#my point finger has no fingerprint anymore

[isame-allen]

Justice and injustice

[inkformyblood]

chance encounter (CWFKB2023) #2

Modern AU. Bloodsoaked kiss fill @codywanfirstkissbingo

There’s a man covered in blood sitting at the edge of Cody’s bar. 

He’s pretty enough that the blood doesn’t detract from it, somehow enhancing the bright flash of his eyes as he twists to stare at the door he’s just trudged in from. Cody follows his gaze, settling his elbow on the door to peer down at the trail of footprints that the man’s left in his wake — Cody could line up his footsteps with a ruler, each perfectly placed to try and minimise the damage , and he’s seen habitual drunks who’d run for a bar with less efficacy than this man has — and he catches the man’s eye as he straightens up. 

“I’ll pay extra for the cleaning,” the man says. His mouth twists like he wants to say more and he’s found it tastes bitter, hitting his palate like a pick-axe. “But am I able to order?”

“You hurt?” Cody asks instead, gesturing to the man’s, well, everything. It’s impossible to distinguish his natural hair colour beneath the blood, and every blink on one side grows longer with the sticky slide over the previous finger-smudged space to try and clear it. His clothes haven’t fared much better, a simple button-up destined for a long soak in some peroxide if not an immediate sentencing to the bin and a tight pair of jeans that will make Cody’s brain light up in all the wrong places if he thinks about them too long, blood splatter and all. 

The slow grin that dawns over the man’s face could only be described as wicked, enough to convince a priest to tear off his collar and renounce his crusade if only for a second glance, and Cody isn’t particularly adept at denying himself small pleasures anymore. Nearly dying would do that to a man. The stranger peels his hand off of the bar, his fingerprints embossed in the wood in deep red marks, and Cody’s starting to reach for a rag before what he’s seeing catches up to him. The man’s teeth are pointed, his tongue a flash of pink amongst deep red as he licks over the expanse of his palm, culminating the motion by removing the prosthetic fangs with a wet slick. He sets them next to the soak of his fingerprints. “All entirely fake. A prank I interrupted I believe or it may have been intended for me all along. But now I am soaked to the bone, already sticky and that is only going to get worse, and I’m in desperate need of a drink.”

“We’ve got a small bathroom round the back.” Cody’s mouth moves without his brain’s input, cogs that had already stuck on the intensity of the man’s gaze as he had licked over his palm — that hadn’t been a fascination Cody thought he had possessed but now he can think of nothing else — grinding to a further halt at the thought of the man undressed in the cramped confines of a shower, soap clinging to his shoulders, the soft plane of his belly, lower. “You could wash up there.” 

”You won’t get in trouble?” The man asks softly, leaning closer to Cody like they’re in a confessional, his voice so gentle that Cody flushes from the dichotomy of it all. “No trade secrets I should stay away from, overbearing bosses, jealous exes?”

“Why would my exes be jealous?” Cody asks before he can stop himself, rocking back on his heels to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to force his headache with nothing more than the pressure and a fervent prayer.

The man chuckles, ducking his head to make an attempt at hiding his grin behind the back of his hand. The pale swipe over his palm is briefly visible and Cody’s stomach twists, his head swimming with how much he’s craving something he’s only just learned is possible.

“They’d be jealous because I’m getting to talk to you and they’re not.”

Cody grumbles something unintelligible at the man, refusing to look at him directly. He hadn’t had much of a religious lean in his childhood, the house packed too full for anything else to seep in through the cracks. But he had dutifully sat through the parade of speakers from every faith while he’d been at school and sang the hymns like he was supposed to but it hadn’t meant anything special, it just was; the same way got the second pick of the chairs around the tv and he always chose the low armchair that would tip over if he leant back too far, the same way he got third pick of the sweets whenever his family all piled into the car for a trip and sixth choice of where they got takeaway from on the rare nights they could order. It had always been there, braided into his swearing and the way he structured his breaks around the holidays just like he would for the school breaks. But he must have done something right, somewhere, somehow, because this man, blood-stained and smiling like there’s never been anything wrong with the world, is in his bar. 

He holds out the rag, a clean one, uncurling it from his fingers as he does so. There’s an indented line cut into the hollow of his knuckles, thanks to his own actions, and the man murmurs out his thanks as he stands, taking the rag from Cody. He roughly scrubs it over his eyes, revealing patchy pale skin littered with freckles and glitter in equal measures. The glitter is red, clinging to the natural hollows of the man’s face, the furrow of his brow and the corners of his eyes. 

“Bathroom’s just through the door marked ‘Staff Only’, take a left and it’s the second door on your right. Ignore the skeleton in the closet. His name is Lewis.”

“And your name, my most beloved bartender?” 

“Cody.”

“Cody,” the man repeats, lingering over the scant few syllables like he’s savouring them, swirling wine round in a glass as if that would make it taste any better. Closer now, he smells sweet, the fake blood beginning to dry tacky and stick around his joints, a rusting puppet too stubborn to lie down and let the world spin to nothing around him. “That is a lovely name. I’m Obi-Wan.”

He holds out his hand — blank line on his palm, a gold ring on his thumb, and Cody was already halfway in love without Obi-Wan ever saying a word — and Cody takes it. Obi-Wan tugs Cody forward, the edge of the bar catching on the rough curve of his hip, and kisses his cheek, sweet and sticky and smelling of artifical strawberries. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Cody manages, smoke spiralling from his ears as his overworked brain kicks up another gear, dust torn free from pathways he hasn’t touched in years. “You can have that drink when you’re back out.”

“You’re a treasure, Cody, truly. What would I do without you?”

“You’d be sticky and thirsty in someone else’s bar.” Cody squeezes Obi-Wan’s hand before he lets him go. “Now, go. I’m not going anywhere.” 

[theladycarpathia]

“You’re a witch hunter,” Steve says, cold trickling down his spine, and Billy gives him a slow blink.

“Well, yeah,” he says, as though this means nothing to him at all. Steve sighs.

“So I’m a witch?” he points out, hauling himself up onto an elbow so he can look at Billy. 

But it only makes it worse. Because when he looks at Billy he’s reminded by everything that he’d be giving up. Everything that he’s spent his life searching for.

“I don’t really give a fuck, Harrington,” Billy says flatly, stretching his long arms above his head. Steve watches the muscles flex, how the motion makes his red t-shirt shift just enough to reveal a strip of creamy tanned skin. “It’s not like my family are really active hunters anymore.”

“Your dad will be pissed,” Steve says quietly, because he knows enough about Neil Hargrove to know that while no, the Hargroves don’t hunt anymore, that Billy’s dad definitely won’t let him stay with a witch. And a male one at that.

Billy scoffs loudly.

“I really don’t give a fuck,” he says again, bitterness creeping into his voice.  “And neither should you.”

Steve flops back down onto the tartan blanket and stares up into the glittering night sky. His backyard has always been perfect for this sort of thing - the clear open sky above Loch Nora, the soft glow of the pool, the complete absence of his parents. Steve had had very different intentions in mind when he invited Billy over for dinner and some stargazing. It had been a perfect third date, right up until Steve had caught sight of the witch hunter's mark on Billy’s wrist. 

“I don’t care,” he lies. Because even though Billy rents a shitty studio apartment above the bowling alley, he’s still not free of Neil Hargrove. The distance isn’t going to be enough to save Billy, and Steve doesn’t need any runes or cards to tell him that. He can see it in the fingerprints around Billy’s wrist, in the long white scar on the soft skin of Billy’s thigh, the set of Billy’s jaw.

It terrifies Steve that Billy is choosing him over his own safety. “It’s not like the dating app has a ‘no witches’ option,” Billy says flatly. “And I wouldn’t fucking tick it anyway because I don’t give a shit.”

“You knew though,” Steve protests, because hiding a witch mark is far easier and something Billy must have deliberately covered on their past few dates. Billy had never taken his denim jacket off on their first date. And he’d worn long sleeves on their second date, and the few times he’s stopped in Family video to visit Steve. “You knew straight away in the coffee shop, you could smell me…”

“So what if I did?” Billy bursts out, hauling himself upright. His eyes flash in the moonlight, the unearthly indigo shade of a witch hunter, and he’s never looked more beautiful. Steve sits up too, wondering if Billy can see the glow of gold in his own eyes, the color of magic. A`dead giveaway of Steve’s lineage. Witches and witch hunters have been enemies since before Salem. And while most are no longer active, it’s still unheard of for the two to mix. “I didn’t care, Steve! You could have transformed into a bat in that coffee shop and I wouldn’t have given a shit, alright? I didn’t ask to be able to smell magic, I didn’t ask for my stupid ancestors to go out burning witches and I wasn’t about to stop our first date for something so idiotic and outdated.”

“Not about to tie stones to my feet and chuck me in my own pool then?” Steve asks, curling his fingers around Billy’s bare left wrist, just over the jagged witch mark seared into Billy’s skin. He can so easily spend the rest of his days with his skin pressed into Billy’s.

Billy gives him a flash of teeth and Steve’s stomach swoops at the sight of it. This night might go the way he had planned after all. 

“Not unless you really annoy me,” Billy murmurs, eyes heavy and dark, and presses his mouth to Steve’s. It’s not their first kiss, but it’s certainly their most honest one. 

When the kiss grows more heated and they fall back down to the ground, Steve takes the opportunity to use a little magic. Not something he does on the day to day, not in a tiny town like Hawkins, but he thinks maybe he can show Billy that there are benefits to dating a witch. It takes Billy a good few minutes to realize that the night sky has changed to Steve’s bedroom ceiling.

“Handy,” Billy comments, looking impressed at the sudden teleportation. His hands slide further down inside Steve’s jeans and his fingers curl around the curve of Steve’s ass. Steve sucks on Billy’s full bottom lip to stifle his moan.

“Got any good spells for getting naked?” Billy asks lasciviously. 

Steve smiles and shows him.

[neyswxrld]

reindeer family

Omega & reader (gn) - platonic!! ofc

summary: Crafting Christmas cards with Omega!

warnings: none, it's just fluff

word count: ~750

advent calendar masterlist

a/n: this is the eigth fic for my advent calendar! i can't wait for the 24th or 23rd when i realize i have to make a few cards for my grandma and get stressed out.

p.s. english isn't my mother tongue, sorry for misspellings!

You are sitting at your table. There are different things scattered around. Papers in various colors and sizes, some glitter, stickers, pens, water colors, felt markers... In short, everything a person would need to craft lovely Christmas cards. In the background, you can hear Christmas songs, adding to the whole mood.

Next to you is Omega. She excitedly wiggles her feet while eating one cookie after another. You were a bit scared she would get a stomach ache at first, but she insists she has one made of steel. So you hope she will still feel well after the amount of sugar.

"What kind of card do you want to make?" You ask, pointing at some of the references you opened on your data pad.

Omega takes a look, scrolling through different pictures before stopping at one. A big smile spreads on her lips as she shows you the picture.

Two reindeer made out of fingerprints in front of some colorful fairy lights.

"Can we make this? I could draw a bandana on this one, then it's Hunter and me!" she asks, excited. Smiling, you nod and help her prepare everything. You're happy that your idea to make Christmas cards makes her so happy.

"Then I'll make one for Wrecker. I could make one with a reindeer too, or I'll make one with presents! He said he's really excited about them," she already thinks about the next one before suddenly gasping, "I'm going to make reindeer in front of presents!"

"Uuuh, yeah, that sounds great," you say, smiling and painting some color on her thumb.

After that, she carefully presses her finger on some white paper. She concentrates on the task and puts another fingerprint next to the other.

After making another two, she looks at you again.

"I could make one for Tech with messy wires on his antlers! And goggles! And Echo gets one with some cybernetic legs and a Christmas tree in the background!" she continues, putting her thumb in front of you again so you could recolor it.

After quite some time, she finished the fingerprints for four of the cards. Just as she wants to put her thumb on a fifth one, she hesitates. A sad look crosses her face.

"What's up?" you ask, a little bit concerned at the sudden switch in her mood.

"It's nothing... It's,- it's just that Crosshair isn't that long with us again. I don't really know what he likes...," she mumbles. Her nose crinkles, just matching said brother's perfectly.

"Hm... He likes his rifle. And his toothpicks," you put your thoughts into words.

Omega puts her hand on her chin, making a thinker's pose, not realizing that she smudges the brown paint all around her face.

"Yeah, that's right, but that's the obvious choice," she comments, tapping her chin again.

"Isn't it with the others too?" you ask her, a little bit rhetorically.

"I'm sure Crosshair will be happy about every card you give him," you add. Still a bit uncertain, she nods. "Okay. You're right. Maybe I'll come up with something when I have finished the others." She presses her new-colored thumb on the last Christmas card.

For the next half hour, she is busy painting the small details on the reindeer and cutting out different shapes of colorful paper to decorate the background.

In the end, she decides to make a Crosshair reindeer, too, with a toothpick and his tattoo. Next to it, she cuts out his rifle, puts some glitter on it, and adds some small hearts.

"Perfect!" she grins, showing you all of her cards again, already putting another cookie in her mouth.

"Now, I need to make some more for my friends from school... But no reindeer anymore. They're just for family," she says thoughtfully while looking at your reference pictures again.

By the end of the day, you two had made a few funny, colorful cards and left a mess on the table. You weren't looking forward to cleaning that up. But it was worth it. You had some bonding time with Omega and cute little Christmas cards out of it.

The whole thing gains value on Christmas day when you see all the happy faces of her brothers while looking into their cards. Even Crosshair seems to be touched, if you can read the softness in his eyes correctly.

When Omega comes over to you and gives you your own card, you can't stop the happy tears that suddenly rise in your eyes.

Two reindeer, sitting at a table, crafting Christmas cards.

TAGLIST:

@isthereanechoinhere96

[sibsteria]

Fog and Clouds

Prologue One

Jake Peralta & Marcus White x fem!Reader

Masterlist

‘‘He’s here. He’s here! Jake’s here!’‘

I tug my lips up at the remark. He couldn’t contain his excitement.

‘‘Okay, let’s do the prank, where we don’t even acknowledge him when he comes in. Okay? Sh sh sh. Everyone, shhh!’‘

Charles stood facing me, a constipated look on his face.

I notice the leather clad comic behind him. My heart jumps.

‘‘Back in the nine-nine-’‘

‘‘Whoooooo! Jake, jake, jake, jake!’’  He just couldn’t help himself.

Gina stands, a unamused face on her, ‘’Played to perfection, Charles.’’

‘‘God, I missed this place, let me just soak it in.’‘ Jake wafts his hands to his face, inhaling the air.

‘‘Oh yeah, stale coffee, fingerprinting ink, whatever Charles is fermenting in his desk-’‘

‘‘Beans.’‘

‘‘Beans.’‘ Charles and I say in consensus.

Jake points a finger at Charles.

‘‘Beans? It’s like I never left. All right, fill me in, tell me everything I missed.’‘

He pulls me in for a tight hug, I can smell his familiar aftershave as it floods my senses.

‘‘Won’t take long, only four things happened-’‘ We pull away to hear Rosa’s recollection.

‘‘Terry chipped his tooth and had a lisp for a week.’‘ 

‘‘Yeah, I could not take him seriously.’‘ Charles giggled.

‘‘Number two, Santiago and Boyle wore the same outfit to work one day.’’

‘‘It really did look better on Charles.’‘ I shrug.

‘‘Captain banned headphones from the office, due to the Gina Incident.’’ 

‘‘To be fair, she was absolutely jamming.’‘ I point finger guns at Gina.

‘‘What can I say, I have more fun then any of you.’’

‘‘And Y/n got fired for assaulting Hitchcock-’‘

‘‘Wait, what?’’ Jake looks over to me, I look at the floor.

‘‘He grabbed my ass, what was I supposed to do?’‘ I murmur.

‘‘So...that’s it? You won’t be working with me-us anymore?’’ 

‘‘I guess so, Holt pushed for me to stay but unfortunately...I’m gone after today.’‘

‘‘Y/n-’‘ He looked deflated

‘‘It’s okay, I’m gonna move in with one of my friends, back in St. Louis. Besides, I only filed paperwork and Gina can do that without my help.’‘ I hold in my tears as I try to not look at his face.

‘‘Can she?’‘ Rosa retorts.

‘‘Great recap.’‘ Jake says, solemnly.

‘‘Welcome back, Peralta, I’m sure you have heard about Y/n by now-’‘

‘‘Captain.’‘ They shake hands.

‘‘Every one has a lot of work, so you have exactly two minutes to share personal anecdotes and those two minutes began when you entered. You now have...’‘ he checks his watch, ‘’12 seconds left.’’

‘‘Challenge accepted.’‘ Jake turns back around to us but I blank out, I’m gonna miss this place so much, miss everyone.

‘‘-everyone back to work!’‘ His tone change tore me from my trance.

‘‘All right, Jake-’‘ Terry pulls him in for a bro hug.

‘‘Hey, so, figured we should have a chance to catch up, after having that bomb dropped on me?’‘

‘‘Yeah?’’

‘‘Yeah.’‘

‘‘Can we talk in private for a sec?’‘

I agree, following him to the evidence room.

‘‘Okay, so, you are...fired.’‘

‘‘I mean, technically speaking, yes. But he deserved it-’‘ He laughs at me, shaking his head. He bit his lip, his smile turning into a frown.

‘‘I really am going to miss you, Jake.’‘

‘‘Did you mean what you said? About moving to St. Louis?’‘ His large eyes bore into mine.

‘‘I did- don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, Peralta!’‘ I whine, stomping my feet in annoyance.

‘‘I’m not doing anything! And it’s Peralta now?’‘ I shrug.

‘‘You didn’t really give an explanation as to where we stood.’‘

My mind thinks back to his last night before going undercover, when he was in fact, under my covers.

‘‘Well, that’s new.’‘

‘‘Yup.’’

‘‘I...liked it, though.’‘

‘‘Me too.’‘

‘‘We should do it again, you know, when you’re back- o-or not...’‘

‘‘I’d like that, Y/n/n.’‘

‘‘This complicates things doesn’t it?’‘

‘‘I don’t have to go-’‘

‘‘Don’t stop yourself for me, it’s not like we’re...like in love or something.’‘ He shrugs at me.

‘‘Yeah.’‘ My heart drops. I am.

‘‘I guess it was a mistake, I don’t know, I was nervous about going under cover and I think I just kind of freaked out and you were nearby. So...’‘

‘‘A mistake, okay.’‘

‘‘N-no, I don’t mean a mistake- I just-’‘

I smile at him.

‘‘It’s okay, Jake, I get it. Your head was all over the place. it was just one night. And we don’t work together anymore. We won’t even be in the same city by tonight-’‘

‘‘You’re leaving tonight?’‘

‘‘Yeah.’‘

‘‘Oh, okay.’‘

‘‘Like you said, it was a mistake, we can forget about it.’‘ I give him another smile, fighting to keep it genuine.

‘‘Of course.’‘ He nods towards the exit door.

I follow after him, he stumbles over his feet slightly.

‘‘You okay?’‘

‘‘I’m good.’‘

[edupunkn00b]

Everyone Leaves, Ch. 4: Virgil

Colorized version of Wolf-in-front-of-Moon, Clément Bucco-Lechat CC 3.0

Prev - Virgil - Next - All - [ AO3 ] - Playlist

Virgil appears and demands to know what Remus has done to Logan. He finds Logan happily sleeping, sprawled over Remus' lap. And a frighteningly happy Remus.

CW: intrusive thoughts, wolf bite, blood, swearing, unreality A continuation of @lost-in-thought-20's incredible story for the @tsspromptmonth 🌸 Spring Cleaning 🌸 event. ---

The door rattled in its frame, chunks of cement from the walls clattering to the floor in a dusty avalanche. “Remus!” 

BANG BANG BANG BANG  

The wolves whimper in the corner. There’s only one Side his wolves fear.

“Open the fucking door, Remus!”  Virgil’s tempest voice shakes his bones but he ignores it. Virgil was all talk. He’s the one who should be afraid. “What’d you do? Impersonate him? Got him tied up in there?”

“Oooo, kinky!” Remus cackles as he waves the door open. “And keep your voice down, Emo,” Logan slept better with the sound of his voice. “The nerd’s finally asleep.” He stares into Virgil’s shadowed eyes, the black smeared with tear tracks. Logan's presence brought company but it also brought light. Dim, but enough to relish in the fear in Virgil's eyes. “Wake him and I’ll spend every night for the next year camped out in your little brain while you try to sleep.”

“Do your worst!” Virgil’s posture stays strong but there’s a warble in his voice and Remus knows his point was made. Anxiety knows better than to take his threats as mere words. “Just put Logan back to normal! Release him from whatever you did and let him go! We need him! Thomas is in a fucking police station getting fingerprinted right now.”

Remus sucks on the tip of his middle finger. “Hmmm… yummy. I always wanted to know what that ink tasted like. Sticky, bitter, kinda like—”

“Shut up!” The tempest voice shakes through his bones and Remus shivers, staring back with green glowing eyes. Virgil takes a deep breath to calm himself. It doesn’t work. “Look, you can have whatever you want, Remus, just let him go so he can fix this!”

“But this is what I want. Right here, in my arms, in my room.” He smiles, mouth stretched wide enough to touch his ears. If he stretched enough, he could even drop his jaw just like Janus used to when he asked.

Back when Janus stayed. Back when Janus gave a fuck.

Virgil’s steps falter and the wolves slink out from under his bed. “See? Even they’re not afraid of you anymore,” Remus reaches out to pet the closest wolf and its ears flatten against the top of its head and it sinks its fangs into his hand. 

Remus smiled as he tore his hand from the beast’s mouth. It was then that Logan woke. “Remus?” He blinked, staring into Remus’ eyes.

“Logan, you’re alright!” Virgil dropped to his knees and reached for him. “We need you, we—” The wolves snarled the moment Virgil’s hand grazed Logan’s and he drew back.

Save for a single glance, Logan ignores Virgil and sits up facing Remus. “You are injured,” he frowns and holds out his hand. A large red box appears before him and he opens the case to reveal a perfectly organized first aid kit. He takes out supplies and begins flushing Remus’ wound with sterile saline. Like tears. Remus hissed under his breath, the water sharp and biting the wound.

“Logan? Wha—How did you do that? Only Remus can conjure in his room.”

“Falsehood,” he said without looking up from his ministrations. "I obviously just did and I am not Remus.” Wound irrigated, Logan began blotting his skin with a soft cloth, pristine white and clean like his room had never seen before. He worked silently for a moment, those laser sharp eyes staring at the puncture wounds on Remus’ hand like he fucking dared them to start seeping blood again.

“I will bandage your wound now,” he said, raising his eyes up. Logan looked at him with a softness Remus hadn’t seen since… Fuck Janus. He nodded.

“Do whatcha gotta do, Nerdy Wolverine,” he grinned, a little too widely. What was the worst that could happen? The bite was already starting to burn and throb. Logan’s nursing would only help, even if it hurt like hell while he did it. “I won’t fight you.”

“Yeah, right,” Virgil scoffed. “Be careful, Logan. I’m pretty sure I still have Remus’ teeth marks from that time I tried to get a chunk of glass outta—”

“I will be careful, Remus.” Logan didn’t get that Virgil was warning the nerd against what he would do and just trained those eyes on him, holding still with Remus’ hand twitching in his palm. “Tell me if the bandage grows uncomfortable and I will adjust it.”

Remus nodded, mouth hanging open but nothing would come out. The only other person who could shut him up was Dee and that was with his powers. Even Virgil finally shut up and just watched, all tense and coiled like he expected Remus to attack their resident logician.

After his wounds were hidden under layers of gauze and those little pads you get at the hospital, Logan pressed down on each of his nail beds, Remus watched, too, as tannish pink went white and then quickly returned. “I believe this  dressing adequate now. I will need to change your bandage in a few hours to guard against infection.” The nerd looked up and actually smiled. “How does it feel, Remus?”

The wolf who’d bitten him slunk out from the shadows, head hanging low and her tail between her legs. She lay down in front of Logan, whining quietly. “Better, Lo.”

“That is a relief,” Logan murmured and laid one hand on the wolf’s head, instantly turning off that high-pitched whine.

“Okay, so you fixed the nightmare’s hand.” Virgil jumped to his feet and opened the door, eyeing the wolf like it had grown tentacles. That’s an idea. Would they be slimy like her insides, intestines flopping through her pelt and hanging to the floor? Or would they match her fur, like boneless prehensile tails sprouting from her back. With teeth.

Virgil was still at the door, reaching for Logan’s hand. “Come fix this mess with the cops! You belong up there with us.”

Logan stared between them and they all stared up at him, watching the cogs in his brain whir as he tried to decide. Even the wolf knew what was what and she slid her muzzle off his lap and stood between him and Remus.

Remus reaches for Logan. He is not going to let him leave, too. He can do what he should’ve done with Virgil. What he should’ve done with Janus. As soon as he gets close to the wolf, she lets out a low growl and clamps down on his hand, teeth piercing the skin like it’s paper. His blood drips to the floor and Logan’s shadow gets longer as he follows Virgil out to the hallway and—

“I am not leaving.” Logan’s sharp voice popped the vision and Remus stared. The wolf was still curled on his lap, tail swish-swish-swishing against the cracked cement. “Nothing has changed. If I am to return, you must listen to me.” She whined again and Logan nodded, scritching her around the ears like he was a fucking puppy. “And you must listen to Remus. Not…” he raised his other hand, silencing Virgil’s protest faster than Janus ever could. “Not to do everything he says, but to listen. He is half of Thomas’ creativity. Some of his ideas are worth exploring.”

“You’ve fucking lost it, Logan! First Nico and now this?” Virgil shoved both hands in his hoodie pockets. “Fine. We’ll figure it out without you,” he muttered and backed away out of the room.

“If you choose not to see reason, then that is your best course of action,” Logan replied calmly, fingers buried in the wolf’s fur. It looked soft like that, plush and comforting like one of Pattycake’s stuffies. The door slammed and Remus looked up. He hadn’t even seen the Emo leave.

“If you choose not to see reason, then that is your best course of action,” Logan replied calmly, fingers buried in the wolf’s fur. It looked soft like that, plush and comforting like one of Pattycake’s stuffies. The door slammed and Remus looked up. He hadn’t even seen the Emo leave.

[ladyelissarose]

Warnings: bad dream, mentions blood, fire, trauma, strangling, lots of angst.

”The Secrets of Gotham-Unmasked”

Chp. 17

Bruce’s POV

 Bruce and Alfred tried to help Y/b/n remember Y/n but he couldn’t think of anything. Bruce was getting frustrated so he offered,

  “Let me bring Y/n, where is she?”

  “I’m not sure Bruce, call her.”

  Bruce took off his suit and went up the elevator to the Manor, he saw how Y/n’s motorcycle keys were on the table in the kitchen, so he figured she was home already, 

  ‘She must be upstairs.’

Bruce began to walk up the stairs and saw his bedroom door was opened, he peeked in and didn’t see her in there,

  ‘Is she in her room?’

Bruce walked to her room and went inside to see it empty, her stuffed hadn’t been touched in a while sense she had been staying in Bruce’s room, but the room still held her scent, the scent Bruce always found comfort in and familiarity. He saw how a letter laid on her desk, he didn’t recognize the writing, so with curiosity he lifted it and read it,

  ‘Oh, this is Y/b/n’s writing... he’s got nice handwriting.’

 Bruce entertained himself for a few moments as he read the letter Y/b/n had left Y/n in his personal items, she found that letter after the fire at the Orphanage, and Bruce sat on the floor and read every single word and pinned them on his heart, it did hurt him to know that the boy Y/b/n once was wasn’t in that body anymore.. now he was cold, hurt, broken, and a killer. And Y/b/n refused to remember who Y/n was at all.

  Y/n’s POV

 Y/n opened her eyes and looked around somewhat confused for a second, until she realized that she stood in the garage fixing her dads BMW when she heard a voice call out,

  “Y/n/n!! I need your eyes for a second!!”

  It was her father calling her, she smiled warmly at being able to hear his warm voice call out to her,

  “I’m coming Dad!! J-Just give me a second!”

  Y/n tightened her wrench on a loose screw then ran out of the garage to the dining room. There her father sat in the flesh at the dinner table spreading out files and papers all over, he turned to look at her and smiled as he offered,

  “I’ll give you.. hmm.. $15 if you can tell me who’s fingerprints are these..”

  He pointed at 3 photos of 3 different men, each with their names and separate fingerprints, then on the side was another photo, but of the evidence that held a single fingerprint. Y/n sat down and carefully grabbed the photos as she examined them carefully,

  “So basically this single fingerprint is from one of these 3 men?” 

  “Exactly.”

  She sent him an innocent smirk and challenged,

  “Give me $20 and you’ll have your answer?”

  “Bet.. but if you get it wrong I take the first spin when we finish up Bullet.”

  Y/n gasped as she held her hand over her heart in an offended manner,

  “You wouldn’t. I HAVE to drive your BMW first.. Bullet has my name!”

  “Then tell me who it is.”

 Y/n quickly looked over them and in a matter of seconds, thanks to her determination and smart eyes, she had her answer, matching the fingerprints to the suspect she slid both photos next to her dad as she proudly stated,

  “These fingerprints match suspect #2.. why? Because look, turns out that he supposedly burned his fingertips while working in the kitchen, only leaving his fingers with a partial print.. all the others have the full print while his doesn’t.”

  Her father lifted his hand and held it up gesturing a high five,

  “That’s my partner!! Look at ya... I’m proud of you kiddo.. I already knew the answer, I just wanted to see if you did.”

  Y/n went passed his hand and hugged her dad tightly instead, sinking into his embrace, in the back of her mind she knew something was off, but she couldn’t pin it. But she enjoyed the moment as her father began to say in a loving tone,

  “I’ll always love you Y/n.. no matter where I am.. or where I go. I just need you to remember.. remember that you’re strong and capable of anything. Don’t let the world change that. Fight and stand for what you believe in.. and you’ll get your prize. I know you will.”

  Tears began to brim in her eyes as it clicked in her mind,

  ‘It’s a dream Y/n... no no.. stay here in the moment.’

  Y/n then replied, as she separated herself from her father and sat back in her chair,

  “I’ll always love you too Dad.. b-but I’m scared... I really am.. I think about you every time I try to go on but it’s hard. It really is. I want to do this for you.. but I don’t think I’m up for the job-“

  “You are! And you want to know why? No no honey don’t cry.”

  He wiped the falling tears from Y/n eyes as he added,

 “You can because you’re my-“

  Then in his mid sentence it all blurred away and she appeared somewhere else.

 Y/n ran as fast as she could in a room full of raging flames, the heat burned her skin and the smoke made her feel suffocated. Y/n couldn’t find her way out and panicked, 

 ‘What the fuck just happened?!’

 she ran in and out of every room she found but always made it back to the same place, her old home back in D.C.. In the distance she could hear a voice call out for her, but she couldn’t see where it came from, until she saw a tall figure standing close by yelling for her,

  “Y/N!! RUN, COME OVER HERE!!”

 It was her father, tall and strong, with his arms wide opened for her, he beckoned her to come to him. 

  “DADDY!!!! WAIT FOR ME!!!”

 Just as Y/n was about to take the first step she felt someone grab her arm and pull her back yanking her to the ground, she cried in pain as she fell into a batch of fire, and when she looked up she saw Mackenzie. He held a devilish gaze full of hatred, he got down and held her arms down with his hands and with his knees he held her legs as well, Y/n began to scream for help,

  “DAD!! DADDY HELP ME PLEASE!!”

  Mackenzie began to laugh loudly as he mocked,

  “He’s not here Y/n, wake up.. it’s not real.. he’s dead.. and so are you!!!”

  She spit in his face which made Mackenzie remove his hands to clean his eyes, she took that chance to choke him with her bare hands as she felt the heat getting stronger, she flipped him over so now she was above him, but when she looked at his face it was Y/b/n now, she removed her hands and grabbed his face,

  “Y/b/n?! Y/B/N!! Hey honey wake up I’m so sorry, I don’t now what I was thinking-“

  As she tried to wake up who now was her brother under her she was grabbed by the hair and lifted off the ground, when they turned her head to face them she was met with Stewart’s bloody face. And she held a wide wicked grin, it brought chills all over Y/n’s body as she tried to release herself from the tight grip that held her,

  “Let me go!!! DAAAAD!!! I know you’re here!! Help me!!!”

  Tears streamed down her face as she kicked and screamed, but she suddenly couldn’t hear her voice, it was quite, all she could hear was the flames cackling and Stewart’s laughing as she said,

  “Take her Bock... finish her.”

  Mackenzie grabbed her once again by the waist and whispered in her ear,

  “You are nothing Y/n.. nothing. You’ll never solve the case, never get back what you lost.. you’re a failure just like your father.. scream Y/n.. scream all you want no one will hear you.. no one. Maybe then you’ll realize how powerful your voice is until you’ve been silenced.. and I’ve just silenced you.”

  Y/n tried to scream her lungs out to block out every venomous word he said as she kicked harder against him, but he wouldn’t budge or move, and she couldn’t hear her screams. Mackenzie was rock solid and never moved, she kept screaming for her father but she never saw him again. So she tried calling for Bruce though she still didn’t hear her voice, it was only in her mind she could hear herself attempting to scream,

  ‘BRUUUUUCE!!! BABY!! PLEASE HELP ME!! SOMEBODY!!’

  She felt her blood raise to her head and tried to think,

  ‘WAKE UP!! WAKE UP WAKE UP Y/N!! ITS JUST A DREAM!! AHHHH!!!’

  “Y/n wake up!!! Y/n it’s me Bruce it’s just a dream!”

  Y/n jolted awake screaming and to Bruce shaking her in his arms, she stopped screaming but them began to let out choked sobs loudly. Bruce held her head against his chest and rubbed small circles on her back as she continued to cry loudly, her breaths were shortened and very shallow, Bruce let her go and grabbed her face in between his large hands and calmly said,

  “Baby.. baby can you hear me?”

  While sniffling and shaking tremendously she managed to shake her head slowly, still unwilling to speak, Bruce tried to coax her into talking,

  “I need your words honey, are you ok?”

  Y/n let out a sob and buried her head into his chest tugging her hands on his shirt harshly and went on to cry again. Bruce didn’t push her more and lifted her off the bed, he carried her bridal style into his room and placed her on the warm comforters. He shifted her so she would be on his lap as he had his back towards the headrest of the bed. After 15 minutes of being held Y/n finally spoke in a broken whisper,

 “I-It was so- so real.. all of it. Mackenzie, Stewart, my brother and father, the flames j-j-just everything!-“

  As she spoke Bruce could feel her getting more and more shaky as she tried to take in breaths and talk at the same time, so he stopped her,

  “Shh sh I know.. but you’re safe now.. I’m right here... later we can talk about it, just focus on my breathing and look at me.”

   She tried to protest but Bruce didn’t want her to escalate into another panic attack as she spoke so he pressed his lips softly to her trembling wet ones from her tears, he then went to wipe her cheeks and kissed them too softly, he now held her like you would hold a baby while feeding it, her legs were laying across his lap and his arms holding her back up, he had her face looking up at his as they held eye contact. She got calmer by the second and just stared into Bruce’s beautiful orbs, Bruce held the gaze and spoke softly,

  “I love you Y/n. I’m right here.”

  “I-I love you m- more Bruce.”

 He gave her a small smile and pressed his forehead against hers, she closed her eye and focused on his calm breathing, soon matching hers with his. 

  RedHood’s POV

  Alfred still tried taking him into accepting Y/n but he wouldn’t have it,

  “Stop talking about her like she’s some hero, i killed Stewart, not her. And that was her job-“

  “Y/n did the right thing by turning her in, she almost died Y/b/n-“

  “STOP CALLING ME Y/B/N!! IM JASON TODD.. Y/b/n died.. remember? He’s never coming back.”

 Alfred shook his head no,

  “That’s not true, you’re alive-“

  “Ok maybe I’m alive. But I’m different now.. and you can’t change that Alfred.”

  “I’m well aware Jason.”

 Y/b/n looked at Alfred and saw how he was genuinely trying to help him, but he didn’t want to be helped at the moment, he just wanted to leave. So he began to try and get off, only making Alfred run to him to stop him,

  “You are in no state to be leaving-“

  Y/b/n frustratedly yelled trying to push Alfred away,

  “YOU HAVE NO CONTROL OF ME ALFRED!!-“

  Alfred became strong and shoved Y/b/n back on the table onto his back and reminded him in a strong tone,

  “I damn well do Jason, right now I can have you turned in with the police, and they’ll ruin your life more than I possibly can. Now, you stay here or I’ll sedate you until I’m ready to deal with your attitude any further young man. Your life is in my hands and I only saved you because I love you son and you deserve a second chance. Maybe I can’t change you, but I’ll break you if you push me.”

  Y/b/n eyes were wide open with shock at the way Alfred spoke to him, and soon they swelled with tears that he fought so badly to hold back but they still slid down his cheeks. At first, Y/b/n wanted his pride to get the best of him and leave, but after the way Alfred spoke to him all he wanted to do was crawl into his arms and cry like a baby, but for now he chose to go back to sleep. He tugged the blanket to cover himself fully and mumbled a quiet,

  “ok.. I’ll go to sleep here... but don’t tell Y/n anything about me, I-I’m not ready to see or talk with her yet.”

  Alfred sent him a tight lipped smile,

  “Very well.. You have my word.”

 Alfred began to walk away but first warned him,

  “I do not one thing out of place, Bruce takes his material items seriously. As well as his privacy... get some sleep, I’ll be upstairs. Goodnight Y-Jason.”

  Y/b/n closed his eyes as Alfred switched the light off,

  “Goodnight.”

 Alfred’s POV 

  Alfred soon made it upstairs and heard soft crying noises from Bruce’s room, he thought it was Bruce at first, so he went to check, and went he peeked in he saw Bruce holding Y/n very closely to his chest. He could now see that it was Y/n that was crying. He didn’t want to interfere so he left them there, Alfred was glad though to see Bruce handling it well, for Bruce wasn’t always the best with handling emotions, but Y/n had changed that. Alfred went to his room and soon went to asleep after doing his nightly routine.

  Y/n’s POV

 Y/n still felt Bruce’s tight hold on her as he swayed her back and forth gently, the way she would do to him when he needed it. She loved him so much but was still so scared to tell him what had gone down at the Arkham Prison with Mackenzie. It more than anything humiliated and embarrassed her to think that Mackenzie had his way with her, and how she was now terrified of him. It also scared her more to know that she was the one for the job when Gordon will ask her to go undercover. Y/n didn’t want to go, she felt that it’ll just be a lost cause or she would end up like her father. It was either she won or lost, and at the moment it was too risky to tell how she’ll go down first. Y/n shifted herself and Bruce to where they were now laying side by side holding onto one another. Bruce kept his eyes focused on Y/n’s lips and features, the moon light hit his eyes perfectly bringing out the most beautiful shade of blue and grey, it also brought out the dark circles under his eyes. He then offered,

  “Do you want to change? You’re still fully clothe.”

  Y/n remembered that she’d probably have choke marks in her neck under her sweater from Mackenzie’s hands, so she shook her head no,

  “No.. it’s ok.. I don’t want to move.”

  “Ok.”

 Y/n then brought up her hand and closed his eyes with her fingers and held them there, and whispered into the night softly,

  “Go to sleep baby... you need it.”

 “What about you.. are you going to be ok?”

 Bruce could feel her head nodding as she responded,

  “yes.. as long as you’re hear holding me I’ll be ok..”

  “ok.. goodnight Y/n, I love you.”

  “Goodnight Bruce, I love you more.”

 In the morning.

  Y/n woke up early and checked the time, it was barely ‘8:24’. She lifted her face from Bruce’s chest and saw how he was still asleep, she got up carefully and pecked his head before going off to get a quick shower. Soon Y/n dressed into her simple jeans and wore a turtleneck and Bruce’s sweater as a blouse tucked into her pants, making sure that her neck was out of sight from any attention. She clicked her gun to her belt and added the taser gun as well, when she put on her boots she slid a pocket knife inside her socks. She fixed her hair into a simple low bun. And grabbed her bags. She went back to the bed and saw Bruce still sleeping, she left him a small note and kissed him one more time on the head. Y/n then left the room and began to walk downstairs, Alfred wasn’t around to stop her so she left quickly.

[wordsofrowan]

From Ashes to Embers

Chapter 2 - Lighthouse with a Burnt-Out Bulb

I woke up on time for once. A smile on my face as I got up, got dressed, and got ready for the day ahead of me. Classes were canceled for the day after the events of Miracle Queen the day before but I had plans for myself today. I went to my desk and started installing a hideaway drawer that I could use to keep the miracle box in. I decided to think over what had happened. I got Master Fu exposed, Hawkmoth found him because of me, the miraculous wielders were exposed and because of my actions, I lost Chloe as a kind of ally. Maybe I was smarter, faster, or more diligent in my duties then this would've never happened. Maybe I should find someone else to be Ladybug. I made sure there was a fingerprint lock, voice lock, and combination lock so that only I could get to it. Didn’t need another diary situation on my hands. 

I let time slip me by as I focused on constructing the hidden drawer. I didn’t mind as it kept me from thinking about everything that had happened. I let my fingers work and my mind goes blank. 

Time slipped by, with me being completely unaware of anything other than the project I was focusing on. “Wow, Marinette! That looks great you can hardly tell there’s a drawer there!” I jumped a little as I turned to look at Tikki. I turned to look at the floating Goddess smiled and put the last finishing touches on my project. 

“Thanks, Tikki!” I got up wiping the dust off of my pajama pants as I did so. I went to my bed, grabbed the miracle box, put it in the drawer, and locked it away safely. I smiled as I looked down at my handiwork. I heard an alert go off on my phone and went to check it. The words AKUMA caught my eye instantly and I shared a look with Tikki as I called out my transformation. 

I lept out of my balcony and rushed over to where a Beetlejuice-looking akuma was terrorizing the citizens of Paris. The Akuma’s bright green hair was hard to miss as I landed in front of him. 

“I am Berserker! I am sick and tired of people calling me crazy and telling me that my ideas are insane! Well, no one can call me crazy anymore if everyone is just as insane!” The Akuma's voice came out in an echo-y mix of squeaky and deep. He pointed his bejeweled cane and red lightning came out of the blue jewel. The lightning struck several bystanders transforming their normal outfits into hideous mismatched ones instead. He then began to shoot at me. “Give me your miraculous Ladybug!” 

I looked at the akuma, studying him for a second. His akumatized object has to be the cane right?  I thought to myself before calling out for my Lucky Charm. A pair of rubberbands appeared in my hand. I looked around once more trying to figure out what to do. I started launching myself around, placing rubber bands in certain positions and leaping off them before managing to catch Berserker in my web of rubber bands. I took the cane from him, snapping it over my leg and realizing the akuma. With a cry of “Miraculous Ladybug!” I purified the butterfly and used my miraculous cure. 

I heard the beep from my earings letting me know I didn’t have much time left, I turned to get ready to fist bump Chat Noir, only to realize he wasn’t here. I frowned, I mean sure this fight was easy but Chat is always here to fight with me. With a frown on my face, I went home and detransfmoremed. 

I sat on my bed with a sad sigh as I check the time. Fuck it’s still early, I don’t have to patrol with Chat till later what should I do till then?  I looked around my room, I could sew, or work on my website. I let out a sad sigh, I didn’t really have the energy for any of those at the moment. I turned on my TV and queued up a Disney movie marathon. I sat back with several of the kwamis on my lap as we all got lost in the movie on the screen. 

Hours passed and finally, it was time for me to meet up with Chat for patrol. I called out my transformation and quickly started my route for patrol. I started swinging my way around Paris. Tonight was quiet, Paris even while dealing with Hawkmoth still had its fair share of petty criminals, but tonight neither the petty criminals nor Hawkmoth seem to be active. The stars and Moon were shining brightly over the city, the natural city lights didn’t even compare. 

I took my time, making sure to cover each street and alley before approaching the Eiffel Tower where I was supposed to meet up with Chat. 

I waited and watched at the top of the Effie tower looking for any sign the Chat Noir was on his way. After what felt like forever I let out a sad sigh and slid down the railing until I was sitting on the floor. I called off my transformation and watched as Tikki flew into my hand to eat a macaroon I had brought for her. 

“Hey, Tikki?” I asked after another prolonged moment of silence, “Do you think Chat is mad at me?”

“I don’t see any reason why he would be Marinette,” the little goddess said as she looked up at me from my palm. 

“He didn’t show up for the fight against Berserker and now he didn’t even bother showing up for patrol. He hasn’t messaged me today or smithing. Do you..” I pause a moment as the tears welled up in my eyes, “Do you think he thinks Master Fu made a mistake with me? By making me guardian? What if he’s upset with my choices for the other holders? What if something’s wrong with him and he got hurt during the battle and my cure didn’t fix it!?” I was spiraling. I could tell I was but that didn’t stop the thoughts from passing through my brain and out my lips. 

I felt Tikki’s head nudge my cheek as she tried to calm me down. “Relax Marinette, I’m sure Chat Noir is fine. This is the first time he’s had to use multiple miraculi at once. Besides Plagg’s told me that his boy doesn’t have as strong of a will as you do so he’s probably very tired. I’m positive he’ll be fine by Monday!” 

I let out a smile at Tikki’s words. Yeah, she was right I just had to be patient. I hugged the little goddess. “Thank you, Tikki!” I said as I stood up “Tikki, spots on!” I called out my transformation, more determined than ever to get through the weekend and give Chat the space he needed to recover. 

I made quick work traversing through Paris to my house. I slid in through my roof door and released my transformation with practiced ease. 

I decided to check my calendar on my phone to see what my plan was for the weekend. 

Tomorrow I’m supposed to meet up with Juleka and the rest of Kitty section and Sunday I’m supposed to hang out with Alya. I smiled. This could be a good weekend. Now if only Hawkmoth would stay away. 

I awoke with a start. My chest heaving. I frantically searched around my room. Was it a dream? What was I dreaming? I tried to recall anything but it was just a blur. I looked towards the clock and saw that I only had ten minutes before I had to actually wake up. I flopped back down, closing my eyes. I lay in bed silently until I heard my alarm clock go off and then I got up. I quickly went and used the bathroom, washed my face, and quickly showered before standing in front of my closet trying to figure out what to wear 

Finally, I settled on a cute white sundress, a pair of ballet flats, and my signature black crop jacket. I did a spin in the mirror smiling to myself. I went downstairs and saw Maman and Papa working hard in the bakery. I took two chocolate croissants. 

“Any plans for today?” Maman asked me. 

“Just gonna hang out on the liberty!”

“Tell Anarka hello for us! And here take some eclairs for your friends to snack on!” Papa said as he handed me the box of eclairs. I smiled and took them happily. 

“Thank you, Maman! Thanks, Papa! I’ll see you later.” I walked out of the bakery strapping the box to the back of my moped before I started making my way to the Couffaine houseboat. It didn’t take me long to reach the boat, but I was surprised by the sound of music already coming from the boat. Technically I was still early. Did they just happen to start already? 

I got on the ship to see Juleka, Rose, Ivan, and Adrien playing with Lila sitting there with a victorious smile on her face. I quietly snuck passed them and made my way to Luka’s room, making sure to drop the box of snacks in the kitchen on my way. 

I knocked on his door, “Hey Luka it’s me,” I said softly. The door quickly opened and I was pulled into his room. Luka was already back in bed, his knees curled to his chest, his arms folded over his knees and his head buried in his arms. 

“Oh Luka,” I said as I proceeded to wrap my arms around him. Using my left hand to rub his back gently, “What happened?”

He lifted his head up to look at me and I could see all the pain in his dark blue eyes. “Apparently I’m not good for the band's image and it’s ‘weird’ for me to hang out with a bunch of 15-year-olds even though I’m only two years older!”

“Who said this?” 

“That Rossi chick.”

“Fucking Lila of course.” I muttered under my breath, “Did any of them try standing up for you?” 

"No! None of them did! How can they not see what a bitch she is! How can they just blindly follow her!" The words spilled out of my mouth, filled with frustration and disbelief. Clutching onto Luka tightly, I sought solace in his presence, hoping he would understand the depth of my hurt. Yet, as I glanced around, it became painfully clear that the others had taken Lila's side, leaving us isolated and alone. The sting of betrayal cut deep, shattering the trust I had once held for our friends.

I hugged Luka tightly, finding solace in his presence. I couldn’t help but feel hurt and betrayed by the others seeing them take Lila’s side over and over again, leaving me alone and isolated. These were supposed to be my friends.

“Luka, I’m so sorry this is happening,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of sadness and frustrations, “I thought they were our friends but looks like she turned them against you as well.” Luka’s expression mirrored my own anguish as he looked into my eyes.

“I never would have expected this. I knew Juleka’s tune had changed recently but I couldn’t imagine something like this happening.”

"I don't understand why they can't see through her manipulations," I murmured, tears welling up in my eyes. "What did we do to deserve this?"

Luka's grip tightened, offering what little comfort he could. "Sometimes people are easily swayed, Marinette. It's not your fault. We can't control how others perceive us."

As we entered the main area of the houseboat, a tense atmosphere enveloped the room. Juleka, Rose, Ivan, and Adrien stood together, their expressions etched with cold indifference. Lila sat among them, her self-satisfied smile radiating triumph.

“Marinette,” Juleka said, her voice caring an undertone of hostility, “didn’t expect to see you here. 

“We’ve made our decision Luka, you just have to accept it,” Rose said backing up her girlfriend. 

“Lila, has been such a great help lately, and we can’t help that some of what she says makes sense and she can back up her reasons, unlike someone else,” Adrien said, his voice devoid of his usual warmth. 

“You see, Marinette, the truth always finds a way to surface,” Lila said, her smile widening as she relished in our discomfort, “it’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions.” 

A lump formed in the back of my throat, I felt a pit in my stomach as the weight of their betrayal hit me.  How could they do this? How could they just turn their back on me so easily? I have been by their side for so long, sharing so many happy and sad moments together and now they were turning against me?

“Lila, I can’t believe you,” I managed to bite out, my voice trembling with a mix of sadness and anger, “but I can see now that you’ve manipulated them all. You’ve poised their minds and confused them all.” 

Lila let out a chilling laugh, “Oh Marinette, I’m not manipulating anyone,” her voice was dripping with false sweetness as she pouted as she spoke, “I’m simply revealing the truth, you can no longer deceive them.”

Her words pierced through me like shards of ice. The room seemed to close in around us as the gravity of the situation settled. I felt a mix of emotions welling up inside me—betrayal, anger, and a fierce determination to reclaim what was rightfully mine. I squared my shoulders, meeting Lila's gaze with unwavering determination.

"You may have fooled them for now," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "But the truth always prevails. And I won't rest until everyone sees you for who you really are."

Luka stood beside me, a quiet pillar of support. Our bond had grown stronger in the face of adversity, and together, we were ready to fight back against the web of lies and reclaim our place among our friends.

“We stand with Lila, Marinette, we can’t deal with how flaky you’ve been and just how much of a bully you are to her.” 

“If that's how you're going to be then so be it. Bye Luka.” I said as I walked off the ship, turning my back on my once closest friends. My heart ached with each and every step I took. 

Just when I thought I had gotten enough distance from the ship I felt a hand on my wrist. I spun around to see just who had grabbed me only to be met with the sight of Blonde hair and green eyes. I glared at him slightly as the silence rang heavily between us with unspoken words and unsolved emotions. “Adrien,” I said, my voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and frustration, “I thought you made your choice already.”

His gaze met mine, searching for something in my eyes. “Marinette, I” He paused as if searching for the right words to say, “I don’t want things to be like this. I never wanted to see our friendship crumble.”

A surge of conflicting emotions rose through me as memories of our shared moments flashed before my eyes. I wanted to forgive him to believe him, but I couldn’t ignore the hurt and betrayal he caused. “Actions speak louder than words, Adrien,” I pull my wrist out of his grip, “you made your choice when you stood alongside them, when you stood alongside her, against me.”

“Mari, I’m sorry,” He said, his voice laced with sincerity, almost to the point where it hurt to keep my own wits about me, “She was just so convincing, she had all these stories and they just made sense, it was hard to argue against her.”

“Even tho you know she was lying, you still fell for her lies,” I shook my head to stop myself from crying, “Sorry isn’t good Adrien. Our friendship once meant something to me, and you turned your back on that, on me.” I turned away from Adrien, tears streaking down my face as I began walking away from him. It hurt. He was my first love, my first crush and he hurt me more than any relationship could.

I clutched my sweater tightly, seeking solace from the biting chill that swept through the Parisian streets. As I walked along the serene banks of the Seine, a sense of unease tingled my senses. Suddenly, the once-flowing river waters froze in an instant, and delicate snowflakes cascaded from the wintry sky above.

Realizing the imminent peril, I knew I had to find a secluded spot, away from prying eyes, to respond to the call. A narrow alleyway caught my attention, and with a deep breath, I summoned the words, "Tikki, Spots on!"

In a heartbeat, a surge of transformative power coursed through me, fueling my spirit for the impending battle. Instinctively, I raced toward the source of the disturbance.

"People of this cold and desolate world, heed my chilling words! I am Noelle, the embodiment of winter's wrath! With every gust of wind, with every flurry of snow, I summon the icy embrace that freezes souls to their core."

I lunged forward, determined to confront her, but she retaliated with an onslaught of icy gusts, relentlessly pushing me away. Her power seemed insurmountable, forcing me to devise a strategy. Surveying the surroundings, I witnessed Paris succumbing to Noelle's frozen grip.

Analyzing her, I caught sight of a brilliant snowflake pin adorning her sash—the akuma must be there, I thought. Every advance met fierce resistance, driving me further from my goal. I frantically searched for a solution, scanning the area for any sign of weakness.

Suddenly, searing pain ripped across my back, as if razor-sharp talons tore through my flesh. Clenching my teeth, I suppressed any cries that might expose my location. Gradually, the agony subsided, and a sensation of weightlessness overcame me. Fluttering behind, wings emerged from my back, granting me the ability to soar through the air. A surge of exhilaration and freedom consumed me as I embraced this newfound power.

Summoning my lucky charm, I witnessed a pair of gloves materialize in my grasp. Clarity dawned upon me. Noelle's blasts no longer deterred me. Seizing the opportunity amidst her confusion, I closed the distance between us. Swiftly, I slid the gloves onto her hands, snatched the snowflake jewel, and crushed it. Cradling her in my arms, I descended gracefully to the ground.

Gently placing the girl on safe terrain, I activated my miraculous cure, witnessing the snow melt and the return of the beautiful spring weather. "Ladybug! Ladybug! Can I interview you for the LadyBlog? Can you tell us about your newfound wings!" Alya eagerly inquired.

Casting a disdainful glance at Alya, I spoke firmly, "No comments for now." With a flick of my wings, cascades of sparkling light surrounded me as I launched myself into the air. Letting the wings carry me to safety, away from prying eyes and inquisitive souls.

After dropping my transformation I went home to the safety of my bedroom. “Tikki…” I said looking at the small goddess, “Why do I have wings now?”

A huge smile spread on Tikki’s face, “Oh Marinette! That is wonderful! Those wings are a testament to your growing strength! It’s been centuries since I had a ladybug with wings!” My heart swelled with pride at Tikki’s words. I was given more freedom, I could stay as Ladybug longer after using my powers. Glancing at the clock, its hands pointing to 7 pm, I decided to descend and lend a hand to my mother in the kitchen, eager to share in the warmth of familial bonds.

In the confines of the cozy kitchen, Sabine was putting the finishing touches on her tantalizing Xiaolong Bao and fried rice. I decided to help out and set the table. It didn’t take long for my father to waltz in after having completed the final delivery for the bakery. 

Seated around the table, we engaged in light-hearted conversation, savoring the delectable flavors that danced upon our tongues. Sabine turned her attention toward me, her eyes filled with gentle curiosity. "So, Marinette, how was your day?" she inquired, her voice tender and warm.

I bittersweet smile graced my face, “It was something that’s for sure Maman. My plans with my friends ended up falling through, however, I did get to spend more time with Luka so that was pretty cool. It was actually very therapeutic now that I think about it.” 

As the evening meal drew to a close, we cleared the table together, tidying up the remnants of our shared feast. With a sense of anticipation, I retreated to the sanctuary of my room, feeling the familiar pull of creativity tugging at my core. The world of designs and sketches beckoned, offering an escape for my limitless imagination. With each deliberate stroke of my pencil, I channeled my essence onto the blank canvas of paper, conjuring vivid life from the swirling depths of my mind.

As the midnight hour crept closer, I reluctantly closed my sketchbook, its pages teeming with dreams and aspirations that spilled onto the paper. Settling into the soft embrace of my bed, I eagerly welcomed the comforting cloak of tranquility, ready to surrender myself to the ethereal realm of dreams. It was in this nocturnal domain that a tapestry of new adventures unfurled, where extraordinary journeys awaited me with every slumber.

XoXo Rowan

[claudeng80]

Beneath the Surface (Secret Service / Warehouse 13 AU)

Fluorescent light fixtures screech overhead, the sound all out of proportion to the trickle of watery green light casting shimmering shadows across the room. The map may call this an active military property, but Shirayuki would bet her badge that nobody’s used this building in twenty years. The breeze through the open window is the only respite from the smell of oil and dust.

There is no respite, unfortunately, from Brecker.

She’s seen his type all too many times. Desperate to claim any accomplishment they can claw their greasy fingerprints onto, while just as desperate to blame everyone and anyone else for their failures. They circle power like fish who pray that if they keep swimming like sharks, someday they won’t be the last arrival at the feeding frenzy.

The corner of her mouth pulls up in an amused tick. She doesn’t regret, anymore, being pulled off protection duty so early. Warehouse duty may be a terminal position, but it suits her ever so much better.

Brecker doesn’t take well to her inattention. He leans forward, almost vibrating, and the bell clutched tight in his hand clinks erratically. It shouldn’t be able to ring, not the way he’s holding it, but Shirayuki can feel the sound in her bones. “Mr. Brecker, if you will just hand me the bell, we can work this all out-”

“Never!” His face is red now, his eyes wild. Of course, he’s holding an Artifact in his bare hand, and one Zen couldn’t figure out. Something about big birds, and it’s far too old to mean Sesame Street. “She’s been a thorn in my side for long enough! I’ll destroy this before I ever let you give it back to her!”

He cocks back his arm, too fast and too smooth for her to grab for it - who’d have thought someone so selfish once loved baseball, she thinks, despairing as the bell rolls off his fingers. It chimes gleefully as it tumbles on its way-

And with a clear, glassy tink, clips the windowframe and drops out of sight.

Shirayuki sighs. Some days she could swear these older artifacts know what’s going on. And they never, never want to be brought in.

It’s a good thing she’s just as stubborn. Brecker tries to grab her arm, but no Ivy-League-knockoff corporate yes-man is going to stop a sufficiently determined Secret Service Agent. She may not have Obi’s strength or his uncanny range of motion, but there’s no need for that here. Brecker thumps to the ground, she plants her foot on the windowsill, and only as she passes the point of no return does she notice the odd shadow on the horizon. There’s no time to see it clearly.

She does hear Obi’s appalled “What?” from somewhere off to her left just before the pond’s surface hits her like a whip.

The water isn’t cold.

It drives the air from her lungs just as easily as if it were, but bubbles point the way to the surface. Her foot catches on something as she kicks, and her arm is stinging in a way she doesn’t much like, but she breaks back out into the air just in time to see Obi churning his way to her. He’s swimming like someone trying to keep as much of his body out of the water as possible.

A shadow passes over the sun. Zen didn’t have much to say about what this artifact did, just that it was old and Persian. Kihal had shown her the three golden feathers etched into the stone. Something’s tickling the edge of her memory about Persian birds, and she doesn’t know what, but she really doesn’t like the feeling.

“The stairs are slower, but there’s less change of tetanus.” Obi always has a quip, but his eyes hold a concern for her he’ll never say out loud.

“Brecker threw the bell out the window-” Together they look down into the depths of the pond- not so deep, but their treading water is already starting to kick up silt. Or something worse.

“We’d better find it quick, I don’t like the feel of this at all.” He sighs. “Bottoms up, then.”

Together, they dive.

She should have known the military would use a pond this convenient for a dumping ground. There are broken crates, parts of vehicles, and unidentifiable chunks of metallic scrap everywhere down here. She bumps one, and a cloud of rust spreads from the surface in a gentle bloom. She’s never going to hear the end of this from Ryuu.

Shirayuki’s just reaching the bottom when the light disappears again. It only lasts a couple of heartbeats, quick enough that she gets another eyeful of sun when she goes looking for the cause, but the surface of the water still shimmers oddly. But there’s no time for distractions. She follows the wall, tries to extrapolate where the window was and where Brecker was standing-

There- it shines, oddly blurred, caught on a jagged edge of metal. Her lungs burn, bubbles escape from her lips, but she grabs the bell and kicks off the ground. Above her the surface shakes again, like she’s swimming under the downwash of a helicopter.

Obi’s catching his breath when she arrives. The bell vibrates against her palm, as though it’s ringing even underwater. “I’ve got it,” she gasps. The shore is so far, and that’s even assuming Obi didn’t leave the canister of neutralizer with Kihal-

He grabs her shoulder. “Thankfully, I’m prepared.” He pulls a purple metallized bag out of his shirt- she’s never seen one used in the water before, but there’s a beating in the air like giant wings and taking the time to play it safe is probably not the most prudent course of action. He pries open the bag, and she tips the bell in.

Energy erupts from the bag - no little sparkler, this is a full-on firework - and she flinches halfway back into the water. She doesn’t know how Obi keeps his hand on it, but he does, and at last the air is silent.

It still takes too long to get to shore. Obi’s swimming with one hand, and there’s at least two full submerged vehicles to maneuver around, and by the time they slog their way out of the pond, Shikito’s there to offer each of them a hand up. 

“You all do dive training in there?” Obi hands the bag to Shirayuki, wringing water out of his clothes. “Aw man, I got some on my shirt.”

Shirayuki turns, concerned, and his hands are hovering just over a purple streak down the front of his shirt. “They said no skin contact, you probably sh-” He undoes the last of the buttons, stripping it off and wadding it into a ball with the neutralizer on the inside. The sun, now that it’s done being blocked by giant mythical birds, shines on his skin, and while she knows that he’s coated with the same layer of nastiness she can feel on her own, she can’t look away.

She’s known Obi for long enough to know how strong and agile he is. He’s pinned her to the mat every time he’s successfully wheedled her into martial arts practice. She’s disinfected quite a few parts of him and sewn him up more than once. So it mystifies her how she’s never once noticed the muscle definition he has. Like better than the beefcake pictures Yuzuri sends her for feedback - she usually just says they look dehydrated, because they do, and maybe they should find Obi a bottle of water or, if they can find one, a Gatorade-

“Are you all right?” She almost drops the neutralizer bag with the bell, but Obi’s hand is cool against her forehead. “You’re spacing out. That’s not like you.”

“I’m fine,” she tries to say, but Obi’s already sending Shikito off for a first-aid kit.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, guiding her to a seat on what she thought was a rock, but is probably another hunk of military junk. “Who knows what was in there, we need to get this cleaned out.”

She follows his gaze down, and in fact there is a significant amount of skin missing on her arm. It looks like she lost a fight with a comb. A big one. “Huh,” she says, and Obi frowns harder.

“Stay right here,” he says, lifting the neutralizer bag from her hand. That suits her fine, she can sit and dry out as she watches the way his back flexes as he climbs the slope-

Or she can watch the sunlight sparkling on the water and not look at her partner like that. It’s a very scenic pond if you don’t know it’s full of hazards.

He’s back with the first-aid kit and his suit coat quicker than she would have expected. He drops the coat next to her and starts digging through medical supplies. “The bell is in the car and Shikito’s standing guard,” he says, tearing open the wrapping for a gauze pad. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but this is going to sting.”

“Is my job in danger?” He’s doing a very efficient job of cleaning the wound, but it does, in fact, sting.

“No, no, next time we’ll go back to me getting injured and you fixing me up. Everybody’s happier that way.” He frowns at the taped-on bandage. It’s not as pretty as she would have done, but it’s secure. “Don’t jump out of buildings like that. I think this will hold until Ryuu gets his hands on you.”

Obi’s hands are on her. She needs something to do, so she scoops up his coat and offers it to him. Her hand shakes. “No thanks,” he answers, but he takes it from her just to turn it around and drape it around her shoulders. “I think you need it more.”

Cupping her elbow, he helps her up and supports her up the slope to the car. There, he pulls out the neutralizer canister and together they transfer the bell from the bag to the more secure receptacle. Shirayuki’s tired, but she feels better as she closes the final latch. “That’s that,” she says.

Obi laughs. “Until we get back to town,” he adds. “I’m sure Kihal’s going to want to know what happened to her priceless family heirloom.”

***

“The Roc, a giant bird known for picking up elephants and dropping them to feed on the pieces. Or the Rukh, the same giant bird who rescued shipwrecked sailors in the Arabian Nights. It could have been either - it’s a good thing you got the bell bagged before you had to find out.” Shirayuki and Obi share a glance. They might not have had it proven, but they know. “However,” Zen continues. He can be intense at the best of times, but he practically crackles with displeasure now. “I did not appreciate you taking off like that. I had to make up a story to tell Kihal.”

Obi props his feet up on an old-time radio - Shirayuki hopes it’s the useful kind of Zen’s office junk and not the Artifact kind of Zen’s office junk - and Zen knocks them back down.

“Did you tell her we had another urgent case?” Shirayuki will have to call and make her own apologies.

“Um, no. That would have been a good one. But so far as she knows, you eloped to Colombia.”

“Eloped?” Shirayuki would hide under the desk, but Ryuu’s already sleeping down there.

“Colombia?” Obi’s laughing.

“Listen, there’s a reason you’re the field agents. Next time you two stick around and do the lying part and we won’t have this kind of problem!” Obi still looks like he’s about to explode, despite Zen’s glare, but Zen waves it off. “Okay, then. Moving on.”He rolls down a screen covered with sketches and pictures of what looks like a glowing seed. “I’ve got a ping on another Artifact.”

[peterthepark]

begin again (7)

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: angst, fluff, mentions of blood and weapons, descriptions of wounds, descriptions of suturing, 6.3k words of pure love

summary: you and peter navigate your way around his secret, leading to hearts opening up and what should’ve been a peaceful morning.

notes: okay i genuinely think theres one to two chapters left after this!!! love this story with all my heart but all good things must come to an end <3 but for now, enjoy this chapter!

missing out? ➤ [my masterlist] - [series masterpost]

The tension in the air could cut glass. Every obnoxious creak and footstep from the floor above seemed nothing short of tumultuous.

A police siren echoed by the glass frosty windows while incessant flashes of scarlet reds and dark blues illuminated the apartment walls, reminding Peter of the sweat and blood that has been poured into this godforsaken city. Was it all worth it? Just for it to come to this? All of his attempts to protect you, were they for nothing? He was equivocally cursed, as if being a hero wasn’t enough to balance the karmic consequences in his life. What was the point of saving other people when he couldn’t save himself? What was the point when none of it eventually led to you?

Every time he was so close to touching the sky, he would fall back to Earth like an angel with clipped wings.

Peter was Icarus. You were the Sun.

Would he ever be able to reach the clouds?

His head throbbed painfully while the colors of the apartment diluted to nothingness, the dirty cracks of his palms ever prominent. The walls haven’t been this quiet in ages. It feels wrong, it feels empty, but Peter could hear the static of your mind even in the silence, even despite the distance between the shadows of your bodies. For the first time, Peter isn’t able to decipher the emotions that lay behind your lifeless eyes.

His voice came out as a weak, defeated crackle.

“Say something, please?” His broken fingers shakily reached out for you. “Y/N, come on, please.” A choked gasp left your body, and your hand trailed up your tear-stained face to cover your mouth.

All at once, the shock merged into utter betrayal. The deep furrow in your eyebrows tugged into a raised line as your words broke the tightness in your throat.

“Who are you?”

You stepped back as Peter stepped forward. “It’s me.” He shook his head at you, feigning a smile as pained tears prickled at his vision. “Same old me. It’s Peter.”

The scene in front of him pulled at his heart when you slowly doubled over, grasping at your sweatshirt in an effort to ground yourself as muted sobs pounded through your ribcage. “Oh, my god.” He rushed over to you, ignoring the way his skin felt like it was ripping to pieces when his arms abruptly encircled you.

“It’s me. I’m sorry. It’s me.”

“You’re Spider-Man.”

It wasn’t a question anymore, but rather, a dreaded statement of acceptance that he never wished to ever hear from you. Regret filled him instantaneously.

He has flashbacks to that night he had lost Gwen.

“Y/N. Come here.”

Muffled with his mouth pressed to the top of your head, the syllables of your name left him woeful. You felt the unyielding fear radiate off of his body, seeping into the coolness of your own. Peter was trembling, his limbs desperately trying to entangle with yours as if you would disappear at any moment. All traces of affliction had vanished into a simple memory when you saw that his blood had transferred onto your hands, where red fingerprints littered your skin. You erratically wiped at your tears when the liminal shade reminded you of how you lost your parents.

This was no time to feel hurt when Peter was.

Your firm whisper had cut through the rigid air, “You’re bleeding, what do I do?”

“That doesn’t matter right now. Talk to me.”

“Peter, your fucking blood is everywhere. It is on me. It is on the floor. It is on my fucking counters and my sofa. You need to tell me what to do or else I’m sending you to a goddamned hospital before this place looks like a crime scene.” You finally looked up at him. “We can talk later.” He immediately missed the familiar scent of your hair when his cheek left the comfort of your head. Your hands found his hips, delicately leading him back into the couch. “I just need you to tell me. I don’t know what to do.”

He thinks he’s lost himself in your eyes all over again.

“Stitches. Bandages. Do you have a first aid kit?”

“I don’t.”

“Fuck, uh. I have one in my bathroom, but I don’t have my keys on me…” You turned your back on him, padding over to the window near your potted plants. His face hardened when your fingers curled beneath the ledge. You roughly pulled it up until a harsh breeze sprinted throughout the room. “What are you doing? Y/N?” You didn’t answer, legs swinging up and over the fire escape while the cruel snow began to nip at your ears and your exposed forearms. “Hey! What the fuck are you doing? Get inside! Y/N!”

Peter completely lost all composure when you jumped to the window of his apartment, landing on the metal grating of the nostalgic fire escape with newfound scrapes on your palms. The injured boy tried to pace his breathing while he stared at the ceiling light — too immobilized by the sharp pain in his stomach. He could hear the shuffling of you entering his living room, then how you made your way through the messiness of his hall until you hurriedly rummaged for the kit in his bathroom.

Then, your movements suddenly became too quiet for his own liking. Peter couldn’t help but panic.

“Y/N?” He shouted, hoping you’d hear him through the wall. His voice was hoarse as he kept pressure over his wound. “Y/N!” He hissed through clenched teeth, legs unable to stay still on the sofa. Peter gasped out in relief when you reemerged into view, cheeks gaunt and lips bluing from the cold as you maneuvered yourself back into the apartment. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Your place is a mess.” You quipped. You shut the window in one motion, tossing the first aid kit onto the sofa as you went to wash your hands and get rid of the blood. “But I guess you don’t have enough time to clean anyways since you’re so busy getting yourself killed.”

“Y/N.”

“I don’t know how to suture a wound,” You dried yourself off with a paper towel. You walked back to him with long strides, avoiding his gaze as you sat beside him. “I can do it for you, but you’ll need to teach me. Is that okay?”

“I can do it myself.” He shook his head at you, propping himself up against a pillow.

“You’re in no condition to do so.”

“Y/N, I’m okay.”

“You’re shaking. How are you gonna stitch yourself when your fingers are all messed up?” Peter flexed his jaw, nostrils flaring as he stared at you despite your stubbornness. He’d been lying if he said this didn’t feel familiar, his case of deja vu was strong. He hasn’t had anyone fix him ever since Gwen, the last person to ever touch his wounds, to take his suit off and reach for his heart. Peter succumbed with a weak nod, eyes never leaving your face as you helped him shrug his jacket down his shoulders without a thought. “Shirt off.”

“Was hoping to hear that in the bedroom.” He chuckled jokingly. He could imagine you rolling your eyes. “Not while bleeding out on your sofa.”

You held back your scoff. “Pete, you’re not funny.”

The nickname felt consoling.

“Sorry, just trying to make you feel better.” He frowned, studying your body language meticulously as you slipped on a pair of blue surgical gloves.

A faint sigh left you. “I’ll feel better once you do.” Peter was torn. He didn’t know what you were thinking for once and it irked him. He thought that it would be better for either of you to never address the confession, his secret: the fact that he was Spider-Man. But as he studied the vacant look on your face, he would have rather you lashed out. He would have preferred a punch to the face or a string of heavy curses at him. But your anger presented itself as silent and that was even scarier – it spoke volumes. He didn’t miss the way your eyes fixed onto his suit. Almost in astonishment, you traced the embedded spider symbol with reverential fingertips. “You made all of this?” Peter could feel you through the lycra material, and it sent a shiver down his body as you hesitantly reached behind him to feel the zipper whilst he nodded. Your gaze flickered up to his. “Can I take it off?”

Peter held your stare for longer than he meant to. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” He surveyed you patiently as you unzipped the neck of the suit, peeling it off of his skin with the lightest touch – like he was so delicate. Like he wasn’t capable of hurting you when the both of you knew exactly what he was capable of. Like you hadn’t witnessed what he’d done to those criminals before you knew who he was. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“It won’t. Not with you.” Your face was irresistibly close to his, and he found it difficult to concentrate when your lips looked so inviting. Unsure breaths fanned over his cheeks as you pushed the suit down to his hips, letting it pool over his lap. With his chest now bare, you could see the scratches and slices along his pale skin. They were an aggressive color, and the bleeding gash along his stomach made you wince visibly at the thought of what kind of knife was used. Your hair brushed against his arm as you turned to the first aid kit, preparing to set aside a few tools on the coffee table. “Now, you’ll take the thing that looks like scissors.”

“The forceps?”

Peter coughed through a grunt. “Yes, those.” He shifted, laying back a bit to give you access to the gash on his stomach. “Grab the needle with it. It’s the curved one, not straight.” With fearful eyes, you faced him again. “It’s not a deep wound, see?” He guided your hands with his, placing your fingers on either edge of the cut. “We’ll go slow and steady. I won’t feel a thing.”

“How fast do you heal?”

“Two to three days. This one might take a little longer, but it’s okay.” You looked far-away, almost as if you were spending too much time in your own head. “Y/N.” Peter slowly took the suturing tools from you, then gingerly touched your jaw to bring you back to this moment with him. “Look at me, Y/N.” Your pupils met each other with ease. His lips tugged into an ardent smile; yours had done the same. “Hey, you.”

You had never sounded so quiet. In fact, Peter never realized how soft your voice was until now. “Hi.”

“What are you thinking about right now, beautiful?” He whispered as he searched the details of your features.

He memorized the way your teeth tugged on your bottom lip anxiously, how you eventually leaned into the palm of his hand like you had been craving his touch the entire night. You inhaled deeply, and that was all it took before tears ran down your cheeks. Peter pulled you into his arms, feeling the weight of your sobs against his shoulder.

“How come you – you didn’t tell me?”

He lifted your chin off of himself to look at you, thumb and pointer finger resting beneath your jaw. “How could I?” He narrowed his eyes for emphasis. “Couldn’t put you at risk like that, Y/N.”

You gulped, messily patting at your nose with your sleeve. “Am I not trustworthy enough?”

Peter laughed with fondness at you and rubbed his forehead against yours. “Baby, I trust you with my life.”

A hearty bubble of a giggle left your body. “Are you calling me ‘baby’ because I called you that?”

“Because I care about you.” His fingers traced over the skin of your throat then dipped into the concavity in your collarbone. “Because I like you.” He touched your lips, nose nudging against yours as he closed his eyes in unswerving rapture. “Because I want you – I adore you, I need you.” You let out a startled gasp as his mouth hovered over your neck, bestowing earnest kisses upon you as he gauged how your body reacted to him. “Y/N, I think the world of you. I could never not trust you.”

The thought rarely crossed your mind, but when it did, it felt like searing pain inside your heart. You couldn’t help but ask.

“When you see me, do you think of Gwen?”

Peter was stunned, pulling back to properly look at you.

“What?”

“Do you?”

“I would never want you to be Gwen.” He cradled your face. “Never. I don’t want that.”

You shrugged, insecurities running through your mind as everything began to connect. His loss, his hesitation, the reasons as to why he needed to keep you from knowing his secret. “Why?”

Peter’s eyebrow twitched in thought before the words came to him so easily.

“Because the way you look out for me is… it’s different. I don’t want to compare, but it’s just different.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “You got so angry with me, Y/N.” A flash of confusion washed over you. He wasn’t finished. “Earlier. The way you looked at me. It was genuine anger at most and I really never saw you like that until today. It showed me that it matters.”

“Matters? What does?”

“That my life matters. That I hated seeing you angry, you crying, you in pain. And how you care for me, well, it’s just different now — isn’t it? I was scared when you opened that door. I was scared for you, more than for myself. But when you looked at me… like I was so fragile, like I could break any second. I felt it. I felt it for the first time in a while — that I was scared to die. Because if I died then I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have you and if it wasn’t for the reality check that was that anger, I wouldn’t have felt human.” He fought back tears, continually touching your skin to ground himself. “You make me feel human. Like it’s okay to make mistakes. Like it’s okay to forgive myself and it’s okay to feel even though emotions are complicated.” You glanced down at his wound, but he was quick to touch your chin and bring your gaze back to him. “It’s okay to love. It’s okay to want to start anew, begin all over again. It’s okay to remember my past, but I need to look forward to my future.”

You placed your hand over his beating heart. “Do you see your future?”

“I’m looking right at it.”

You kissed him. His mouth was slow against yours, savoring every drop of you and your skin as his fingers mindlessly roamed beneath the fabric of your sweatshirt. You could taste the blood off of him, but it didn’t bother you. You wanted more of Peter, and from how warm his palms were as they roamed upon your stomach, you could tell he wanted more too. Yet, you could sense the pain of his body — how his movements felt heavier, dragging, like he was exhausted.

You forced yourself to pull away from him. He groaned, not in agony, but at the loss of contact. “Let me fix you, okay?”

“Just kiss me again. S’all I need.” Your noses touched. Peter lingered by your lips longingly. “Y/N…”

“You’re bleeding.” You shook your head at him, showing restraint. “We need to stitch that wound unless you want me to…” You sighed blissfully when he nibbled at your jaw. “… get an ambulance.” His fingers pressed into your waist. “Peter, come on.”

He exhaled against you, “Okay.” He nodded, licking the taste of your chapstick off of his lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You cradled his cheek. “Tell me what to do.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you every step.”

You laid him up against the sofa before you ran a clean towel under the sink to clean the bloody wound — he could see how nervous you were. Your eagerness to help him was endearing, however, as you quickly approached him. Peter could tell you were trying your best to be gentle. The feathery touches reminded him of the stolen glances and the way your fingers would subtly brush against his when he first met you — shy, scared, afraid of what was going to come next. If only he could tell his past-self that it would be alright. He watched you with diligence, making sure that you weren’t piercing the needle too deep into his skin as you started the first throw — a simple knot with two loops. He felt his heart jump whenever you’d look at him, silently wondering if you were doing a decent job. Peter would smile, and push your hair back away from your eyes.

The silence hadn’t been so angry anymore.

“So, all those times that you were making noise on the other side of the wall…”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” He chuckled as a playful smile began to form on your lips.

You glanced at him, snipping the excess thread of his sutures. “And the ‘I need help moving my sofa’ thing, that was bullshit too?” He nodded, mouth moving to speak until you interrupted with a snort. “Oh, my god. You absolute whore.” Peter gasped at the remark. You wagged a gloved finger at him. “You stalked me in the subway station too. Near Brooklyn.”

“First off, how dare you.” He ruffled your hair, laughing as you complained with a string of whining. “I did not stalk you. I ran into you. You know what?”

“What?”

“You said I had nice muscles.”

“Okay, yes! I did, it’s true. I’m not done yet. You gotta tell me about the Spider-Man boxers, don’t you think that’s a little conceited?”

Peter pouted, avoiding your gaze out of embarrassment as he gestured with a hand. “They were on sale.” You shook your head at him. He noticed the glimmer of amusement in your eyes, but your face soon fell as you finished the remainder of his stitches. “Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re caught up in that big head of yours again.”

“Yeah.” Your lips pursed together.

“Something crossed your mind?”

“You know, you saved me that night.” The sounds of scissors snipping filled the air. “In Hell’s Kitchen. And I looked at you…. and…. I don’t know. I felt something.”

“I did too.” Peter got quiet, chewing on his lip as he cleared his throat and gazed off to the side. “I’ve always wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you reached inside the first aid kit, scoffing at his unnecessary apology. “Why are you sorry?”

“Your parents. If I got there sooner — I wish I got there. That wasn’t fair to you.”

You shushed him. “You can’t change what happened.” His shoulders deflated as you kissed his forehead. “You can’t, and sometimes that’s okay.”

“Do you get mad about it?”

“Of course.” You nodded. “I get mad knowing they died for such — such fucking shit reasons.” Your jaw clenched. Peter studied the look in your eyes, knowing that feeling all too well from what happened with Uncle Ben and Gwen. “I tell everyone and myself that I’ve moved on from that night. But… but no one tells you how hard it is to lose your parents, especially because I was so young and I had no one else, really. I think that hurt more than them dying. Being alone.”

“Do you think…” Peter lovingly drew circles on your thigh while listening intently. “…that Fisk deserves the same fate?”

You paused, pulling the bandage out of its sleeve before you were laying it across Peter’s skin. “I do. Sometimes.” He hummed as you gently smoothed down the dressing. “I think he deserves to pay. Not with death, but — but he just does. I know he shouldn’t get away with this.”

“I tried. I visited one of his warehouses tonight.” Peter scoffed regretfully. “Full of his fuckin’ men. It was bait.”

“Peter.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve —should’ve said something about where I was going. I didn’t want you to follow in case.” He shuddered at the idea of you trying to find him and running into what he encountered. And again, he’d be too late. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Well, you’re pretty stupid for that.” You helped him sit up, arms holding him by his broad shoulders. “You left a note. The bookmark in Pride and Prejudice with all the addresses, was that it?”

“Fuck. You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“What did you find out?”

“I don’t know. I just… your name was thrown out a couple times. Your parents. Something about that and — and money, lots of it.”

You fiddled with your necklace nervously. “My parents worked for Fisk. It makes sense now.” Peter reached for your hand. “It was, uh, a loan. A business loan, probably for bad things. Dunno why I always thought they were so innocent or so normal. I guess they never paid Fisk back. An altercation or something happened, and well… you know how the rest pans out. My whole Batman origin story.”

“I do.” He scoffed dryly at the joke. “I should’ve said something that night.”

You chuckled, shutting the first aid kit and pushing it aside as you shifted closer to Peter. “Like what?” He raised his arm up, softly pulling you to his chest. He felt warm. You liked how easy this felt, your scents intermingled, how his body ignited yours, his heartbeat in your ear like a symphony — all of him felt so easy, like it was always meant to be this way.

“I should’ve comforted you, or something. Rather than just leaving without saying a word like a complete idiot. I wish I had said a lot of things to you.” He glanced at the faded picture of you and Sam on the shelf. “Not even just back then, Y/N.”

“Hm.” You looked up at Peter. His fingers slipped under your chin to hold your gaze. “You can tell me now. All the things you wanted to say to me, but didn’t.”

“You just wanna hear me be nice to you.” He blushed shyly, stroking your cheek with a curled finger. “My thoughts… they’re — I wouldn’t wanna overwhelm you more than I already have. Just stupid thoughts.”

“I’ll tell you my stupid thoughts too.”

His hazel-flaked eyes were dilated, searching yours endlessly like he could spend days admiring you. You saw autumn in his irises, brown leaves falling upon green flowered grass like he was a meadow in spring.

“Christ… I guess,” Peter sighed; his other hand still rested on his bandage as you blinked patiently at him. “Uh, when you first opened that front door… and you greeted me, I thought you were so gorgeous. Even though you looked so annoyed, you were pretty. Felt like a dumbass, asking you to move a sofa with me.” You shared a knowing look. You could feel him pulling you even closer. “I knew then that I wanted to be your friend, at that time. Just friends. No matter how infuriating you were and adamant you were on getting me to like your shitty podcast.” He laughed at himself. “Stupid, huh?”

You wiped at the dried blood by his eyebrow, shaking your head at him with an adoring smile. “Stupid.”

“Stupid.” He huffed. “Your turn.”

“That day we saw each other in the subway. I was staring at you for a long time way before you were staring at me — ow!”

He elbowed you hard. “And you called me a stalker? Me? What was it that you said to me?” You groaned, rubbing your hip with mumbled curses while he mimicked the pitch of your voice with newfound amusement. “Ogling me, Peter? Really?”

“Oh, see, I was gonna say something nice, but now you’ve just gone and ruined it.”

His apology came in the form of a soft kiss to your lips, one that lingered for too long to be called a peck. His nose brushed against yours, his voice dipping to a breathy tone. “Sorry. Go on, then.”

“I was thinking to myself that… maybe you aren’t so bad. That I liked looking at you.” You ran a thumb over his cupid’s bow. “Thought that I could get used to looking at you all the time. And that itself would be the highlight of my day.” You felt his lips part under your thumb, a smile threatening to break loose. “So stupid.”

Those brown eyes became softer with endearment as he repeated after you. “So stupid.”

“You again.”

He tenderly brushed your hair away from your forehead, features ridden with exhaustion and drunk off of your fond gaze. “I lied to you in that café.” Peter doesn’t let you interrupt him. “When I said… when I said that I liked you.” He gulped, a shaky exhale leaving his body. “That’s such bullshit, Y/N. I wanted to say something else, but – but I was scared.”

“What do you mean?” You lifted your head with knitted eyebrows as his grip grew tighter.

“The word ‘like’ is so funny, don’t you think? We use it to talk about all of our favorite things. You know, I like coffee. I like reading. I like how you look at me and I like the perfume you always use. I like how pretty you look in the mornings and how even prettier you look right now. I like being here with you.” His hand covers the entirety of the side of your face, fingers tucking itself by your jaw while tears blurred his vision. “But ‘like’ can only go so far. It’s such a simple word for what I feel towards you. Y/N, I don't even think a dictionary can help me. It just doesn’t exist — that… that word.” He hurriedly wiped the tears away from his eyes and lashes. “Stupid, see?”

“I think there’s one for it, Pete.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Love.”

“Love.” He repeated. The word left him in a whisper.

Love was one of those terms he hadn’t uttered aloud in ages, fearful that it would be too much in too little time – again, not since Gwen. A lot of things hadn’t happened since Gwen, but here he was, replaying how ‘love’ rolled off of your tongue again and again in his head. How could he become addicted to it so quickly? It felt like a drug. It felt right. And he liked it – no, he loved it. He loved how you said ‘love’ and looked at him with such unwavering hope that made him want to wrap you in his arms and never, ever let go of you. You made him feel like life was a dream, as if his days were just pictures on grainy film and his nights were nothing but sweet, sweet illusions of magic. But this, being here with you, it was no dream or illusion. It was reality and that was everything.

“We can just start from there.” You smiled sweetly at him. “Let’s start with love and see what words we can find after, yeah?” He stared as you quietly picked a fallen eyelash from his face with an innocent smile. “Hm, now make a wish, Pete.”

“Don’t need to.”

“Why’s that?”

“I got everything I need right here, Y/N.” He looked at you, then Webster who lingered by the bedroom hallway in the midst of your conversation. He took the tiny strand of hair from you, holding it between his thumb and pointer finger. “I do wish that you’ll forgive me for all the times I lied to you, though.”

“All is forgiven, spidey.”

“Good.” He kept his enthusiasm restrained, ignoring how his body bubbled with anticipation when you leaned into him.

Your lips felt kind and warm. The skin of your cheek was soft, and the frostbite on the button of your nose and tips of your reddened ears were an adorable greeting from winter itself. He wanted to remain in this moment. No fights. No arguments. No secrets and no Fisk. But Peter just couldn’t shake the thought off. Now more than ever, he needed to protect you. He needed to know that he’d wake up to the sound of you cooking in your apartment again, and that he’d see you walking on the sidewalks with your third cup of coffee. He needed to know that your voice would emerge from the other side of the wall like it always did, and that you’d laugh at him or call him a ‘doofus’ for being so loud.

But like before, Peter was petrified. He was excited for what could happen between the two of you, but he was horrified knowing that his time with you could never even be promised or guaranteed.

Who would he become if one day he knocked on your front door and it was no longer you who answered? Who would he become if one day he swung by your window and saw that someone else inhabited your apartment? The pictures of you and Sam, gone. The unwashed dishes and lively plants, gone. Who else would be able to understand him?

It terrified him. Absolutely. But the sensation of your mouth against his was enough to repress the nightmares surrounding his conscience. The feeling of his calloused palms against your hips and waist, the sounds of your needy breaths against his neck, the way your body pushed up against his as he pulled you into his lap with amorous yearning – that would be enough.

This was enough for him. You were enough.

The bedroom window was frosted over. Little, miniscule snowflakes woven intricately found solace on the ledge, blending in with the snowed-in streets outside and broken stop lights that created a whirlwind of traffic. The room was chilly, even with the matching fuzzy socks that you and Peter sported beneath the sheets, and even with Peter’s extreme body heat that made you feel like you were cuddling with a heater. He stirred against you with a groan, pulling you closer towards him despite already suffocating in the grasp of his arms.

Your bodies were ridden with exhaustion, yet the hickies on each other’s necks and the discarded clothes on the floor were a possible attest to the reasons why. You inhaled the scent of Peter, disappointed that he no longer smelled of his usual self after having given him a sponge bath last night. You rolled over to face him, eyes still laced with sleep as you cracked a faint smile at him. He looked peaceful – the most at peace you’ve seen him ever since you’d met one another, and that spoke lengths about how comfortable he was around you. A hero who was willingly allowing his guard down around someone he trusted: that was love in itself. The Spider-Man suit glistened on top of your laundry basket, littered with sliced fabric and crusted blood that didn’t look elegant in the slightest. You pressed a gentle kiss to Peter’s nose before you pried his large hands off of you, stifling a laugh as he mumbled sleepy protests at the lack of you in bed.

“Baby… come back.” His arm stretched towards you, fingers flexing as he emphasized his need. “S’early, what are you up to?”

“Gonna do some chores.” You glanced over to him. It was an endearing sight, his long frame splayed out over the mattress of your queen-sized bed, tangled in forest green sheets and weighted blankets like a little flower. “I’ll join you in a second. Just get some rest, how about that?”

He didn’t reply, only a soft grunt until he was back to quietly snoring once again.

Oh, Peter.

Making sure that you wouldn’t wake him, you slowly slipped on a hoodie. You shook your head at the heart-shaped kisses along your collarbone as you passed by your mirror, admiring his work before you were carefully taking the Spider-Man suit with you into the kitchen. The streets were loud, but the apartment felt quiet – a good quiet, compared to the giant mishap that happened between you and Peter yesterday. It was, again, domestic. Something that you always wanted for yourself, something that you didn’t realize you needed but it was here, and it felt nice. You flicked on the kitchen sink, running the suit under the cold water and over the drain as a soapy mixture of dirt and old blood seeped out of the webbed indentations. It was surreal, at the same time, holding the very thing that you sought after in all your days at the Bugle.

It still hadn’t fully sunk in that Peter was Spider-Man. But it made sense. All the unexplainable things that happened now had an explanation. The cobwebs on his clothes, the noises in his apartment, the new patrol route in your neighborhood, the polaroids.

The polaroids.

You hung the suit over the back of one of the dining chairs, letting it air-dry for now until Peter could wake up. Swiftly, you searched for your wallet, finding the array of pictures inside it. It brought a nostalgic smile to your face – with the knowledge that you had now, it was apparent as to why Peter was so inclined to help you and why Spider-Man never showed up that night. All along, he was sitting right beside you. You felt like an idiot, but you never would’ve known. No matter how many times you thought he was an oddball, you never would’ve thought it was because of his double identity.

Never would’ve guessed.

Peter leaned against the doorway into the kitchen, arms crossed on his shirt-clad chest as he studied you affectionately from across the room.

“Hey, you.”

You jumped, turning towards the sound of his raspy voice with furrowed eyebrows and a look of surprise. “You – you stalker!” Hand over your heart, a laugh graced its way upon your lips. “Scared me, Pete.”

“M’sorry.” He smiled shyly, coming towards you with slow steps before his hands took place on your arms. It reminded you of that night he went into your apartment, worried sick and reeking of protectiveness as he held you in the dark moonlight of your living room. It was a contrast now, except he held you with the same caring fervor. “Good morning, Y/N.”

“Morning, sleepyhead.” He kissed your temple, drawing his lips down your neck as he ghosted over the marks he made. You chuckled at the ticklish sensation, holding the polaroids up to his eyes with a proud smirk. “These are yours, by the way. Return to owner if found.”

“No, no, no.” He protested, shaking his head against you while he pushed the pictures from view. “Yours now. Always been yours.”

The statement held a deeper meaning, but you didn’t need details to know what he meant. You looked up at him with a chuckle, wishing that you could spend forever in his arms. But the collection of articles and documents about Fisk appeared from the corner of your eye. You fought to keep your gaze on the boy in front of you, but it distracted you – and then you were taken back to last night, how Peter knocked on your front door with wounds that he couldn’t even explain, wounds that you didn’t want to think about. And then you thought about your parents: a death that was always to come, but never was deserved. Peter didn’t notice the tension in your jaw, too caught up playing with Webster and what to get for breakfast.

With eyes that didn’t quite meet his, you piped up with an idea that lingered dangerously in your head.

“I’ll get breakfast.” You faked a smile as you subtly picked up the copy of Pride and Prejudice on the coffee table. Your fingers reached for the note of scribbled addresses, to which you pocketed in your sweatpants.

“You should stay. I can do it. Look outside, it’s freezing.” Peter reached for your apartment keys, but you quickly rushed over and captured his lips in a messy kiss. He let out a moan of surprise, laughing against your front teeth as you pulled away. “Still not done?”

“Don’t forget how hard I worked on those stitches. And like I said, you need to rest. I don’t care if you’re a superhero. You’re still my annoying neighbor.” You gestured at his stomach before you were hurriedly putting on your boots. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

Peter didn’t like your eagerness. He didn’t attempt to question you, though. You’d been through too much in the span of one night.

“You better not take too long, Y/N.”

“It’ll be like I never even left.” You scoffed, layering up with a coat. You stood on the tips of your shoes, pressing a long kiss to the brunette’s cheek as you cradled his jaw with gloved hands. “Maybe think about that word other than ‘love’, okay?”

“Hey, be careful.” He grabbed your wrist before you could leave, pulling a beanie over your ears as he admired your face one more time. You put your hand over his and squeezed.

“It’s just breakfast.”

Peter watched you leave with an oblivious smile and eyes full of hope.

218 Front Street, Vinegar Hill, NY.

You were going to find out what Wilson Fisk wanted. And you’d be damned if he hurt someone close to you ever again.

-

TAGLIST (open! some blogs unable to be tagged)

@silverwindptv @kdatthecastle @pufflepride @whatevergea @xthecyber @fandomscombine @carryon-doctor-lock @family-buisnes @hanniebee33 @renaroo123 @andeys-obsessions @ouralcohol @abibliophobiaa @spidergraph @milfodyssey @parkerssss @draw-back-your-bow @agustdeeyaa @ghostedgwen @mayxn15 @good-vibes-and-glitter @pr3ttyj3sus @jasmin7813

[oneofthosesimps]

Lost in Blood

pairing: sukuna x fem!reader I nsfw

word count: 4013

summary: after you kill your next victim sukuna fucks his heir in your belly

warnings: BLOOD ( it's not yours but there's a lot of blood, like a lot), blood kink, angst, death, murder, rough sex, sub/dom, dirty talk, belly buldge, breeding kink, two cocks, double penetration (in one and two holes)

authors note: if you are uncomfortable with the idea of blood or the idea of you killing people, this fanfic is NOT for you!!! this is coming from the deepest corners of my head. if you've watched American Horror Story and remember the countess sex scene with her vicitms, this fanfic was inspired by it

all credits to the artist of this pic:

ゲオブバビ/Geobubabi

-----

Screams fill the room, cutting through the air. They resemble the knife in your hand, which slides through the flesh beneath you. You watch it tensely as it draws its lines, forming wounds of varying depth. Deep red blood emerges from them, running in thick drops along the pale skin and then slowly pooling in puddles. Green emeralds stare at you, vein-streaked and wet. Tears flow like waterfalls from the large eyes, roll down the roundish face and get caught in the dark hair. Mouth wide open, a high, croaking voice makes your ears ring. You look at the woman below you and tilt your head slightly, contorting your face as the blade of the knife cuts deeper and a large gash forms on her arm. Her voice makes your head ache, almost explode. It drowns out the sound of tearing flesh. One too high note from her and you ram the knife into her arm, piercing it completely and scraping the dark floor on the other side of where she lies. She cries out loudly, trying to wiggle her limbs and squirming under you.

"Let me go!" her voice shrieks at you, and your hand clutches the handle of the weapon. Behind you, you hear a deep, dark laugh. At the small sound, the little hairs on your skin stand up and the butterflies dance inside you, which puts a smile on your face. You stare into her eyes, which look back in pure pain. As she eyes you, her face changes, becoming panicked as she sees your eyes and realizes what lies hidden deep within them. With one smooth thrust you ram the knife into her chest, right in the middle between her breasts. It slides through the flesh and bone like butter. The brown-haired woman spits blood, which speckles her pretty face. Her breathing changes, becoming shallower and more frantic, and she gasps. You watch her begin to fight for her life and pull the knife out of her. Blood gushes from the wound, splattering towards you as your hand snaps back down and the knife disappears into her body again, this time further to the left of it. Apparently, you hit her lungs completely. Her gasping gets louder and you see in her face that at the latest now the moment has come when she has understood that she can't survive this anymore. You sigh softly and look at her sadly. She lasted shorter than your last victim. The blood spreads over her body, flowing out of here like a stabbed pig. It looks so beautiful as the fabric of her white kimono turns dark. Her eyes search your face again, slowly glazing over as you stab her body again and again. Blood splatters on your face, arms, legs, and kimono as the life crawls out of her. The screams have long since stopped, she looks past your head, mouth open to a soundless scream. You stop as soon as her eyes lose their shine and the twitching of her body ceases. That is always the most significant moment. The feeling is impossible to describe when you see someone cross over into the beyond. Your mouth twists in dissatisfaction, this was way too easy. Other people are so terribly weak and whiny.

You feel a strong presence moving behind you and a warm shiver runs down your spine. A wide grin appears as Sukuna kneels beside you and leans down to you. Four big eyes look at you and make your breath catch. His pointed teeth flash at you, "Did you have fun, my little human?" You nod at him, unable to speak due to his beauty, "You did so well." His large hand rests against your cheek and he strokes it gently with his thumb, smudging the drops of blood. Your eyes close in pleasure and you snuggle up to him, enjoying the coldness he radiates. Again, he laughs, quieter this time, and pulls his hand away. Immediately your eyes open again and you look at the god in front of you.

His gaze wanders over your face, red smears on your cheek, before he looks to the dead woman at his feet. Countless wounds decorate her still-warm body, her blood slowly stops coming out of her, forming a lake in which she bathes almost weightlessly. Two of his fingers pick up some of the red liquid and he licks it off while his eyes land on you again. Your eyes widen and you lick your lips as you watch him do it. "You want some too, little human?" You nod at him and open your mouth, sticking out your tongue. His eyes take on a darker colour at the scenario before him, his pupils widening and pushing out the red.

"So greedy," he murmurs, stroking your head, running his hand through your curls, "But her blood is dirty and bitter. You deserve better." You pull a slight pout at his words as he takes the knife from your hand. Your eyes watch him open his mouth and run his tongue over the blade, licking it clean. He turns the weapon so that the sharp edge rides over the muscle and slides in a clean cut through it. Your face shows your astonishment as his hand settles on your mouth. He pulls at your lips and opens them.

A blush rises to your face as his lips settle on yours and his tongue runs between them. He explores your mouth cavity, playing with you, and you moan. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him as your small hands knead the fabric of his kimono. The metallic taste of his blood mixes with your saliva and overwhelms your senses. The kimono slips off his shoulders, exposing his bare chest. Greedily you suck the blood from his tongue and a low murmur comes from him. One of his hands slides down your side and rests on your thigh. He caresses your tender skin, wipes aside the fabric of your clothing and his nails scratch over your leg. You caress his chest meanwhile, running over his muscles. Your fingertips trace the black lines before your arms wrap around his neck. You press closer and your teeth bite lightly into his lower lip, pulling at it. When he breaks the kiss again, he leaves you breathless. Your head buzzes and you cling to him. "More?" he murmurs against your ear, kissing the spot just behind your earlobe.

"Yes, please," you moan in a trembling voice. His wide grin settles on his face and his eyes glint. His left arm around your waist pulls you away from the fading warmth of the dead woman beneath you, his right hand around your thigh grips tighter. He lays you down, right next to your victim and he looks down at you. The loose belt of your kimono unbuckles. A low growl comes from him as he sees your naked body lying in front of him.

In the middle of a pool of blood, your petite limbs writhe. Your curls lie around your face, framing it and giving you a kind of halo - so he is right about you being an angel. Your pink cheeks and sparkling eyes shine so full of life, a total contrast to his appearance. Your breasts jiggle slightly with each movement, while your nipples harden as they touch the cooler air. His gaze wanders lower and saliva gathers in his mouth as he looks at the lips between your legs, his hard cocks pushing through between the fabric sides of the kimono. Blood rushes into them, making them stick out hard from his strong body. He loves it when you look at him and your eyes glaze over slightly, your mouth opens and the blush on your face deepens. He especially loves the expression you take on once you see his fat cocks. Every time you look at him as if they could never fit in you and every time he convinces you otherwise.

"Mmm, you look so beautiful," he murmurs, his nails scraping across your waist and stomach. You whimper and your hands form fists as they grip the now fully soaked fabric of your kimono. His fingers wander over the thin and sensitive skin above your cunt, caressing it, making you wince. A moan escapes you and you throw your head back as he caresses the soft lips. He strokes satisfied along your slit, smearing your juices all over you before his thumb lands on your clit. Your moans grow louder and your eyes roll up into your head as he slowly massages the little knob in a circular motion. After watching you all day, his patience is short now. Almost naked, covered only with the thin fabric of your kimono, you have taken lives again and again. None of his imagination makes him hornier than this sight.

"How wet you are already, little human," he taunts, eyeing the twitches of your body, "This can't be all because of me, can it?" His name drops silently from your mouth and his body vibrates with laughter. He increases the pressure on your clit and your lower body twitches uncontrollably again. Already, a knot forms in your stomach and the feeling is truly amazing. A tingling sensation spreads from your core, flowing to all corners of your body and you open your legs wider for him. You angle them and your own hand spreads your labia, leaving bloody fingerprints. The sight makes Sukuna's cock drip and twitch against his belly. He looks closely at how his thumb massages your clit, how your hole shines and turns white because of all the juice. His long nail keeps stroking your swollen lips, making them turn red and swollen. "Fuck, it's not all because of me. Your little cunt gets wet when you kill, right?" His body bends over you and his left hand dips into the puddle of blood beside your head to brace himself. He looks at your half-closed eyes and licks red drops from your cheek.

His finger moves from your clit further down and he puts only his fingertip into your tight hole. With this small movement you push your back through and moan loudly. He dips it in and out again and stretches your hole as good as he can. Sukuna has to moan as well when shortly after three of his fingers press into you and stretch you better and further, "You are such a naughty little girl." He spreads his fingers, pressing against your tight, soft walls and you stare dumbly at him as he begins to thrust into you in this position. Satisfied, he watches your face, noticing every little movement. Tears form in your eyes and your brow furrows as his middle finger sinfully massages the rough spot inside you.

Again, your legs twitch uncontrollably and your hands reach for his shoulders. You dig your nails into his skin and he enjoys the pain. “Deeper”, he groans. His eyes stare at you lustfully as your nails dig into his flesh and muscles. Your fingers leave deep scratches and in some places, blood comes to the surface. The knot in your stomach tightens as he doesn't stop. Your body tenses before you groan loud and long. You stretch out towards him, your vision exploding black and your eyes turning white as you twist your eyeballs.

As you come off your high, his long, broad fingers pull out of you. He pushes off the ground and grabs your thigh. A bloody handprint forms on your leg, which he smears slightly as he grips harder. His eyes settle on his fingers, from which your juice flows in thick drops. He catches them with his long tongue and moans with pleasure, "Better than any blood I could drink." Once he's done, he grins again and your legs wrap around his waist, trapping him. His tall stature above you looks down at you, "You were such a good girl today, you deserve a reward for that, don't you?"

You nod at him and your gaze falls on his large hand, which is gripping one of his cocks and pumping it lightly in his hand. The thick veins stand out and his seed begins to drip from him onto your lower belly. You have to bite your tongue to keep from losing your mind again right away. He puts the tip to the red lips of your cunt and feels the heat you radiate. Slowly he pushes into you and tears your hole. Despite all the fluid between your legs, which has increased again due to your orgasm, and the stretching by his fingers, he barely fits inside you. All that lube doesn't stop it from starting to burn and your walls from starting to pulsate. You whimper in pleasure and close your eyes. The mixture of pain and desire is like a drug.

"Such a good girl," Sukuna whispers to you and places his hand on your belly, feeling his dick bury itself inside you. As he bumps the back, his balls twitch and he moans out. Seeing your little body in front of him, taking his cock so well, drives him crazy. You've hardly gotten used to him, squeezing his cock, but he can barely stand not to move. Normally he would wait longer, give you time, but today it is impossible.

"I'm sorry pet, I can't be that patient with you today," he mumbles and wraps his arms around your waist. He lifts your body up and your bare chest meets his. This changes the angle and he slides a little deeper, stretching you wide and pressing painfully against your cervix. You can't stifle the cry as you sit in his lap and he burrows deep inside you. Without pausing for a moment, he lets you bounce up and down on him a few times. His lips are on your jiggling right breast and he sucks on your hard nipple, licking it and biting it a little too hard. Again, you scream out, the pain moves through your upper body. Fuck, he wants to fill you. He wants to fuck you stupid and leave you almost unconscious. His left hand slaps your ass cheek, he reaches into the fat and spreads your ass apart.

His other hand rub soothingly over your bloodied back before his right hand moves to his second cock. This one is waiting painfully hard for attention. He pumps this one up and down a few times as well, but the feeling hardly eases. His pre-cum gets smeared between your ass cheeks and serves him as a lubricant. You press tighter against him as you feel the fat tip against you again, this time further back. Your eyes squeeze shut as he uses the mixture of blood and juice to push painfully into you. Your little asshole is still way too tight and every inch forward makes your body twitch.

"Fuck," he lets out a long moan as each ring of your anus clenches around him, taking him in. He grits his teeth to keep from thrusting right in one go, "So small and tight. I should have taken this hole right away."

"Su-sukuna," you gasp against his chest, and his gaze falls back to you. He loses his control when he sees your red cheeks, when he sees you looking at him with your eyes half-closed and your tongue sticking out. Your face shows the most different emotions and features when you are near him but seeing your fuck face makes him proud every time and moves something deep inside him.

In one smooth thrust, he pushes into you a second time and you yelp. Deep inside he's sorry, but his head is too fogged with lust to grasp those thoughts more clearly. He growls loudly as your walls twitch wildly, milking him. Saliva runs down your chin and you claw into the skin of his chest, leaving deep marks here as well. You're so incredibly full and stretched. His cock forms a small bulge on your belly, which is further enhanced by his second cock in your ass. You have never seen anything so beautiful. How beautifully thick it will look when Sukuna has shot all his baby seeds into you.

"Show me how much you love this," he speaks in a dark voice. He could scare the shit out of one, but luckily only you see him like that and you would never be afraid of him.

With trembling hands, you hold onto his shoulders again. Your weak legs tighten and you push off of him, moaning loudly as his two cocks pull out of you before stretching you to the max again as soon as you let yourself sink back down onto him. His hands stabilize you as you move, while his eyes move back and forth between your face and where you are joined. His hands clasp your waist tightly again and he squeezes too hard, which is why he leaves dark marks.

"So big and thick," you moan, making him grin again.

"Just the way you love it, my little whore". You roll your eyes at his words and circle your hips to create more friction inside you. This time something else flutters in your belly. The feeling is short but intense and shoots right into your clit and cunt.

"Do you like that? Do you like it when I call you that?" You nod to him as his hands massage your waist, "Open your eyes and look at me."

You do as you are commanded and open your heavy eyelids. His eyes are by now jet black and look at you like dark obsidian. "I have never fucked a whore like you." Your eyes turn again and he smirks. "Never have I fucked a human who can take my two cocks so good and not tear right into two." Your body moves faster on top of him, the muscles in your legs starting to burn as you rock your body against his. But you keep bouncing on him and pushing his cocks inside you. Sweat forms on your skin and mixes with the blood. Sukuna watches a thick drop roll from your collarbone to your breasts and between them. His full balls slap against your ass cheeks and the sound alone makes the knot in your stomach tighten. He watches your next orgasm, which makes your body jerk, and takes over for you, fucking you through it as you give out. His speed is much more brutal and almost sends you over the edge again. This time your voice echoes through the room, his name falling from your lips again and again.

"Would you like me to pleasure you some more?" his deep voice vibrates against you. Your fogged head nods at him, even though your exhausted body is slowly losing its energy and strength.

"Of course," you hear him murmur with a wide grin. He pulls you off of him, leaving your holes empty and open. You moan out as you lose his physical contact. He forces you onto all fours, placing his hand in the small of your back, thus pushing your ass into the air. Your hands smear the blood beneath you. The image of what's happening tightens the knot in his stomach. Your ass stretches out to meet him, the hole stretched wide and looking for something thick. Your core is white by now. As your holes contract again, causing you to groan, creamy juice squeezes out of them and Sukuna almost comes. He just licks the liquid away with the tip of his tongue, clawing into your skin to control himself. Out of curiosity, he pushes his tongue into the dirtiest part of your body and his hips thrust forward into nothingness as your ass swallows him greedily, glad to have something shoving into it again. How he'd love to shove his cock back in there. Before he loses the last of his nerve, he pulls out.

He takes one of his cocks and pushes it back into your cunt, filling you to your cervix in one go. You moan again, enjoying the sensation. A feeling that he didn't know before comes out deep from his belly. He wants an heir. He wants you to squeeze his heir out of your little cunt. He wants to breed you round and thick, right next to the dead woman who was just full of life. When his second head joins his cock in your cunt, you lose touch with the earth.

At first with effort, he presses his cock to the other one inside you. You've never felt anything like this in your life. Sukuna behind you almost becomes an animal and lets out an animalistic sound, “You have to take it, my little whore. I want to fuck you pregnant, I want to push a baby inside you. You must suck up all my semen.” His voice is hardly recognizable, but his words leave you speechless. The thought takes over your head and a hot feeling arises in you. How it will be to carry his heir in you and then to be fucked by him. Can he then pump your belly even thicker?

Slowly he presses in to his other cock and splits you in two. Your screams grow louder and never subside as he fucks your brains out slowly, but with a steady rhythm. It feels like even the last vestige of your soul is leaving your body. Trembling fingers reach between your legs and you touch his wet cocks, which thrust into you again and again. The feeling alone makes you stretch your ass higher again, your back painfully pushed through. When Sukuna puts his hand in your hair and painfully pulls your head back, there is nothing more than mush in your head. His pointed teeth sink into your shoulder and he bites deep enough that blood oozes from the wound, which he licks away. "Such a good whore," he murmurs against your ear, "you taste so good, I'll never let you go." His words send a warm shiver down your body and pleasant goosebumps form, making your nipples hard again. His thrusts become harder, more brutal as he abuses your hole.

Your knots tighten as one body works with the other. Your voices echo through the room, mixing with the sounds his cocks create in you. A few more thrusts, then you come a third and final time for the moment. "Luckily, I decided to keep you back then," he growls as his balls pump themselves empty inside you. Two cocks at once fill your belly to the top, no one could keep that amount of juice inside, which is why most of it misses. He fucks you through his orgasm. As time goes by, his thrusts become less precise and slower before he pulls out of you and you hit the floor. Breathing heavily, you lie with your cheek in the remaining blood, most of it already drawn into your clothes or spread on you or him. Sukuna sits down backwards, bends one leg, and casually places his left arm over his knee. His gaze wanders over the living mess in front of him and his dead heart makes a little beat. He would make you walk around naked all the rest of the day to see your fat belly and his handprints on you. Again and again, he will come to you, bend you forward and look at your full, stretched hole. His pride could not be greater. His little human takes equal both cocks in her hole and will give birth to his heir. No, many heirs. Once you've turned around, forced your tired body to move, and can look at him again with wide dark eyes, a smile settling on your lips, he grins back, " A little break before I bring in your next victim, how does that sound?"

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Hi hi! I was wondering if you could do a dick Grayson x Avatar like fem reader with either a jealous Babs or Zatanna I hope that made sense🥲

True Love’s Kiss

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Nightwing x Reader

Warnings: I don’t think so

Word Count: 4.1K

@writing2sirvive : Hi love, me again but with a request this time. If you have time of course. I was thinking true love’s kiss with Dick Grayson. You can go crazy with it because I know you love Dick Grayson as much as I do. Btw I love your writing so much.

A/N: I think I did it wrong...cuz even though this is a Dick Grayson x reader fic, it’s mostly centred around reader and Zatanna???? Sorry about that???

You were fine with knowing that Dick was still friends with most of his exes. You completely accepted that he was able to keep functional relationships with most of them. In fact, it showed you how amicable and neutral Dick was and how he never held any grudges against people.

Of course, you were surprised by the sheer number. And the fact that he seems to interact with them practically every day. But eventually you managed not to let yourself get too bothered by it.

I mean, how could you? Barbara was the smartest, funniest, most approachable person you had ever met. She always made sure not to overstep her boundaries and was unusually open with you, given that Dick was her ex-boyfriend.

Raquel was adventurous and fun and you always had a good time when you were around her. She was another one who was respectful of your relationship. She never brought up her past flings with Dick, nor did she ever try and put you down. In fact, she was one of the people who really shipped the two of you.

You liked most of his exes. To the point where it made Dick kind of uncomfortable.

You liked most of his exes.

Ever since you had joined the team, being introduced as Nightwing’s significant other, Zatanna had been a constant thorn in your side. She was nice and sweet but there was something about her that rubbed you the wrong way. You could tell almost immediately that she wasn’t quite over her relationship with Dick. Short as it was.

Or maybe she was just the type of person who didn’t want someone, but didn’t want others to have the same person either.

Nonetheless, being around her put you constantly on edge. You lost count of how many times she redirected a conversation to be about her previous relationship with your boyfriend. ‘Oh, Dick took you to a fancy restaurant for your birthday? Well, I remember back when we were dating, he threw a huge party for me on mine.’

‘Oh, you celebrated your one-year anniversary with Dick in Paris? Well during our 3-month-aversary he bought me an expensive necklace.’

It didn’t bother you in the slightest. At least, not in the way that she hoped. It didn’t make you insecure or doubt or feel intimidated by her. It was just an annoyance that you couldn’t shake off, like the teacher you didn’t like or your annoying neighbour.

Unfortunately, Zatanna couldn’t take a hint that it made you and your friends (Barbara and Raquel included) uncomfortable and slightly irritated. Yet, everyone was just waiting for you to express the slightest distaste, not wanting to step on your toes. However, they were quick to change the topic in case they thought she was going too far.

Dick had been blissfully unaware of everything and you wanted to keep it that way. The last thing you needed was this turning into some sort of issue, especially since Zatanna was still his teammate.

However today you had enough.

You could look past Zatanna’s petty jealousy but allowing the jealousy to come to the forefront during a mission was where you drew the line.

Dick, M’Gann and Conner had been on a covert mission for Batman and out of the country and under team vote decided that you should be made in charge until he returned, since you were the only other older member (other than Zatanna but you were voted leader unanimously. Something you were extremely proud about). That was well and good, until you had been given a mission.

Regardless of how much you did not want to work with Zatanna without the others there to wrangle her, you had to put your personal feelings aside when you had a mission to complete.

You thought you could both be professionals about it and act like mature adults.

You were dead wrong.

If it wasn’t disagreements, it was insubordination. If it wasn’t insubordination, it was blatant arrogance. She questioned your judgment in front of the other members and even had the nerve to argue with you about mission strategies. You were trying to look out for everyone and put yourself in the line of fire since the squad members were better at stealth.

Zatanna seemed to think you were trying to steal the show and insisted that she be partnered with you even though you wanted someone with the younger members to keep them safe.

When you relented and agreed to go stealth, she accused you of ducking out and intentionally trying to put her in danger. The others had to watch as steam practically came out of your ears when you relented once again and decided you’d be with her because you honestly couldn’t argue with her much longer.

As if that wasn’t infuriating enough.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when she refused to work as a team, putting the mission at risk and nearly getting the both of you hurt. She was fighting on her own, not bothering to have your back and going into it alone. Obviously, the two of you were overpowered quickly once they realized that you were pretty much behaving solo.

Luckily, the others pulled through and got you both out of there before anything horrible happened.

You sat in the ship, jaw clenched so tightly that they swore they could hear your teeth cracking, fists nearly white as you tried to control your anger and keep yourself from screaming at her while you were still in the air.

Once the ship landed in the docking bay and Zatanna was the first one to leave without saying another word, you snapped.

“What the hell did you think you were doing today!” You growled out, fisting her collar and stopping her in her tracks.

“What are you talking about?” She feigned innocence and you felt your skin burning. Everything around you faded out and all you could feel was fury. In hindsight, you would have liked to handle this issue in a more refined manner, but you honestly couldn’t care.

So, you didn’t notice the rest of the team, along with the a few members of the Justice League watching you chew Zatanna out.

Whatever would keep you from lighting her on fire was enough.

“I’m talking about putting the mission, not to mention ourselves in jeopardy, all because you can’t stop acting like a spoilt brat!” You hissed.

She rolled her eyes and you and the thought of strangling her briefly crossed your mind before she shoved your hands off her, dusting herself off like your fingerprints were dirt, “You need to stop blaming others for your inadequacy.”

She turned on her heel sharply and walked away. Blood pounded through your ears and your fingers twitched by their sides before you formed a whip of water from the bay and lashed it against her feet.

Zatanna, caught off guard, was thrown across the room before she caught herself with a muttered spell and turned around, glaring at you furiously.

“We’re going to settle things, right here, right now!”

“If you would stop being so insecure, then we could sort out our differences like mature adults!” She screamed back at you and before you could control it, flames erupted from beneath your feet and raced towards her, scorching the ground beneath it.

Each puff of breath you took released sparks. Zatanna immediately got into an offensive stance, levitating one of the weapons crates and chucking at you. You blocked it effortlessly using a wall of earth before throwing an inferno at her.

You kept fighting, flames and splashes of water going into the air every time you collided. The others watched in fear as you both raced towards each other, it looked like neither of you were holding back.

Before you could strike her again, you were being pulled away by Superman and as Zatanna was by Batman, they both pulled you yards apart. Even with his strong, authoritative grip on you, you couldn’t stop thrashing in his arms, throwing gusts of air at her.

“(Y/N). Enough.” Superman spoke in your ear and you calmed down, relaxing in his grip. He let you go after and you winced, feeling your skin bruise where he grabbed you. He gave you an apologetic glance at that.

“You both have to put your differences aside and work as a team or you won’t be allowed to go on any more missions.” Batman told you, voice firm but it didn’t shake you.

“No, Zatanna is going to have to put her issues with me aside and learn that when I have been elected as leader of the squad then you are supposed to put your petty jealousy aside and know your place.” You spat.

“You weren’t right for the position!”

“I did everything right! And if it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have been under open fire tonight!”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“When I am the leader of the squadron then I am! And you’re meant to listen and not question my judgement because you’re being blinded by your pathetic jealously!”

“I’m not jealous of you!”

“Oh, please! That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve heard from you and it was all proved today! Admit it! You were immature and fucking stupid because you can’t get over that fact that you dated Dick for what? 3 months?”

“That’s because he’s supposed to be with me!” 

“LIKE HELL HE IS!” You roared.

Batman felt a little helpless watching the two of you scream at each other. All this fighting? Over a boy? His son, no less? He had other sons and you were free to have your pick. But at this point, he wasn’t even sure what to say.

“You just can’t seem to accept the fact that he doesn’t love you anymore! Get over it! Because he certainly has!” You shouted, spinning on your heel and stomping away from her, determined to have the last word. Superman sighed in relief. He thought another fight would break out.

“You’re just insecure because you know that if he had the chance, he would come crawling back to me!”

A chill went done your spine and you felt cold fury run through your veins, turning around to glare at her murderously and clenching your hands tightly. You were so angry your feet were rooted to the floor, body seizing up slightly.

The others looked anxiously between the two of you as you glared at each other for a minute before you spoke with the calmest, yet most terrifying voice they’ve ever heard from you.

“Zatanna, you can try your damn hardest to win him back. But I promise you, you’re never going to get what you want.” You told her darkly, before walking away.

As Zatanna glared at your receding figure she decided she was going to prove you wrong.

***

To keep you from fighting with Zatanna again, when Batman came to you with a solo mission you couldn’t agree fast enough. Even though you knew you’d miss Dick’s homecoming, you still wanted to get the hell away from here. Not like you’d be missing anything important, other than Zatanna fawning over him.

You’d get to tell him how much you missed him in private anyway.

As soon as you were out of the cave, you couldn’t help the relief that filled your bones. You had been so on edge the past few days, still furious with her so the distance between the two of you was appreciated.

When Dick got home, he was ecstatic to see you again. It had been nearly 3 weeks since he had last held you and his skin was practically buzzing with excitement when he reached a cave, desperate to hug you, kiss you, touch you.

He got to the mess hall quickly, running all the way there and when he opened the door, he was instantly disappointed. You weren’t there.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked Beast Boy, hoping he would tell him that you were just back at your apartment or that you had gone out for a while and would be back soon but he felt his heart sink when Gar gave him a sympathetic smile.

“She’s on a mission for a week.”

“A mission? Who’s with her?”

“No one. It’s a solo mission.”

Now he was worried. You usually didn’t take solo missions, liking to work in a team, knowing that there would be people who would be watching your back was reassuring. He knew you were more than skilled to handle a solo mission but not being by your side made him nervous and slightly antsy.

He was also upset that you weren’t here. So, he decided to do the most adult thing. Go home and sulk in bed while holding your sweatshirt that smelt like you.

But apparently the world had something against him because when he was about to go through the Zeta tube he was intercepted. By non other than Zatanna.

Now, poor clueless Dick had no idea that you had thrown hands with Zatanna just a day ago and was the reason why you weren’t there to welcome him when he got back. If he had he would’ve sulked at her and whined loudly for her to hear while he dragged his feet.

But, poor clueless Dick had absolutely no idea Zatanna was the reason he was being deprived of your kisses. So, he just smiled brightly at her and asked her if she needed anything.

“As a matter of fact, I found an old spell and I need someone to test it out on!”

“I don’t know how I feel about being your non-scientific experiment, Z.”

“Come on, it’s totally harmless, I promise.”

“I don’t know...”

“Don’t you trust me?”

He did. But there was just something about this situation that made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was because he missed you like crazy and just wanted to go home and sulk until you came back. Maybe it was because he felt uncomfortable to go somewhere private with his ex-girlfriend without telling you first. Or maybe it was because of the way Zatanna felt the need to guilt him into it.

Nevertheless, he agreed, albeit reluctantly and went to her room. Inside Zatanna had a bunch of ruins written on a paper and some weird poultices beside it.

“Now this isn’t going to work unless you give me your consent.” She informed, bustling about the room and Dick suddenly felt the air was a little stuffy.

“What do you mean by consent? Consent for what?”

“It’s a love spell.” She told him, smiling slyly but he couldn’t quite understand why. His hands got a little clammy at the announcement. What did she mean by love spell? Was she trying to get him to fall in love with her? Why would she be so open about it then? Especially when she knew he was in love with someone else?

“What do you mean?”

“Oh relax, stop being so tense. It’s just a love spell that proves who you truly love.” She said, immediately noticing how stiff his body was. Though she chalked it up to confusion. Dick was simply confused about who he loved, he was clouded by his attraction to you and he felt guilty about being unfaithful. But deep down, he really loved her. And this spell would prove it.

“In the olden ages, people would use it on their wedding to prove that their significant other truly loved them.”

He nodded, mouth falling open with realization. He already knew what the answer would be so why even bother? He assumed it was because Zatanna was curious to whether it actually worked.

“Too bad (Y/N) isn’t here, I mean I know who I love but I’d like to try it out on her. I mean, who takes a mission the day before their boyfriend comes back to town.” He complained, more to himself but Zatanna still heard it.

“Anyway, can I cast it on you?”

“Sure, couldn’t hurt.”

Oh, how he’d come to know just how wrong he was.

***

You raced through the halls, panicked, hearing your heart beat out of your chest as you sprinted to the Med Bay. Even though you were running as quick as possible you still pumped your legs to run faster, needing to get there quickly.

As soon as you saw Zatanna outside the Med Bay, you skidded to a stop in front of her and grabbing her collar, pinning her against the wall. She hit it with a thud and she saw white for a second when her head collided with the hard surface.

It was then you got a good look at her face. Her eyes were red and face wet. Her lips were bitten until they bled. You gritted your teeth, grip tightening around the collar as tears pricked your eyes.

“What the hell did you do!”

She whimpered, eyes getting glossy again before she started crying, incomprehensible words leaving her lips and you snarled before shaking her again, “You don’t get to cry! What the hell did you do to him!”

“It was a love spell!” She cried out, “It was supposed to reveal who he truly loves.”

“AND?!”

“It’s activated by a kiss.” She sniffled, “And I did.”

“Is it done?” Dick asked just as she finished casting the spell. His body was enveloped by a slight glow that was only visible to her and Zatanna’s lips curled when she realized it had worked. Now there was only one thing left to do.

“Yep.” She said, slinking over to his side and he pouted curiously.

“Are you sure? I don’t feel any different. You said it was supposed to reveal who I love. What happened?”

“We’re gonna find that out. Hold still.” She said, smiling and wrapping her arms around his neck to press a kiss to his lips. Dick froze, feeling her lips move against his and his mind went blank for a second before his chest contracted painfully.

He gasped against her mouth, before his legs buckled and he tumbled to the ground. Zatanna’s eyes widened when she saw the way his body twitched, pained gasps leaving his mouth and tears began falling from his eyes.

“Are you okay?!” She panicked, wrapping her arms around his thrashing figure but he couldn’t choke out an answer.

“Someone help! Anyone! Please!”

“A kiss doesn’t put people through cardiac arrest!” You screamed, feeling your chest tighten as you heard it out loud for the first time. Your eyes began burning and your throat contracted, feeling tears build. It was the first time you had admitted it to yourself.

You were scared. Emotions that you could barely process or understand swirled around you in a dark cloud and you were scared that Dick wouldn’t make it out of his critical state. If he was taken away from you because you hadn’t been there to stop it, you would never forgive yourself.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpered, sobbing and her body went limp in your fists. The urge to rip her head off her shoulders resurfaced. She didn’t get to be upset, not when this was all her fault.

“I don’t give a shit.” You hissed, “How do we save him?”

“A true love’s kiss should stop all the side effects.” She whispered, looking up at you with wide eyes, “If Dick truly loves you, then when you kiss him, it’ll reverse the spell.”

You needed to get in there.

You released your hold and Zatanna and she slid to the floor pathetically, holding her body as she cried. But even with her heartbroken sobs, you couldn’t feel any sort of remorse to her, glaring at her instead, “You better hope this works. Or I’ll kill you myself.”

And then you rushed in.

When you got to Dick’s side your breath stuttered when you noticed just how many things he was connected to and you felt your body shake. Batman was carefully watching him from his bedside.

You carefully walked to his side, gently brushing your fingers against his cheekbone. He looked like he was in so much pain. He looked so weak. You wanted to help him but a part of you was scared. For the first time in your life, you doubted Dick’s feelings for you.

The time you needed his love and devotion to be true the most, you were doubtful. A million thoughts rushed through your head and for a second you were tempted to just avoid doing this at all. But you knew that you had to at least try.

So, with trembling hands, you held the ventilator fastened to his mouth, taking a deep breath before tugging it off. Batman, already knowing what you were about to do, let you pull it off him before pressing a fluttering kiss to his lips. Tears gathered underneath your lashes when you didn’t feel anything happen.

Just when you were about to pull away, Dick took a deep breath through his nose and panted against your mouth, kissing you more firmly. You couldn’t help the sob that bubbled out of your throat and he swallowed it without any qualms.

Even through bleary vision, you were able to make out his blue eyes and the small smile on his face. 

His hands came up to weakly cup for cheeks, gently wiping away the tears with his thumbs, “I missed you.”

You sniffled, letting more tears fall because you knew he’d be here to wipe them away, “I missed you too.”

***

Bonus:

You walked into the mess hall quietly. Dick had just fallen asleep in the Med Bay where he would be kept for a couple days under observation. It was past 1 in the night and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed but you had some unfinished business left to handle.

It was dark and it was hard to make out your surroundings until your eyes adjusted to the darkness. As you walked to the kitchen island, your eyes landed on the sorceress that had her head in her arms and wondered if she was asleep. Batman had said you were free to deal with her anyway you liked and that had been exactly your plan.

“He’s okay now, if you’re curious.” You told her. Her head shot up and she looked at you out of the corner of her eye before bowing it away shamefully. But you caught a glance at her face. She looked like she had been crying for hours, eyes bloodshot and face red and blotchy.

“Thank god.” She croaked out.

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m so so sorry, (Y/N).” Zatanna whimpered out before crying again, “You were right. I was jealous. And I did a crazy, wrong thing. And I’m so sorry.”

You sighed, nodding at her apology even though you knew she couldn’t see you. You weren’t sure if you accepted it, and you didn’t have to. For now, it could remain in the air.

“He really doesn’t love me....” She whispered out and you sighed once again, stepping up beside her and setting something on the table.

Zatanna glanced at the bottle of tequila and the two shot glasses you left. You didn’t look at her, instead choosing to stare straight ahead. You opened the bottle, pouring yourself a shot before tilting your head back and downing it, hissing at the burn.

“Obligatory break-up drink.” You mumbled, pouring her a shot and passing the glass to her.

She sniffled, looking at the glass in her hands before gulping it down. You took a deep breath, refilling the glasses. You still didn’t look at her, didn’t speak to her, just poured a refill when either of you finished and downed it in one gulp. The excitement from today and the tense feeling from sitting beside Zatanna kept you from getting drunk too early.

You two ended up finishing half the bottle, drinking in the dark until she passed out first and you followed soon after.

The others found you the next morning, passed out at the kitchen island, clutching empty shot glasses.

***

Bonus bonus:

Batman sighed, smelling the overwhelming scent of tequila as he came closer. None of them were able to wake either of you up. You were out cold, face scrunched up and head against the table in a position that would no doubt have your neck in a crick.

Zatanna was no better. Her hair was a mess, tequila spilt on her clothes and she was drooling all over the table, snoring unattractively.

“All this over a boy?”

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

[bonny-kookoo]

👹Bad Habits (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️🔞

👹Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

👹Genre: (Twisted)Romance, Angst, Smut, Psycho!JK

👹Warnings: Size kink, Body worship, biting, rough manhandling, JK accidentally hurts her a bit (but apologizes dw), mildly disturbing themes (blood, guts, bones cracking...), criminal activities such as theft (mentioned) and murder (not actively stated, but heavily implied), panic attack, psychotic episodes, psycho!JK because holy shit I actually got scared what did I create, degrading names (he calls her a whore in his mind like once..), possessive JK, strength kink, reader is unable to conceive (chances are very slim), unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it folks), impreg kink, dead dove do not eat 🕊 manipulative Koo, Dom!Kook, therapy talk, relapses, horrible anger management, emotional koo, emotional reader, look mom I actually wrote a happy ending

👹Summary: Oh monster monster under my bed, you’re the only one I have left, come out and play ‘cause I need a friend.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

You know this, you are very aware of it if the very much still gaping holes in the walls of your apartment, left from his most recent violent episode is anything to go by. He's got anger issues, that much is very apparent to anyone who genuinely knows Jungkook. Somehow he just can't keep himself in check, it's like he just needs the perfect trigger to simply go off like a bomb dropped from ten feet. It doesn't take much to rile him up. It takes a lot however to get him back down again.

Now, this would be the perfect moment to explain that you are the sweet and kind ray of sunlight calming his temper and cooling his ever violently burning mind- but that's not the case. There's nothing that can tame the young man at your side, nothing that can snap that collar around his neck and chain him up to a wall until he's safe to be around again. You can't do anything more than watch and pray that he will keep his promise to never ever hurt you. At first, you were worried. Anyone would be.

But then the first outbreak came.

Then the second.

And you were fine.

He would wreck the apartment, throw furniture, or beat someone to a bloody mess in an alleyway next to a nightclub simply because the guy had looked at your admittedly short skirt the wrong way. While for the longest time he didn't care about anyone, you've become his possession, in every way that the word stands. He owns you, every single cell of your being is his, and he's ready to push anyone's eyes back into their skull just for looking at you weirdly. No one is allowed to lust after you but him. No one's allowed to even think about you but him.

It's quite bittersweet, the reasoning behind his obsession with you. You're not scared, you're never running away, you're always so gentle, so delicate, such an angel around him- and in one way he fears that one day he's gonna be the wolf eating the sheep in a frenzy. In the other however, he's weirdly amused by it; the way you still look at him so innocently as if you didn't know that his hands could snap your neck like a twig between his combat boots he's typically sporting. It's a very twisted story with you two, and in a sense, he's certain that you have to be just as sick in your head as he is for genuinely loving him and his bad habits.

Just like now.

You're not saying anything. Even when you can hear the young mans ribs cracking underneath the steel toed black boots of your boyfriend, you're quiet, watching, unable to tear your eyes away from him- and you don't even know who exactly you're watching. You have already forgotten what the young man looked like- your eyes unable to reconstruct his facial features back to what they were before Jungkook had thrown his fists into them until the stranger couldn't even open his eyes anymore, face bloody and bruised to the point where you're hoping he won't survive it. You're also simply watching as Jungkooks pretty long hair, drenched in a mixture of sweat and rain from above whips around violently as if to mimic the way his muscled leg stomps into the man's chest over an over again, face holding a determination that should scare you. It's all over after a moment however, as your boyfriend seems to grow a bit tired now, slowly calming down as his anger ebbs down, waves finally evening as he breathes heavily. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at what's in front of his feet; unable to quite realize that this was actually him. He turns, looking for you, and his entire facial expression suddenly changes.

While he looked absolutely terrifying just moments before, he's suddenly holding such a sweet and calm glint in his eyes as he takes off his jacket, putting it over your head as he smiles down at you, inner demon now fed again as it seems to crawl back behind his actual soul it consumes daily. You smile back, and he leads you out of the alley, giggling like a teenager when you playfully start to run towards the car, calling him a sore looser when he doesn't let you win like he usually does.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's just a young man as well, deep down.

He's got you sat on his lap as he greedily licks at your neck, teeth suddenly clamping down on the skin as you mewl underneath his touch and actions. He's grinning like the devil in person, his large-in-comparison palms holding your behind as they suddenly sneak underneath your shirt; his shirt, actually, and the main reason he suddenly got hungry to devour you. Your hair is still slightly damp, but he doesn't care as he lifts you up, placing you underneath him on your shared bed, hair falling into his eyes as he pulls the dark grey carharrt shirt over your head, immediately kissing your collarbone, hands kneading your breasts needily as he seems too eager to slow down anytime soon. He grabs your ribs and its as if he doesn't know where to touch- he wants it all, wants to feel it all, all at once, because it drowns out all the bad things he usually does. You're an outlet for his pent up aggression, only that he lets loose differently with you. He's got no hunger to make you suffer, to give you pain or to have you look at him in fear. No, he simply craves the way you writhe underneath him, ready for him, wanting, needing him. Such an angel, such a whore, so needy for his love and affection.

Something he wasn't sure he was capable of.

But he is, and it shows; while he usually moves with his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, ever so agitated by the simplest of things, his face is calm now, relaxed, eyes however still feral- his gaze enough to make your core ache and your skin tingle. He's chuckling as he moves you around, suddenly impatient as he noticed your panties won't leave your legs as fast as he wants them to. It irritates him to the point where he just rips them as the seams, the fabric now ruined, but neither of you care as his hand instantly finds its way down to cup your heat, ring- and middle finger collecting your slick to bring it upwards to your clit, thumb running in circles over it as you squirm and whine, making him smile.

You're so sweet like this, and he can't help but move your legs, pulling you closer to him in his usual rough manner- he's not capable of being all gentle and sweet, after all. He tries, he really does, but Jungkook is like an overgrown puppy; he doesn't know how much strength he actually has. And it shows, as you squeak, painfully so, as he had gripped your legs a bit too tightly; fingerprints already an angry red on your skin, and he cooes at you, apologizing. "I'm sorry, so sorry.." He hushes against your skin, placing sweet kisses on the pulsing marks on your leg. "can't help it baby.." He muses, and you simply nod your head, hands reaching out for him as he smiles again, kissing your lips, finally.

He's never been fond of the gesture before, not understanding why something as unsanitary as this could be meant to signify any romance at all. But eventually he's gotten to know the intimacy of it, and had decided for himself that he'll never kiss anyone but you in his life. He doesn't want anyone but you anyways. You're his, for now, and forever.

"You're so sweet angel, you know that?"

He humms it against your neck as he finally rids himself of his own clothes, erection hard and proudly waiting to bury itself into your sweet cunt. "Hmm.." He humms again, amusement in his voice as he continues to draw patterns over your sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "I still can't believe how I fit inside that pretty body of yours." He says, as you suddenly feel the hot skin of his length against your middle. "Can't believe you can take it so well princess." His hand leaves your core finally, as he slowly enters you, making you mewl as he groans.

He doesn't have much self-restraint, but every time you're together like this, you're both amazed by how much he can control himself. The way he plays you like an expensive instrument makes you hang from his hands like a puppet on its strings. And you love it- the simple fact that he's able to do anything he wants with you, yet he'd never use you just to throw you away. He'd never hurt you. You know this.

He grins as he places his hand over the slight bulge forming underneath your skin where his cock is moving inside you, all warm and swollen, impatient as he can't help but move more vigorously, harder than before, as your body moves along with the beat he's giving you. He's in control, its impossible to lie about that and you don't see any problem with that. Your mind is empty, only pleasure remains as he bites down onto your skin again, hands roaming as if they can't decide where they want to stay; because it's the truth after all. He can't decide what he loves most about you, if your body is whats the most desirable or if its your soul locked inside of it and chained to his own like a prisoner. He gets a kick out of this feeling, out of the way you're speared on his cock like the doll you are, and if he desired to, he could simply snap your bones like those pepero snacks you always eat, and it would be just as sweet as they taste. Yet he doesn't- he's being oh so generous with you, letting you live beside him, keeping you as safe as he could at his side, never to let anything come close to you. You're his.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also head over heels in love with you.

You don't know what it was this time.

You only know that he's currently in your shared apartment, having returned from Job hunting, and by the sounds of crashing glass, he's probably having another one of those days. You know you should just leave him, but ever so often your own curiosity gets the best of you, and you sit up on the bed, dressed in nothing but a shirt, your panties, and socks to keep your feet warm, since the heating in your apartment broke months ago. You carefully open the bedroom door, peaking around the wood to spot him as he currently kicks his shoes off in an ever so violent manner. He spots you, eyes dark and feral, but this time it's not lust in them. "Get back inside." He barks out, and you know why he does it.

He wants to keep you safe.

Against all odds he knows what he is. He knows he's sick, knows he's a danger to himself and others, and that's why he's always telling you to stay away from him whenever his anger is boiling over like this. It's his way of keeping you safe, keeping you protected and you know better than to go against his own judgement. He knows himself best, after all.

Only as you can hear him hiss in pain do you go against him.

As the apartment grows quiet, you slowly step outside the room again, eyes searching for the form of your boyfriend, before finally spotting him near the kitchen table, one hand on it, while the other is held close to his chest. You can see blood on the white cracked tiled floor close to him, and you immediately grow worried for him. You slowly creep inside the bathroom, retrieving some stuff from the first aid kit, as you walk back outside, spotting him on the couch now. "..kookie?" You carefully ask, wary of any signs of his body that he's not yet down to earth yet. But he doesn't move at all. You slowly walk around the couch, squatting down in front of him as your hands carefully reach out for his inked arm, and he lets you, his eyes eerily not looking at anything at all. You hiss a bit and sit down on his lap as he doesn't argue with you, almost delicately treating his wounded skin. He's probably somehow cut himself on the broken glass from the photo frame he broke. He seems awfully exhausted, which isn't a new sight to you. He usually is after a day like that.

"We're gonna loose the apartment." He says darkly, yet you don't stop what you're doing, simply humming an acknowledgement at him, while you don't look up at him. "Are you even listening?!" He suddenly barks out, grabbing your wrists as you look at him; not in fear however. You simply wait for him, like you always do, until he suddenly looks down onto his hands, letting go of your now red wrists with a look on his face like his favorite puppy has just been killed. "They simply said because of my criminal record they can't employ me-" He began, already getting riled up again as you kissed his cheek to distract him before he could slip again. With you situated on his lap like that, it could prove fatal.

"I'm gonna get a job, from home maybe. We'll figure things out." You softly say, and he doesn't seem like he quite believes you. He doesn't need to, at least not yet. It takes time, but you'll take yourself the time you need, even if its someone else's. Its not like he ever really cared about whats who's after all. "I still love you, you know?" You say, and that's when he breaks.

For the first time in those years you know him, he falls to the ground, crashes onto concrete with full force, and it wrecks through his entire body as he pulls you close, sobbing into your neck as he hiccups and chokes on his emotions, his hug painfully tight, but you don't complain. You're too shocked by his state to react much, other than running a hand over his back in a hopefully soothing manner. He doesn't stop for a moment, and you don't have a good feeling for time, so you cant tell how long you both sit like this, until he's finally exhausted to the point of simple slumping down, asleep as his body finally gives up. You carefully stand up, letting him somehow softly fall to his side as you struggle to pull his legs up to properly lay o the couch. Walking into the bedroom you retrieve blankets for him and yourself, as you crawl underneath his arm to lay against his chest, underneath the blankets, as you try and think of a way to help him.

You can't get a job. Not only because he won't let you, but because you get sick too easily. You're not allowed by doctors advice to work in any field that requires direct customer contact- and sadly that's all your educational level would allow you to work in. It never bothered Jungkook however, if anything he welcomed it as a good reason for you to stay at home, and at his side at all times. For him however, there were different reasons he didn't have a job. He couldn't keep one, with his short temper making him unfit for any job that required him to handle other people. He was a bomb ready to explode any moment at all times, and it was hard for him to land a job at any interview he somehow got. And nowadays, as word got around, no one simply wanted to employ him; stories of him going off at complaints and always being ready to throw hands made him the talk of the town in terms of who to look out for. He also had a criminal record- which didn't make the situation any easier.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. And it's a serious issue.

You somehow made it another month concerning rent.

With you selling some clothing you made yourself for a reasonable price, you somehow had at least a bit of an income, yet Jungkook didn't really seem like himself these days. He didn't leave the apartment much, and seemed much more grim to everything around him. You somehow thought that maybe he was just in a bad mood- but it seemed like this time things were a bit more serious than that.

"Princess?" He calls, as you rub your hand over the side of your neck, having laid on the couch weirdly as you had been taking a nap recently. You perked up at his call, walking out of the open kitchen to meet his gaze in the living room, his eyes serious as he pats his thighs; an invitation for you to sit down. He likes having you seated on his lap like this; it makes him feel all comfortable, knowing that you're so close to him. "I.." He starts, and visibly struggles with finding the right words for what he wants to say. "I want to get therapy." He states, and its quiet for a moment. You need to process his words for a second, as he never spoke about his issues like this. You never really thought about this option at all, and it makes you feel bad, deep inside, as you now realize that this was something you should've thought about as well, from the start on maybe. But you never wanted him to change for you; making you kick yourself in your thoughts. It never occurred to you that he wasn't changing for you, he didn't need to change for you, he needed to change for himself as well. You simply started to smile, and your arms snaked around his neck as he breathed in your scent, happy that you take this so well. He had struggled with the acceptance of it for a long time, and with you at his side, he knows he can somehow maybe change.

Even if its just a bit.

"I want to be a better man. For me, and mostly for you." He starts, and you attempt to speak, but he smiles, and kisses you instead, successfully shutting you up. "Don't say I don't need to. We know I do." He explains, and you nod. You're curious on why he suddenly realized it, but you decide not to dig too deep, as he currently seems vulnerable enough to you. So you simply let him hold you like this, quietly, calmly, while outside the thunderstorm continues, rain hitting the windows with as much force as the wind sees fit. Its ironic, really. Typically the situation is the opposite.

But somehow it feels like everything is changing, right in that moment. Just a few words have been spoken, but the ones that did make it out were a promise, a vow, a sentence of hope to finally get a hold on the future you both had dreamed about before, tangled in sheets and each others limbs. He's always said he wanted a family, as cheesy as it sounded to him back then, and then he'd laughed about it as if it was a joke. It somehow was, at least during that time it was; how could he be a better father than his if he was just the same? He didn't want his story to take a turn like that, to end up hurting you in the process of his own selfishness just to get what he wanted. No, he wanted something different in his life; he wanted his children to look up to him as a person they could be in awe of not because they were scared, but because they were proud to have them.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also finally realizing it.

Therapy never goes smoothly from A to point B. It's never a smooth ride, never a straight line connecting the start to the goal. And Jungkook is feeling that as he walks through the door, fuming after an in his eyes pointless session with his therapist. Why the fuck would they want to know about his childhood? That's his business and his own only, it doesn't concern anyone other than himself. Hell, he never even talked to you about it- and he sure as hell won't start chatting away with a stranger like this. He can't control himself as his fist connects with the wall next to the door, drywall cracking underneath the force as you stand in the middle of the living room, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He's disappointed in himself in that moment; he was supposed to get better. He was supposed to have himself in check by now, it was supposed to end; yet here he is, just the same as a month before he started. You try and walk towards him, and he's ready to tell you to turn around and leave him alone, but he doesn't. For some reason, this is not pure anger he's feeling.

It's frustration.

And it leads to his eyes watering, as he lets you hold him close, your warm palms running over his back as best as you can with the height difference, and he simply lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, breathing while you softly count next to his ear. He concentrates and lets go of his emotions all at once, taking his time to feel them before he opens his mind up to letting them go. It sounded stupid to him when he was told that this could help him, but now that he's doing it, he gets why its being taught. It helps. Its like a bandaid being taken off after your cut has heeled. It hurts a bit as its being taken off, but the fresh air on the newly connected skin feels so good that the short sting before is more than worth it.

He sniffles, and you giggle, making him chuckle as well, as he runs a hand over your head, a silent sign that he's okay now. "Try again next week. You're doing so great now, Kookie." You say, and its this small encouragmenent that makes him grin brightly.

Because as you both stand in the kitchen, making homemade pizza for the first time in ages, he feels at ease with his surroundings. He calms down rather quickly even though some things don't go as planned, and laughs more freely at his own mistakes as you smile brightly at him. Sometimes you feel like crying, seeing him change like this, but you're strong enough to hold it in until he leaves during the day. You're still unsure how the future will be changing, still a lot unknown to the both of you, but for now, you'll continue to keep each others heads above the waves with your sewing, while he does his best at getting better. You know he can make it, you're certain he can, and will.

Because Jungkook is sick. But he's finally getting help.

You don't know what has happened when he bursts through the door, uncaring to either take off his shoes nor to close it behind him, as he picks you up, spins you around, grinning so much his eyes crinkle at their sides, and you laugh, even though you don't know why he's so happy. "I got a job! Baby, I finally got a job!" He yells, screams almost, and it makes your eyes water; not because he's taking a huge weight off your shoulder, but because this has been one of his biggest goals ever since he started this journey of getting help. He's so happy about it that this time you can't keep it in, you can't stop the tears as they flow out, making you hiccup and wheep into his shoulder as you struggle to get your words out. "Baby- Princess, hey hey-" He says, setting you down as his hands wipe away at your eyes, the letter confirming his acceptance still in his left hand as he worriedly looks at you. "Why are you crying angel? hm?" He cooes, admittedly a bit amused, because he can imagine what's happening.

"I'm so happy!" You squeeze out, before another wave hits you, and he kneels down, holding you tightly again, as he doesn't let go of you, his love for you overflowing inside his veins as it fills his entire body. He's so thankful for your existence in his life, and he will never be truly able to properly tell you that. It's impossible to put it into his words how much he appreciates you staying at his side through this entire endeavor. Every time he's asked why he does this, his answer is always your name on his lips, always spoken with a slight smile, nowadays a bright grin he's not ashamed showing.

You don't let him go until he chuckles. "Will you let me close the door at least?" He asks amused, as he feels the slightly cool breeze coming inside from the complex' hallway. You disconnect yourself from him for a moment, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as he closes the door, finally taking off his shoes at last, as he walks back, running towards you with a playful growl that makes you laugh as you try and run away from him. But he catches you easily, carrying you over his shoulder into the bedroom, where he bites and licks at your neck, hands pinching your sides making you squirm around and laugh, desperately trying to get away from him. He'll never let you, and you know this, so its unsurprising that he's suddenly pulling your sweater over your head, needing to be close to you. It's cold inside the apartment, and you shiver as the almost icy air around you nips at your skin. "Can't wait until we can use the heating again.." He murmurs against your skin as he shifts around a bit, carefully undressing himself before he crawls underneath the heavy covers with you. "then you can flaunt around in your pretty underwear all day without getting cold." He chuckles, as you hit his chest playfully at the remark. "What? Its always so cold I never get to see you in it." He whines, as he reaches between your legs, inked hand easily working you up as you squirm around. "I never get to see your pretty body properly because we have to hide away like this." He complains, and you simply whine at him, as he suddenly enters you. "For now I'll just warm you up like this, hm?" He humms out, and you nod, not really understanding what you're agreeing to, but you do it anyways.

He's awfully slow and soft, you notice, as he' way more collected as usual. "I love this." He suddenly presses out, eyes closed in bliss as he kisses the side if your neck, trailing down to nip at your collarbone, while his hands find yours, intertwining your fingers in a gesture you can only describe as awfully romantic. "I love being able to make love to you." He explains, as you open your eyes a bit, meeting his as he watches you underneath him. "Though I think you don't mind me being a bit rough with you, no?" He playfully suggests, and your cheeks grow a bit red at that, before he laughs, head dipping down to properly kiss your lips, tongue instantly searching for entrance as he doesn't pick up the pace. "Can't wait until you're all round with my baby." He suddenly suggests, and your eyes open wide as you open your mouth to correct him, but you shut up as his eyes meet yours, determination in them as he suddenly grabs the behind of your thighs, positioning them a bit differently to hit even deeper. "I know, I know-" He chants, as he picks up his pace. "I don't care." He presses out between his own heavy breaths. "I'll just-" He begins, loving the way you mewl under his touch, "I'll just fuck you over and over again until it works." He promises, and you simply nod, unable to deny him. The chances you'll ever conceive are slim- but as he states, never zero. "I'll just- I'll just fill you up until your body can't help but give me a child." He muses, as you start to clench. And he knows, notices, how much this idea is just as enticing to you as it is to him. "You gonna cum? Hm?" He asks, and you nod vigorously before you arch your back off the mattress, making him groan as he shoots his load as well, the visual image of your pleasure underneath him combined with the way you clench his aching length inside granting him his release as well.

As you lay on your sides, all snuggled up underneath the covers after cleaning up, he kisses your bare shoulder, eyes closed. "I mean it, you know." He says, and you humm a reply, before he explains further. "I want a family with you. Someday. When I'm ready." He says, and you nod. You'll somehow make it work, you know this. If he can overcome his demons, you can overcome your own cursed body as well. You deeply hope, at least.

Because Jeon Jungkook is sick, but he's starting to see a future.

"Jeon!" His coworker yells in the big hall he's working in. "Why, pray tell, did you never tell us your girl is that fucking pretty, aye?" He barks in a playful manner, as you walk inside beside the old man, carrying a small plastic bag with what he assumes is a lunchbox. The view of you next to that man stirs something inside him, as he slowly gets up, wrench still in his hand, brows furrowed.

"Because your filthy hands should stay six feet away from her." He responds, with his brows still furrowed, before he finally sneezes.

"Bless you, hah! I'll let you have your break earlier-" The old man winks at you, then gives Jungkook a firm hit against the chest, taking the wrench away from him. "But only because she's cute!" He laughs, as he walks into the hall, Jungkook now walking towards you.

You're proud of him.

Months ago, this would've never been possible; neither the simple fact that he had a job, nor the small incident with his coworker just now. He still got easily irritated, but he worked through these emotions way more easy nowadays. His coworkers and boss know of his past, know what he was like and know that he's still deep in therapy, but they don't judge. They simply accept him, tame him back into his cage whenever he's close to boiling over again. You love the fact that you can walk inside the breakroom with him, eyes sparkling with newfound childish playfulness as he peaks inside the bag you brought him. He's still very careful with you leaving the house, but its not anymore just for his own gain- he's more open to his surroundings, he's starting to think about how he and his actions can affect others. He doesn't care much still; but he's realized that pretending is enough for now. Small steps.

"The handyman was there today." You say, as you watch him dig into the fried rice you brought him, his interest now gained. "They turned on the heating again. Can you imagine? I didn't even know we had floorboard heating!" You exclaimed excitedly, and Jungkooks eyes widen as well.

"Really? I didn't know either. Fuck, can't wait to come home now." He says, swallowing his bite before taking a sip of his canned soda. "Did that label contact you yet?" He asks, and you shake your head. Recently, you had gained the interest of a bigger clothing label, who wanted to collaborate with you for this season's designs. "Ah, that takes time I guess. We'll wait, its fine." You know he's not only saying that for you, but himself as well. He still gets agitated over small things, but he deals with them a bit more easily. "I'll be home in a couple hours. Do you wanna wait here, or go home?" He asks, and you stand up, packing his now empty food container as you smile.

"I'll take the bus, don't worry." You say, and he furrows his brows playfully.

"Mask?" He asks, and you hold it up proudly, well aware of the precautions you need to take to make public transport safe for you.

"Good girl. Text me when you're home yeah? I'll get us takeout for dinner." He says, as he kisses the top of your head. You nod, and wave him goodbye as you two go separate ways, at least for now, until he's finally free of work.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

But he's slowly healing.

[helliontherapscallion]

Unexpected Encounters (Adrenaline Junkie Part 8)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: minor swearing

Word count: 2,775

You walked down the now worn cobblestone path towards the main plaza of the village by Philza’s house. Whistling the first verse of the L’manberg national anthem, you wove slightly at the crowd of people gathered at the stands that littered the sides of the street. 

The village was much larger than the entire L’manberg nation. It had several different precincts with a large, diverse group of people and a few hybrids living there. It also had more amenities like shops, a library (which, to your delight, grew expansively to include more books on inventions, some being exclusively about yours. They were proud people that embraced whatever fame comes out of the area), and multiple towering office buildings.

Everything’s changed since you’ve last been here a year ago. What was now more modern used to be traditional. What was loosely populated was now bustling with people. What used to be barren was now chock full of shops and apartment complexes. It was kind of jarring to see this much change in a little over a year.

In retrospect, it was jarring how much you changed in a little over a year. The hallucinations have finally almost completely stopped along with the nightmares. They only came about once a week now. You were slowly reincorporating green back into your wardrobe. Your phantom pain has retreated into your subconscious. It was always going to be with you, so you got used to the constant pain and tingling feeling. You learned to appreciate the small things in life and just live in the moment so you would have something positive to look back on in the future.

You invented several different gadgets to help your brothers win the L’manberg War of Independence such as a portable TNT launcher, handheld long-distance communication devices (which you affectionately dubbed walkie talkies since you could walk and talk! Wilbur and Tommy were not as enthusiastic of the name as you were), and a redstone powered crossbow that continuously fired arrows until you released the trigger. Though all of your inventions were practically your babies, they did not come anywhere close to trumping your magnum opus: your metal fully functioning wing. 

After several mishaps and failed attempts, you finally made your wing correspond to the electrical impulses in your muscles so that it copied the movements of your flesh wing. It’s built out of a lightweight hollow iron and has feather shaped metal pieces protruding off from it to emulate your other wing. It was a sleek silver color that always caught a ray of sunshine and reflected it to another place. It was basically permanently attached to your body by now due to it being a pain to take on and off. It was just easier and more efficient to keep it on constantly. 

People around you stared, some in awe and some in admiration. A stark difference from when you first lost your wing. Sometimes, you resented them for treating you differently just because your name became more widely known, but you were always a firm believer that everyone deserves a second chance. Even attention seeking, unscrupulous assholes looking for cheap brownie points from their peers because ‘I knew them before they were discovered! I knew them personally, we were, like, really close!’ So for now, you tried to ignore the ugly indignation bubbling in your gut and threatening to spew out in a string of hurtful words. You were sick of being angry, especially now that L’manberg is at peace. 

You passed several people who pointed at you and whispered amongst themselves. Ignoring them, you continued onward with your head held high and your wings folded in tightly to avoid children grabbing and pulling them with their grubby little hands. It always took you a while to clean and preen them after people touched them. You hated cleaning off fingerprints and grime from the smooth metal.

Walking with a sense of purpose, you continued onwards passing multiple shops and stands until you finally reached the butcher. Opening the decorated glass door, a little bell chimed alerting the burly man behind the counter of your presence. Like the others, he stared wide-eyed at you with his lips slightly parted in shock. Great, another exhausting encounter. 

Putting on a polite smile, you broke the silence of the meat shop. “Hello, I’m here to buy half a pound of fresh ground beef. Would you by chance have any in stock?” That seemed to snap him out of his stupor.

“O-of course, I’ll get that for you right away.”

He disappeared into the backroom where frosty fog rolled out in tiny clouds. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Maybe he wouldn’t ask any questions or try to get to know you on a personal level.

He returned in a hurry, slapping the wrapped beef onto the counter and giving you a price. Reaching into your wallet for the cash, you paid him generously. “Keep the change.”

“I-thank you, Mx. Minecraft.”

Putting the beef into your satchel, you gave him a more genuine smile. “Don’t mention it.”

Briskly walking out, you made a beeline for the village’s main entrance. You couldn’t stand the feeling of constantly being watched and talked about anymore. Why couldn’t they treat you like a normal person? In your opinion, you were, well, you. Nothing was special about you.

As you were about to cross the threshold of the village, you heard footsteps behind you.

“HEY! MX. MINECRAFT I NEED TO TALK TO YOU.”

Stopping dead in your tracks, you closed your eyes and took a few steadying breaths so that you wouldn’t lash out at this person. You just wanted to go to your childhood home and have a nice, peaceful dinner with your dad. Was that too much to ask? 

Opening your eyes and plastering on a fake smile, you turned around and greeted him. He was a young boy, probably around eleven or twelve years old. His clothes and shaggy auburn hair were disheveled and he had dirt smeared on his face. “Hello, to whom may I owe the pleasure?”

He put his hands on his knees and tried to talk between gasping breaths. “Mx, my name’s Arthur Fox, i-it’s truly an honor to meet you. I’ve admired your work since before the war in L’manberg. You’re an amazing inventor and I wanna be just like you when I grow up. I- oooh I’m sorry, I’m rambling aren’t I?” He kind of reminded you of Tubbo in a strange way.

“No, you’re fine Arthur. Thank you for being a fan of my work, but I must get going. I have an important meeting to attend to.” You weren’t exactly lying to the young boy. Turning on your heel, you started to walk off only to feel a hand on your arm.

“Mx, I need to talk to you.”

“I really have to get going, Arthur. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“No, it’s important.”

You struggled to keep the smile on your face as you shrugged his arm off as politely as you could. This kid is determined. Too determined. “So’s my meeting. I have to go.” You started to walk off into the beaten forest path.

“Do you know about The Warden?”

You halted abruptly and sharply turned around. You let your smile and polite stature drop into pursed lips and sharp eyes.

“...Of course I do. Everyone does.”

Flinching slightly, he quickly recovered his confident facade. “No, that’s not what I meant. Do you know about The Warden?”

“Like I said,” you played stupid, “everybody does. Who doesn’t?”

He puffed his cheeks out in frustration. “Ugh, how could someone so smart be so stupid at the same time? I mean you met it didn’t you? It took your wing.”

You took a step forward and narrowed your eyes, fully facing him now. “How do you know about that? Who told you?” 

He stepped back. “I-I heard rumors a couple of years back that it got someone. I heard your name thrown around here and there.”

You gave him enough of a warning that you didn’t want to talk, but he ignored it and now he has to reap the consequences. At this point, you were so tired and drained from everyone trying to be buddy-buddy with you that you finally snapped. The only thing you wanted was to go home, you did not need this right now. 

“Well, Arthur, you shouldn’t pry into other people’s business. I’ve told you time and time again that I have to leave, yet you persist to stop me. Why? And where are your parents, didn’t they teach you any manners?”

He looked downwards and fiddled with his fingers. “They’re dead. T-The Warden took someone important to me. I… I thought you might be able to help me.”

Shit, you just yelled at a grieving orphan. You were a massive asshole weren’t you? Your eyes softened slightly and you frowned. “...I’m sorry for your loss. Is there anything I could do to make it up to you? Dinner perhaps? We can talk about how I could help you afterwards.”

He glanced up at you. “But-but what about your meeting.”

You winced. “Uh, I’m moving it forward, we have more pressing matters.” You paused awkwardly. “Do… Do you have anybody to ask permission? Any siblings?”

His shoulders drooped. “...No. I’m all by myself.”

Shit, you yelled at a grieving homeless orphan? God what kind of role model were you? 

“C’mon, kid. We’re going to my house.” 

His wordlessly followed you and avoided looking into your eyes. The walk to your childhood home was very awkward, neither of you attempted starting conversation. You sighed.

“Look, Arthur I’m sorry for yelling at you like that. That was really uncalled for, I shouldn’t have yelled or gotten mad. It’s just that- The Warden’s a… touchy subject for me.”

“It’s alright, Mx. Minecraft. You can make it up to me by… making me dinner and showing me some of your blueprints?”

He looked up to you with hope filled, sparkling eyes. You snorted. “It’s a deal, kid. We’re almost there.” 

You could see the silhouette of the house in the nearly setting sun. It was still the same as when you left a year ago. 

“Ya know,” you sighed out, “this is actually my Dad’s house. I’m just visiting him for a couple of weeks.”

“Where do you live then?”

“I live in the heart of L’manberg with my brothers.”

“That’s cool…” He trailed off. You frowned, it seems that he was nervous to meet your Dad. You probably should’ve mentioned that Philza was there to him before taking him here.

You stopped, grabbing Arthur’s shoulders. “Kid, you don’t have to worry about meeting my dad. He’s probably the kindest, most genuine man I’ve ever met. He’ll welcome you with open arms, that’s what he did with me and my three brothers. He adopted us all.”

He gave you a small smile. “Alright, Mx. Minecraft, I trust you.”

“Oh, please don’t call me ‘Mx. Minecraft’, it makes me feel ancient,” you lolled your head back and dramatically groaned out, making him giggle. “I just turned twenty, buddy. Feel free to call me (y/n).”

 Putting your hand on his shoulder, you led him to the front door. You twisted the old door knob and pushed the wooden door open.

“Dad, I’m home and I brought the beef!”

He popped his head out from the kitchen, his messy blond hair flopping onto his face. He gave you a joking smile. “Took you long enough, any longer and I would’ve locked ya out.” 

You watched as his eyes wandered over to Arthur. He frowned, revealing his frilly pink apron that Wilbur got him as a joke. Oh, you could just hear the gears in his head churning.

“...(Y/n), who’s this?”

Grinning sheepishly, you replied. “Dad, this is Arthur Fox. Arthur, this is my dad Philza Minecraft. I promised him dinner and somewhere to stay for the night. Do you have some of Tommy’s old clothes Artie could borrow for the night?”

He sighed, shooting you a we’ll-talk-about-this-later look. “Yes, they’re in the attic. I’ll grab them after dinner so he could shower before going to bed.”

Arthur timidly spoke up. “Thank you, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad softened and gave him a gentle smile. “It’s no problem, Arthur. And please, call me Philza. Mr. Minecraft makes me feel old.”

Arthur let out a loud laugh. Despite everything he went through, his laugh still sounds like an innocent child’s laugh. You chuckled, kids always had a silly little laugh. Philza grinned at him, a child’s laughter was something that he missed.

Arthur wiped at his eyes as his laughter died down. “I’m sorry, (y/n) said the same outside.”

“I did,” you smiled lightly at Arthur before looking back at Philza with mischief, standing up straight and putting your hands on your hips. “But I was funnier.”

“Pft, you wish. I was saying that before you were even born. So, I win because I’ve been saying it longer.”

“Whatever ya say, old man. Funniness over age.”

He playfully glared at you, placing an offended hand over his heart. “I’m not that old.”

“Ya kinda are, Dad. You’re practically turning to dust!”

He gasped. “I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Are too!”

“Am no- wait Dad, that’s cheating!”

“You still said it though!” He sang out, grinning at you cheekily.

“No, that doesn’t count!”

Arthur’s amused brown eyes bounced between you and Philza like he was watching a tennis match. Every so often, he would giggle at something one of you said. You both took your banter to the kitchen where you and Philza started to cook. Dinner was done and the table was set in no time. There was pleasant small talk as dinner neared an end

Your dad swallowed his last bite of beef and turned his attention towards Arthur. “So Arthur, how old are you?”

Arthur gave a small grin. “I’m ten.”

“Do your paren-”

You loudly coughed, throwing a discreet glare at Philza. Mouthing ‘don’t’ from behind your hand, you took a big sip of your water and stood up. “I’ll wash all the dishes. Arthur, would you like to look at some of my blueprints while we wait for my Dad to get you some clothes?”

His eyes shined with excitement. “Yes please!”

You chuckled, putting the plates in the sink and walking down to your old workshop to grab one of the blueprints you left in a filing cabinet. You grabbed the first draft for your prosthetic and the final draft for the automatic farm.

Upstairs, you situated the blueprints in front of Arthur at the dinner table. “Okay buddy, learn to your heart’s content. I’m gonna do the dishes. If you need something just give me a shout.”

Walking into the kitchen, you filled the sink with warm soapy water and got started scrubbing. You moved your wings around subconsciously as you wiped the pots and plates clean of grease. Humming in satisfaction when you were done, you dried your hands and sat next to Arthur who was looking at your designs with complete awe. 

“You like them?”

He nodded his head so fast you thought it might fall off and started to fling questions at you. You smiled fondly at him, it was nice to see someone so interested in how your inventions were made and not just how they worked. 

You two were mid conversation when Philza walked into the room with a bundle of clothes in his arms. You grabbed Arthur’s hand and led him up to the bathroom. You bent down and rested your hands on your knees, looking at him.

“Alright buddy, everything you need is in there, clean towels are in the closet. When you’re done, I’ll be in my room just over there,” you pointed to your door. “Last door on the left. I can show you where you’ll be sleeping for the night when you’re done. Does that sound okay?”

He gave you a gap-toothed smile. “Yes, thank you (y/n)! You’re the best!”

He closed the bathroom door and you stood there. You felt… oddly fond for the boy you just met only hours before. 

Philza cleared his throat and pinned you to the wall with a stern look. “(Y/n), explain now.”

“I will, but let’s talk in my room so Arthur can shower in peace. Poor boy needs it.”

He sighed and walked into your room. You had a long talk ahead of you.

(A/N): so, how do you guys like Arthur?

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

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@bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash4  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @lestrangenymph  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelic-scent  @shinipii  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado  @laura--444

[chiwhorei]

the devil makes

pairing: benimaru shinmon x reader x joker/52

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.2k

tags: a touch of branding (he flicks his cigarette at you i just really don’t know how else to tag it), knifeplay (except it’s a playing card, only a smidge of blood), rough oral, face fucking, voyeurism, spit, anal, double penetration, degradation, spanking, belly bulge, it’s a little dubconny but not really?

a/n: my first full fire force piece woot woot! these two characters make me so fucking horny and when they shared the screen my pussy was completely inconsolable. thank you @messwriting and @10millionyearsdungeon for looking over this and always encouraging me.

hymn: wrong by MAX ft. lil uzi vert

you, and me, and the devil makes three.

“Why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what you want,” you pluck the cigarette from your caller’s lips, he presses his saccharine smile down at the edges to feign a pout.

You know better by now. Your legs hang on either side of Joker’s hips, his white dress shirt doing almost nothing to cover skin filled with a new flight of bites and bruises. The last set had just faded when you heard the tell-tale knock at your front door.

His timing is always impeccable, hat in hand and dipping under your doorway just as the wanton throbbing sizzles into a dull ache.

Deeply inhaling, nicotine breaches your throat and prickles past your lungs. You only ever smoke when he’s around. At this point, you’re not sure if it’s a necessity or a habit.

“Do I need a reason to visit my favorite girl?” His voice trails around your skin in tune with a wandering set of hands. It’s infuriating how easily your body relents to Joker’s fingerprints. You’ll feel them like scorch marks for days to come.

“I’m not your girl and I doubt I’m your favorite.” You bush off his quip, cigarette bobbing in your teeth before he pulls it from your mouth to drag. With a flick of his finger, ash falls like burning snow onto the juncture of your collarbone. You wince and fall forward into his chest.

“You’ve proven yourself the most useful, is that better?” Joker pulls you into a searing kiss, pushing tongue and smoke into your awaiting mouth.

“At least it’s more honest.” Joker laughs loudly, his head falling back against the mattress. Your pillows will smell like sage and campfire, you’ll pretend it doesn't lull you to sleep.

“I need your help to, achem, seal a deal of sorts. For the greater good of course.”

Eyes roll upwards, first with guffaw, but any argument melts with the feeling of his lips on a warpath from the angle of your jaw to the swell of your breast.

Joker promises to make it worth your while, in the ways you always seem to let him.

Against all better judgement.

* * *

“Well, Captain,” Joker presses a sharp ace against the curve of your collarbone, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake, “she’s a pretty little toy ain’t she?”

Pleasure coats your tongue, it tastes like blood and incense.

In the short time they’ve been acquainted, Benimaru has learned to be unsurprised with any impromptu meetings Joker could plan.

What Beni wasn’t expecting was your naked, flushed body on the lap of his new associate. He wants to complain about the purple eyed almost-stranger sitting in his private quarters, but any argument flounders for air as soon as you come into view.

You seem completely placid from your position against the anti-hero’s chest, awaiting further instructions with glassy eyes. Any shame you could ever muster lies in a heap of fabric six feet away. Joker always dresses you in something easy to tear off.

“You sure do make an interesting first impression, Joker.” The 7th’s captain walks forward in the dimly lit room, pushing his fingers against your hair and pulling back roughly to steal your undivided attention.

A pretty little toy indeed.

“We’re partners now, Beni,” you can feel Joker’s voice like honeyed venom from behind, every syllable drips against your shoulders, “and partners share.”

Joker flicks the playing card upward, twirling it in deft fingers. You watch his dexterity, the piece of glossy paper is pressed to your lipstick, dragging your bottom lip down slightly before pulling away. A signature painted in soft pink.

The hand on your hip, the one in your hair-- the feeling of two bodies enclosing on you like prey is overwhelming and salacious.

“Does he bring you to do all of his dirty work?” You’re spoken to for the first time, the grip in your hair lifting you from Joker’s lap.

“Only the dirtiest work suits me,” you hold your ground, voice dropping an octave to make both men shudder, “captain.”

Benimaru’s sneer is only an inch from your mouth, his proximity neering closer with every word falling past your lips. If you keep talking like this, Joker won’t want to share his toys anymore.

Pointer finger and thumb come up to cradle your chin, mouth parting with the smallest pressure. Your tongue lulls out slightly, an invitation punctuated with your eyes flitting from his stare to the deep set frown across his face.

The sound of Beni spitting hits your ears, the harsh put bounces against the bannisters. Warmth runs in an indecent trail from the tip to the fattest plane of your tongue.

“Don’t play coy, sweetheart, show ‘em what else you can do with that mouth.” Joker’s palm comes down on your ass cheek hard, a breathy yelp escapes to be swallowed by the man above you.

Beni moves to perch against the desk centered in the ever-condensing room, arms folded across his broad chest. The space feels cold without the body heat you had been stuck in between, you feel exposed fully for the first time since Joker snuck you into company seven.

There’s only a beat of self-cognizance before you’re pushed to the ground by a familiar set of calloused hands. You need no further direction, knees and palms straining against the hardwood as you inch forward.

By the time you’re kneeling in front of Benimaru, his cock is in a tight fist. He pumps himself in long strokes, smearing pre with his thumb to coat the throbbing head. His length is impressive, you can feel saliva pooling in under your tongue as you watch his hand move from base to tip.

The sight almost has you forgetting your manners.

“Will you fuck my mouth, Captain Shinmon?” There’s very little restraint left available behind his icy red irises. Joker sits back in the brown leather chair, a front row seat.

You feel the familiar burn against your scalp with Beni’s searing pull. The red tip hits your mouth and you’re positive a streak of lipstick finds home against your chin.

You’ll be covered in much more before the sun comes up.

His cock is heavy as pushes past your lips inch by thick inch. The groan ripping through your throat is vibrato against the ribbed skin.

“Wow, ah, your sweet little throat was meant for cock wasn’t it?” Tears prick in your eyeline, your vision growing bleary as you swallow. A stray streak of mascara falls down the curve of your cheek before Beni swipes it away. You almost blush. Almost.

He hits the back of your throat with seemingly little effort, you sputter slightly at the burn, your jaw aching to accommodate. Just as you feel him pulling almost all of the way out, Beni slams the full length in again. His pace is brutal and unforgiving. Each thrust earning a new mess of spit and makeup to collect at the edges of your mouth.

“No need to be gentle, Beni, she’s taken a whole lot worse.” You would laugh at the sick curl of Joker’s words if you could. The implication is both irritating and worrisome.

“As much as I would love to cum in that pretty little mouth,” you gasp for air as Beni pulls you off, a thick line of slobber still connecting your bottom lip to his cock, “I really want to feel your cunt wrapped around me instead.”

You hear the sound of Joker’s heavy feet closing in from behind, his grip on the back of your neck to hoist you back up to your feet.

“Partners share, remember?” The lilt in your pursuers voice is sweet in the way sugar free gums rots your teeth. Joker will break you into pieces for the greater good.

It’s sick, absolutely disgusting, how much you crave your own destruction.

“She’s nice and ready for you, captain. Feel how dripping wet she is just from sucking your cock.” His next words suck all of the oxygen from your lungs, he replaces air with tension,

“You can take her cunt, I’m going to fuck her tight little ass.”

“Wait I--” There’s no use pleading, there’s no use in anything but quiet compliance and resolving to the fate of being stuffed completely full.

Four hands are on you, groping the fat on hips and breasts, moving against the pliant skin in tandem. You’re malleable in their hold, hoisted up in Joker’s arms. His grip is unforgiving, crescented bruises are bound to form and be visible for days to come on the inside of your thighs.

Beni captures your lips between his teeth, stealing back your attention with a growl. His kiss is searing, tongue slipping to lash against your own. The stubble grazing his strong jaw is dizzying, he whispers against your lips, licking against your pre-stained mouth. Quiet enough to be either missed or ignored by Joker as he busies himself freeing his cock and grinding itn against your ass.

“Next time I’ll sit you on my face and we can have a little fun one-on-one.” Beni punctuates his promise with a nip to your bottom lip before his hands move to steady you snugly in between two wide chests. His palms rest on the dips of your hips, thumb jutting out to press tightly against your aching clit. The movement rips a hoarse wale from deep in the back of your throat.

“You always cry so pretty, dollface.” Joker’s emboldened by your tears, an invitation to push you farther, you feel two fingers prodding your asshole, using your own slick to assist in his exploration. The sensation is painful and addicting as both digits push past the tight ring of muscle.

His fingers move to work the taught hole open, each ridge of knuckle and callus blurring the line between torment and pleasure. Beni circles your clit, picking up in pace as Joker adds a third finger, the stimulation hurtling you towards orgasm. A litany of please scratch at your throat, begging your captors to steal an orgasm from the pile of shaking limbs in between them.

“Cum, little one, cum so I can fuck this tight little cunt of yours.” Beni’s voice is unmistakably demanding, there’s not a note of suggestion behind his words. Your first orgasm snaps against you like electrocution, buzzing around every nerve.

“That’s my girl,” Joker snickers, feeling the contraction and loosening of your muscles. Your high is the final submission, willing every part of you how they see fit. Little more than a toy, a pawn in a broader game of chess.

“Are you ready for us?” Beni’s voice is framed in question, but you know better than to take it as anything but rhetorical. It doesn't actually matter whether or not you’re ready. What matters is the squeal of pain and temperance that comes from breaking you.

Before you can even nod in agreement, you feel it. The burning fullness, the sealing of a deal between two men that you happen to be placed right in the middle of. Joker’s cock is hot and heavy, sheathing himself in the last plane of virgin flesh. The piercing on his frenum drags against you, a familiar feeling in the most unfamiliar place.

There’s no time to get used to the sensation as Beni is pulling you forward slightly so your weeping pussy is hovering over his length. Your legs dangle, suspended on either side of his forearms. You’re lowered onto the captain, his pace is remarkably gentle as your pubic bone meets the sprawling expanse of wirey hair nestled between his hips. As your skin meets on either side of your weeping body, both cocks sheathed completely inside, the canter of either man picks up brutally.

The sticky feeling of sweat and arousal covers every inch of skin in the room, partnering with the sound of slapping and thrusting that all but drowns out the pathetic whimpers your suspended form can muster.

“I knew you would make yourself useful, doll. My favorite game to play.”

Your head falls forward against Beni, body growing heavy as the merciless, rhythmic thrumming of your abuse. The dull ache of another orgasm drips into your bloodstream. Your abused bundle of nerves become live wires, sparking against Joker’s wandering fingers as they wrap around your front.

“I can feel it, ya’ know, I can feel myself in your stomach.” His taunt is stressed with his palm pressing down against your abdomen before dipping back down once more to pinch your clit.

His rough treatment is the final straw, you scream and cuvulse in the hold of your predators. You squeeze tightly in a succession of muscle spasms that feel like you’re trying to milk both of their own orgasms to crash with your own.

Thick spurts of cum spill into you with a series of deep, final thrusts. You feel your own wetness as it runs down your thighs and ass. Muffled groans from both men fill the stale air as they claim your holes. There’s nothing left in the space between bodies except you caught in the web of spiders, dangling in silken limbs and labored breathing. There’s nothing left to give or take.

There’s nothing but panting and sweat and a deal with the devil.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[lgbtqlegends]

avalance: sara + tattoos headcanons

so,,, i absolutely Love tattoos, like,, so much, and the other day as i was thinking about tattoos and how much i wanted to get more, i was struck with the desire to write some avalance headcanons in which sara decides to start getting tattoos, kind of as a way to cope and to turn her pain into beauty, so,,, without further ado, here are those headcanons :) (and also i for sure could prob come up with more if anyone wishes me to do so)

besides the one tattoo on her wrist that’s never been acknowledged (the one that caity has on her wrist in real life), sara doesn’t have any other tattoos for the longest time. it’s just that one, and for the longest time she didn’t really plan on getting more. she liked the tattoo just fine, she just,,, never really thought about getting more

she’s having a really rough time one night, and she was restless and she just,,, needed something,,, different. so she, kind of impulsively, decides to take the jumpship and go get another tattoo. it’s a semicolon, like on her other wrist or something, because it’s small and she’s just,,, she’s trying it out. she ends up liking it a lot, and it helps, every time she looks at it

ava notices it immediately, and she’s nothing but supportive and encouraging. when sara tells her that maybe she might wanna get more at some point, ava tells her to go for it, and she tells sara that she’s so so proud of her for doing smth like this rather than falling back on unhealthy habits

she gets more, and they’re all still small at first, because she’s still kinda getting a feel for the whole ‘more tattoos’ thing. she doesn’t get a single tattoo that doesn’t have some sort of meaning to her either, because maybe that’s something her pre-gambit self would’ve done, but she’s a much different person than she was then, so every tattoo she gets has a meaning

she gets small ones for everyone she’s lost, just little things that remind her of what they were like. they’re in a cluster on the left side of her ribcage, right under her boob. she wanted to keep them all close to her heart; it makes her feel like they’re all still with her, like she carries all of them with her wherever she goes. it gives her strength, just the knowledge of having them there, especially when she’s at really low points mentally. sometimes when she really needs to feel them, she’ll brush her fingers over all the tattoos there and take a deep breath while she reassures herself that they’d all be proud of her and that they’re all still with her, in their own ways

ava lowkey loves it whenever sara gets a new tattoo. she loves getting to see it and hear sara tell her about why she decided to get it. when sara first started getting more tattoos, ava offered to go with her, just for the company n everything, but for a while, sara preferred to go alone and tell ava about it after. eventually though, one time sara ended up saying yes, and after that ava ended up going with her most times, just to sit with her and watch. sara loves it, and she loves that ava can tell when a tattoo might be hitting particularly close to home and how ava distracts her until they’re alone because she knows that sara would hate to be super vulnerable in public like that

sara debates for a long time whether or not to get a tattoo of tally marks for all the times she’s died and/or cheated death. she ends up getting it, after a few long talks with ava about whether she should or not. she wasn’t sure at first, but decided to get it as a reminder of how much she’s overcome and how many times she’s beaten the odds and also as like,,, a sort of subtle, bittersweet and melancholy reminder of how many chances at life she’s gotten and how most people don’t ever get that many chances. she uses it to remind herself to always do the best that she can and to not take anything for granted. she updates the tattoo every time she dies or cheats death. it’s on the inside of her right bicep. sometimes ava catches sara staring at it pensively, and knows she’s stuck wondering why she’s the one to still be alive even though she should’ve been dead a hundred times over at this point. ava always gives her a big hug, and presses a kiss to her neck and whispers soft reassurances to her

sara knows it’s like,,, sappy and cheesy as hell, and she knows the legends would tease her forever if they ever saw it, but at some point she gets a tattoo of ava’s name inside of a heart. it’s on her chest, right over her own heart. later she gets ava’s fingerprints tattooed around it, and whenever she’s anxious or panicking about something and ava isn’t able to be right there in that moment, she remembers the tattoo and covers it with her hand and reminds herself to breathe and that it’s okay. the fingerprints are mostly just to give herself that extra little meaning, of how ava always puts a hand on her chest to calm her down and ground her. whenever ava is having a rough time, like when she’s insecure or anxious, sara will lay down, shirt off, and pull ava to lay down with her, rests ava’s head on her chest, right over the tattoo and reminds and reassures ava that she got it as a physical mark of how much she loves ava and as a way to always have part of ava with her, whenever and wherever she goes, as a reminder of everything she’s worked for and everything she has to keep fighting for, and of the person she’s always gonna come home to 

on her right collarbone, she gets a tattoo that consists of two birds, canaries. one of them is white, and one of them is black. she gets it on a day where she’s missing laurel more than ever. it’s her way of keeping laurel close to her even more; she has a tattoo for laurel in the cluster on the left side of her ribcage of course, but it just didn’t feel like enough, so she got the canaries on her collarbone, the white one for herself, and also as an unspoken thank you to laurel for helping her become the white canary, for helping her become a hero in the light. the black one is for laurel obviously, and sara loves it because it makes her feel like laurel is always there with her no matter what, and especially by her side during battle, as if they’re fighting side by side again. it helps when she misses laurel the most, because she can just trace the tattoo or stare at it in the mirror, and laurel doesn’t feel so far away anymore

okay, taking something from my own list of tattoos i plan on getting: sara gets a tattoo on the inside of her arm, on her forearm, just below her elbow. it says ‘i am here’ in just like,,, a very simple font. sometimes it’s a reminder for her that she’s still living and breathing and physically just,,, alive and here. other times, if she’s having a rough time, it helps to serve as a reminder of how far she’s come, and the place she’s in now compared to her past, and that she isn’t back in those dark places but rather that she’s in a good place, and with good people

she gets a tattoo of a knife down her right side, 99% because she just really likes knives, 1% because knives, for her, are things that she can use to help her think and focus and also that she can use when she’s feeling restless or just needs to focus on doing something with her hands. it’s one of her bigger tattoos for sure— she still mostly gets tattoos that are on the smaller side— and it’s an incredibly pretty knife. after it heals, ava loves very lightly, very softly tracing her fingers over it and brushing her lips against it because sara is relatively ticklish there and it always makes her shiver, and ava loves the happy giggles the action gets out of sara

at the top of her back, right in the middle on the top of her spine, sara gets a tattoo of the japanese symbol for destiny, as a nod to her being the paragon of destiny. she doesn’t need to see it to know it’s there, and every time she thinks of it, it centers her a little bit more. on nights when ava kisses all of sara’s scars, she also spends a moment to press a kiss to this tattoo, because it’s right there, and it just gives ava one more place to press kisses to, so she loves it

whenever sara gets a new tattoo, ava loves helping sara take care of it until it heals, so sara always lets her take off the protective adhesive once it’s time, lets her wipe away the bits of blood, lets her put on the healing ointment for the 2ish weeks and then lets her put on the lotion once the 2 weeks are up. ava absolutely loves doing it because it’s just,,, a really tender, soft thing to do, and it always makes sara melt because she loves the feeling of ava taking care of her

sometimes at night when they’re laying in bed, if sara’s not wearing a shirt, and if she’s really sleepy and just,,, laying there relaxed with her eyes closed, sometimes ava will reach over and trail her fingers all over all of sara’s tattoos. it makes sara shiver a little cause it kinda tickles but mostly sara just lays there, eyes still closed, and lets ava do it cause it feels good and she loves it and it makes her relax even more, so she just lays there sleepily with a soft smile on her face while ava just looks over at her with such reverence and awe while she traces all the tattoos

sara also gets a really pretty, meaningful quote tattooed in arabic, in a small band around her forearm. when ava asks what it says, sara tells her that it says stars can’t shine without darkness and that she decided to get it in arabic to take her knowledge of the language she learned for the league and use it for something beautiful instead. it nearly has ava in tears (happy, proud tears) and she spends a solid few minutes just holding sara’s arm and lightly brushing her thumb over it