaks, like he almost thought better of it but decided to anyway. 

“I think you just wanted a reason to get me alone and secluded so you can finally accost me.”

Your knees bump. You lean into it. 

“Accost you? That seems harsh,” you pout, leaning toward him clandestinely to undo his top button.

“I don’t see how. You are literally trying to take my clothing off as we speak.”

“I’m just increasing your sex appeal. It’ll be good, trust me. Maybe you’ll even end up taking one of those girls from the bar home. Or—back to the hotel, I should say.”

Spencer covers your fussy hands with his own sweetly, like he can sense the true jealousy simmering underneath the sarcasm, and places them in your lap. The touch lingers.

“Are you always like this?” He murmurs, voice lower than you can recall ever hearing it and twisted into the shape of a smile. 

“Only with you, Dr. Reid. Speaking of, how about you? Do you flirt with many other FBI agents on official business?”

“Just the one. She’s kind of a full-time job.”

“Shut up. I’m basically your babysitter. If anything, I should be paid extra for dealing with you.”

“Attempting to seduce your charge seems like a bad business model. There are definitely some ethical issues there.”

His hands still rest on yours. You lace your fingers with his and speak sweetly, meeting his eyes best you can in the dark. 

“I wasn’t aware I was seducing you. Do you feel seduced?”

He’s the first to look away after a few seconds pass—pulls your hands apart gently, politely arranging them back on your lap. 

“I think you’re incorrigible and a terrible influence. In all honesty, you terrify me and more often than not I walk away from our interactions a little confused.”

You clap a hand to your heart, the bare skin revealed by your low cut dress warm under your fingers. 

“Spencer… that kind of turned me on.”

He just looks at you for a moment, a hint of a smile on his pretty face, long enough to make you feel a bit nervous. 

Then he’s leaning forward, and unconsciously so are you, almost forgetting to breath when you’re practically pressed against him in this booth and he’s whispering so low and sweet into your ear. 

“He’s watching us. Right across the floor, next to the girl in the blue dress. White button up and a leather jacket.” His hand slides over yours, fingers skimming your collarbone in the process as he interlocks your grasp once more. “Keep your hand right here and lean closer. We need to maintain his interest.”

“I don’t think I can lean any closer,” you breathe, hoping it doesn’t register as nervous as it really is. You’re supposed to be the confident one who teases him. “But if you want me to sit on your lap, just ask. I won’t say no.”

He chuckles, too loud to be amorous. It’s clearly genuine. It sounds like the way his reddened cheeks always look. It almost does more for you than the bedroom voice.

“You… you are beyond help. I don’t think you could be appropriate if your life depended on it.”

Slowly you pull back so you can look into his eyes—much closer than you normally have an excuse to. They dart wildly over your face, partially obscured by the dark which cuts shadows deep into the dramatic hollows of his bone structure. He really is so pretty. 

You glance toward the man, who’s pretending not to watch you. When you focus your attention back on Spencer, sliding your hand up the curve of his jaw, you find yourself making a dangerous wish. You find yourself wishing that you didn’t have an audience. That this wasn’t all for show. That neither of you had earpieces in.

His pulse hammers under your little finger, and his lips part slightly as he doesn’t have the wherewithal to not glance at yours. He’s so unaware of how obvious he’s being. It’s cute. 

You run the tips of your fingers through the hair in front of his ear, the one sans bluetooth, pushing it back, before leaning in close once more to whisper. 

“Good thing we’re not going for appropriate. Actually—your hands could stand to wander a little more, Dr. Reid. Let me know if you need me to tell you where to put them.”

[agi-ppangx]

relax (hwang hyunjin x fem!reader)

nerd!hyunjin x cheerleader!reader, secret relationship, heavy make out, suggestive at the end; 1.8k words

author’s note: alrighty so it may not be my best work, but i love love love the idea and i hope you’ll at least like it a little bit lol anyway enjoy and remember that feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated🫶🏽

06:47 PM 

you: meet me in the locker room after the match

you: don’t be late~ 

hyunjin’s phone buzzed as he sat uncomfortably between other students in the stands, praying that the match wouldn't take too long. it was hot and crowded and hyunjin was wondering how people could go to matches every week or so and actually enjoy it. he didn’t want to be there, wishing to disappear or teleport to his room, but he knew he had to endure in order to see you. he missed you - not that he hadn’t seen you the same day in the hallway, but what good is it for him to see you if he couldn't even talk to you? 

the loud sound of the whistle snapped him out of his reverie. the other students started cheering loudly, whistling and shouting when the match started and hyunjin didn’t know what to do - was he supposed to cheer as well? or maybe boo the opposing team? he was completely lost. in this whole confusion, hyunjin tried to find you on the pitch. he noticed a few other cheerleaders before the match, but there was no trace of you. what if you weren’t even performing that day and he was sitting there for nothing? 

the cheerleaders started their chant as the first point was scored and it was only then when hyunjin stood up and finally noticed you. you looked ethereal - your hair bounced with every movement and the cheerleader outfit you were wearing made his head spin. he sighed dreamily - you were absolutely beautiful and he couldn’t get over how it was him who could kiss you and hold your hand and call you his. well, not entirely.

it was hyunjin’s idea to keep your relationship a secret. as he watched you in the hallway, always surrounded by handsome jocks and plenty of your cheerleader friends, he felt small, almost nonexistent. was he even worth being near you? he felt sick at the mere thought of people seeing you together and he didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends. did he feel good about the whole secret relationship thing though? absolutely not, but you assured him plenty of times that you’re willing to wait as long as he needed to finally reveal yourselves. he trusted you, so he just let himself enjoy the moment. 

hyunjin adjusted his glasses as another point was scored. he was bouncing his leg nervously, waiting impatiently for the referee to announce the end of the match. it was getting late and hyunjin wasn’t satisfied with only looking at you from a distance - he needed to be closer. 

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

you breathed a sigh of relief when the match was over, smiling at the team and congratulating them. 

“great job, boys,” you let out, trying to quickly head to the locker room. however, one of the players had a different plan and wrapped his arm around your waist. you stopped in your tracks, freezing uncomfortably. 

“i’m hosting a party tonight, wanna come?” he asked, his lips too close to your ear for your liking. you smiled faintly, trying to break free from his grip. 

“i’d love to, but i can’t tonight, sorry,” you said in an apologetic tone, but he didn’t seem to buy your lame excuse. he removed his hand anyway and ran to the rest of his team, leaving you alone without a word. the rest of your cheerleader team went with the boys as well, laughing at their jokes and drooling over their athletic bodies. you scoffed, but paid no further attention to it as you sprinted to the locker room to get there on time. 

the room was dark when you entered it, a shiver going down your spine as you closed the door behind you. you hoped hyunjin didn’t forget or worse - didn’t change his mind. 

from the very beginning you were completely infatuated by hyunjin, his talent for drawing and loser-like personality. he may have been clumsy and a bit scatterbrained, but it was exactly what made him, well, him. you tried to persuade him to let go and be open about your relationship, but he was adamant on keeping it secret. it made you a little sad, of course, but you accepted his decision regardless. in fact, if you thought about it, you kind of liked hiding in closets and stealing kisses when no one was looking. 

a sudden tug on the doorknob brought you out of your thoughts. you opened the door and saw breathless hyunjin barely standing. you grabbed his shirt and dragged him inside, smiling sheepishly. 

“what took you so long?” you whispered loudly, locking the door and scanning his figure. he raised his finger, taking a moment to regulate his breathing. 

“i tried to avoid the crowd and, um… got lost,” hyunjin mumbled with rosy cheeks, nervously scratching the back of his neck. you giggled, taking a step in his direction and adjusting the crooked glasses on his nose. he brought his arms to your hips - a habit you taught him. he was staring at you with wide eyes and suddenly the air in the room thickened. 

“why are you looking at me like that?” 

“you looked really pretty today. i kinda wanted to paint you,” he whispered with rosy cheeks, his gaze wandering back and forth between your eyes and your lips. you smiled at his words, feeling as your face got warmer. you were sure he was so gonna paint you after today.

“go on,” you said, your voice barely above the whisper. “i know you wanna kiss me.” hyunjin blinked a few times, his brain going haywire. although he had kissed you plenty of times before, usually it was you who initiated it, not him.

he leaned a bit closer, his breath speeding up as you placed your hand on his cheek. he hesitated when he felt your hot breath on his face, but one look from you dispelled his worries and he placed a sloppy kiss on your lips. his moves were uncoordinated, almost random, and you quickly started to get impatient, but decided to let him take control for now. he has to learn, you thought to yourself.

your hands wandered all over his chest and face as he slowly but gradually deepened the kiss, making your head spin a little. his grip on your hips tightened and you were going feral. 

“hyune,” you breathed out, pointing to the shelf standing against the wall. even in his state he managed to drag you there and awkwardly helped you to sit on it. you brought your hand to his hair, tugging at it slightly and earning a quiet groan from him. 

“shit,” hyunjin muttered as his glasses tilted on his nose again. he tried to fix them, but you grabbed his hand, bringing it to your neck instead. 

“leave them be,” you said, parting your legs so hyunjin could stand closer to you. he yelped as you dragged him between them, the feeling of your thighs trapping him made his brain malfunction. 

after what felt like eternity you broke the kiss to catch your breath. hyunjin’s cheeks were as red as a tomato and you laughed at his state. he looked drunk, his tilted glasses only added to the impression. 

“what?” he asked dumbfounded, looking around. 

“nothing, just-” you reached out to adjust his glasses. “there. you looked funny.” hyunjin pouted at your words and you smiled. you felt giddy when you looked at him and you never wanted the feeling to go away. 

“but you told me to leave them like that…” you giggled at his reaction, a pleasant warmth spreading in your chest.

the comfortable silence settled between you two as hyunjin intently scanned your face, taking in every detail for the millionth time. your gaze wandered after his, his brown eyes observing your features like a curious child taking in the wonders of the world. 

“who was that guy you talked to after the match?” he suddenly blurted out and it took you off guard. your face twisted in confusion as you tried to recall the situation. oh.

“it was one of the teammates. he hosted a party tonight and tried to persuade me to go,” you explained, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“oh,” he let out. “okay. do you… do you like him?”

“hyune, are you jealous?” he dropped his head - suddenly your shoes were way more interesting than your face. “hey, look at me,” you ordered him softly but firmly, placing a finger under his chin. 

“sorry.”

you shook your head. “you have nothing to apologise for, okay? i’m sorry that it made you jealous.” hyunjin nodded at your words, a sudden wave of guilt overflowing his senses. “if it makes you feel better, he is a complete asshole. and i don’t like him,” you laughed and he smiled faintly, straightening his back. “now, where were we?” 

you leaned forward and captured his lips in a passionate kiss, your tongue asking for entrance, which made hyunjin’s knees buck under him. he grabbed your shoulders, but you only ran your hand over his back in a soothing manner. though scared, hyunjin let your tongue in - it was sloppy and uncoordinated, because even if it was you who led the kiss, he still felt like a lost child in the wilderness. 

“relax,” you mumbled into his mouth as you sensed his fear. i’m trying, he wanted to say, but he only let out a small whimper, dropping his arms to rest on your hips. with all his might he forced him to cool off. relax, hyunjin, he repeated in his head over and over again and he didn’t even notice when his tongue started to move with yours in unison. 

“i missed you,” you suddenly uttered, breaking the kiss. hyunjin looked at you with wide eyes. 

“really?” he asked and you giggled. 

“of course, dummy. why are you surprised?” you tilted your head. “aren’t my kisses enough proof?” you teased, placing your hands on his chest. his heart was pounding, all because of you.

hyunjin shrugged his shoulders, his breathing speeding up. “no! no, it’s not that, i just… i dunno, i’m- i’m scared that this-” he moved his hand between your bodies. “-is just a dream. and i don’t wanna wake up.” oh. you looked him straight in the eyes.

“you know i’m serious when i say i like you, right?” you asked hesitantly, taking his hand in yours. it was sweaty from all the tension. you rubbed his palm with your thumb to calm him down. 

hyunjin looked at you with a puzzled expression. “y-yeah, i know,” he said with a shaky voice. you placed a feather-like kiss to his cheek, then another one, going down to his jaw and neck, peppering him with soft pecks - a sealing of your words. he melted under your touch, his eyes wide open as he stared into the wall behind you, unable to move. “hey, you know what? i’m kinda hungry,” you said suddenly, bringing hyunjin back to you. he let out a small hm? and you spoke again with a smirk plastered on your face. “wanna eat some ramen with me?”

taglist ! @astraystayyh @laylasbunbunny @l3visbby @like-a-diamondinthesky @hanjsquokka @xichien @xocandyy @minhosbitterriver

[sugoi-and-spice]

For the first time in his life, Tomura Shigaraki has full control of his quirk. With this newfound freedom, there is so much that he wants to do. And it just so happens that you are at the very top of that list.

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Contains: GN!Pronouns, Smut, Soft Shigaraki, Penetrative Sex (Reader Receiving), Oral Sex (Reader Recieving), Pre-Paranormal Liberation War, Post-PLF Manga Spoilers tho, Established Relationship, Alcohol, Massage, League Shenanigans. (Honestly, no crazy CW's with this one lol. It's just fluff and smut and angst lol)

Notes: I tried to write something wholesome to try and heal our mourning Shig-simp hearts... It had mixed results lol.

AO3 Link

Like my work? Please consider commissioning me or contributing to my Ko-Fi!

That seemed a little too easy.

It’s the first thought that crossed Shigaraki’s mind when he came to on the Doctor’s operating table. Don’t get him wrong, the time Ujiko had spent vivisecting him from finger to finger had been hell on earth, but it seemed to go by a little too quickly for four months. 

“That’s because it’s only been a week,” Ujiko explained as he approached Shigaraki with a paper cup of water — an absolutely pathetic offering considering the world of pain the man had just mercilessly put him through.

But Shigaraki took it anyway.

“Didn’t realize that there were going to be breaks,” he said before knocking back the cup in one gulp.

“Once we begin the transference of All for One, there won’t be,” Ujiko explained, “What I was working on this time, was completing your quirk.”

Shigaraki’s brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

Ujiko chuckled, gesturing to the paper cup in the new leader’s hands, “Why don’t you try putting your pinky down?”

He shot the doctor a confused look, not sure what exactly that would accomplish other than sparing him a trip to the trash can. But upon Ujiko’s nod of reassurance, he looked back down at the cup, bringing his raised finger down on its crease experimentally.

Shigaraki’s eyes widened immediately.

The cup was still in his hand.

It didn’t turn to dust. Didn’t even crumble or sport a single crack. He touched it with all five fingers and yet it stood with as much integrity as the steel IV pole next to him. 

He snapped to the doctor, something unreadable in his voice, “Is… Is decay gone?”

“No, no of course not. I’d never purge you of such a powerful quirk,” Ujiko assured, “You just have control over it now.”

Shigaraki willed decay to activate, testing Ujiko’s explanation, and in an instant, the cup dissolved under his touch, just like he was used to. 

He stared at his hand in disbelief, the dust falling through his fingers. He couldn’t believe this…

“And it’s not just turning it on or off, all or nothing,” Ujiko continued, “You can stop the spread of decay at certain points, activate it with just one finger — you have full control.”

Shigaraki snapped to Ujiko, intensely. Desperate. Maybe he should’ve been doing a better job of maintaining his poker face like Sensei would’ve, to try and hide the way this was affecting him. But he just couldn’t. Not now. Not when something he’d longed for so badly, so primally was so close to his grasp.

“Are you sure?”

Ujiko didn’t seem to take notice of this lapse of control however. Or at least, he didn’t care. His bushy mustache just raised with a small smile and pride in his work.

“Quite sure.”

 Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed. He was not fucking around here, “ How sure?”

Ujiko’s smile shifted slightly, a challenging smirk pulling at the corners as he offered his own hand as fodder.

Shigaraki slapped his fingers fully atop the back of Daruma’s fat hand, letting the full extent of his anger and emotions drive him. He wanted to test this fully, test that even in fits of passion, he wouldn’t lose control.

And he didn’t.

Daruma Ujiko stood just as whole and living in front of him as the moments before. The only change was the chuckle of satisfaction that Shigaraki’s dumbfounded expression brought him.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Daruma said, turning back to start pulling out equipment for the next phase of experimentation, large hulking tubes and wires that looked more akin to HVAC parts than real medical equipment.

Neat wasn’t exactly the phrase Shigaraki would use. But he didn’t really care anymore. 

He had shit to do.

“Now, regarding the next steps in your transformation—”

The EKG machine behind him beeped loudly and suddenly, signaling that it had been disconnected. Ujiko turned back to Shigaraki curiously, watching as he pulled off the various electrode pads scattered across his chest and back.

“You don’t want to get started?”

“Tomorrow,” Shigaraki answered, ripping the IV from his wrist as he hopped off the table.

“But what about the power? Your dreams?” Ujiko pressed, something strained, irritated starting to form in his voice, “I would think that these are all things you’d want without delay.”

“I do. But achieving them one day later won’t kill me. And I have some shit to take care of before I grind for four months.”

Ujiko clicked his tongue, clearly unsatisfied with this new development. 

He knew exactly what Shigaraki had to go take care of. And he didn’t like it. Didn’t like you . He’d never liked you in fact. You asked too many questions. Had too many suspicions…

But Shigaraki didn’t care about the doctor’s disapproval, simply turned to him after slapping a bandage over his free-flowing wrist and commanded, “Warp me back to the villa.”

This clearly wasn’t up for discussion. Ujiko could’ve protested, sure, but at the end of the day it wouldn’t have mattered. Shigaraki wasn’t a kid anymore, far from it. He’d taken the mantle of true leader by force, and held his head high with the confidence that accomplishment deserved. If he wanted to do something, he was going to do it. The risk of upsetting the doctor or even his master was not a concern anymore. It barely ever had been.

So in the end Ujiko just sighed and turned to his obedient servant sitting patiently in the corner, “Johnny.”

Shigaraki didn’t so much as flinch as the warp came spewing out of his mouth. In fact, a rare sheen of childlike joy took over his features instead. Daruma noted this with a shaking head as he warped away. Oh well. If Shigaraki wanted one last night with his companions, with his little distraction , who was Ujiko to get in the way?

This was the last night he’d have control over his own body after all. Might as well let him enjoy it.

“Robber!” you cheered victoriously, pumping your fist over the seven you rolled.

“Noooo, not again!!” Toga cried out.

You grabbed the little gray token off the board, twirling it around tauntingly as you hum, “Hmmm, and where should I put him? I wonder…”

Spinner glared at you from across the board, “If you put it on my wheat field one more time—”

“Great idea Spinner!” you mock-gasped, already well aware of where you were planning to put it, and slap the Robber down in the center of Spinner’s monopolized wheat hex. 

“Great move! Cheap shot! ” Twice, the last player of the group, piped in.

“ Damn it !” Spinner punched his fist down on the table, shaking the drinks surrounding the board precariously.

“Oi, oi careful there!” you said, grabbing your glass of wine protectively, “If you party foul, you lose a turn.”

Spinner just grumbled irritably, grabbing his own beer and knocking it back to try and quell some of his frustration. You giggled at the sight. It would be easy to assume that Shigaraki was the most competitive and aggressive game player out of the League, but he actually managed to keep his cool during sessions most of the time. No, it was undeniably Spinner that was the most uncontrollably competitive, and it never failed to make you smile.

Even as the thought of Shigaraki threatened your demeanor with a frown.

You shook out the thought, because of course, you had another certain player to focus on. And you turned to her pointedly.

“Alright Toga, half your hand, let’s go.”

She gasped, “Whaaaat? What are you talking about!? I only have six cards!”

“That’s because two of them are sticking out of your sweater.”

Toga looked down to her sleeve, where indeed the corners of two resource cards were poking out rebelliously.

She snapped back to Compress in offense, who sat on the couch behind her, observing the game amusedly with his own glass of wine in hand, “Atsuhiro! You said that trick would work!”

“I’m sorry my dear,” he shrugged his hands tragically, “But it seems your sleight of hand needs a bit more work.”

Toga groaned, pulling her cards out of her sleeve and looking over which ones she wanted to discard with a pout.

Crushing his finished beer in his hand, Spinner turned back to Dabi who sat across the room, as far from the game as possible, and pretending not to watch it all, like he wsn’t invested in a single thing in this room. Not at all.

“Oi Dabi, can you grab me a beer?”

“You’ve got legs, get it yourself.”

“But the fridge is right freaking next to you!” Spinner shouted, pointing at the minifridge that actually, was not only right next to Dabi, but that he was currently resting his feet on top of.

But Dabi was a son of a bitch. So rather than even giving him an answer, he just crossed his feet over the fridge, making himself more comfortable.

“God, seriously ?!”

Shigaraki watched this all from the doorway with a whisper of a smile on his face. He’d stopped by his bedroom at the villa to grab a button down and even considered grabbing a quick shower while he was at it before coming here — the griminess of a week of experimentation sticking to him thickly. But ultimately he’d been too eager to see his comrades.

Yet, once he got to the doorway that the familiar rowdy laughter of his League led him to, he couldn’t help but just stop and take in the moment. It was nice to see them all so comfortable and content after months of chaos and vagrancy. And it was a look that especially suited you.

While you’d never been particularly materialistic or image-obsessed (if your decision to be with him didn’t make that obvious), you certainly also weren’t one to turn down the finer things in life when offered. And clearly here, you’d been offered, given the cashmere sweater and expensive bottle of wine you were currently enjoying. The regular access to showers and brand name moisturizers and cosmetics certainly weren’t hurting you either. Your skin was clearer and more glowing than he’d seen in months. You’d even seemed to have some time to style your hair today.

And of course there was your laugh. That big, uninhibited laugh that you only let out when you were truly comfortable. In general you were a pretty pragmatic person. It’s one of the things he’d always appreciated about you, particularly when surrounded by this circus that he calls a villain group. 

You approached new situations skeptically and took most things seriously. It’s not like you had no sense of humor, quite the opposite actually. But you also were very aware that there was a time and place for everything. When the pressure was high, laughter was nowhere to be found. And it had certainly been nowhere to be found for a while now.

So it went without saying that seeing you like this now, laughing over a game board, cheeks tinged slightly-red from the wine, completely taken care of and without a care in the world…

It was quite the sight for sore eyes.

“Shigaraki?”

He blinked and looked back to Spinner who, in standing to go grab a beer from the fridge, had turned and spotted him in the doorway.

“Tomura!” Toga squealed excitedly, jumping up out of her seat with Twice to join Spinner in barraging him in the doorway.

“What’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be leveling up with the Doc?” Spinner asked.

“Got a night off,” he answered simply.

“That’s awesome boss! Who needs ya?! ”

He turned to look past the three as you approached behind them, much calmer than the others, as usual. But that didn’t mean you weren’t just as thrilled to have him here. The adoration in your eyes was clear from across the room and it warmed him up in a way that he’d learned to really enjoy.

“It’s good to see you,” you said, simple and sweet. There was clearly so much more behind those words, but you knew how Shigaraki felt about doing shit like that in front of people, so you kept it subtle.

Apparently the caution was unnecessary though, as Shigaraki seemed to have lost his own patience for pretense. Even if it made his next words the spark that set off a firework show of “ooo’s” and teasing from resident forever teenagers, Toga and Twice.

“Yeah…” he breathed, “...Can we talk? Alone?”

It was all you could do to sit down on his bed when he told you.

“Full control?” you repeated in disbelief.

“Full control.”

You smiled, so genuinely, eyes starting to shine. You weren't even thinking about what this meant for the two of you yet, you were just happy for him, for the peace he could now live with. The burden that had eased.

“That… That’s amazing Tomura…”

Shigaraki stared down at you, a lump of nerves settling in his gut. He wasn’t affected by things like nerves or apprehension very much anymore — barely ever was in the first place, and especially not now that he had all the confidence and authority of a “Supreme Leader”. But he couldn’t keep those feelings from surfacing in that moment, couldn’t shake the image in his mind of things going terribly wrong. 

Of you crumbling into a pile of dust and viscera in front of him.

He swallowed down those fears though, and started to reach out a shaky hand, “Can… Can I…?”

Whatever apprehension he felt, you obviously didn’t share. You shot out a hand immediately, without hesitation. With complete trust in his word. In him.

His trembling palm pressed against your own firm one, fingers still raised taught and high on instinct, careful not to make contact. You slotted your fingers through his own, bringing them down to hold his hand with none of that same carefulness. His knee-jerk reaction was to scold you for being so reckless around his hands, just like he always did, but he held the words back, knowing he didn’t need to anymore. But the subconscious anxiety buzzing within him was just the same. 

You didn’t rush him either. Just gave him a squeeze of reassurance, and that was enough to finally encourage him to put a finger down. And then another. Tip by tip resting firmly and fully against your knuckles, until only his pinky remained raised.

He stared down at the horrid appendage, the one that had betrayed him so many times. That he could remember the horrible, gruesome ways in which it had destroyed in full, vivid detail now. Of the damage it could do to not only the world, but had done to his world. To Mon-chan, his mother, his sister…

The League was his world now — you were his world. And the idea of destroying that all with his own hands. It was too much. 

No, he decided, starting to pull away. This wasn’t fucking worth the risk.

But you leaned forward then, pressing your lips gently against his, locking him in place. You didn’t deepen it, nor did you pull away. You just held yourself against him, willing him to understand that this would all be okay. That he was a “Grand Commander” now, and with that came taking risks. Risks that you’d stand behind him through to the bitter end.

How you managed to communicate that all in just a kiss — how you always managed to communicate so much with so little — should’ve been a quirk of its own honestly. But regardless of how, the comfort of those unspoken words was enough to spur him forward. Shigaraki brought down his pinky.

And you didn’t turn to dust. 

You pulled away in fact, just a little, your eyes fluttering open as a soft, tearful smile spread across your face.

“Tomura—”

He surged forward, all of that hesitation and fear from before vanished in an instant. He shoved your hands together forward, pressing you to the bed as he kissed you with new fervor. His free hand came to hold your face, full and tight, all five fingers scrambling up the length of your cheek, your temple, tangling tight into your hair.

You sobbed happily into his mouth as he pulled his other hand free from yours, running it all across your body, disintegrating your clothes on contact, and then bringing those fingers back up the same route of bare skin, fully in control.

He was just as quick to decay his own clothes as you reached forward to try and tear at the top button of his shirt, which, while haphazardly done, was still too secure for either of your patience. He needed to feel you, all of you. Every inch against every pad of his fingers for the very first time.

And possibly even the last.

He didn’t want to think about that now though. He just wanted to shove you up higher onto the center of the bed, shoving your legs open wide as he kissed down the expanse of your chest and stomach. As he buried himself into your center, the pads of his fingers squeezing painfully tight into the pudge of your thighs.

But you didn’t mind the pain. Not only because it surged the pleasure just that much further, but because it grounded you. Reminded you that this was real. It promised a world — no matter how distant or near-impossible it was in reality — where Tomura Shigaraki could be whole and happy. 

Where he could fully be with you.

Your legs strained against his grip, instinctually trying to close as his working tongue pushed you closer and closer to climax. It wasn’t going to take you long at all to reach that peak. After all, the intensity and emotion of the moment aside, it had been a long while since your last coupling. The weeks of recovering from his fight with Re-Destro, the full month you all spent fighting Gigantomachia. And of course, even before that, with the close quarters and stress that came from living on the run and in complete squalor, your escapades had become pretty few and far between. (It was hard to get in the mood when you hadn’t eaten or showered properly in over a week).

So yeah, suffice it to say you were pretty touch-starved at this point, the work of your fingers on lonely nights at the villa having absolutely nothing on Shigaraki’s skillful tongue. And the voraciousness with which he assaulted your sex certainly wasn’t slowing things down for you either.

He didn’t even need to slip his long, knowing fingers into you to have you coming undone — he wouldn’t want to right now anyway, completely losing himself in the way your thighs felt squeezed between his fingers, but that feel of his nails digging into you spurred you on in their own way, ripping a cry from your throat as you came hard under his lips.

Shigaraki smirked up at you, wiping the excess slick from his chin with the meat of his palm, “Missed that.”

You smiled back at him, your own tinged with a bit of sadness as he climbed up over you, hands running up your ribcage. Because you didn’t just miss this. You missed him. And you knew that feeling wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. In fact, it was just getting started.

His brows furrowed at your expression. He’d always been good at reading you, and it’s not like you were being particularly subtle, “You good?”

You chased the melancholy from your smile quickly, planting a happy peck at the corner of his mouth before showing him teeth, “I’m great.”

He hummed, a gentleness overtaking his own features as he stared down at you. Adoration, pure and whole and unrestrained, particularly as he brought a hand back up to cup your face. His fingers spread across the expanse of your skin greedily, his thumb dipping down into your mouth. 

They were small gestures, little things that he seemed the most eager to do with his newly-attained range of touch. But it was obvious that they were huge to him. They were a freedom and a comfort that he’d been chasing his entire life. Even if he didn’t know it.

He groaned as you wrapped your own fingers around his cock, guiding him eagerly to your entrance. You had to. As much as he obviously wanted to fuck you, he couldn’t bare to take his fingers off of you for a second. He’d settle for fucking the plush of your thighs if it meant that he could hold you fully in his hands for just a second longer.

You, of course, were not so willing to settle.

“God—fuuck yes,” he growled, low in his throat, as he sank slowly into you, eternally grateful that for once your patience was even more lacking than his.

You grinned up at him`, shifting your hands to settle on the hard curves of his hips, “That’s good, huh?”

It was all he could do to nod shakily, lip biting back a breathy whine and brows knitting hard, as he tried desperately not to blow his load immediately.

You hummed happily at the sight, bringing one of your hands up to run across his cheek and through his hair. You remembered thinking a few months ago just how much those fights with Gigantomachia and Redestro had hardened him, aged him. Foolishly, it had even had you questioning briefly if this would be the end of your relationship. If maybe the shift that occurred during his awakening would chasm too big a valley for you two to bridge.

Of course, in the privacy of the League’s quarters, off of the stages and away from all the new adoring fans (bandwagoners, you and Spinner sometimes like to joke), he had been the same old Tomura Shigaraki, if not a little more confident and level-headed. He still complained about how everyone sitting on his bed eating dinner while he was on strict bed rest was too loud, still invested himself fully and kicking ass at every little game – from video games to cards – they challenged him to in order to pass the time with a cocky little smirk on his face.

And right now, with his face flushed and mouth agape with pleasure, he still looked just as young and ready to take on the world as the day you met him.

Finally he started to rock into you, slow and deep. One of his hands slipped down to the crux of your neck, fingertips biting tight into that smooth skin as he pulled you closer and closer into him. The other found a tight, desperate purchase on the handle of your hip. He used the grip of both to pump harder and deeper into you with every snapping thrust.

Minus the dry spell the two of you had endured over the last couple of months, you and Shigaraki had, overall, had a lot of sex over the last year that you’d known him.

Like, a lot of sex.

Rough sex, soft sex, angry, and fun. And while the man who claimed to hate everything would of course be remiss to admit it, there had indeed been quite a lot of genuine, intense lovemaking mixed in there too. But this right now, with all of the feelings and newness and longing that came with every stroke and whisper?

If Tomura Shigaraki was in fact capable of love, you were positive that this was the representation of that.

His lips dropped hot against the shell of your ear, peppering desperate bites and kisses along the skin as a string of breathy babble spilled out between.

“God fuck, you’re so perfect. Feel so good. Every part of you, so good. So fucking perfect…”

Overwhelmed with emotion and pleasure, it was all you could do to just mewl out his name, “Tomura, Tomura, Tomura—!”

His hips rolled against you with every hard buck, stimulating your aching sex in the way he knew you loved. That would have you clenching and spilling around him over and over again in the way that he loved. You weren’t even sure if it was intentional at this point, or if you had memorized each other’s bodies so well that it just became an instinctual part of his movement. You certainly didn’t have the forethought to drag your nails up the curve of his spine in the way that had him cursing and speeding up immediately.

“F-Fuck, I’m not gonna last like that—” he growled out, rutting desperately into you in spite of his own warning.

“G-Good,” you breathed back, rolling your hips right back into his, “Don’t.”

“B-But—”

He couldn’t get the rest of the words out, his mouth overtaken by a deliciously loud moan instead as he hit that deep, spongy spot inside of you that was heaven for the both of you. You got the message anyway.

But he wanted to keep fucking you. But he wanted this to last.

But he never wanted this to end.

You tangled your hand through his locks, reveling in the fact that there was so much more to hold now, and yanked his head back hard so he’d look at you.

“But nothing,” you smiled through hot, huffing breaths, “You’re fucking crazy if you think this is our only round.”

He stared at you in complete awe for a moment, hips almost coming to a stop as he took in this moment, took in you and the way that you always seemed to know what he was thinking and what he needed, even when he didn’t. 

Even if he hadn’t had his own dreams for the future, looking at you now, reveling in all that you’d been through together and all that you’d done for him, thinking about all that you deserved… If he could destroy this rotten society just so that you could have the freedom to be half as happy as you looked in this moment for the rest of your life, he’d gladly fucking do it.

Shigaraki’s face mirrored yours quickly after, a wide lascivious grin spreading across his face. It was all teeth and joy and feral desire to absolutely fucking wreck you. And let himself pound into you with the most reckless abandon he could muster.

You cried out at the new punishing pace, nails pushing hard into his skin, and heels locking sharp around his waist, spurred by the desperate need to have him pound into you harder, deeper, faster. Until you were completely coming apart around him, with his own violent release following close behind.

About two hours later, when you’re lying blissed out, sticky, and half-asleep on Shigaraki’s bare chest, he told you to roll over onto your stomach.

You groaned in protest — while your spirit was eager to roll around the sheets with him as much as possible before the sunrise, your body was sore and spent.

“Not for that,” he said, nudging your shoulder, “Just trust me.”

There was still some visible exasperation as you finally gave in, joints and back aching as you moved them before they were ready. You rolled over onto your stomach, dropping your cheek into the mountain of pillows that awaited you.

Shigaraki followed, moving his body over yours and straddling your hips. You were about to scold him for tricking you when, rather than grinding himself into the curve of your ass or thighs, he simply sat down on your butt and brought his hands to the base of your back. Then he started to knead and you knew exactly what he was doing.

Many a time during your months on the run did you take it upon yourself to try and alleviate some of his stress. Of course one of his favorite ways (and yours too) of doing so was to fuck each other’s brains out. But there were also many times when that wasn’t exactly an option. Whether because there were others around or because he was elbow deep in work for their next operation.

At times like those, when he was hunched over a shitty, half-dead laptop he’d manage to scrounge up from a dumpster, or held his fingers to the bridge of his nose, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to fight off an impending headache from the constant pressures of responsibility — you’d usually come up behind him and rub his neck. 

It wasn’t like you made a big show of it or anything. Most of the time you’d just reach a single hand over to him and start to stroke his neck without a word. Not expecting him to say or do anything, not even expecting a thank you. You just wanted to do whatever you could. When it was just the two of you around whatever sorry excuse for a base you’d managed to find, or when you’d been lucky enough to be settled in a safehouse with private rooms, you’d manage to talk him into laying down on his stomach, much like this, and work knots that he could’ve sworn had been there since birth, right out of his back. 

He never said anything about it, never thanked you nor told you to stop, but in retrospect he did realize that it was one of the few things that managed to bring him even a smidgeon of peace over those many stressful months, that actually got him through it all. Particularly in the fights against Gigantomachia, where, the second the beast was asleep, you’d insist he lay his head down in your lap while you rubbed softly at his temples, lulling him near instantly to do the same.

It truly meant the world to him, even if he’d never admit it. A deep, foolishly sentimental part of him always wished that he could return the favor. 

And now he could. 

Of course… That didn’t mean he was any good at it.

“Pinching, you’re pinching,” you winced as his thumbs pressed together, unoiled, on a patch of your back awkwardly.

“Oh shit,” he released his grip, settling to just rub his fingers up and down your back slowly, “Sorry…”

“It’s fine. You just can’t do it that hard if you don’t have any oil or lotion, you know?”

His brows furrowed, “You always did it that hard without any of that crap and it felt fine.

You smirked back at him playfully, “That’s because I’m really good.”

He shot you a look, completely unimpressed.

“I liked what you were doing before,” you conceded. 

This was clearly something he wanted to do, and who were you to complain or judge when he was being so unabashedly giving? 

“When you were using your palms. Just pressing and kneading with your whole hands rather than trying to do any pressure point stuff is really nice.”

“Yeah, okay…” he nodded, concentration settling over his features as he followed instructions.

You sighed, burying your face back into the pillows as he ran those hot, calloused hands purposefully up and down your back. 

This was nice. 

Again, while he wasn’t hurting you anymore, the massage itself wasn’t particularly skillful. It did put you at ease though, the way his smell and presence, the way those hands — even when you could never feel them fully against you — always managed to put you at ease.

After at least thirty minutes passed and Shigaraki showed no sign of stopping his ministrations, you peaked back up at him.

“You don’t have to keep this up you know.”

He snorted, “Yeah I know.” 

And you should’ve expected that response. Because of course he knew. He wasn’t doing this out of obligation or anything. Tomura Shigaraki didn’t do anything he didn’t want to after all.

You rolled your eyes, “I just mean that you must be tired after all that. Don’t you want to sleep?”

“I’m gonna be asleep for the next four months. I think I’ll be good missing one night.”

The message behind those words was clear. He only had so much time to spend with you, he wasn’t going to waste even a second of it with something as stupid as sleeping.

You should’ve been flattered by that. And of course you were. And truth be told, you had the same mindset as him. You had no plans to sleep that night either, even if he had. But the reminder of his fate for the next four months brought a bitterness to your mouth that overpowered the sweetness of this opportunity.

“Sleep, huh?” you said doubtfully, “Is that what the Doctor is calling it?”

“I guess suspended animation,” he corrected himself, “Or whatever the fuck.”

Amongst other things. Hellish agony he believed was the way the Doctor so eloquently put it. But he’d chosen to spare you (and the rest of the League) those particular details.

Even without that knowledge though, you still weren’t thrilled by the prospect. Of course because you were going to miss him, but mostly because you trusted that fucking doctor about as far as he could throw you. Which, for that portly little creep, you were pretty sure wasn’t far.

Particularly, because now that the excitement and happiness you’d had for Tomura’s newfound quirk control (as well as the fog from your repeated orgasms) was starting to fade into something more grounded, a sneaky little question managed to worm its way into your head.

Had the Doctor been capable of “fixing” his quirk this entire time?

A loud pounding on the door suddenly broke the silence, at least two fists rapping. And then Twice’s muffled call of, “Alright you two, you’ve had your fun! Now come out and play with the rest of us! Take your time! Make babies if ya want!”

You snorted at the call. Shigaraki was substantially less entertained.

“Jiiiin!” Toga whined from the other side of the door, “Leave them alone! They want some privacy!”

Ah, so the two fists knocking must’ve both been Twice.

“But you missed Shigaraki too, Toga!”

“I know, but…” 

A stretch of silence. And then apparently Toga’s support for love was outweighed by how much she missed her friend. Because then two more fists started knocking on the door.

“Tomuraaaa, come ooouuuut!!” Toga cried, Twice starting up his own pounding on the door right along with them.

“Yeah, yeah— come out! Stay away !”

“I’ll kill them…” Shigaraki growled, glaring at the door heatedly.

You just giggled as you rolled over under him, dropping him to sit on your waist.

“Oh don’t be like that Tomura,” you cooed, reaching up to cup his cheek in your palm and turning him to look at you, “We should all go hang out. I’m not the only one who’s gonna miss you these next four months, you know.”

He sneered at the suggestion at first, wanting nothing more than to spend the entirety of these next twelve or so hours with his hands holding on to you as tight as possible.

But then he really got thinking about it. About them. 

Spinner, Toga, Twice, Compress, hell, even Dabi. There wasn’t going to be time to fuck around with them all once he woke up. They’d be going straight into action, into war. Into the future, wherever that may lead. This wasn’t just going to be his last guaranteed chance to enjoy time with you. It was his last chance to spend time with any of them, until they achieved their goals. And by the end of all that, who even knew how many of them would still be alive?

It was a weight he’d carried around with ease as they planned out their attack over the last couple of months, a weight he’d been carrying for the past year if he was being honest. But it never felt as heavy on his soul at this very moment.

You were right. Absolutely right.

How annoying, he thought with a grumble.

You smiled as you saw that shift on his face, the slight softness that always fell over him when he thought about the League, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Alright?” you pressed.

He sighed, “Yeah, yeah. Alright…” 

And then let the corner of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly as he looked down at you, so splayed and fucked out and pretty. He leaned down to press a long, but surprisingly chaste kiss on you, for someone that was still sitting atop your naked form with his own.

Because just because he was going to get up, didn’t mean he was going to be in any rush.

Caught up in the feel of each other, neither of you noticed the click of the door and Spinner’s voice announcing, startlingly clear, “Guys, the door is unlocked.”

“Ack— SPINNER!! ”

“Okay, you’ve got that all memorized?” Toga chirped, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor.

“Yeah, I guess.” Shigaraki, across from her, shrugged, strongly resisting the urge to tell her about how stupid this all was (again). 

“Great! So then we start in that first position, crossed arms,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest by example.

Shigaraki sighed and mirrored her.

“Alright! One, two, three!” she sounded off excitedly, before fluttering her hands eagerly and singing, “Misssss Maaaaaryyyyy Mack, Mack, Mack! All dressed in black, black, black…”

You grinned from your position on the couch, glass of wine in hand, as you watched the two. Shigaraki was pointedly not singing along with Toga, but he was matching her claps with impeccable accuracy.

The League had been just as stunned and excited to hear about Shigaraki’s new upgrade. Not to the point of immediately jumping on his dick, but that was obviously more than okay with him.

No, they were more interested in giving him a speedrun through all of the things he’d missed out on in life from not being able to grab it with all five fingers. Playground clap games that Shigaraki, as a boy, couldn’t say he ever played even before his quirk awakened, were apparently of the highest priority to Toga.

“With silver buttons, buttons buttons— Tomura, you’re not singing!”

“And I’m not gonna,” he grumbled back, but not stopping his hands, “Take the W as it is, or don’t take it at all.”

You laughed at the sight, a new glass of wine that you were sure Shigaraki would want by the end of this.

Mr. Compress read Shigaraki’s palms next. 

They supposed that this was technically something they could’ve done even before Shigaraki’s upgrade, but with how careful and particular he’d been with anybody getting anywhere near his hands, it definitely wasn’t something they had ever thought to give a go before now.

He decided to read the palm that hadn’t been marred by the fight with Redestro, for more “accuracy” (a reasoning that Shigaraki had openly scoffed at).

“Your love line is quite straight and short,” Compress explained, “Which indicates that you don’t have a lot of interest in love.”

“Booooo,” a red-faced Toga whined from her place on the floor between your legs, shooting Shigaraki an aggressive thumbs down.

You promptly grabbed the half-empty can of chuhai next to her foot, and moved it up to the side table out of her sight. Underage drinking was officially done for the night.

Unbothered, Mr. Compress continued his reading, running his mechanical finger along the top line of Shigaraki’s palm, “Since your love line begins below your middle finger though, it also means that when you do love, you’re quite selfish about it.”

You chuckled, “Hammer? Meet nail.”

“Oh shut up,” he waved you off with his free hand.

“Next is your head line, which represents the way you learn and communicate, as well as your overall intellectualism and thirst for knowledge.” Compress turned to the rest of the group, finger raised as he lectured.

Dabi, from his place leaning judgmentally against the wall across from them, huffed, “Alright, I agree with the Boss on this one. This is really stupid.”

Toga grinned at him, pointing teasingly, “You’re just saying that because you don’t have any more lines in your palm to read! Jelly!”

“I’m not—”

“Jelly!” Twice backed Toga up with a chant, “Jelly, jelly, jelly! Peanut butter !”

Dabi just sighed and returned to his nth beer of the night.

“You have a deep and long head line, that runs separate from your heart line,” Compress continued, “That means that you’re clear and focussed, with a great sense of adventure and enthusiasm for life.”

Shigaraki snorted, “Alright, now I know this is bullshit.”

You flicked his cheek scoldingly, “Just keep going.”

“I also see a singular cross in your heart line, which suggests that you carry some emotional crisis.”

Compress didn’t linger on that point. After all, everyone in this room was dealing with the same thing in one way or another.

“The lifeline is the most interesting in my opinion,” Compress explained, “As opposed to what you might think, it doesn’t have to do with the length of your life, but the quality of it. Yours runs close to the thumb and forks downwards, which means you’re often tired and a pessimist.”

Toga snickered a bit at that, “Still think it’s BS, Tomura?”

“I’m getting the distinct feeling you guys are doing this just as an excuse to insult me to my face.”

You gave his freehand a squeeze, “Oh we don’t need the pretense to do that.”

“ Oi. ”

“There’s a circle in the line too, which predicts great injury or hospitalization.”

The League looked at him pointedly, and he just rolled his eyes.

“The last detail about your life line is a curious one. It’s short and shallow,” Compress said, cocking his head in a way that clearly indicated that he didn’t exactly agree with it, “Which indicates that you’re easily manipulated by others.”

Your frowned. 

The rest of the League members pulled faces that clearly showed their similar disagreement with the reading. But you, thinking back to all his interactions with All for One and the Doctor, everything in his life that he’d described to you…

Well, you weren’t so sure.

“Pffft, like I said,” Shigaraki scoffed, gesturing for you to hand him his wine, “It’s all bullshit.”

Deliberately, Mr. Compress did not read Shigaraki’s fate line.

You weren’t sure when the night turned into the League taking turns with choosing tasks for Shigaraki to complete, but you weren’t going to complain. You were already looking forward to Toga’s next round after she’d screamed up into the security camera you all knew Skeptic was watching irritatedly through to get her some string for cat’s cradle.

Spinner’s turn was pretty simple though, and at first, not especially different then before. You thought at first that maybe that was by design, that Spinner just wanted to spend some time with Shigaraki the way he always had.

He wanted to play video games.

Of course, there was a twist.

“Fingers down.” Spinner scolded him for what had to be the fifth time in the last ten minutes, “Toga, I need chicken.”

“Yes, chef!” she chirped back happily.

“God, fucking—” Shigaraki growled, forcing his pinkies back down onto the controller against every instinct in his body.

Years of having to hold things in a particular way had caused him to develop a very particular controller grip. One that, once, back at the bar — god, that felt like it was so long ago now — several of you had tried to mimic, just for the hell of it. (Or more accurately, just to get his goat). And it had been hard . The general consensus had been that no normal human should be able to hold a controller like this, let alone hold a controller like this and be as good at video games as Tomura Shigaraki was. 

Now though, the shoe was on the other foot — or more accurately the controller was in the other hands — as you all forced Shigaraki to go a couple rounds of Overcooked while holding the pro controller like a normal fucking person. And it was not going well. 

“Stop dropping shit!” you yelled hysterically next to Shigaraki, “Do you see how many burritos we still need to make?!”

“Do you think I’m doing it on purpose?!” he shouted right back, possibly more worked up than you’d ever seen him.

Toga on the other side of him giggled. She and Spinner were having absolutely no trouble at all on their side of the kitchen, “Tomura, I thought you were supposed to be good at video games.”

“I am! I’m just not used to this grip— FUCK! ” he screamed out as his character once again fell off the map, throwing his controller down onto the carpet.

The room erupted in doubled over laughter and “woah woah woah’s”, over the tantrum the sorts of which none of you had seen since the early days back at the bar.

Maybe he wasn’t such a good sport after all.

With Twice’s request, even you had to admit that things were getting a bit ridiculous.

Twice slammed his elbow down onto the table, holding his palm open for Shigaraki to take, “Gimme all you got, boss! Go easy on me, please!”

Shigaraki, on the other hand, seemed the most enthusiastic about this one, placing his own elbow on the table and grabbing Twice’s hand tight in his own with a cocky grin. 

You suspected that the many beers he’d knocked back (not to mention the entire bottle of wine the two of you had killed together) played a decent role in that, but it was also impossible to deny that their dear leader was fiercely competitive, no matter the game.

“Ready?” you asked, looking between the two. They nodded, and you begrudgingly stepped further into your role as referee, clapping as you counted down, “Three, two, one— arm wrestle!”

The room blew up in a (small) chorus of screams and cheers.  Actually, even that was generous. As referee you were expressly forbidden from picking sides (Twice was very serious about that), and Compress and Dabi were too composed and too uninterested respectively to participate. It was just Spinner and Toga going wild and slamming their hands on the table as Shigaraki’s and Twice’s muscles strained against each other — although they were more than loud enough for the whole group.

“Go, Jin go!” Toga cheered rhythmically, “Go, Jin go!”

“Kick his ass, Shigaraki!” 

The match lasted a respectable amount of time, both sides putting up a pretty damn good fight. And while Twice was built like a tank and was no slouch either — he probably would’ve won this by a moderate margin a couple of months ago — Shigaraki’s month-long escapade with Gigantomachia had given him a strength and will that surpassed Twice’s own.

“Arrrrgh— damn it !!” Twice shouted as Shigaraki slammed his fist down into the table definitively, “Great game Shigaraki! Die!”

You chuckled as Twice got up from his seat, head dropped in defeat, then turned to Spinner, who was already rolling out his dominant shoulder.

“Next challenger,” you gestured to the seat, “You’re up.”

Dabi didn’t have any requests throughout the night (surprise, surprise), just a lot of eyerolls and snippy commentary. But he also didn’t ever split off from any of you, which made you consider that he may not have thought this was all as stupid as he claimed.

The part of the night he seemed to enjoy (or at least, not vocalize his annoyance or the group’s childishness over), the most, was when around 4 am rolled around. 

Out of ideas and exhausted, but absolutely refusing to go to bed, the League decided to take a particularly noisy and drunken nightwalk around the property (much to the dread of whichever resident’s window they passed). This quickly turned into an equally harebrained climb up onto the roof so that you could all watch the sun come up.

That sunrise was still a good hour or so away though by the time you all got settled up there, and as chatty, adrenaline-filled, and drunk as most of you were, the late hour and comforting breeze was starting to get to you all. 

Twice and Toga had long fallen asleep, heads resting together. Compress, with his hands folded over his stomach and Spinner, curling up tighter into a ball with every minute, were not far behind. Dabi’s eyes were closed, but he might’ve still been conscious. He didn’t make a sound either way.

Only Shigaraki seemed to be wide awake, staring up at the waning moon with a complex expression on his face. He looked like he was thinking hard, but also somewhat at peace. Grateful for this moment, but already mourning its inevitable end. Exhilarated by the future that began for him tomorrow.

Wondering just what exactly he’d be leaving behind in the past.

You watched this all cross his face, not shifting between expressions, but clearly feeling it all at once. Overwhelmed, and unprepared to process it all. The one thing that seemed to keep him grounded was the hand that held yours, tight and warm. Anytime tonight that his hands weren’t occupied with whatever silly ringer the rest of the League was putting through, he was threading those fingers right back with yours, savoring the one new experience that he truly wanted to indulge the most in. 

And you were more than happy to let him.

He shifted a bit in surprise as you nuzzled into his shoulder, squeezing his hand just a bit tighter in your own.

“You’re still awake,” he commented, voice horse with the sleep his body clearly wanted.

“So are you,” you mumbled against the fabric of his shirt, just breathing him in.

“Yeah, but you need sleep,” he chuckled, “Like I said, I’ll be having more than enough of it for the next four months.”

You stilled against him, frowning. 

Right. The next four months.

Shigaraki seemed to sense your shift in mood, and kicked himself. That was a stupid thing to mention again when you’d finally managed to put it out of your mind for a few hours, and when that fate itself was even fewer hours away.

He ran his thumb with a restlessness that was once reserved for his nails against his neck. Even with that itch seemingly gone for good from his life, Shigaraki was still a fidgety person by nature. Especially when uncomfortable.

“You guys will be busy,” he grumbled, “Planning the attacks, organizing your regiments, training… You’ll barely even notice I’m gone.”

You didn’t comment on the stupidity of that statement, even though it was a really, really stupid and patently untrue thing for him to say. Because frankly, it wasn’t what was on your mind at the moment, not the front of it anyway. Of course the fact that you were going to miss him and these days together was a constant parasite, gnawing and suckling in the back of your brain. But truly, your current concern was a bit less melancholy. Less abstract.

Shigaraki had full control over his quirk now. And it was great and beautiful and nothing short of a miracle of course, you wouldn’t trade this night and all the memories opened up by that particular door for anything in the world. And yet you could not fight that question that had first struck your mind the first moment you had to actually think about it.

Why now?

That question wrenched through you painfully, no matter how much you loved the feel and sight of his hand in your own. Because sure, Shigaraki had been out of touch with the Doctor ever since All for One’s arrest. But what about the last sixteen some years that he’d been at the personal beck and call of All for One and his ward? Why hadn’t he ever adjusted Shigaraki’s quirk then? Was it a matter of technology, a breakthrough in quirk alteration he only recently was able to make? Or was it something else? Was there something bigger going on here? 

What was he not telling you all?

Shigaraki looked down at you, giving that flat expression of his that you knew translated to concern. You looked up from your locked hands to meet his gaze. He stared into you, those deep pools of carmine that stood so hard against the rest of the world, now soft and imploring. Even more than they were for the League. This look was for you.

“Tomura—”

“It’s gonna be worth it.”

You paused, that newfound calm confidence in his voice silencing you in an instant.

“I know these next four months are gonna be hard for all of us. This war is gonna be hard for all of us,” he said, turning to stare back up at the stars, “But it’s all going to be worth it in the end. We’re gonna make a new world where you’re all able to live as you want to. To be free. And this power that the Doctor is giving me... That’s going to assure that it all happens.”

“And… You don’t think that you can do all that now?” you breathed, “You’ve gotten so strong already, Tomura. Maybe you don’t even need that power.”

He turned back to you with a small but sincere smile. The one that betrayed that deep down tenderness he always tried so earnestly to hide. That called his bluff, revealing that there were feelings other than hate in that cursed body of his.

The one that made your heart skip a beat.

“I don’t want to take any chances,” he said, bringing his free hand — all five fingers — to rest on your cheek, “Not when it comes to my comrades’ dreams.”

Not when it comes to you .

Those unspoken words were loud and clear.

You swallowed something tight in your throat, fighting the burn that threatened to overflow from your eyes, the worry that brawled to burst out from your chest and ruin everything. But you had no choice but to shove it all down.

Forcing a smile onto your face, you squeezed his hand tight.

“I understand.”

His own smile remained the same, although a bit of relief did seem to fall over his eyes. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple and stayed there, breathing as much of you in as he possibly could.

Shigaraki had made up his mind. He was going to go through with this. And there was nothing you could say, no concern you could voice or ultimatum you could give that would change his mind. This decision was beyond his own wants and dreams at this point. It was for something far more important to him, even if he’d never admit it.

This was for all of you.

And who were you to stand in the way of that?

The fears wouldn’t ease with time, the nagging in the back of your head wouldn’t be forgotten through training or planning or anything else that you could do in the next four months to try and drown it out. But you just had to suck it up. You had to support him.

You could talk about your fears and the Doctor and any secret ambitions he may have after this ordeal. After the war even. You could talk about anything then, really. It was only four months after all. 

And the two of you would soon have all the time in the world.

[ellecdc]

hear me out - a remus fic but set in come back be here, like maybe a muggle and remus is instantly smitten but has no idea how to navigate but everyone is pushing for him to actually go for it and it’s just chaos but in the best way possible… regardless come back be here was AMAZING

CBBH Remus x muggle!barista gn!reader

(Pretend they have phones for this okay? Thank you lol)

CW: just fluff, swearing, self deprecation, making a fool of oneself - you know, the remus lupin special

Remus would describe himself as many things.

He was a wizard. He was a werewolf. He was a business owner. He was an uncle. He was a friend. He was a war hero.

He was also, apparently, a coward.

He knows this to be true because he’s sat in the same spot that he’s been haunting all week – a chair in the far back corner of the café – pretending to look over ledgers in his notebook while he actually watches you work.

It’s fucking pathetic, is what it was.

He watched as you smiled politely at every customer in line – even the ones who weren’t as polite to you as Remus thought they ought to be.

He felt silly, really, watching you like a creep. He shouldn’t be here to begin with. He had stumbled upon this café completely by accident two weeks ago whilst in the city to pick up more muggle literature to add to his bookstore on Diagon Alley.

It was here he saw you, as if you were a siren calling him to this sodding caffeinated inlet to damn him to hell.

What a willing victim he was. 

But he shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t get caught up with you. It was unthinkable. Most witches and wizards would have a hard time coming to terms with someone like, well, someone like him. 

He was a burden. A risk.

It was selfish to think he could entertain the thought of you.

Suddenly, as if she’d known he was talking poorly of himself, his phone buzzed.

Remus tried to steal himself as he took a deep breath. 

Right Lupin, you’ve done scarier things before. He thought to himself. You’ve run with wolves, you’ve gone undercover into enemy bases, you’ve deceived the dark lord right in front of his slimy fucking face, and you’ve even told Sirius once you thought his hair looked weird. By all means, you can talk to a barista.

Except...well...he really kind of couldn’t talk to a barista. He had made it all the way to the counter, even smiled politely at you as he stepped up to the cash register and...

And then words left him. Failed him. Completely abandoned him. He even thinks there may be a little stickie note in his brain that says ‘resignation effective immediately’ where words should be because he’s staring right at you with your gorgeous eyes and lovely hair and perfect features and for fuck sakes why isn’t he saying anything!?!?!

“Is there something I can get for you?” You asked so sweetly like this bloke wasn’t standing with his mouth agape at your cash register making a sure and utter fool of himself; like you had all the time in the world for the poor bastard.

“Uhm, uh...” He tried finally as if only now realizing he had functioning vocal chords. 

“Uhm, fuck, I’m so sorry uhm...”

You chuckled at him. Holy shit you chuckled at him. It was the most beautiful sound Remus thinks he may have ever heard. He hoped you’d do it again, though, at the rate he’s going it was really very likely. 

“I’m so sorry. I swear I’m not usually like this. Uh,” He apologized awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck. 

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I think you’re lovely and would, uh, like to get to know you. You don’t have to say anything now!” He interrupted as you began to interject. “In fact, for my pride's sake, I’d prefer if you didn’t. But I’d like to leave my number here for you, in case you’d like to text me some time.” 

He offered you the kindest smile he could muster as you took the now crumpled and sort-of-damp-from-his-sweaty-palms note in your hand with a smile of your own.

Now, Remus wouldn’t say he ran out of the café, per se. He would describe it as more of a jaunt, or perhaps a brisk walk. But he did nearly take out a woman with a pram as he all but flung the door open in his haste to get away. 

You stupid ridiculous bastard. He scolded himself as he made his way to the closest apparition point. If Sirius could see you know, you’d never hear the end of it.

His phone buzzed and Remus nearly dropped it in his haste thinking it might be Sirius having somehow actually seen what just took place.

Then he nearly dropped it again as he saw a new text from an unknown number.

Perhaps Remus wasn’t such a coward after all.

[obsessedwrhys]

The Seven and The Boys with forced supe reader(like Billy’s little sister as revenge for billy and the boys constantly causing problems)

Rouge powers reader————powers turn on and off randomly

can absorb life forces and powers(which they can steal(albeit accidentally))

Very stubborn and sarcastic just like her brother

Home lander is probably extra yandere for tons of reasons and keeps the reader in a glass room(enclosure or whatever)(think a zoo exhibit or big aquarium tank without water—— that one room from You or the glass apartment In Supernova for the kid with the same sort of powers)so that he can see his pet/prize/whatever tf he plans to do with them

-🌑

I keep seeing this as a full blown fic in my mind but I don’t have the skills to pull it off so I’d like to see other people’s takes on the idea!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Rogue!Reader

ᯓ★ I read your req and I'm intrigued so this is my attempt on it, hope it meets your expectations. This is like a full on story lol (angst, gore, death, killing, looooots of cursing like I'm not even exaggerating, homelander being homelander, some fluff at the end?)

With your brother's reputation, it's hard to ever live your whole life without the constant need to look over the shoulder. You always liked to tell yourself that after cutting ties with him, it will ensure you your safety, but those words were nothing more than just lies.

Losing Becca changed him completely. You could still recall the last time you spoke to him, the talk regarding your concern escalating into a heated argument.

"I'm telling you! You have no chance against a literal superpowered person! You'll get yourself killed!" You raised your voice, standing on the other side of the kitchen counter.

"Yeah, but this ain't a life worth livin' for anyways" He brushed your words off like he usually does. You watch in disbelief as he pours himself alcohol.

"Fuck you. You're such an asshole..." You said and he nods at you as he lifts his glass up.

"I'll drink to that" You scoff when he actually drank from his cup, the sound of him sipping ticking you off.

"Okay, fine, get yourself killed! But I won't stand to be here when it happens. I want you out of my life. I never wanna see you. I never even want to hear from you again! You're... you're..." You gasp as you start to sob. He turns to you, nothing but a blank expression on his face.

"Hey... take it easy—"

"No! Don't you fucking tell me to take this shit easy when you just admit to me that you're willing to throw away your life for some blonde american supe! You are a shitty brother! You're just like dad!"

"Don't you fuckin' compare me to that cunt!"

"I fucking said what I said!"

"Fuck you!"

"FUCK YOU!!"

The sound of your heavy breathing filled the kitchen. You could feel your chest rising and falling, your face burning from the overwhelming anger. Butcher sighs at the sight of you as he looks away with his eyes closed.

"You don't know half the things I know sis... you have to understand..."

"No... don't bother telling me. I already know that you'll never change..." You grabbed your things and before he could stop you, you left the house, slamming the door while you were at it.

For the next 8 years, you would find yourself living somehow a happier life. Making friends, going through relationships and heartbreaks, getting multiple jobs to pay for your apartment. It was like an ocean wave since it was never steady but you couldn't deny you've never felt more alive.

However, even on these good days, there were nights you'd find yourself waking up to nightmares. Nightmares of your brother dying. Nightmares of being abandoned. It always left you covered in cold sweats and sometimes you couldn't go back to sleep so you'd just sit by the window or watch some videos online to keep your mind off it.

Even though you convince yourself you were happier.

You never felt secure.

You always felt like something was out to get you.

Especially after you saw the news of him theorised to have killed the senior vice president working at Vought. You couldn't bother to remember her name cause the image of your brother was hauntingly enough. That's when you realised, if they were after him, what if they were also after you?

You stood at the counter of the restaurant you worked at. The job was new as you interviewed for the role of the cashier. Though all these days of dealing with rude customers and having to force a smile is making you want to rethink a different job. Just then, the door to the restaurant opens.

"Welcome!" You said as cheerfully as you can. Instead of searching for a table to sit, the customer approaches you.

"I'm sorry but where's the restroom? I really need to go" The customer spoke, he was wearing an awfully lots of layers, even shades indoors.

"It's just at the back to the right, there's a huge sign, it's hard to miss it" You smiled and the customer stares at you for a while before nodding.

"Thank you"

Finally, he leaves and you couldn't help but be relieved. Why were you holding your breath in the first place? After a couple more hours of standing around and smiling, your shift was done. You did your daily duties and cleaned up the place, making sure it was clean before you leave.

"Bye (Y/N)! Don't forget about our hangout this Friday night!" Your friend spoke as she leaves first.

"Trust me I'm looking forward to it!" You replied before heading to the back of the building to throw the trash away.

You were on your way to the huge bins until you felt the trash bag become lighter. You stare down and was annoyed the second you saw that the bag had tore. It's settled, you're getting a new job after you get your salary. You crouched down and tried to think of ways to solve the issue.

Once you stood up, you felt a sharp pain on your neck. Before you could even do anything to find the source of the pain, you collapsed. The last thing you could feel before becoming unconscious was the touch of someone catching you.

....

"Will it work?"

........

"We've only tested on rats. We're not sure sir"

...........

"Do I have to rephrase? If she dies, you fucking die with her, you understand?"

...............

"Yes sir"

.....................

"Good. Now do what you're only good for, you fucking worthless piece of shit"

...............................

Lights... knives... syringes... you slowly awoke on the floor as faint images of what you would recall as a memory began flashing in your head. Did that happen? It felt real. You opened your eyes and blinked a couple of time to register the room you were in.

You were... in a cage?

You looked around, the walls and floors made of white marbles which made it cold when your skin made contact with it. Now that you realised, you were no longer in your uniform, you seemed to be wearing some kind of gown patients would wear for surgery.

"Morning sunshine!" Your body jumped when you heard a familiar voice, a voice you only heard on the tv or radio shows. You stare at him as he walks to the center, a few feet from your cage.

It was Homelander. You never thought the day would come where you would be face to face to the person behind the reasons of your brother's rampage.

"Did you rest well?" He asks, an eary grin on his face. You looked around the inside of your glass cage.

"Couldn't you have given me a mattress?" You said. Your concern catching him a bit off guard but he didn't show it.

"Well, we tried to give you something more comfortable to sleep on but it seems like anyone who tried to even touch you ended up well... what's the word for it... withered. Dead. Nothing but a corpse suck dry of it's life" He said but you had no idea what any of his words meant.

"Is this some joke?" He chuckles.

"No. No joke (Y/N). I'm simply just giving my hypothesis on your new powers"

Powers? You have to be high right?

Did whatever pain that you felt was the mark of your death?

Is this some sick twisted illusion of yours created in hell?

"Yeah right... and I'm fucking Beyonce. Would you like to see my collection of Grammys?" You said sarcastically, clearly not taking anything seriously.

Homelander doesn't say anything but just laugh, since you were clearly convinced this was hell and that you were dead, you laughed along with him. He trembles his shoulders as if he's cold, that devilish grin still on his face.

"Wooo! You're a jokester aren't you (Y/N)? I know I'm just gonna love you. How about I bring you a gift as a symbol of our blossoming friendship?" He asked but he had already left the room. Your answer never even needed at all.

As your laughter died down, you were left alone in the room. You felt high. Too realistically high. Were you pumped with drugs? Shit... you grabbed your head as you tried to process the feeling until you heard the sound of a high pitched scream. You turn your head to find it to be your friend from work. She was shoved into the room and right when she stood up to leave, the door was shut.

"Let me the fuck out! You fucking bitch! You promised me weed!" She slammed on the door a couple of times after attempting to twist the doorknob open.

"Cleo?" She turns to you, her masacra ruined from her tears.

"(Y/N)? Holy shit what happened to your hair?" She said and you were confused until you checked to see the front strands of your hair now dyed white.

Okay now what in the actual fuck is happening...

"I don't know...? Why are you here?" You questioned.

"Some fucker promised me weed for some cash. I should have known better when I saw how cheap it was" She sighs as she sits against the door.

Suddenly the glass door on your cage sprung open. The two of you exchanged confused expressions. Is this some kind of trick? You wondered but either way you stepped out from your cage and began to approach your friend. She sighs as she curls up into a ball.

"What the fuck even is this place...?" She asks after you finally sat down beside her. You rubbed her arm to provide some comfort.

"I don't know... this feels real and fake at the same time. Hey, if by any chance we were in a puzzle just like in Saw, how much do you wanna bet who'd win—?" You nudged her playfully but instead of getting a response. She falls over.

Her face was pale white. Eyes dilated. The veins on her body growing visibly purple. The sight left you in shock and you quickly grabbed her by the shoulder to jerk her a few times. No words left her mouth except sounds of gasping, as if the air was getting sucked out of her lungs.

"Cleo! What the fuck! Holy fucking shit!" You cursed and it didn't take long until her body grows limp. Like a skeleton with a thin layer of skin left.

Afraid the same would happen to you, you quickly ran into your cage. You sat at the corner, trying your hardest not to look at your friend. That was real. This isn't some stupid trick set up by Satan. This is fucking real.

But why is this happening?

Why you?

The glass door slammed shut and the noise made your body jump. The door to the room opened but got stuck at the weight of your friend's corpse. You could hear the sound of disgust come from Homelander as he ends up kicking body aside to be able to open the door fully.

"So... did you like my gift?"

"What the fuck did you do? Did you poison her?" You said which he seemed offended at.

"Me? Oh please, I can shoot fucking lasers out of my eyes and I choose to poison some fucking nobody? I mean look at her" He chuckles, his eyes staring at the corpse of what was your friend.

His tone and words growing a small wave of anger within your chest.

"What do you want from me?"

"You know what I want" He said, the smile on his face gone. He was now serious. His gaze cold enough to send shivers down your body.

"(Y/N) Butcher. Butcher. I didn't know he had a little sister" He took a step closer, then another, until he was face to face to the glass, staring down at your figure hiding away in the corner.

"He really doesn't get scared huh? Not afraid of death, to take a life, not even me. And well... since he fucking hates supes so much, then I might as well make his beloved sister one. If I can't strike fear in him, you will" Homelander spoke, the corner of his lips twisting into a grin. As if all of this was bringing him some sick enjoyment.

"Everyone will be the pawn and you'll be the queen... so save your strength. You're gonna need it sweetheart" He turned around and as he leaves, he stares at the corpse for a quick moment. Even from inside the cage you could hear him shout for the people working to clean the body.

Fuck... this cannot be your life now...

You're now an animal kept in a cage.

Hours progressed to days then months. The only thing keeping you entertained was... the toilet? Aside from that was the visits Homelander would pay you every now and then to make sure you were alive. It almost seemed like he had expected you to be dead by now but you weren't, which he's impressed about.

You laid on the ground, staring at the ceiling. You were bored so you decided to try to count from 1 to 10000 this time. Just as you got to 482, the door opened and you turned to see it wasn't Homelander but rather a worker. Assuming he's just here to clean, you turned back to the ceiling to continue counting.

"Pssh, ma dame, do you hear me?" He knocks on the glass, his french accent caught your attention.

"I don't care. I'm not gonna strip for you"

"Nono! That's not why I'm here, your brother, Billy Butcher? He sent me here" His name striking something in you. You got up as your eyes are slightly widened.

"He knows I'm here?"

"Yes... he's here as well. He's gonna try to get you out of here"

Just as he finishes talking, the glass door sprung open. He gets in the cage and reaches for you but right as you reach for his hand, you remembered you weren't the same anymore, you were cursed, so you quickly pull your hand away. Your action causes the man to tilt his head in confusion.

"Do not worry, I'm not here to hurt you" He tries to take a few steps closer but you quickly stepped back.

"No.... no stop! That's enough!" You raised your hands gesturing him to stand where he's at.

"Don't touch me..." You added and he stares at you for a moment before taking a few steps back until he's out of the cage.

"Okay... but you must follow me. We don't have much time left" He said, walking out of the room and you hesitated for a while before following after him.

When walking down the hallway, you couldn't help but look around the area. This was your first time seeing the place you've been trapped inside for supposedly months. As you followed the strange man who saved you, you noticed that he seemed to be talking to someone over his earpiece. Was it Butcher?

After managing to sneak past several guards and having a few close calls, you two finally made it out from one of the back doors. You hurried as you followed the man somewhere. You couldn't believe it. The feel of the wind and the smell of the grass was making you wish you appreciated the outdoor more.

"Were you noticed?" His friend who's been on the look out asked. He shakes his head.

"No" After hearing his reponse, his friend turns to look at you.

"I'm M.M.... C'mon, your brother put in a lot to save you" He began walking away and the two of you simply went along.

He did?

"I haven't introduced myself. I'm Frenchie. It's nice to meet you" The man who saved you earlier said with a smile and you weakly smile back.

The moment the three of you reached a van parked in a safe area. The door slide open and your eyes widened once you were locked eyes with someone familiar. Yet he looked so much different now. He grew a beard. You had to admit, it made him look less ugly.

"(Y/N)..." He got out of the van and was ready to embrace you but you quickly avoided his grasp. This causes him to stand there with his arms hanging there awkwardly.

"Ooookay.... get in" M.M told Frenchie and they did just that, sliding the door close to give you both the privacy.

"All these years and you still hate your ol' brother" He jokes as he drops his hands down to his sides, but it was clear that he was upset at your actions and trying to hide it.

"Don't touch me"

"I got it"

The two of you stood there and you were staring at him a little too hard. Thoughts racing in your head like a racetrack. What the fuck has he been up to these years and how did he even find you?

"So... are we jus' gonna stand here and wait for 'em to realise you're missin'?" He nods at the facility nearby and you sigh.

"You're taking me home" You walked over to the passenger seat but the sound of Butcher clicking his tongue made you stop halfway in your tracks. Now you were standing in front of the van.

"Not gonna happen. Is your head loose of screws sis? They know who you are now, which means they know where you live. You're gonna be stayin' with me" He said.

Shit... there's really no chance of a normal life now. You really are cursed.

"Stay with you? With these guys?" You point at the van and from the front of the vehicle, you could see his friends all huddled in the back, the whole time they've been secretly listening to the conversation but once you pointed at them, they tried to act as though they haven't been doing so.

"They can protect you"

"I don't need protecting. The last thing I need is someone doing that"

"Oh really? Then mind sharing your experience in there? Was it a luxury? How much longer do you think you could have lasted if I hadn't found you" He took a few steps closer and you gave him a warning look.

"You're my sister... you think a few fights is gonna change that?" He tried reaching for your shoulder and you quickly dodged it. Failing to notice, tears were beginning to well up in your eyes because deep inside, you were desperately in need of comfort, a hug, anything physical but you couldn't even have that.

"You can't touch me... nobody can.... f-fuck... I killed my friend just by touching her..." You began to sob, your hands grabbing onto your face in an attempt to hide your expression. A frown appears on his face.

"What the fuck did they do to you...?"

"They made me a freak! They gave me these fucked up powers!! I don't want this...!" You cried, wishing this was another of your nightmares and that none of this was real.

"It's okay... come here..." He began to step closer to you but you were too numb from the feeling to even react.

Taking off his coat, he puts it securely around you before wrapping you in his arms. For the first time in months, you finally felt the presence of another person's embrace. The warmth felt so good. It was like you were melting from it. Your sobs grew weak as you nuzzle onto his chest, the fabric separating the contact of your skin with his. This was everything you needed right now.

"We'll get through this... these powers of yours ain't gonna scare me away" He said, rubbing your back gently.

"Thank you..." You muttered.

After you escaped and made it safely away from your prison. Homelander was alerted of your escape a few hours later. He arrives at the facility, walking down the hallway as the doctors walking by were scared to see him and trying their best to avoid his sight. Once he walks in the office of the head security, the man sprung up almost instinctly.

"Sir" He greets him. Homelander doesn't say anything but stare at him... before breaking into a smile.

"Great job, at least you're good at failing at your job. Now show me" He walks over to the guard's side who's hurrying to click a few things on his computer to show him what he came here for.

"The tracker we planted in her is working well and fine. She's currently in a vehicle heading somewhere"

"Good... it's like sending a cat to a bunch of rats" Homelander then gave the man a strong pat on the shoulder.

"Do we go after them sir?"

"No, keep an eye on her for now. I'll tell you when the time is ready" Without any further discussion, he left the office. A plan already set in his mind.

(I might make a part 2 but I'm not sure if anyone would be interested, it'll be sort of fluff where the boys figure out her powers, some angst? Idk, tell me if you think I should)

[billyrayjo]

Fangs

Damon Salvatore x F! Reader

** I am literally psychotic for this man. If anyone has any recs of any longer fics to read for Damon, please send my way! I feel like there aren’t enough lol **

~ just pretend this is an alternate vampire diaries universe where Elena stays with Stefan after turning!

Thinking about making this a short series with roadtrip x one bed trope! Let me know if that’s something you’d want!

If it were up to you, your best friend would’ve never fallen for a vampire in the first place.

Not only would you have a little more peace and quiet, but you might have at least a slight grip on your sanity.

You are currently standing in your bathroom, cursing to yourself as you try to wipe off the dried blood on your neck. You’d been bitten a few hours ago, the hectic events of the night putting a pause on your ability to treat your wound earlier.

As sad as it is to say, the bite really didn’t affect you like it should have. You’d been bitten too many times to count, and with Stefan using you as a message from Klaus, the well-being of your bestie’s oddly likeable boyfriend took precedence over a vampire bite.

The cotton ball slipped out of your grasp again, landing on the counter silently, drawing a “mother fu-” past your lips before a throat clearing snatched your attention to the doorway. Leaning smugly against the doorframe, clad in a leather jacket and jeans, arms tucked across his chest, was your biggest nightmare.

Damon Salvatore.

Since his brother had gone missing with Klaus, he had recruited you as his partner to aid in finding him. His exact reasoning was something along the lines of you both “sharing an interest” in finding him for the people you love or something. Stefan is your best friend’s boyfriend, so finding him was important to you. Working alongside his handsome devil of a brother, not so much.

Damon is reckless. He’s selfish and uncaring, willing to sacrifice anyone or anything for his own wants and needs. He’s rude, snarky, sarcastic, and impulsive. All of that in mind, that’s not the reason you despise him, surprisingly. You despise him for the ease in which he pulls a blush to your cheeks, the tingling feeling he leaves behind when he brushes against you, the knots in your stomach that appear when his baby blue’s meet your gaze.

That is what is despicable about Damon to you. The ability he has to completely knock you off balance, leaning into those giggly teenage fantasies every girl has. It’s dangerous.

Knowing this, you can’t help but roll your eyes in frustration when you take a glance at his smirking face standing in your bathroom doorway. He’s been doing that lately. Popping in for visits unannounced, anyways. They started with purpose, him discussing a new lead about Stefan, gathering the intel you had gathered on your own investigation. Now, though, it seems like he just does it because he’s.. bored?

“Well hello to you too.” He mutters, scoffing at the greeting he received from you.

“I’m busy, Damon.” You mutter, cotton ball back up to your neck. You let out a sound of despair when you accidentally graze the open hole in your neck, throwing the cotton ball back onto the counter before letting out a sigh of defeat.

“Yeah, busy failing. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to make it worse..” he argued, standing up straight to come stand behind you in the mirror.

You avoid his gaze in the reflection, instead choosing to pull out a new cotton ball and douse it in peroxide to busy yourself. Once the ball is saturated, you look back at yourself in the mirror, leaning in closer to get a better view of the wound.

“My bad. I’m not yet an expert on how to treat a bite from a creature that shouldn’t even exist, I suppose.” You grumble, moving more of your hair out of the way to examine the area.

You had already gotten ready for bed, your hair in long loose curls from the style you did that morning, makeup cleared and skincare applied. You didn’t let yourself over analyze the fact that you were wearing a massive tshirt and tiny sleep shorts, though.

Damon sighed behind you. You felt a little tug on the ends of your hair before he murmured a quick “let me see” and turned your shoulder to face him.

Giving up, you dropped your shoulders in defeat, turning away from the mirror and leaning your weight into the counter top. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised one eyebrow up to the ceiling as you met Damon’s gaze.

“I figured Klaus would’ve killed you by now for trying to detain Stefan.” you mused, lip fighting its way into a smirk at your own humor. Damon’s eyes followed the movement before coming back to your own. He let out his own little smirk as well, and you tried not to shiver when his hand slid into the juncture of your neck to angle your head. His fingers easing into your hair and warm palm on your pulse point almost had your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Kill me? You’re hilarious. Klaus knows better than to try that.” He jokes, free hand coming up to wipe at the wound with the cotton ball you had previously. You let out an annoyingly girly giggle at his response, lifting your eyes to look at the well behind his head as he leaned in closer to your neck.

“I seem to recall you being bedridden for days with a werewolf bite a few short months ago. Received by none other than the man himself.” You dramatically sighed, bringing your finger up to tap your chin as if in deep thought.

Damon just shook his head with a huff at your antics, finally getting the last few bits of blood off of your neck. The silence was comfortable as he moved onto applying ointment to the wound.

After a few minutes of doctoring, you felt your eyes getting heavy and your head leaning more into Damon’s palm. “Alright. We’re almost done. Sorry for boring you to death.” He teased, hand coming up to poke you in the side as your eyes flew back open.

“Hey!” You whined, hand coming up to slap at his chest, albeit very weakly. Letting out a huff, you pulled your hand back in and crossed it back under your other arm.

“Remind me to never come to your rescue again. All I’ve gotten in return is snoring and abuse.” Damon grumbled, finally sticking down a bandage before throwing the wrapper in the trash.

“I’ll show you abuse” you murmured, grabbing onto Damon’s outstretched hands to turn you back around. You met your gaze in the mirror and then inspected the bandage up close. “Wooowww. Someone really knows their stuff.” You tease, eyebrows wiggling in your reflection as you keep looking closely.

Damon just rolls his eyes in annoyance before grabbing your wrist gently and easing you towards your bedroom. He pulls back your blankets before helping you ease into the bed, pulling them back over you once you’re settled in.

“Get some shut eye soldier, we’re going to Alabama tomorrow.” He whispers towards your ear in a smirk, raising back up to pat on your shoulder gently before walking away.

You shoot up suddenly, gasping out a “We’re what?!”.

Your question falls on deaf ears, your room dark and empty with the curtains swaying in the breeze.

** OKAY. I MIGHT ACTUALLY MAKE THIS A SERIES. POSSIBLE ROADTRIP x ONE BED TROPE COMING SOON EEEEKKK!! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK*

[tkaulitzlvr]

heyyyyy!! just wanted to start by saying i legit love ur writing so much ur one of my fav TH authors and i legit love seeing and reading ur stories. THEY R SO DAMN GOOD :)

anyways here the request if ur comfy lol IVE HAD THIS IDEA FOR SO LONG AND I NEED SOMEONE TO DO IT PLS QUEEN

soooo basically like 2017 soft dom tom and like we r in a car driving and like reader is rlly horny and hes teasing her LIKE CRAZYYYYY and resting his hand on her thigh and stuff and whispering dirty stuff to her giving her small neck kisses and pecks and like other teasing stuff (LOL IDK WHATEVER U WANT JUST SHIT TONE OF TEASING) and then when they get home he completely ignores reader and acts like it never happened and just acts normal and goes to watch tv on couch but then reader gets RLLY CLINGY and comes over and THEN STARTS TEASING TOM ON COUCH and like reader whispers stuff to him and neck kisses and the tom gets rlly nervous and then he gives up and like eats her out till shes BEGGING HIM TO STOP (so like some overstim) and then they fuck and yeah just smut smut smut. and tom and reader with praise kink and lots of dirty talk pretty pls. <3

HAH SORRY THAT WAS KINDA LONG AND DETAILED BUT YEAH ITS LEGIT MY DREAM STORY. pls only write if ur comfortable but yeah u can add whatever u want that would fit with the story and YEAH PLS MAKE IT GOOD!!! (u will ur amazing) yeah thankyouuuuuuuuu <3 :)

DESPERATE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you can’t contain yourself, basically throwing yourself at tom. he knows it, but wants to make you wait as long as he can, and it drives you crazy. but, he makes you realise that you should be careful what you wish for.

content: smut

a/n: thank u so much anon i’m glad u love my work, and i hope this lives up to ur expectations. also never written for older tom before so thanks for being my first req to write him🙏

he saw the glances i sent his way, the way my legs squeezed together, palms becoming a little sweaty. he noticed my breathing becoming a little erratic, teeth sinking into my bottom lip, feet tapping impatiently against the floor. he knew exactly what i wanted. but, even when i leaned over, running my hands across his inner thighs, closer and closer to his clothed dick, he kept his eyes on the road, knowing that he was driving me crazy, and he liked it.

“thinking of ordering pizza for dinner. you down?” he asks, completely ignoring my hands which are now directly over his crotch, and my eyes on him, filled with desire. he knows exactly what is doing, the slight smirk tugging on his lips telling me that, and i know that he won’t give up his little game yet. i am in for a long night, my eyes set on feeling him inside of me, willing to do literally anything to get that satisfaction, completely aware that he isn’t going to make it easy for me.

but, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tease me either.

“mmm, i’d rather have you instead.” i mutter, knowing that he heard me.

we stop at a red light and he turns to me, his eyes dark, a familiar look of lust present within them. that same smirk is still on his face as he slowly leans over, planting a slow kiss just below my ear, his breath tickling the skin as he whispers into it. “who says you can’t have both?”

my eyes widen, the heat between my thighs only increasing, his words quickly causing me to become flustered, my cheeks flushing a light shade of crimson. he sees this, a small laugh escaping his lips as he plants soft kisses at my neck, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the harsh metal of his lip ring as it dances around the skin of my neck, my head tilting to the side to give him better access. his actions are abruptly cut off by the sound of a horn behind us, tom’s head shooting upwards, the traffic lights already having turned green.

he quickly adjusts himself, flashing me a quick wink before pulling his head out of my neck and beginning to drive away. my eyes focus on his hand on the gearstick, the way his veins flex, fingers tightly holding onto it, wanting nothing more for them to be moving inside of me. as if he had read my mind, he removes his hand, placing it onto my thigh, letting it travel further upwards, moving closer and closer to the place i need him most, his head still facing the road as he looks blankly at it as if he isn’t teasing me to the point that i could scream.

he moves his hand flat against me, and my body jerks in shock, his fingers slowly rubbing my clothed clit, he sees the reaction he gets out of me by doing this, smiling to himself before abruptly moving his hand away, returning it to its previous position on the gearstick as i whine in frustration.

“baby why’d you stop?” i sigh, placing my hand over his and trying to move it back over my heat, but he refuses, keeping it set on the gearstick.

“stop acting so impatient, liebe, or you know you won’t get anything. be good for me and maybe i’ll give you what you want, you just gotta wait till we get home, mhm?” he taunts, watching the way i quickly nod my head, smiling at my obedience, placing his hand back on my thigh, torturing me as his thumb begins slow movements over it.

so i stayed put, trying to distract myself literally however i could, the drive home seeming like hours as each second wasted time, time that could be spent with him inside of me. the teasing never stopped, tom kissing my ear, neck, collarbone, cheek, anywhere his lips could access whenever we stopped at a red light, promising that he’d give me what i so desperately needed once we got home. so i held on, restricting myself, his words keeping me going, acting as motivation as the reward of holding back was completely worth it.

a sigh of relief escapes my parted lips once he turns onto our driveway, my hands scrambling to undo the seatbelt, literally unable to contain myself at this point. tom however, takes his time, not stepping out of the car until i have reached the front door, unable to get in as he pulls the key from his pocket, slowly unlocking the door. i expect him to move onto me the second we walk in, pushing me against the wall, attacking me with kisses, showing me that he meant his promise, but he does the opposite.

he slowly kicks his shoes off, walking into the kitchen as i stand there, pissed off and feeling completely let down. i join him in the kitchen as he stands on his phone, leaning against the counter, a smile forming on his lips once he sees me walk in.

“what pizza do you want babe? i’m feeling like pepperoni.” he utters those words so nonchalantly, as if the things he had said to me, the way he had touched me in the car were all figments of my imagination. i mumble a small ‘get me anything, i don’t care’, before trudging to the living room, sexually frustrated, completely done with his teasing.

he joins me soon after, patting my thigh gently as he sits beside me, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the channels as if i wasn’t sat next to him, bored and desperate. i had reached my breaking point.

“tom…” i trail off, leaning towards him, my lips pressing open-mouthed kisses against his neck, taking note of the way his breathing begins to quicken, knowing that i am slowly getting to him. but he doesn’t show it yet, his expression still blank, eyes still set on the tv in front of him.

“baby…” i mutter against his skin, my hand reaching for his crotch, palming him as a low groan emits from his now parted lips. he shuffles in his seat a little, adjusting himself and clearing his throat. still nothing. i reach underneath his t-shirt, my fingers tracing his abs, feeling every muscle, lips still attached to his neck. he doesn’t give in, keeping me waiting, which only frustrates him even more, but i can feel him slowly giving in, only motivating me more.

“please, i promise i’ll be good…” i slowly say, looking upwards at him before climbing onto his lap, straddling him as he has no choice but to look into my eyes. “i’ll be so good…”

i repeat my words, dipping my head so that it is underneath his chin, kissing his neck once again, sucking gently on the skin as i try to leave marks. but i am not finished yet. i slowly begin to grind against his clothed dick, moving back and forth at a teasingly slow pace. it doesn’t take long for his hands to grip at my hips, completely stopping my movements. bingo.

“so fucking impatient.” he mumbles, switching us around in one swift motion as he lays me on the couch, moving on top of me and messily colliding his lips with mine. “couldn’t wait at all could you, hm?”

i say nothing, too busy focusing on the way his lips move against mine. he clearly isn’t wasting anytime as i feel his hands move to my leggings, hooking his fingers around the hem, tugging them and my panties down, raking them down my legs and throwing them carelessly onto the floor. my own hands scramble for his t-shirt, taking it off of him and letting it find the pile of clothes on the floor, my own t-shirt and his pants following, only his boxers between us.

he reconnects our lips as a quiet ‘please’ escapes from my mouth, wanting more than just a kiss, having waited all night for this.

“please what? you know you have to use your words schatz.” he teases, his forehead against mine, waiting for me to speak.

“need you to touch me.” i whine, my hands finding his neck as i play with the loose strands of hair, watching the way he nods his head, seeming satisfied with my answer.

he crawls downwards, kissing each part of my body as he does so, nipping gently at the skin, enjoying the way my breathing is fast and heavy, low whines escaping my mouth. he reaches my inner thighs, still planting small kisses, one hand on each leg as he forces them both apart, letting his head rest in-between them, stopping his motions and looking upwards at me, his eyes meeting mine.

“you sure?” he asks, knowing full well what my answer is, using his breath to ask such a pointless question, knowing that it will only get me more riled up.

“yes tom just- fuck! touch me, ple-.” i sigh out, my pleading soon cut off when i feel his tongue delve into me, my mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as i my hands find their way into his hair, pushing him further into me.

“oh my god!” i cry, feeling his tongue hit all the right spots inside of me, knowing that it won’t take long for the familiar knot to form in my stomach, his teasing meaning that the smallest of touches had the biggest effect on me. he groans against me, the bass in his throat sending a vibration through me, yet another moan spilling from my lips, his name never being said this many times before.

his pointer finger finds its way to my clit, rubbing slow circles whilst his tongue continues to drill inside of me, my release building up inside of me.

“getting close. don’t stop, oh my god please don’t stop!” i beg, my hands lost within the thick strands of brunette hair, the previous tidy bun messy thanks to me, but he didn’t seem to mind, only focused on feeling me get to my end.

his tongue touches my g-spot, a high pitch moan unlike no other i had uttered coming from the back of my throat. he picks up on this, directly hitting that spot over and over, my vision clouding, eyes rolling to the back of my head, way too lost in pleasure to process the fact that the knot in my stomach had released, tom swallowing all of my juices. i expect him to stop, my chest heaving up and down, coming down from my high, every part of me sensitive, but he keeps going at a fast pace - if not quicker than before.

“too much! can’t take it.” i breathe out, my thighs squeezing against his head, careful not to apply too much pressure, but he only smiles against me, completely ignoring my pleas.

“you wanted me to touch you.” he mutters into me, replacing his mouth with his fingers so he can speak more clearly. “so that’s what i’m gonna do schatz.”

and he sticks to his words, his tongue moving back inside me, the overstimulation quickly taking over, my entire body jolting when he hits the sensitive spots inside of me, unable to take the pleasure.

“please…i can’t…too much…”

my words are incoherent, not able to form full sentences as i feel another release building up.

“not stopping until you say the word baby.” he mumbles against me, referring to our safe word that i have only had to use once. he knows that i won’t say it, secretly enjoying the pleasure despite the pain that comes with it, taking all of it in. “you can give me one more, doing so well.”

i take in every single word of praise he gives me, using it to work through the pain, focusing on the pleasure, using it to guide me to my release, my eyes squeezing shut, head falling backwards as it takes over, my back arching off of the couch, this one much more powerful than the last. he swallows everything, planting a few kisses on my lips as i wince, completely spent. my body lays limp on the couch, his moving upwards so that he is hovering above me. he kisses me softly, his thumb reaching upwards and wiping a few tears that i hadn’t even realised had fallen.

he sits up, taking his boxers off, stopping them at his knees, not even bothering to fully remove him. he lifts my body, sitting me on top of him so i am straddling him.

“you did so well baby. you think you can handle just one more, for me?” he asks, running his hands up and down my hips, watching as i tiredly nod my head, a small smile spreading across his face.

i position myself onto him, slowly sliding downwards as he fills me up.

“fuckkkk.” he drags out, his head falling backwards and resting on the top of the couch, his hands tightly holding my hips, fingers digging into the flesh.

i stop about halfway, feeling completely full, not sure how i will be able to take all of him. he sees that i am struggling, kissing my cheeks gently , moving down to my collarbone.

“you feel so good baby, keep going, you’re almost there. shit- so fucking good.”

low groans escape his mouth as i nod my head, continuing to sink onto him until i am fully sat on him, my mouth dropping open, wincing a little at the pain, his fingers nothing compared to the size of him. i place my hands on his chest, trying to steady myself as i begin bouncing up and down, tom moaning loudly, his hands never leaving my hips, watching me move on him.

“so fucking tight, oh my god…” he sighs out, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut as i speed up my movements, whining as he hits a totally new angle, never feeling so good, so full before.

his forehead glistens with sweat, muscles flexing every time he squeezes my hips, his fingers leaving marks into my skin, but i don’t complain, the feeling only increasing my stamina. my walls clench around him unconsciously, tom groaning whenever i do it, the feeling only bringing him closer to the edge.

“just like that.” he groans, his voice deep. “yeah, shit baby- feels so good.”

after my two orgasms, it doesn’t take me long to become tired, my movements slow and sloppy. my body collapses onto his chest, frustrated as i am getting close, unable to get there myself. he notices this quickly, beginning to thrust upwards into me, loud moans echoing throughout the room as i try my best to meet his movements, rotating my hips a little, feeling him deeper inside me than i ever have before.

“i’m close. don’t stop.” i manage to say, messily colliding his lips with mine, his tongue exploring my mouth whilst his strokes remain strong and deep, hitting all the right spots.

“me too baby.” he mutters between kisses. “almost there, you’re doing so so well.”

his dick twitches inside of me as he thrusts in and out a few more times, before his cum shoots into me. his head quickly falls backwards, eyebrows furrowing, mouth falling open as a long groan falls from it, his release triggering my own as i clench around him for the last time. he thrusts a few more times, riding out our highs, our heavy breathing and skin slapping together the only thing sounding throughout the quiet room.

he kisses my lips once more, pulling apart as his forehead leans against mine, arms holding me within his embrace, skin pressed together.

“you did so good meine liebe. took me so well.” he whispers, still trying to catch his breath as i am unable to respond, totally worn out, my body weak as it rests in his for support.

his lips gently kiss my forehead, one hand running through my hair whilst the other gently strokes my back, his breathing calming down as he utters sweet nothings in my ear until i fall asleep within his embrace, completely exhausted.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[samkerrworshipper]

heyyy guys

had heaps of reqs for some daddy lucy smut and i haven’t been able to finish any of it lol so i thought i’d give you all a little blurb/sneak peek so enjoy! if y’all like this i’d be willing to finish it just lmk !

spanking & implied smut warning minors dni

daddy?… sorry

lucy bronze x reader

——————————————————————

“Can you remind me how we have found ourselves in this position?”

You decided to punish me? Were the words running through my head, but I didn’t have anywhere near enough nerve to vocalise those thoughts, not considering the position I was already in.

“I broke your rules.”

I flinched as another slap came down on my ass, 11, 12, 13, 14. I tried my best not to move, not to make any noise, knowing that it would only make things worse for me.

“Our rules, and what rule would that be?”

Her words were punctuated with another set of spanks, this time falling what felt like a centimetre below the previous one, 15, 16, 17. This time I let out a little bit of a cry, bucking slightly in my position, trying to find some kind of release from the pain that was being administered to me, Lucy’s arm held my hips steady though, her hold hard enough to tell me that my movement was not permitted.

“I put myself in danger on the field and I put someone else in danger.”

In my defence, I hadn’t really meant to slide tackle the girl so aggressively, I think I’d hurt myself more in the process then she had. We’d both been running full speed down the field and one second we were running and then the next I was throwing my feet out in front of her and we were colliding. Lucy slapped her palm down against my ass another three times, earning a groan from me and the feeling of tears prickling at the edges of my eyes.

“Hm, why?”

I took a deep breath as another set of spanks fell down across my ass. 18, 19, 20, 21, 22. I felt the tears start to leak down my face, dripping down and onto the carpet below me.

“I thought she was going to shoot for goal, I had to stop her.”

My words were followed up very quickly with another set of slaps that echoed across the walls of our bedroom, making a cacophonous noise rebounding back at us. I could hear the sound of Lucy’s hand connecting with my ass, and it hurt, it hurt like a bitch.

“So you made the choice to put both you and her in danger because she decided she was going to shoot for goal?”

23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28. I let out a sob as Lucy’s hand continued to slap down against my skin, the mixture of the burning sensation and stinging starting to get to me. She left just enough time between the spanks for me to feel the sting but not enough time that it started to mellow out.

“I didn’t think that it was going to be that bad.”

I knew my words would fall on deaf ears, she wouldn’t have been punishing me if she thought that I hadn’t intended to cause some harm in the process of my actions.

“A red card and the girl getting stretchered off is pretty bad if you ask me.”

The red card was probably the worst part, especially considering that we’d been down by a point when I’d been sent off the pitch, leaving us with ten players to scrap to get a goal.

“I didn’t mean for her to get hurt.”

29, 30, 31, 32.

“What did you mean to do then? Because you can’t tell me that when you were flinging yourself at her knees and decking her that you didn’t understand the possibility of you or her getting injured. Explain to me what rule number 7 is?”

Tears and snot were basically free flowing down my face at this stage.

“To never put myself in a position where I could harm myself.”

Each word that left my mouth was punctuated by a slap. 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44.

“And how did you act today?”

45, 46, 47, 48.

Each slap drew a sob from my chest, loud sobs that I was completely unapologetic for producing. Lucy wasn’t holding back whatsoever, not that I expected her to, she never took it easy on me.

“In a way that could have harmed me.”

49, 50.

“Not just in a way that could harm you, but also in a way that could harm another person. You could have easily broken one of her legs or knees, or concussed her, the possibilities of what you could have done are endless. Maybe you didn’t mean to hurt her, but you still did. When this happens in the future we are going to find ourselves back here, is that understood?”

I nodded quickly, the tears and snot still dripping down my face without stopping.

“Y-yes, daddy.”

[vendetta-if]

Is Ash a yandere? Or the just like that from growing up in the Russian Mafia? No hate, they my fave 💓 lol

They definitely have qualities of being a Yandere and they were indeed first drafted up from Yandere archetype.

But then, as I get to know them better, get in their head and how they think and feel as I wrote them, I realize they can’t really be a complete Yandere because they care too much about MC 🥺

Ash will always prioritize MC’s happiness, feelings, wishes, and desires over theirs. To me, to be a Yandere, they have to be selfish in the sense that they would be willing to get the object of their obsession at all cost, even if it might not be the best for the person they obsess over or what they want.

But yeah, Ash clearly has the making of a Yandere 😆 I’d say there’s only a thin line preventing them from fully becoming one, and that is their utmost care and respect for MC.

I remember I answered a what if question about what if Ash is a Yandere 🧐 I tried to find it, but Tumblr search is near non-functional 💀😭 If anyone can find it or has the link to the post, please let me know.

But the gist of it is that Rin would be the hardest for Ash to get rid of, and Santana would be the easiest 🥲 More explained under the cut for those interested.

No shade to Santana, but they’re a nobody and they’re not the best in combat like Skylar, it would be really easy for Ash to get rid of them permanently (Noo, not my poor meow meow Santana 😭).

Skylar, it might not be as easy or even feasible to off them. But what Ash can do is just prevent them from getting with MC. Luka and Grandpa are already skeptical and distrusting of Skylar due to them being a superhero. If Ash wants to be even pettier, they can conspire with Luka to ruin Skylar’s reputation.

Rin would be the hardest, nor Ash would want to get rid of the Morozovs’ ally. They just want Rin to break up with MC. They can’t even ask Luka’s help in this, so they’ll have to be waay subtler in this endeavour.

I think at the end, what they could do is slowly undermine MC’s and Rin’s relationship insidiously by using the trust and manipulating MC’s own close relationship with them.

And yes, even the current Ash in the story is fully capable of scheming behind MC’s back—not that they need to do it so far…

[gay4abby]

Scents Shared !!

or in which you and jordan walk around the candle store smelling candles.

warnings, nooone, just holiday fluff. pairings, jordan li x reader. something very short n sweet while i try to finish my other requests lol i hope u like it :)

The holiday season was something every obtuse bastard was anticipating as soon as a new year starts. Decorations littered from doorstep to doorstep, street after street (causing even more pollution than it already fucking is, like am I right?) that would have undoubtedly fed an entire town. However, the holidays aren’t the same for Supes. Many of them are either estranged from their families, killed them, or are in constant arguments so celebrating it wouldn’t even make sense. There’s many more things at play, but you get the gist.

Regardless of how it goes for other Supes, Jordan’s family never fails to make it a big ass deal. You have already met Jordan’s parents and although you were very skeptical, they warmed up to you rather quickly. Jordan themself was even surprised at how much they liked, no loved you. Always asking about your wellbeing whenever they call Jordan. “You might as well replace me for their eldest child, honestly.” They once told you when you both were visiting their parents for spring break. You told them to shut up.

With Christmas being around the corner, you both found yourselves roped into a family holiday. You didn’t mind tagging along as you didn’t really celebrate Christmas with your own folks and Jordan’s family always made it feel like a fucking Hallmark movie. I mean, come on who wouldn’t want to experience a Christmas like that? What made spending Christmas with their family better than their siblings. You knew Jordan was the oldest and you always watched him interact with his siblings in the most loving way. It always made your heart warm.

You both were walking around aimlessly hand in hand and in one of the shops at the resort Jordan’s family and you are staying at. After being with them for a total of 48 hours, you both needed some reprieve and alone time. As nice as it was a break was desperately needed. “Look at this. Snow scented candle?” You reached your hand out to waft the smell up Jordan’s nose, expression neutral. “It actually smells like snow, holy shit. How the fuck?”

“I know!” You were in disbelief at the way they managed to capture the smell into a candle. A fucking candle. You shook your head setting it down with a wide grin. It was exciting for the both of you to have this time together, it was so simple yet the intensity of the intimacy was incredible. You felt them swing your intertwined hands as they stood off to the other side picking up another candle for you to smell. “This is snickerdoodle scented,” they raised the candle to your nose after smelling it. Your eyes grew wide as you looked at them, biting your bottom lip to contain your excitement. “We have to get that. Do you know how good it’ll smell in your dorm? Jordy, I’d never leave. Do you understand me?”

Jordan looked at you with love filling their eyes, their free hand reaching out to pinch your cheek. They chuckled slightly placing the candle in the basket that was settled on the ground between the two of you. “Like I’d ever want you to leave. Is it okay if I keep you hostage when we get back to campus?”

“Oh, absolutely. I am as willing as Homelander was when he dated that nazi,” you paused looking at Jordan for a second before you both busted out laughing. “Was he willing, though?” They asked you as they pulled your arm through theirs to continue walking after picking up the basket. “I mean, they kinda had the same idealism? Right?”

“He’s a prick, I wouldn’t be surprised.” You laughed, shaking your head slightly. “Prick is nicely putting it for him.”

“Why are we talking about Homeasshole, we have to focus on the candles!”

“You’re the one that fucking brought him up!”

“As a simile! Granted a terrible one, but similar.” Jordan, completely disregarding what you say, pulls you over to the fruity scented candles, “You know how much I love mango.”

“I don’t think that’s a very Christmas-y scent,” you were sent a deadly glare, “but what do I know, right?” You said with a nervous laughter as you grabbed it from their hand to smell it. It was pleasant on your nose, rendering you to take another sniff. Without saying anything, you take the candle and place it into the basket. Jordan only eyed you with those big brown chocolate drops before pulling you along again. “What about plug ins? We can get the same scents and it’ll be like an inception.”

“I like the way you think. We’ll get those after the candles.”

“Can we get peppermint? I think I’d really like some peppermint candles.” You inquired as Jordan pulled three candles from the shelf, one being peppermint, another being sandalwood and the last being nutmeg with apple. “Hm, this one smells good.” They hold out for you to smell the nutmeg with apple, you immediately nodding. “We should get all of those and let’s add vanilla for the cliché.”

Jordan picked up a vanilla scented candle quickly depositing it into the basket before linking arms with you again. They felt their pocket vibrate, a loud groan emitting from their mouth. Pulling it out, they checked to see who it was that was cutting into their alone time, annoying them even more when they saw it was their mom. “My mom’s calling.”

“Tell her I said hello!”

“Babe, you saw her not five fucking hours ago?”

“So what! Just tell her I said fucking hi, jeez!” You both huffed, you immediately walking away to find other candles while Jordan spoke with their mom. Your heart filled with such joy at the moment. It was like having an out of body experience where you’re watching a very nostalgic moment happen before you, it feels right to be there and there’s been a longing for it to happen. You didn’t know what to name it, but you don’t think you have to.

The moment continued even when Jordan came up to you and said you guys have to hurry up since the annual hockey game was beginning and even if you’re sitting out, Jordan wanted you to be there to be their little cheerleader. “What other scents did you get?”

“Oh! This one’s called moonstruck, which is like a combo of like burning wood and cranberry. Then I found coconut and orange. I’m pretty excited about this one. Next is sugar cookies! I know you’ll love this one.”

“Oh my fucking god, give me!”

“It’s yours, baby. Don’t worry I picked up two for you.”

“Did I ever mention how much I love you today?”

“No, but make it more poetic.”

“You are the blood that runs through my veins, the compound v that keeps me going and my safe haven when all is lost in the world.”

“I love you.”

You both giggled like school girls before walking off to the plug in’s section to get matching scents for your candles before paying then heading on home.

[cupcakeslushie]

sorry for nagging you but i wanted to ask if you have some tips on making comics. I’ve trying making many comics but i always lose motivation and can’t seem to get past even the first panel sometimes.

I did make a pretty long post here, with some advice for starting out! But that’s more technical I guess, and it sounds like maybe you’re looking for some motivational advice? So in addition to that post, I’d say…

Don’t look at these panels where you’re stuck as failures. Look at them, instead, as first drafts!! Keep the early planning stages loose, so it doesn’t feel like an arrow to the heart if you have to make changes. Many artists need to see their thoughts collected somewhere before they can refine things and move on to the next stage. Another big thing is learning to be okay with throwing those drafts away when they become more of a roadblock than a step towards that awesome, final version you’ve got knocking around in your head.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve spent an hour plotting the composition of a panel…or maybe I’ve gotten too focused on the little details of a character’s expression, but the rest of the shot has just….idk died. I’ll copy and paste what I did like, and delete what’s not working or I’ll completely start over, no fuss. Wipe my hands of it and refuse to look at it as a failure. If I drew it once, I can draw it again! Practice isn’t time wasted, it’s time invested into growing! Drawing is drawing!

It’s always good to look back at your work, so you can see your improvement, but only focusing on your unfinished pieces might be doing more harm than good.

And maybe, you don’t have to draw a full 10 page comic from the get go! Try experimenting with shorter form comics! You can tell quite a number of stories in just a few panels! Learning the ins and outs of something new is a lot easier to accomplish when it’s done in smaller increments. That way you can have that feeling of success more often and it’ll motivate you into not giving up!

When I started EW, I was doing parts in like, one or two pages! Because I was still nailing down the comic techniques I wanted to employ. I was gathering brushes and learning how and when to use them! Learning how to create compositions that worked around dialogue bubbles! All the boring parts of comic creating lol. But then, the more comfortable I became with those techniques, the less time they took, and I could really go wild with the creative aspect! Now my updates are much longer!

It’s just a process. But at some point, all the advice and resources in the world can only help so much. You have to be willing to put in the time!

I’d say it’s kinda similar advice they give when you start working out. When you’re first starting, and you try to do more than your body is comfortable with, you’ll be in a lot of pain and won’t want to continue. It’s easy to give up if you’re not seeing results and you feel like you’re wasting your time. But if you start in a reasonable place, and let yourself learn as you go, then you can gain good habits and it’ll get easier!

And only then, when it’s easy, that’s when you challenge yourself! Not when you’re already struggling with just starting! Or it won’t be fun and all of your drive will disappear!

And that’s really what you’re doing this all for, right? For fun!

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... Pt. 2 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

author's note: I decided to make a pt. 2 purely for my own enjoyment, though I hope there are others out there as sadistic as myself. I finally watched the Batman trilogy and did research on DC fan pages to write this. It follows the plot of Nolan's DC adaptation so all characters mentioned (like Ra's Al Ghul) are from the comics and movies.

Summary| She gave into Crane because she needed to survive, at least that's what she's tried to tell herself, but there was something about this man that just felt so painfully... right. Now Crane has a proposition and he doesn't intend to take no for an answer because he's starting to like her -- uh oh-- too much. Where will their new agreement lead them when Gotham devolves into chaos?

Warnings| Based on an DC action movie- drugging, slut shaming, fear and terror, dubious kidnapping, restraints, drugs, physical violence, spitting, toxic relationship, mentions of a gun, chaos, and needles. I know- it's a lot.

word count: 8596k (lol oopsies?)

Wires- The Neighborhood 🎶

Where did you sleep last night- Iridium, Salazar, Liam Marks 🎵

Caesar on a TV Screen- The Last Dinner Party 🎶

i 

The detective nodded her head, surprised that she’d so easily forgotten her plan. Dr. Crane sniffed and spun his set of keys around his finger casually. 

“Now the best thing about being the creator of my fear serum,” he started, moving to the shelf of vials he had previously sorted, “is that I have an endless supply and every opportunity to use it whenever I want.” She could hear him smile but she could no longer see him. Crane admittedly liked the girl and he’d fucked her as a minor pivot in his original plan for the night. Now, it was time for business. He pulled a dish of powder from a locked drawer and hid it away from sight as he crossed back into the girl’s view. “You may think you understand what my serum can do, but you’ll never truly know until you try it.” She furrowed her brow and shook her head, wishing that she could back away from him but she couldn’t move. He changed the subject swiftly, not giving her a moment. 

“I applaud you for your performance tonight. I was more than willing to humor you and of course, your present state did you many favors. I like my women tied down…” he joked and chuckled darkly. “But now, we need to get practical.” He removed his glasses and folded them slowly. He slipped them into his breast pocket. “You know too much, Miss —, and we both know that your current allegiance to your job would prioritize a crude sense of justice over your affection for me. We can’t have that, can we? So, I’d like to propose a solution or a treatment of sorts.” He clenched his jaw, angling his head down so that he was looking up at her through his eyelashes. “You’ve already proven to yourself tonight that the mind has complete control over the body. Desire rules judgment… and I want to rule you.” He smiled darkly. Before she could speak, powder was thrown into her face, blocking every orifice with a sickening gas. 

The anxiety was immediate. She saw strange creatures approach her from all sides, poking and prodding her with dirty nails. She saw the walls leak a disgusting fluid, like blood and fecal matter and it spilled over the floor. People sorted through the liquid for scraps, children screamed and cried around her. She’d been one of those children, raised in an orphanage because her parents couldn’t afford to keep her. Strange men swarmed the children, offering toxic treats and money for favors which the children shied away from. She screamed, pulling at her restraints as she tried to fight off the assailants. She shook her head violently side to side, and she screamed involuntarily with raw terror at what she saw. In the midst of a nightmare of Gotham’s poverty and dark underbelly, Dr. Jonathan Crane stood calmly before her. He watched her, his arms crossed against his chest. He cocked his head to the side. 

“What do you see,” he asked calmly. She turned her attention to him like he was a beacon of light in a horrible storm. 

“Jonathan, help me!” She cried. 

“Tell me what you see,” he said again and clucked his tongue to calm her. She looked around again at the people she saw, rummaging through mountains of trash. 

“Horrible… horrible poverty. The things… the things I saw as a child. People starving, children crying…” she whimpered. Rats scrambled across her body and she screamed again, shaking against the table. “Jonathan, please!” She called for him and he waded towards her, oblivious to the horror around him. He stood above her and stroked her face. He removed the restraints from her waist and her wrists and helped her sit up. The things she saw darted out of her peripheral vision, distorted now and hard to understand. She couldn’t run because she couldn’t tell where she was anymore, where her body was in relation to her perspective. Did she even still have a body?

Dr. Crane grunted as he helped her off the table and held her up beside him. She fainted in his arms and he carried her out of the secondary lab into the corridor. He punched the elevator’s call button with his free hand and dragged her inside. As the large steel doors closed, he fished for his cellphone in his pocket and called his driver, telling him to meet him outside the hospital immediately. Crane hushed her, gently patting her head though she was still unconscious. The elevator dropped them at the floor she’d entered on originally and Crane carried her to the side door, ignoring the looks the night attendants gave the strange couple. A sleek black car waited outside in the alley, the engine running and dispelling smoky exhaust into the air around them. Crane opened the car door and helped her inside, smirking at the security guard at the door. 

“Our meeting was successful, thank you officer.” He waved goodnight to the security guard who shifted awkwardly in his seat at the side door. Climbing in after her, Crane leaned over the console to speak with his driver. 

“My apartment, please.” He gave the order sternly, even with the addition of the ‘please,’ and the driver nodded, speeding off into Gotham’s dark streets. His hand rested comfortably on her thigh as he watched her. She started to come to in the backseat, though the effects of the drug had still not worn off. Her breath was fast and she leaned deliriously into Crane’s shoulder, seeking protection from what she saw outside the tinted windows. She was so afraid that she felt safer in the arms of the man that had drugged her, and it would take hours to realize that, but by the time she did, the psychological effects would have already taken root. 

ii 

The car stopped outside of a dark apartment building in one of the only nice parts of town in Gotham city. It was raining as he helped her back out of the car and into the large lobby of his apartment building. She clung to his arm as he led her into an elevator, playing a soft melody that sounded like shrill screams to her intoxicated mind. As the elevator doors opened, effects of the drug began to wane though her heartbeat was still racing. She looked up at Crane’s sharp jaw and how he clenched it as he opened the door to his apartment and pushed her gently inside. 

“I pay my people extra to turn a blind eye to everything that I do. I understand these circumstances appear even more nefarious, being that I have admittedly drugged you and brought you to my apartment. What can I say, I’m a bad feminist.” He smiled darkly and locked the door. 

“When do I stop seeing… these things?” She collapsed into a chair behind her and cradled her head in her hands. 

“The effects will be gone in an hour,” he responded coolly and switched on some of the lights in his modern apartment. The apartment was two stories with a spiral staircase and an elevator that led to the upstairs. She looked around, trying her best to ignore the hallucinations and study the actual apartment itself. 

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t have a lab here, it’s against the building’s codes. I spend very little time here actually, I’m always at Arkham or dealing with detectives… like you. I’m a busy man. Like I already told you, I have plans to ‘treat’ Falcone tomorrow so I’ll need that room free. This is the next best option and I think you’ll find it more comfortable in comparison.” He smirked and flicked a switch, immediately two restraints looped tightly around her wrists, emerging from a panel in the arms of the chair that she hadn’t noticed. Second restraints looped around her ankles, reminding her as her ankles were spread apart that he had removed her underwear. She turned her knees inward, hiding her crotch and scoffing with frustration. 

“Again?” She groaned and pulled at the strong leather material holding her to the chair. 

“You sound disappointed,” Crane observed with a small smirk. “It’s only temporary. I didn’t get a chance to question you back at the lab, so we’ll do that here.” He gestured to his empty apartment and started to walk toward her slowly. His lips curled cruelly as he looked her up and down, strapped to the chair. “So tell me, what do you know?” He whispered and she stopped struggling for a moment. She still felt jumpy and nervous but having him so close relieved some of those feelings. The effects of the drug wore off more but the underlying sense of anxiety and loss of control prompted her to answer honestly.

I know that you are trying to make a powerful drug that mimics fear and so far, you’ve put it in a powder form. It works when ingested in some ways and immediately elicits a response that incapacitates the victim. You want to use it widely, to control Gotham…”

“Right, what else.” He leaned on the arms of the chair, his hands grasped around her wrists. 

“You don’t work for Falcone but you work with someone else. You’ve just been using Falcone’s drug operation to move your own prototypes of the fear serum. You want to be in charge and you know that fear can do whatever you want it to. The mind controls the body,” she recalled a sentence that he had used before he had thrown the powder in her face. “You’re also somehow connected to the missing micro-wave emmitter. I don’t know why but it may help you in some way, how?” She was breathing heavily like she was going to fall asleep. 

“Good work, detective.” 

“What are you using the micro-wave emitter for?” She asked. He chuckled and removed his hands from her wrists, backing up. He approached a small liquor cart and poured himself a drink, straight gin. She continued as he drank. 

“Who are you working with and how do you expect to control Gotham when everyone loses their minds?” She could barely contain her voice, anger and confusion rose into her throat like bile. 

“So many questions…” he swallowed and set down his glass, turning back to her slowly. “Aren’t you supposed to figure that out for yourself?” He raised his eyebrow. 

“The mirco-wave emitter would dry out any water supply that it comes into contact with. Wouldn’t it be easier to poison the water supply, you would reach more people… unless it doesn’t have the same effect when administered in water.” She looked up at him but his face was hard. “That’s why you’ve been using it in a powder, it only works in a powder form. If you dry up the water supply and release the powder into the air, there isn’t a way to combat the effects, is there?” 

Crane smiled and nodded slowly, “right again.” 

“How can you control people who have lost their minds on the serum? You can’t control chaos.” She furrowed her brow and leaned forward, questioning him. Crane cocked his head and studied her for a moment, noticing the last traces of the fear serum leaving her body. 

“Control has many forms, Y/N. The chaos that will come from my serum is planned, its existence is strategically executed.”

“But why are you doing this?” 

“I love it when you get flustered,” he chuckled darkly at her and licked his lips, his eyes rolling before returning to her face. “It’s not just me, I work for a large organization that has been responsible for all historical catastrophes throughout history. We deal in balance, balanced chaos. They hired me because I can control fear, I know how to use it and weaponize it. Gotham needs to be balanced and it cannot be balanced without it first destroying itself. Create a closed environment with the population’s problems and confront them with chaos, the balance will soon be restored.” 

“Who do you work for?” She whispered, her eyes wide. 

“Don’t you mean, who do we work for?” He crouched at her feet and placed his hands on her thighs. He smiled crazily up at her and she leaned away from him. 

“What?” She whispered. 

“I work for the League of Shadows, and now, so do you.” He dug his finger into the soft bottom of her chin and pushed her head up so that she could see the second floor more clearly. 

Standing at the rail were men clad in dark armor. One man stood out from the rest. He wore a black suit and carried a gold-tipped cane. He had long whiskers of gray hair like a mustache and steady cool eyes, deadlier than Crane’s.  

“Good work, Dr. Crane.” The man kept his focus on her and her blood went cold. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Miss —. We’ve heard so much about you and of course, you’re the one that has caused us so much trouble!” He laughed sarcastically and descended the spiral staircase. 

“Who are you?” She growled. 

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” he smiled and the wrinkles on his face creased, pulling against his eyes. “I see you’ve already become acquainted with Dr. Crane, our very own criminal mastermind.”

“You’re too kind,” Crane smarted back, watching the girl’s face as she tried to take in all of the new information. 

“Now, I have a job proposition to offer you, Miss —. You seem to have figured most of our plan out but I don’t think you understand the complexity of our organization. You see, the League of Shadows is an ancient organization that has balanced the harmony of every major city in the world since the beginning of time. Gotham has gone bad, to the point of no return. Your ‘Batman’ as you call him can’t reverse what has been brewing for years. He never saw what you did, how the people of Gotham live in filth and poverty while the elite few enjoy the spoils. This city needs to be reborn, it needs chaos to restore the balance.”

“But wouldn’t you be killing thousands of innocent people?” She interjected and Al Ghul shrugged slightly. 

“Nobody’s innocent,” he answered quickly and then inhaled, clarifying, “Anyway, that’s not what we want to do here. If we take control of the city and hold it for ransom, we can work out a deal to replace the crooked government with some of our people. I’m offering you a role alongside my people. You’re smart, all that evidence you collected against Crane- none of the senior officers could have held a match to it. We destroyed it of course, as soon as Crane told us about your little visit.” She looked past Al Ghul to Crane who leaned against the wall calmly. Had they destroyed the copies? How could she be sure that they were telling the truth? “The box of evidence you had put aside for Sgt. Gordon was the hardest to find but we found it. What made you suspect Dr. Crane? Was it a gut instinct?” He drew on before she interrupted him. 

“You want me to help you kill people?” She furrowed her brow and nearly laughed in disbelief. 

“We want your help to save Gotham from itself and establish a new and better government.” He corrected, fixing his posture. Crane watched her closely and spoke up from the back of the room. 

“She’ll do it,” he answered and she opened her mouth to interject but his smirk silenced her. “She’ll do it because whether or not she wants to admit it, Miss —, is like us.” Crane reached into his breast pocket and removed his glasses. He cleaned the panels with a dish towel and pushed them onto his nose. She looked between Crane and Al Ghul, her heart beating quickly in her chest. 

“Will you join us, will you help us save Gotham?” Ra’s Al Ghul placed both of his hands on top of his walking stick and shifted his weight evenly between his feet. Crane folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side, a knowing smile played on his wide pink lips. Her decision surprised her but the serum had already changed her chemistry, Crane had revealed her true self to herself and there was only one choice left. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

Crane nodded, “good girl.” 

iii 

She was released from her restraints and she rubbed her wrists where the leather marked them. Ra’s Al Ghul snapped his fingers and a map was rolled out on Crane’s dining room table. The map was of the entire city of Gotham, showing the sewer and water lines. They explained the plan, showing her where the micro-wave emitter would be placed in the city and how it would be moved through each neighborhood. 

“What about the police?” She asked and gestured to the map of the city. Crane laughed and shook his head. 

“You were the only cop that suspected this, the rest will have no idea until it's already started. The person we really need to worry about is Batman,” he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at Al Ghul, “luckily for him, an old friend is coming by to visit.” Al Ghul nodded and smiled kindly at her. 

“Batman and I go way back. I’ll take care of him.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” She asked, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Crane caught himself staring and cleared his throat. 

“You’ll help me with the production of the powder, ensuring that your cop friends don’t figure out too much and keeping Sgt. Gordon away from Arkham or leading him astray… anything,” Crane answered, setting his face as he spoke. She nodded. 

Though they had asked her to join their efforts, they also obviously didn’t trust her completely. They wouldn’t tell her everything, she knew. Her night had gone in a completely different direction than how she had imagined it. Everything had changed after the fear serum, it had shown her that what she feared most had already happened. The police were corrupt, run by small-time gangsters and criminals and crime continued to run rampant as the state lost more and more money, forcing social service organizations to close and more families out on the streets. This whole time she thought that the police could solve the problem but they only caused it. Crane was right, she was like him and she would do anything she could to change the city. After the meeting, Crane poured her a drink and dissolved a packet of powder into the liquor. He stirred it in front of her and Al Ghul before sliding it across the table’s surface. 

“This will put you to sleep for a few hours, twelve at most. It’s only a precaution to make sure that you have truly promised your allegiance to us. Everything that you say will be monitored from this point on.”

“Everything?” She looked at Crane who clenched his jaw, a faint tease of blush spread on his cheeks.

“Everything. Do as we say and follow our rules and you stay alive,” Crane finished and tapped the rim of the glass. “Now drink.” 

“How do I know that you aren’t just poisoning me?” She asked the men around her.

“We’re learning to trust each other, but you have to go first.” He smiled and when Al Ghul said nothing, she took the glass and drank it slowly. The last thing she saw were Crane’s eyes, set perfectly on her. 

She was conscious enough to set her glass down before falling back onto the couch. Crane approached her quickly and checked her pulse, monitoring her reaction to the drug. 

“Did it work?” Ra’s Al Ghul asked behind him and he nodded. 

“Yes, she’s out. Because of all the drugs in her system already, this one may take longer to wear off.” 

“All the other drugs?” Al Ghul raised his eyebrow and Crane chuckled. 

“I couldn’t help myself and besides,” he turned to Al Ghul, “you wanted her alive.” 

“I’m not convinced that we can trust her,” Al Ghul shook his head and pointed at the map for his men to clean up. 

“Oh, I’ll make sure we can.” 

“With your mind tricks?” Al Ghul teased and Crane sighed, rolling his beautiful eyes. 

“Don’t insult me, Ra’s. I know what I’m doing.” He warned the man calmly and nodded to the men. Two men helped carry her body as Crane led them back down the elevator into the lobby which was deserted at that time in the early morning. They climbed into Crane’s waiting car and pulled away from the curb. The girl’s body was limp against the seat and Crane resisted the urge to stare at her, fascinated by her sleeping body. The men carried her up to her apartment on the third floor of a small walkup. Crane rummaged through her coat pockets for the key into her apartment and unlocked the door. 

Her apartment was small and cozy, furnished with minimal couches and chairs. Books and art decorated the walls. Crane pushed through the door and directed the men to lie her down in her bedroom, the small room off of the main living area. They men looked back at him expectantly as he stood by the doorway, watching her sleep. He rolled his eyes and shooed them away. What did they think he was going to do? He’d already fucked her. Alone in her apartment, he stood by her bed and stroked her cheek. She slept on, engulfed by unconscious darkness. He leaned over her slowly and grasped her throat gently, exhaling across her face. He said nothing but looked her up and down and smirked, pleased at the sight of her. He’d won another spoil: her. 

 She woke up in her bed, twisted in the sheets as if she had been restless all night. She was sweaty and hot, the air stuffy around her. Crane and Al Ghul were nowhere to be seen. She checked her watch and hurried out of bed, stripping off her clothes from the night before and into black trousers and a dark blue sweater. She stumbled into the living room and wound her hair up into a claw clip, moving towards the door when a voice startled her. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dr. Crane spoke from the couch. He was in a fresh suit and looked well-rested. He was taking notes in a file on Falcone, his briefcase sat on the coffee table in front of him. She jumped, gasping from shock. 

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?” 

“I was waiting for you to wake up. We have work to do today. That bitch at the DA’s office wants to speak with me. I'm supposed to meet with her this afternoon. She’s questioning Falcone’s transfer.”

“I ordered the transfer after you did Falcone’s interview, maybe I could meet with her instead.” 

“No, I need you to take this file to the judge on Falcone’s case. I can handle her questions.” He stood and held out Falcone’s file. “I already gave my statement at the hearing but this file will confirm my medical opinion, hopefully that will get her off my back.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Do you think Falcone will talk if she speaks with him?” 

“Possibly,” he bent his head side to side and shrugged, “but we aren’t going to find out. Let’s go,” he snapped his briefcase closed and made for the front door. She glanced from the couch to her bedroom.

“Were you watching me all night?” She flushed angrily and followed him. He closed the door suddenly and spun her around, forcing her back against the front door. 

“I can only say this once because they aren’t listening now but as soon as we get in the car, they’ll be monitoring you. I am keeping you alive, Miss —. I will do everything in my power to keep you alive but the second you step away from me, you’re on your own. I know we have an understanding so believe me when I say that I would prefer very much if you didn’t die. Follow my directions because they’re following you.” He said in a harsh whisper, a strand of hair falling into his face. They stared at each other in silence, exchanging breath when he kissed her harshly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned softly against his lips. He bucked into her hips and she gasped softly against his jaw. And just as quickly, he pulled away, breathing heavily and led her out the door and down the stairs into the waiting car. 

“I’ll need my gun back,” she pointed out as they settled on the backseat. Crane sighed, unbuttoning his suit jacket. He opened a small compartment in the car door and retrieved her gun. As he held it out, he took her jaw in his other hand, his thumb pressing into her fleshy cheek. 

“This is where that trust would come in handy, detective.” He whispered darkly. She looked at his lips and then up to his eyes, speechless around him. He watched her struggle for words and chuckled, handing her the gun. “Be careful, Y/N, and remember Ra’s plan.” He looked at her lips and sniffed, slapping the roof of the car. “This is her stop.” 

iv 

She met with the judge who oversaw Falcone’s case and gave him the thick folder. He looked at it briefly before recognizing the information. 

“I appreciate you coming out to speak to me about Falcone’s transfer to Arkham but I cleared everything with Ms. Dawes yesterday. She’s already scheduled a second psychiatrist to meet with Falcone first thing tomorrow morning. She mentioned that she’s also requested Dr. Crane’s case file. Has she seen this?” He waved the folder and she clicked her tongue, shocked that she had scheduled a second opinion and that Crane didn’t know about it.

“I’m not sure, sir. I was the detective working with the prosecution and I was the one who oversaw Dr. Crane’s examination and request for transfer. I can attest to Falcone's mood at the time as well. He screamed nonstop as Crane was trying to conduct a test of sanity. Anyway, I wanted to make sure that you saw Dr. Crane’s diagnosis in the aftermath of his transfer. This has updated notes that Dr. Crane shared with me. It might be useful in your deliberation.” She smiled and the judge looked down his nose at the folder. 

“Good point. Thank you, detective. This is helpful.” He opened the folder on his desk and put on his rounded spectacles. 

“Well now that we’ve spoken, I’ll try to catch Dawes and save her the trouble.” She pushed back her chair and brushed off her trousers. 

“Miss —?” The judge called from his desk. 

“Yes, sir?” She looked back.

“Dr. Crane has committed many of Falcone’s men to Arkham in the past few months, is that correct?” 

“Yes,” she nodded and her heart raced. 

“That must be a pretty crazy group.” The judge laughed and went back to the folder, completely missing the pattern. She sighed in relief and left quickly. She started to walk to Arkham, moving so quickly she felt like she may have been running. Dawes had already scheduled a second opinion, meaning that she was probably at Arkham pressuring Crane for his detailed diagnosis. It would take Dawes one second to figure it out so she hoped she could get there quickly enough to do something. She had no plan which she knew was stupid but whatever was bound to happen in the next few hours would be bad and she needed to help Crane. Her phone began to ring and she put it to her ear. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N.”

“Ra’s?”

“Are you on your way to Arkham?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Turn around and go back to your precinct. I want you to stick close to Sgt. Gordon, go where he goes. You’re his top detective so run with it. If anything happens at Arkham, he’ll be there and I want you there with him. Crane will be fine.”

She slowed to a stop, skeptical but wanting to believe what her new boss was telling her, “ok, sir.”

After a second of silence, Ra’s added, “It’s Batman’s birthday and what better way to celebrate a playboy than with chaos?” The call ended before she could respond. 

She spun around and headed straight for the precinct. She spotted Gordon at his desk, working on paperwork. She hurried over and knocked on the door, letting herself in when he waved. 

“Good, I’m glad to see you. I need to run some ideas by you for the Falcone case.” 

“I just dropped off Crane's diagnosis for the judge but he said that Dawes may be seeking a second opinion.” 

“About that -” The intercom went off with a loud screech. 

“Attention all units! Attention all units! Batman was spotted at Arkham Asylum. He is believed to be armed and dangerous. Backup is requested at this time.” The voice repeated with a robotic drone. Sgt. Gordon looked from the speaker to her and grabbed his coat from his chair. 

“We need to get to the asylum right now.” Gordon yelled and she followed him closely, checking that her gun was still secured to her hip. She clipped her badge to her front pocket and pretended to sound confused. 

“Why are we going, Sgt? Do you think this is about Falcone?”

“It might, I’d feel better if I was there to find out; and if Batman is there, someone’s in trouble.” They hurried down the stairs and climbed into a car. Gordon sped away from the precinct and ran red lights. The tires bled across the roads as they came to a screeching halt behind a row of police cars parked outside the Asylum. 

“Why is everyone waiting outside?” She yelled over the noise. An officer standing with his gun aimed at the building yelled back. 

“We’re waiting for backup!”

“They’ll be here soon, sir. We should wait!” She yelled over the noise at the Sgt. 

Gordon looked up at the building and pulled his gun from his holster. He started moving towards the building, looking back to wave her on. 

“I’m going in. You coming?” He called. 

She groaned anxiously beneath her breath before responding, “yes, sir!” They raced up the stairs into the lobby which was left completely vacant. Gordon held up his gun and she followed suit, staying close behind him. She felt the urge to kill him now and find Crane but her gut warned her that someone else was in the room, watching. They walked slowly through the main corridor, past the abandoned security checkpoint, creeping closer to the wide atrium. When they stepped beneath the enormous domed ceiling a loud noise broke through the top of the building. She looked up and covered her face with her forearm to protect her eyes from large shards of falling glass. She saw a large dark blur surround Sgt. Gordon and pull him up to the roof. 

“Sgt. Gordon!” She yelled after him. She knew immediately that the blur was that bastard Batman. A small laugh escaped her mouth as she shook her head and lowered her gun. A group of SWAT ran in seconds later. She pointed at the ceiling with her gun and called them over. 

“He came down and took Sgt. Gordon!”

“Who?” Someone yelled at her and she shook her head, pretending to be unsure. 

“I don’t know! I think it was Batman.” She yelled, adding to their panic. 

“Batman!” Someone shouted and in the moment of distraction, she slipped away into a side corridor. She bolted towards a staircase and stopped at every floor, looking for signs of activity. Her body burned with soreness as she sprinted down each corridor. She wanted to scream his name but her lungs wouldn’t allow her the extra air to do so. She rounded a corner and ran into a group of police. They all started shouting at her until she showed them her badge. 

“I’m a detective- What the hell is going on here?” She yelled. 

“We’re looking for Dr. Crane!”

“Have you seen Sgt. Gordon?” She asked, panting and trying not to panic when they mentioned Crane’s name. “He disappeared and I've been looking for him.”

“No, we haven’t. We got a call that they found drugs in the building and then Batman showed up. Crane was running the operation.” One police officer responded and jerked their head to the side where they were going to run next. “It's down this corridor!”  

“I’ll come with you,” she shouted and led the unit, her gun pointed at the ground. Two large doors were falling off their hinges further down the hallway. The room itself was smokey and gaseous. She looked down from the doorway where there were stairs leading into a cement lined room like an empty indoor pool. Tables were littered with Crane’s fear serum and men that she assumed were dead. Huge vats of liquid marked with a toxic symbol sat on their sides by an open waterline. 

“This is it,” she said to the officer beside her and started to descend the staircase. The smoke made it hard to see so she moved slowly, looking around the floor for Crane’s familiar face. The men she saw were all part of Falcone’s posse who had been hired to help the drug operation run. Something snapped beneath her food and she looked down, seeing Crane’s scarecrow mask which she recognized from his drawing. She picked it up and looked around anxiously, her fingers around the gun shook. Then she saw him. Crane was propped up against a wall and bleeding slightly from the head, a thin trail of blood oozed on the wall behind his head. He was panting and flailing around, his pupils were mere penpoints. He’d been attacked with his own fear powder. She looked around before dropping into a crouch beside him. He recognized her but continued to shake, his eyes darting around her head. 

“Jonathan,” she whispered, “it's me.” 

“Did you find him?” Someone shouted and she yelled back that she had. He raised a judgemental eyebrow, his mouth forming a cuss word. His glasses were gone. 

“Trust me, Crane.” She whispered against his ear and held his wrists together. She took her handcuffs from her belt and handcuffed him. 

v 

She leaned against the wall and tapped her foot anxiously as they strapped him into a white straightjacket. She crossed the room and helped the officer secure the last belt, thankful for any excuse to touch him and remind him that she was still there. Looking up at her, he spat and she flinched slightly. His light eyes were ringed with red swollen skin and she wondered if he really felt betrayed by her. She wiped his spit from her cheek and returned to her place by the wall. 

“So this is the scarecrow,” Sgt. Gordon entered the room and let the door slam shut. Crane jumped from the noise and closed his eyes, taking a deep shaky breath. 

“Scarecrow… scarecrow.” Crane whispered with his eyes closed and shifted within the straightjacket. Sgt. Gordon pulled up a chair, the metal scraping against the floor, bristling Crane into opening his eyes. 

“What was the plan, Crane? How were you going to get the toxin into the air?” Gordon asked calmly and fingered the scarecrow mask. Her stomach turned watching Crane struggle to regain control over his mind. He shook and his eyes darted around the room, landing once or twice on her. She kept a straight face, giving no sign that she was terrified that something would happen to him or she would accidentally reveal something about him that they didn’t already know. When Crane didn’t respond, Gordon continued, his voice rising. 

“Who were you working for?” Gordon pressed and Crane’s eyes snapped to his, a crazy smile pulling at his lips. 

“Oh, it’s too late. You can’t stop it now.” He spoke through shivers, cutting up his words. He smiled at the end and Gordon shook his head. He stood and shoved the mask into her hands. 

“Here. Stay with Crane.” He growled and left the room, his footsteps echoing through the heavy steel door. She looked down at the mask in her hands and hid her smile. There was only one officer left in the room with them and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to come up with a quick plan. 

“Are there any officers outside?” She asked the cop by the door who peeked his head outside the door. 

“No, ma’am.” 

“Good,” she smiled and raised her gun when the door snapped behind him. “Then this should be easy.” She cocked the gun and cornered the officer. “Face the wall,” she ordered and when he turned, she hit him over the head with the butt of her pistol, knocking him unconscious. She quickly handcuffed him and checked outside one last time before running over to Crane. He was still recovering from the toxin, his face set in a deep frown. She began to free him from his restraints, glancing at the door every few seconds. His eyes stayed on her face and he kept muttering things below his breath. When she undid the last restraint he jumped up and it fell from around his shoulders to the floor. She started to smile when he lunged at her and pushed her up against the tiled wall. Her hair clip cracked against the tile and clattered to the floor in pieces. She gasped beneath his hands, one holding her throat and the other grabbing the slack in her sweater, exposing her navel. 

“You betrayed me,” he growled, “you told Gordon... I saw you.” His eyes were wild and glazed, he looked right through her.

“What?” she gasped out though his hand was crushing her windpipe. 

“I saw you two! You fucked him. You fucked him!” He yelled, his body shook with anger like he was coming down from an adrenaline high. 

“No, I didn’t!” She struggled beneath his hands, “this is the toxin talking, Jonathan! I didn’t betray you-”

“But you fucked him,” his voice twisted into a heatbreaking whine, an image flicked before his eyes and he closed them quickly, shaking it from his head.

“No!” She coughed and she could feel herself getting light-headed. 

“You love him,” his voice was breaking beneath him and his eyes darted between hers as the toxin showed him more and more; everything of which included her.

“Jonathan!” she screamed and hit his chest hard with closed fists, “I can’t fucking breathe!” 

His eyes snapped open wider and he released his grip around her throat. Her feet landed on the ground and she coughed, sinking into a crouch against the wall. Crane stepped back and watched her silently. He was still shaking as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. 

“Why would I save you if I loved him?” She cried in frustration, rubbing her bruised throat. “It’s the toxin, Jonathan… I didn’t do the things you think I did,” her voice softened. She looked up at him and stood slowly, grabbing onto the wall for support. Crane cradled his head in his hands and whimpered. 

“What do you see?” she asked quietly and stepped closer. He shook his head and created more distance between them. “Jonathan, tell me.” She pressed and he exhaled with a soft shutter.

“You… fuck,” he started through heavy breaths, working himself up again. “I see you and Gordon…” He rubbed his eyes and looked back up at her. “It’s been so long since…”

“Since what?” She furrowed her brow, questioning. His eyes darted away into the corner and he shook.

“Since my father last used it…” he took a deep breath and finished his sentence with a lengthy exhale, “on me.” 

“The fear toxin?” She whispered, slowly starting to understand what he was suggesting. He nodded and flinched as if something had attacked him. Was he saying that his father used a prototype of the fear toxin on him? She grabbed onto the sleeve of his suit jacket and tugged his attention away. 

“It’s just me. There’s no one else- nothing else in here except for me,” she gestured to the nearly empty room (the officer was still unconscious in the corner). “And I’m here for you,” she whispered and closed the distance between them, her hands slipped around his small waist beneath his suit jacket. She felt his body tense beneath her embrace before slowly (very slowly) releasing its tension. He didn’t hug her back but rested his forehead on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, and found the shallow wound on the back of his head. She ducked her head as she pulled away, finding his mouth and kissing him gently. The toxin was slowly wearing off and she could tell he was only beginning to return to his normal self. 

“We need to get up to my office,” he muttered and looked at the door. “They’re releasing the patients.”

“What?” She furrowed her brow. Crane sighed and shook his head. 

“Ra’s gave orders to open all of the cells. The patients will be let loose into the city.” He licked his lips and looked down at her. “We need to get upstairs.” His expression was tense as she could tell he was trying to fight the lingering effects of the toxin. She nodded. 

“Show me where to go.” 

He pulled her through the door and they ran down the corridor to an elevator. When the doors opened, Crane used his key to override the system, preventing anyone else from calling the elevator. He pressed the button for the floor with his office, not realizing that his other hand was squeezing tightly around hers. When the doors opened again, they rushed down the hallway and into Crane’s office. He sighed when the door was locked and the blinds closed. 

“What are we going to do?” She asked him quietly and he inhaled slowly. 

“I need to inject you with the antidote so the toxin doesn’t affect you when we leave the building.” He murmured, more to himself.

“We’re going out there?” She tried to keep the fear from her voice but he detected it instantly, raising an eyebrow. 

“Are you scared?” He asked automatically. 

“Of both of us dying out there at the hands of one of your old patients, yes, yes I am.” She nearly laughed. 

“Don’t you want to be part of the fun?” The Jonathan Crane she knew was definitely coming back. 

“I’d rather not become the ‘fun’,” she quipped and he smirked. 

“As you wish.” 

She followed him into his lab and he rummaged through a collection of vials arranged on one of the counters. Finding the right one, he slipped it inside a cartridge of what looked like an epipen. 

“Pull down your pants,” he ordered and then it was her turn to raise her eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that and do what I tell you,” he said sternly and she did as he asked, pulling down her trousers where he had access to her thigh. “This will hurt,” he warned her before immediately plunging the needle into the fat around her thigh. She hissed in pain and heaved out a breath. 

“The good news is that you don’t have to ever do this again,” he patted her leg and buttoned her pants for her. “Now me,” he changed the vial and unbuckled his pants. He raised the hem of his boxers and punctured the needle into his upper thigh. He grunted in pain and closed his eyes for a moment and whistled out a tight breath. A large explosion shook the ground below their feet. She jumped and winced as she landed on her sore leg. Without opening his eyes, Crane nodded. 

“And that would be the patients leaving the building now.” He withdrew the needle and tossed it to the side, buckling his pants. 

“Let me see your head,” she touched his arm and he leaned forward slightly, turning his head where she could see it clearly. She carded her fingers through his dark hair and parted the dark roots away from the shallow wound. “It's a small cut, you’ll live.” 

“Thanks, doctor.” He smirked. Her fingers shifted through his hair as he straightened and she tried not to look disappointed when they were no longer twirled around his black locks. 

“Are you back now?” She looked up into his eyes, looking for trances of fear. 

“I think so,” he responded and traced his index finger around the collar of her sweater. There were small bruises where his fingers had been when he forced her against the wall in his state of panic. “Was I terrible?” He whispered. 

“Not more than usual,” she laughed lightly and covered his hand with hers. “I’m ok.” She insisted and he furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips. 

He was going to apologize, he was going to tell her how much he loved her and that was why he had reacted so strongly to the toxin, but the words died on his lips so instead he said, “We should leave before the city goes all the way under.”

“They’ll raise the bridges so no one can leave, it’s too late.” 

Crane chuckled and leaned against the lab table behind him, his fingers grasping around the edge. “And once again, you severely underestimate me. Come on.” 

vi 

“Get on,” Crane held the bridle and gestured for her to mount the large black steed. 

“You’re kidding right?” She looked around at the burning city and then back to the police horse who’d lost its rider. 

“I wish I was,” he sighed and tugged her closer by her waistband, “now giddy-up, Miss —.” He joked flatley and pushed her up onto the saddle. He hoisted himself up after her and sat in front, taking the reins in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed her thighs around the horse's stomach, holding on for dear life. 

“Where the hell did you learn to ride a horse?” She yelled over the panic and she felt him chuckle. 

“Oh, there are a lot of things that you don’t know about me, detective.” He smirked and kicked the horse into action. She gasped and held him tighter as they flew through the violence-strewn streets. She couldn’t imagine how ridiculous they looked to the people of Gotham but under the influence of the fear toxin, she hoped people were more afraid than amused seeing a man in a full suit riding a horse. Crane focused on the route ahead, navigating them through the broken city. 

“Where’s Ra’s?” She yelled into his ear. 

“Forget about him.” He growled and urged the horse faster. 

“Why? What happened?” 

“He tricked me. He didn't just want to impose an arguably better government, he wanted to kill everyone and to kill us too. He tipped off Batman and that’s how Batman found me. He didn't need me after the toxin had been released. He kept you away from me, didn’t he?” He called over his shoulder, leaping over a crashed car. 

“Yes, he told me to go to the precinct instead when I tried to warn you about the DA.” 

“He wanted Batman to find me and he assumed that you’d get stuck here after you followed Gordon. Two birds with one stone. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” He growled and turned the horse onto a side-street and into an alley. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, her grip tightening around Crane as she saw people screaming in the streets. 

“To my father’s house.” 

“How?” His father’s house? After his father had probably done something horrible to him?

“Just hold on,” he warned and flicked the reins again. She closed her eyes, wanting to block out the terror in the streets. While some of it gave her pleasure to see the raw side of humanity express itself, it reminded her of what she had seen as a child- the side of people that came out when they needed to survive. 

They rode to the edge of the city and Crane slowed the horse to a stop beside a tall building that looked abandoned. He hopped off of the horse and helped her down, catching her as she forced herself to slip over the saddle. The building was far enough away from the inner-city that it looked like it hadn’t been touched yet by the chaos, though the toxins had definitely reached it. 

“We need to get to the roof,” he informed her calmly and pointed her to the elevator. 

“Another elevator…” she whispered beneath her breath, knowing it wasn’t the right time to mention how much she hated the idea of going into one when the world around them was ending. Crane pressed the button labeled “20R,” and the elevator began to soar up. The elevator had windows that opened into the city. As the elevator climbed, they could see the destruction of Gotham and right across the bridge, normalcy.

“Ra’s is moving the micro-wave emitter by the high speed rail. If his plan goes accordingly, the emitter will poison the other side of the city beneath Wayne tower.” He pointed out the tall Wayne building from their vantage point. “I hate Gotham and I hate Batman, but I think I hate Ra’s Al Ghul more.” He sneered distastefully. “We could have run Gotham…” he sighed and shrugged, “maybe another day.” 

She couldn’t help herself but laugh. Being with Crane had opened her eyes to a new side of herself, one that was dark and masochistic. She liked this side better, way better. She liked thinking that one day she could be in charge, force out all of the government officials that were too dumb or sexist to listen to her. She could lead beside Crane… 

When the elevator doors opened a gust of wind met them. The doors opened onto the roof of the huge building. A helicopter stood in the center of a large bull’s eye, its blades running in circles above their heads. Crane’s hair ruffled in the wind and he squinted his eyes against it. Her mouth fell open in shock and Crane chuckled at her reaction. 

“That’s the funny thing about, trust, detective. I don’t believe in it,” he smirked and beckoned her to the helicopter’s doors. 

“You planned this?” She yelled as he gestured her to climb onto the landing gear. 

“Of course,” he smiled, "I always have a backup plan." Her mary janes slipped across the bars as she climbed and Crane supported her back, guiding her back into the body of the machine. He pulled himself inside after her and collapsed in one of the seats. She tried to orient herself, looking around the small helicopter, landing on the pilot. The pilot nodded at Crane, he was wearing a thick mask and goggles to keep the toxin away. 

“Ready doctor?” The pilot called from the front and Crane nodded breathlessly. He looked at her and clenched his jaw, returning to the version of Crane she knew so well. 

“Yes.”

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

What do you think M6’s answers would be to the question “is it better to feel all the pain or nothing at all?” I haven’t played all the routes so I can’t answer for everyone but I think

Julian -feel it all

Asra -nothing

Muriel -at the start of his route nothing but as he grows as a character it would shift slowly to feel it all

Portia -feel it all

I’d also love to hear your answer if you’re comfortable with that! As someone who’s felt both my answer is nothing bc in my experience the numbness allows you to still function. Even if the life you’re experiencing isn’t as full as it could be, you still get to experience it. When I become so overwhelmed by Everything I completely shut down and cease to be a person. I am my emotions. And I think in Asra’s route this kinda gets explored in that they choose to not feel as deeply ever again bc a muted life with MC is better than a full one without them. Anyway can you tell I recently reread The Giver lol

Woah, that's a good question friend!!

To be completely honest, I think all the M6 progress from the "numb" to the "willing to feel everything" point throughout their routes - as is the case for many people who are in the healing process! (essay below the cut)

Julian, while fully embracing the misery of his situation, is also running from the part of him that wants a happy ending. Meeting the MC is his slow journey of self-acceptance, realizing that his happiness is valuable and worth fighting for. He stops choosing one feeling to drown out all the others and starts feeling everything in a context of loving and being loved.

Asra's in a similar situation. They don't see giving up half their heart as something to regret, but they still talk about the reduced ability to be attached to people as a loss. Reconnecting with MC, being able to slowly bring down the walls that used to facilitate a drifting, untethered survival mode, allows him to start caring more about the people around him since he has a person to call home again.

When Nadia wakes up, she's lost. Seven years of memory have blipped out of view, she's responsible for a city she knows very little about, and the people who are supposed to help her are only getting in her way. She speaks of a similar numb state, being detached and uninvested in the world around her, until meeting MC and finding a way forward gives her what she needs to flourish again. We see a lot of that emotional progression in her reconnecting with her family.

Muriel is an almost textbook case of complex trauma and the myriad of coping mechanisms that arise from trying to escape it. I've written whole essays on the effects of his deal on that process before, but his journey with MC starts with him just wanting them to forget about him, and ends with him asking MC to help him collect the memories of himself and his people.

Portia isn't quite as much numb as she is stuck. From the moment her parents' ship wrecked, she's lived her life in the orbit of other people. First her older brother, then the children and grandmas of Nevivon, then her older brother again, now the Countess - it isn't until she begins to receive that same attention from MC that she starts to really own herself and discover the true depth of her capacity. While we never see her choosing to be numb, we do see her hesitating to come fully into her own. With MC's empowerment, that's exactly what she ends up being able to do.

And finally, Lucio - he's literally numb. He's spent the last three years trapped between realms in a ghostly form that won't let him feel anything at all beyond hunger. While MC is instrumental in returning him the capacity to feel, it's Lucio's own choice to take advantage of that as a fresh start.

[cerise-on-top]

hiiii!!! i love, love, loveeee your writings!

if it’s fine, I’d like to request Valeria, Kate, Farah, and Price with an s/o who dances folklorico (traditional mexican folk dances) if you can! Im a folklorico dancer so it’d be nice to see how you would personally think these 4 would be lol ^^

Hello! Thank you! That's more than fine, but I had to do some research on it since I've never heard about folklorico before! I hope it's alright still!

Price, Valeria, Farah and Laswell with a Folklorico-Dancer!S/O

Price: He has never heard of folklorico before,but he’s always willing to learn about something new, especially if it’s something relating to you or your heritage. Or just about anything that makes you happy. So naturally, you brought up folklorico at some point and he asked you about it. While he can’t really imagine what it would look like just from your verbal descriptions alone, he does look into it when he has the time, thinking it would be something nice he could dance with you. As soon as he sees the footwork of those men and how they hold their hands behind their backs he’s thoroughly impressed, albeit a bit intimidated. Price would love nothing more than to indulge you in your culture, eat your food, speak your language, dance your dances, but this doesn’t seem like something he could learn overnight. He just knows he’ll topple and fall over if he tries. But nevertheless, he consults you since it does seem really fun. It’s very fast paced and the dresses, the gorgeous dresses, are very colorful. You can teach him if you want, he’s a pretty good student. Although it will take him some time to become your counterpart, he does his best to learn as quickly as possible. At first he will be content with just watching you, though. If you’re a professional dancer then he’ll go to your shows if he can. And if he can’t be there in person then he’ll try his darndest to be able to watch the show afterwards. Folklorico, in his eyes, is so elegant and mesmerizing, he’d be a fool to miss out on such a thing. Will ask you to dance with him every once in a while, he’s not really afraid of making a fool out of himself in front of you, as long as it’s just you.

Valeria: She knows about folklorico. She knows about it very well since it’s part of her culture. If you ask her about it, she’ll claim she knows how to dance. This, however, is complete and utter nonsense, Valeria can’t dance particularly well. Slow dances, yes, but nothing this fast paced. You can ask her to dance with you, she’ll always find an excuse to not do so and watch you instead. Sometimes, if you really insist, she might growl a bit and tell you off before watching you dance on your own anyway. Don’t get me wrong, though, she loves the fact that you can dance folklorico. While she may not be as connected to her culture, seeing you dance does fill her with some form of pride for Mexico. You look absolutely stunning, spinning and tapping away, no one could ever match you and your energy or your beauty. Although Valeria would absolutely love to dance some folklorico with you at some point, she knows she’d just make a fool of herself, so she leaves you alone, for the most part. However, you can count on her to get you the most jaw dropping dresses or suits in the entire country. You will look dapper whenever you’re on stage, that’s for sure. Like Price, she’ll try to go and see your shows when she can, but don’t count on it since she, too, is a very busy woman. Will also look for ways to watch your shows afterwards, and if she can’t then she’ll just have you give her a private show. As mentioned before, seeing you dance like this fills her with some form of pride, so, when you’re done and panting, she might just pull you in for a kiss and tell you just how well you did as you were dancing. Please continue to do so, she absolutely adores it.

Farah: She has never heard about folklorico before, but you can’t particularly blame her either, she spent her entire life in Urzikstan fighting for freedom, so she doesn’t necessarily know too much about the world around her. However, she’s interested as soon as you tell her you’re a folklorico dancer. Like Price, she won’t really be able to imagine what it is you do based on you telling her how you dance, but you can always give her a little demonstration. She’s absolutely blown away by your moves, regardless of whether you’re twirling around in your dress or stepping away in your suit, she loves it. Farah does try to dance with you as well, but be warned, she has no experience in dancing whatsoever since she never had the time to properly learn. So, in the beginning, you’ll both probably just be twirling and spinning around, but at some point she would like to learn about your dance and your culture so she can be a part of it as well. In turn, she’ll teach you about her culture as well since she does love sharing it too. However, Farah is a very quick learner. She’s very quick on her feet and is able to keep up with you sooner rather than later, so at some point you will be dancing together, she’s determined to do so. Although she might not have the time and resources to get you your own suit or dress, she’s more than happy to make do with whatever she has. Farah can’t sew either, though, so she will just be using whatever she has at home. Due to what she does, she likely doesn’t have the time to watch your shows either, not even a rerun. You’re just gonna have to convince her of your capabilities as a dancer in person, what a bummer. Might sometimes mimic your movements as you dance. Not out of malice, but one day she just wants to be as good as you are, that’s all.

Laswell: She’s heard about folklorico as well. In fact, she’s been to cultural festivals all around the world and likely has seen some couples dance it together on stage, even if she might never have really known the proper name for it. But she remembers having seen it before. As soon as you tell her that you know how to dance folklorico, she’s very impressed. It was rather fast paced, something that likely takes quite some time to learn, so she can appreciate your dedication to it. Laswell isn’t the youngest anymore, but she’s still got some moves. While I don’t think she’d be able to dance proper folklorico with you, she will come watch you instead. Another one, who gets you the absolute nicest clothes out there to dance in. Does get a bit jealous when she watches you dance with someone else, but she gets over it fairly quickly since she knows you and her are a thing, not you and the other person. Sometimes she wonders how you don’t get dizzy, but it’s another thing she can admire properly about you. You’re just so beautiful while you’re dancing, plus you look like you’re having fun, and that’s all that matters to her. Will also ask you to dance for her when Laswell’s mind is full and she needs a distraction from it all. It’s just so elegant and it looks like it would be so much fun. Eventually, she’d give in and ask you to teach her a bit. She’s not doing that bad either, though. She, too, has somewhat quick feet, but she also has the determination to learn. Not as good and quick as Farah, but she tries. Loves, loves, loves the fact that you want to share your culture with her, is always more than willing to learn about it. Besides, what’s more beautiful than learning about a culture that isn’t your own? Everything about it is so cool to her, she’ll thank you for introducing her to it more properly.