#mysterious door that wasn't open before (last image)

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

Cross seems very serious, does he ever let up sometimes? Are there any moments of him being more bubbly?

Ps, can I get a hug from horror? I feel like he’d give the best bear hug EVER!!!

Cross: I'm not serious. I'm numb. My universe's friends and family are dead. I don't know how to contact my old friend(s). Everything I ever knew is gone and it's been an absolute wreck trying to adjust to the new norm. Cross: …and now I can't even make a short walk, or shower, or stand for long- leaping and running is out of the question, something I used to be able to do like second nature. My whole right side hurts, and it randomly gets worse for no reasons. Cross: I can't even look at art supplies without flinching and feeling- bad? Like I'm- I don't know. It's stupid and frustrating. Cross: It was bad before, but it only used to be paint brushes and paints. Now it's paper and crayons and pencils and anything that can be used to draw. Cross: …i can't even get off this stupid floor. my leg hurts too much Cross: (..i don't want to go back to bandages everywhere, but it hurts.)

(Cross laughing a bit [amused] here)

(Cross being in a neutral mood [getting a gift] here)

(Cross in a happy/joking mood here)

[lovifie]

Price had a young girlfriend and did not tell anybody until he decided to get married...

He probably didn't tell them until the night before the wedding…He asked them to come over for a little celebration and everyone expected a middle-aged woman. But when they saw a girl in her mid-20s opening the door with Price they were shocked

Soap probably even asked if she's his stepdaughter LOL

Hey, love!! 💗💗

I wrote you a little something...

I hope you like it 💗

❤️Mr. & Mrs. Price❤️

Fluff | Sugestive | 1547 words | Back to Masterlist

They were having a pint at a pub close to base when he told them. 

“I'm getting married next Saturday, you have the weekend free, so drop by so I can introduce you to the missus.”

Now, Ghost wasn't surprised he didn't know about his captain having a girlfriend, let alone a relationship serious enough to talk about marriage. What surprised Ghost was that neither Soap nor Gaz knew about it. 

“Married?!” Gaz asked, loud enough to make some people turn their heads. 

Price furrows his eyebrow, surprised by the reaction as if he had just told them about what he's having from breakfast. 

“I didnae ken ye had a pretty bird waiting for ye at home, Captain!” Soap says, just as loud.

“Yeah, I have for a couple of years now.” Price simply answers, shrugging his shoulders as he takes a sip.

“A couple of years?!” The three men ask in unison like a bad comedic joke. 

A chain of questions starts to unravel, curiosity for the mysterious woman pouring out; but Price waves his hand shutting them up. “No point in that, you are meeting her this weekend, easier that way”

They begrudgingly agree, keeping to themselves the mental image of the possible woman. She must be around Price's age, so between 40 and 50 years old; knowing how little the man likes to go out they probably met at work so she must be military too. Stern woman. 

Price tells them that is something minor, the close family and a bunch of friends; that they can join at the reception at his house and to dress nicely. 

“No ghost mask.” He chastises the man pointing at him. “I don't want work involved, alright?”

During the week until the wedding, they keep thinking about her, about how she must look like, her personality, her age, her eye colour.

“What do you think she'll look like?”

“In my mind, she's like Laswell… but being into men.”

And out of every possibility and different mental image, the last thing they expected was the pretty thing that opened the door for them on Saturday. 

Pretty little thing, around 25 years old, with the kindest smile on her face even when looking at the three giants on her doorframe, flowy white dress, little hair strands framing her cute face with the rest of it gathered up in an intricate updo in the back hold together with shiny pins and a silky bow. 

“Oh, you must be John's friends.” You say, voice sweet as an angel. “Please, come in, don't just stand there. I'm gonna go get him, be back in a second”

You step back, holding the door open for them, inviting them in and once inside you close the door, walking past them to reach their captain who is looking in the opposite direction, talking to somebody else.

“That must be the stepdaughter… right?” Soap asks what all of them are thinking. 

They stare as you walk up to Price, placing your hand on his lower back making him turn to look at you; a wide smile appearing immediately. He leans forward, his arm moving behind your shoulder and his hand keeping your jaw in place as he kisses you. 

Lips crashing against yours, closing his eyes and letting his tongue into your mouth tasting the champagne you were drinking just a moment ago. A passionate, sloppy kiss that would make a maiden blush at the impropriety of it even for the newlyweds.

“Mate, I sure fucking hope she's not.” Gaz answers after a moment.

The two of you finally pull back, telling Price about his friends arriving and he looks behind you to see them. He smiles, not as wide as when he looked at you, and gives you a quick peck before walking to the door. 

“Welcome, lads. Thank you for coming.” He says simply, crossing his arms and looking proud. You appear from behind him, hand resting on his arm slightly leaning to his side.

“Do you want anything to drink? To eat?” You ask softly, love pouring out of Price's eyes as he looks down on you. 

“I'll help you.” Ghost says, a curl of his lips you could identify as a smile if you wanted to. And once the captain is left with the sergeants, the attack starts. 

“How does an old churl like you manages to get a pretty thing like her?”

“Where do you even meet a doll like her?”

“How many years have you exactly been dating for?”

Ghost clears his throat when he turns around the corner on his way back, with you chirping on his side about how happy you are to finally meet them. He has a more natural smile on his face now, clearly infected with your enthusiasm. 

Price finally introduces you to them, exchanging everyone's name. You hug both the sergeants and shake Ghost's hand, the man glad that you made the observation of his lack of appreciation towards body contact. 

After a little chat, you excuse yourself; promising to get back in a while wanting to talk to your own friends still waiting around the room. It leaves Price on his own and that's when he tells the nosy men how he met you. 

You were his neighbour, sharing half the walls of the old flat he house to live in before moving in together. How he introduced himself to you one day when he saw you leaving your house, how he told you he was military so you wouldn't freak out if you saw him in the middle of the night or suddenly disappeared for months, how after a specially long deployment he got back and you dropped by hours later with a bunch of tupperwares with homemade food “I assumed you would be tired, it's nothing special but I'll save you the hustle of cooking”, about how he had wanted to marry you ever since, how he gave you the tupperwares back one by one so he had more reasons to talk to you, how he finally asked you out with the last one and how after that it all was easy between you two.

The four of them swiftly move to sit down on the kitchen table, Price still telling them everything about you and the relationship. Ghost is just as invested as the other two, trying to play it off as polite interest. Slowly and smoothly people leave the house as the day goes by, the sun having set a couple of hours ago; and you walk into the kitchen, sitting on Price's lap with a sigh. 

“I know it isn't proper of a good host, but these shoes are killing me.” You announce looking at the three men as you bend down and take them off, a sigh of comfort leaving your mouth as you lean back on Price. “I'm also sure you have endurance worse than some stinky feet.” You joke with a tiny chuckle making them smile. 

“Everyone gone, darling?” Price asks, his hands resting on your lap as you nod smiling. He looks up to the boys as he says. “Better to tidy up then”

“Jonathan Price, don't be rude!” You exclaim looking at him. “They are your friends and there are more than enough rooms for them if they want to spend the night. They have been drinking too!”

“Mrs. Price.” John says with a teasing tone, standing up and helping you stand. “Talk to me for a second, love.”

Price bends down to pick your shoes up, holding your hand to walk you to the living room. They hear the two of you whispering back and forth, then silence and lastly the unmistakable sound of kisses. They peak behind the door, managing to see you sitting in the backrest of the sofa with Price standing between your legs, grinding his hips against yours. You moan softly against his lips, before pulling back and whispering something they can't make out; Price pulls back as well and they sit back on their chairs. 

Price walks in just a second later. “Lads… thank you for coming, I'll see you when I'm back from the honeymoon, now… OUT!” He barks the last word making Soap chuckle as they all finish their drink in a gulp and start to walk out of the house, congratulating Price on the marriage and walking out one by one; meanwhile, you remain completely out of sight for them.

“They gone?” You ask for the top of the stairs, looking at Price with a smile. 

“Yep.” Price says locking the door.

“You didn't have to kick them out like that, though.” You say cocking your head with a smile.

“Oh, yes, I did.” He says, turning around to start to walk up the stairs. 

“Why? Afraid they might join?” You say winking at him, making him laugh before he throws you over his shoulder making you shriek.

“Wouldn't you like that, you little minx!” He jokes, landing a smack on your asscheek. 

You gasp dramatically holding onto his clothes. “It's Mrs. Price to you, young man.”

He chuckles, making your body shake, before he throws you down on the bed; him instantly crawling on top of you. 

“Who's your husband, darling?”

“You, Mr. Price.”

A bit more of this

[barefoothighlander]

call me little sunshine - ii

-summary: you come home for summer break to find a new man has moved in next door, he’s charming and mysterious so you welcome him to the neighbourhood

-simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

-warnings: mdni (18+), dark themes, smut, age gap, corruption, slight stalker!ghost, dub con, face riding, throat fucking, creampie, tiny bit of anal fingering?, choking, hair pulling, slight dacryphilia, nipple clamps, spit play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, masturbation (fem+male), degradation, voyeurism kinda, ghost has a filthy mouth, bit of perv!ghost, i think that’s it

prev part masterlist next part

a/n: okay y’all went crazy for the first part of this so here’s some fresh smut that for sure solidified me never being allowed to step foot into any place of worship

You woke up in a layer of sweat, the warm air breezing through the window doing little to cool the fire inside you, you had dreamt of him, his touch, it was seared into your skin, and you craved it. You didn't understand the desire, the way that the mere thought of him make your hair stand on end, you'd never felt like this with anyone.

Sure you had a few partners here and there, but they didn't last long, you never knew any of them that intimately, but Simon was different, his gaze set your skin on fire, you found your mind wandering to images of him throughout the day, obsessively looking through your window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

He would do the same, watch you through the window, eyes glued to your form as you stepped out of the shower, or simply sat at your desk, he lucked out, his bedroom window faced into yours, giving him a perfect view of your vulnerable form, especially that morning.

You writhed under the covers, mind tired but body unable to get comfortable in the heat, the pulse between your legs doing little to aid your efforts. You huff a breath brushing your hair out of your face, mulling the idea over in your mind, it wasn't like you could simple prance into his home and beg him to make you cum.

You run a light hand over your stomach, moving your hips to try and calm the arousal pooling between your legs, you snake your hand down over your panties, tasing over your clothed sex, your other hand moving to pinch at your nipple, a small sigh falling from your lips.

Simon had just gotten back from his morning run, his bare chest glistening in sweat as he stepped into his bedroom, moving around to find a towel when your form caught his eye, he was surprised at first, he didn't count on you being the self pleasuring type. He watched as your fingers dipped below the hem of your panties, sinking into your weeping core, he felt his cock twitch at the sight of your arched back, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut as your mouth fell open in an o shape, he knew what you sounded like, the noises you made for him like angels singing only for him. He focused on you, watching you fall apart on your own fingers, knowing they could never be as filling as his and his own hand dips below his shorts, gripping at his hard cock, he begins pumping himself in time with your fingers, emulating the sensation of you gripping him.

He keeps his eyes glued to you as you reach your peak, he swears he can make out his name falling from your lips.

Your fingers would never compare to his, large with rough skin, somehow being able to instantly find that sweet spot inside you, you pump four fingers harder, mind wandering to the sensation of him thrusting into you, your other hand moving to circle your clit as you approach your climax, your head is thrown back as moans drip from your tongue, the coil inside building before it snaps and you cum, moans of his name slipping from your lips as you come down.

Simon braces an arm against the wall, hand working vigorously to chase his own high, he watches as you pull your hands from our pussy, your slick glistening them, the memory of how wet you got bringing him to his own climax as his hips stutter and his seed spills into his hand. He blinks a few times to himself, checking out the window to make sure you didn't see him, finding that you were gone, he glances around the room, finding a towel and making his way to the shower.

You find your way to your own shower, cleaning yourself and letting the warm water clear your mind. You didn't have a lot to do today, you were supposed to meet a few friends in town, but that was about it. You grab a dress from your closet, a simple white dress with frilly sleeves, dressing before heading downstairs, you greet your parents and let them in on your plans while eating breakfast, then make your way to your car and drive into the town.

You spent a few hours with your friends, catching up and grabbing lunch, you had decided to visit the beach for a bit, checking your phone and realizing it was already nearing the mid-afternoon. You make your goodbyes and pack your things before making your way home.

You pull into the driveway, sparing a glance at Simon's house, you could tell he was home, his car was there and it made your skin crawl. Shaking the thoughts from your head you walk in your door, calling for your parents but there's no response, you hear chatting from the backyard and decide to make your way over, sliding open the door to greet your father before your eyes land on him.

He's sat back in the deck chair, legs parted, a glass of whiskey in hand as he eyes you.

"Hey honey, this is Simon our neighbour"

You swallow the lump in your throat, "Hello"

"Lovely to meet you" He smiles, extending a hand toward you, you take it, his rough fingers gripping your skin causing a shiver to run down your spine.

"You'll have to excuse me for a minute Greg, gotta use the washroom" Simon stands to walk to his house,

"Oh, just use ours, closer anyway"

Simon nods at your father, turning back to you with a smirk as panic sets in your chest.

"Lovely lad," Your father says

"Is he?"

"Oh yea, saw me struggling with that old mower and offered to cut the grass for us"

You give a small hmm in response, your father continues talking, asking about your day, you talk about your friends, the beach, your eyes glancing between him and the house inside. You watch as Simon descends the stairs, huh, bathrooms downstairs. He walks back out into the yard, sitting back in his chair, purposely spreading his knees as he pins you under his stair, your eyes shifting to the bulge in his pants.

"I've got some stuff to do if you'll excuse me, it was nice meeting you Simon"

You turn quickly from the men and make your way inside, walking up the stairs to your room. You take off your dress in favour of changing into more comfortable clothing, going to throw it in your laundry bin before noticing the clothes were a mess, thrown around. You dig through the bin, realization hitting you in the form of a sigh, your panties were gone, there was no way he took them? You think about it for a few minutes, the echoing of the men's voices in your head, you hear them say goodbye, your father stepping into the house.

You putter around your room, attending to whatever tasks needed to be done as the sunset. Finishing, you grab a book from your shelf, setting yourself down on your bed, sparing a glance through the window and you see him, front and centre in his own window, you hitch your breath, he's half-dressed in a pair of jeans, one hand on his cock, the other holding your panties. His eyes are locked on yours as he strokes himself, his hand moves to hold the underwear to his face as he breathes deeply, a small flutter comes from your pussy as he reaches down with the material, to wrap it around his length, fisting himself with it, you want to look away, it's perverse, but you can't, you're mesmerized by him, you can see this way his mouth falls open with grunts as he pumps harder, dragging the material against him, his eyebrows furrow as he continues, a few more languid strokes and you can see his cum drip from the soaked cloth, your arousal igniting your skin. He cleans himself up using the panties, tucking his cock back into his jeans, you turn from him, breaking your trance, moving from the window so he can't see you as your back collides with the wall, your breaths heavy.

It takes you a few minutes to shake the anxiety from your system, not only was he jerking off using your panties, but he wanted you to watch, it was so wrong, dirty, but it ignited something in you, some desire hidden behind the knowledge that he craves you as well. You stop yourself, trying to push the feelings down, he was so much older, clearly using you for his own sick game, he was a parasite in your body, you had to shake him.

You spent the next few days avoiding him, closing your blinds and making hasty entrances to your house, not bothering to spare him a glance when he’d show up at your door looking for your father. His presence became more common, helping your dad with his car, talking with your mother as she brought in groceries, he was doing it to taunt you, his ever-looming form casting a shadow on your days.

Simon had grown sick of the distance within a week, his attempts to invade your space proving futile, you were stronger than you looked, he just needed to get you near him and you’d be all his again, writing under him, begging him. On Friday night you had settled into your bed, no plans for meant an early night tucked in with a new book, except your phone screen lit up as the vibration rang through the air. You look at the scream, it’s a random number you don’t have saved, grabbing your phone you answer it.

“You think you can just avoid me”

“Simon.”

“I know you think about me, I saw you get yourself off at the mere thought of me”

“You’re disgusting, leave me alone”

“It’s not gonna be that easy pretty girl”

You curse yourself as his words have a direct affect on your core,

“You like when I call you that huh, my pretty little girl”

“Just leave me alone”

You hear him huff a laugh through the phone, “Not this time, not you, no you’re special, who knows maybe I’ll lock you up, keep you bound so I can have you whenever I want”

“What do you want from me” You speak but it comes out as a whisper

“I want you to admit you need me, need me to make you cum”

“I don’t”

“So it wasn’t my fingers you were imagining the other night? You weren’t thinking about my cum filling you up when you watched me?”

“No” You respond through gritted teeth

“Tsk tsk, you shouldn’t lie to me love, might just have to punish you for that”

Your breath hitches in your throat,

“Tell me, are you soaked yet, do my words have such an affect on your little pussy”

You don’t respond,

“Gonna have to use your words baby”

“You make me sick”

“Mm bet you’re thinking of my big cock right now, how it stretches you out, how full you are of it”

A small sigh escapes your lips,

“That’s my girl, I want you to open your blinds”

Your head is reeling, something takes over your body and you turn to open the blinds, he’s standing in his window staring at you.

“Hi love”

He smirks as you stare at him,

“Your back door is unlocked, you have 5 minutes to get over here,” He says and hangs up the phone, his form retreating from the window. Your nerves light on fire, you don’t want to give it but the ache in your core carries your body down the stairs, through your backyard and to his front door. You don’t knock, simply letting yourself in, chest heavy in defeat, you skulk up the stairs glancing around to find him, reaching the top and peering into his bedroom.

He’s laying on the bed naked, lazily stroking his cock as he stares at you, your throat becomes dry, the throbbing in your core more incessant as you watch him glide his hand up and down.

“Take your clothes off” He orders

You’re nervous under his gaze, slowly pulling your shirt over your head as your breasts fall freely, shaky hands moving to your pants as they pull them down, he pins you under his gaze, eyeing you up and down like you’re his dinner.

“Come”

You crawl up his form, straddling him as his arms snake under your thighs, tugging you upwards, the action forcing your body forward as your hands plant against the wall, your body is screaming as his breath ghosts over your soaked core.

“Sit”

You lower yourself slowly and he grabs your thighs, tugging you flush against his face, the contact forcing a moan from you.

“That’s better”

His hands roam over your naked form, grabbing at the meat of your ass before settling in a bruising grip, keeping you flush to him as his tongue assaults your core, flicking over your clit before he moves lower, his tongue fucking into you, the sensation has you gripping the headboard, hips grinding down onto him as his nose teases against your aching bud.

He laps at you, swallowing every ounce of slick from your weeping core as you unravel above him, you’re practically screaming above him, the feeling possessing your body as the pleasure blossoms in your chest, your impending orgasm forcing you to arch your back, your head falling back. He sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and you come undone, body convulsing as you cum on his face, he licks you through it, rough hands roaming your skin as you come down.

His hands grab at your waist pulling you back to sit atop his hard cock, sitting up to kiss you, his tongue swirling yours as you give in.

“Taste that love, so god damn sweet”

He lifts you and slides out from under your body, laying you on the bed.

“Rest your head here”

He motions for you to rest your neck against the edge of the bed, your head pointed down as your vision turns upside down. His rough hands move to grab at your breasts, pinching your nipples, revealing in the squeaks you make.

“Don’t move”

He fades from your view, crossing the room before standing back in front of you, he reaches down over you and you feel a tight pinch on your nipple, you wince slightly from the pain but he licks over the firm bud, a pinch to your other nipple and he treats it the same. His face lights with joy as he reaches to give a small tug to the chain that falls between your breasts, earning a small moan from you.

“Knew you’d like those, little slut”

He kneels down slightly in front of you, the red tip of his cock staring you down as he grabs your jaw.

“Need you to keep your mouth open, think you can do that”

You nod, needing to taste him. He plants himself low enough and lines his cock up, you stick your tongue out and he runs his tip over it, his pre cum coating your taste buds in a salty layer as you lap at him. His hand is holding your chin as he presses himself in, allowing your saliva to coat him. A small grunt escapes his lips as he pushes deeper, his tip prodding the back of your throat causing tears to prick your eyes as you gag around his length.

“Fuck, doing so good love, just a little more”

You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe through your nose, your fingers grasping at the sheets as he forces himself deep into your throat, bottoming out with a moan before sliding back, only to thrust in. His pace is quick, the air filled with the sounds of your gags as your drool pools around his base. He reaches down over you, continuing his thrusts as he grabs ahold of the chain between your nipples, tugging it, eliciting a moan from deep in your chest, his cock twitches from the vibration and he keeps a steady grip on the chain.

Your tears are staining your cheeks as he pulls out of your mouth, you gasp for air trying to breath as his thumb runs over your cheek, smearing the droplets.

“Did so good love”

You give him a weak smile as your breathing regulates, your brain is fuzzy from a mixture of arousal and lack of oxygen, you don’t notice him circle the mattress, but you feel him grab your hips, flipping your body so your cheek is pressed against the sheets. His fingers tease at your entrance, gathering your slick before travelling upward to your puckered hole, you flinch as he makes contact but the grip on your waist holds you steady, he teases a finger over the entrance, circling around the muscle,

“Think I could fuck this little hole too”

You're whimpering below him, begging him not to as he presses his finger in past a knuckle, your muscles tensing as he stretches your virgin hole.

“Shit, you’re so tight, maybe another time”

Relief takes over your body at his words. He leans forward and pushes out some saliva, letting it drip down to where his finger is, the slick coating your entrance, allowing him easier access.

“One day I’ll fill all of your holes with cum, don’t worry”

His threat had you clenching around nothing,

“Simon, pl-please”

“So desperate for my cock already, little fucking whore” His finger continues to pump into your ass as you lay there, begging to be filled.

“Please, need to feel you”

“I decide what you need”

He pulls his finger out, your body contracting at the loss as he reaches a hand over you, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging you back against him, you can feel his hard cock grind against your ass, you press back into him desperate for contact. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his mouth beside your ear,

“Maybe i’ll just fuck between your ass, not give you the satisfaction of my cock”

“No! Please, need your cock”

“That’s my girl”

He grabs his cock, teasing it between your folds as you arch into him, he pushes into you bottoming out, your head falls back against his shoulder as he grunts, thrusting into you.

“Such a good fucking girl, tight pussy taking me so well”

You’re moaning against his ear, egging him on as his hand moves to circle your clit, his fingers settling a brutal pace causing your body to twitch,

“That’s it baby, cum all over my cock”

He fucks into you, his balls slapping at the skin of your ass as his free hand tugs at the chain, you're nearly screaming in his ear,

“Fuck, who’s pussy is this?”

You moan again and he fucks into you harder

“Tell me, who does this push belong to?”

“You fuck! only you Simon”

You’re weeping next to him, tears rolling from your eyes at the stimulation,

“You crying baby, shit, s’that how good my cock feels”

You nod against him

“Use your words”

“Yes! Fuck feels so good”

He’s set a brutal pace, his length dragging against your walls as he toys with your sensitive bud, keeping a firm grasp on the chain, it’s all too much, you cum with a sob, your spend coating his cock as he fucks you through it.

He pulls from you, letting your body drop forward against the bed before flipping you onto your back, his hands are gentle, removing the clamps from your sensitive nipples before sucking them into his mouth one at a time, you melt into the mattress, your limbs no longer working in connection with your mind.

He runs his hands from the valley of your breasts to settle at your neck, squeezing lightly, bringing you back. You look up at him with glossy eyes, willing him to let you be, but he keeps your eyes on him and with a deep thrust he bottoms out, his grip tightening causing you to gasp for air as your hands grab at his wrist.

“You gonna ignore me again?” He asks through gritted teeth, his cock hitting your cervix over and over. You shake your head viciously,

“Good, no one can fuck you like this, this pussy is mine”

His arm snaked under your back lifting your hips, forcing you to take every inch of him,

“You’re gonna cum for me, one more time love”

Your throat is dry, you can’t even protest as his fingers move back to your swollen bud, flicking over it. The overstimulation brings your third orgasm quickly, you clench down on him, screaming

“Simon! Please!”

“That’s it baby, one more”

Your whole body numbs from your orgasm, you’re putty in his hands as he spreads your thighs, his cock impossibly deep inside you,

“Fuck, gonna mark you as mine, want you to feel me later, want you to remember who this pussy belongs to”

His cum pools in you, the sensation forcing a small moan from your lips as he holds his cock inside you, making sure you milk him of every drop.

His hands let go of you and he pulls out, bringing his fingers to push in any spilt load that was leaking from your abused cunt. He navigates around the room, bringing you a glass of water and holding the base of your head as you drink, your body weak against the bed. He slides in beside you, tugging your firm on top of him as his fingers thread through your hair.

“Your dads leaving for something in the morning, you’ll spend the night here”

You don’t have the strength to protest, you can’t find the words to ask how he knows your father's schedule, all you can feel is his heartbeat steadily beating against you, his soft touches lingering over your skin. You felt vulnerable in his arms, you wanted to run away, you wanted to scream, but you couldn’t, instead, you fell asleep, body clinging to his.

You wake up at the break of dawn, your limbs tangled into his as you listen to his steady breaths, he's close enough that you can make out every scar, every crease on his face. He wakes to you staring at him and pulls you tighter into his form to avoid your burning gaze, he holds you for a few minutes before getting up, throwing on a pair of boxers and heading downstairs without a word. You're alone in his room giving you time to snoop around, you scan the room, it's minimal, essentially only used for sleeping.

You open his bedside table, it's filled with condoms, various toys, and your panties, your forehead heats up, quickly closing the drawer to pretend you didn't see it. You push your hair from your face and get dressed, light footsteps descending the staircase, he's in the kitchen hovering over the stove while you sit on one of the stools behind him. You watch his muscles strain as he works, his back flexing, he turns to you, placing a small plate of food in front of your form before leaning over the counter to eat his own.

You look at him perplexed, such an act of kindness after all the mind games he put you through, you can't figure him out. He opens a drawer, pulls out a keyring and places it in front of you.

"I have to leave town for a week, these open the front door"

You grab the cold metal, toying with it in your palm, feeling the coolness against your warm skin. He continues eating without sparing a second thought to the gesture,

"I can't just come over whenever I want"

"I know, but you're welcome here anytime.. for any reason," He says, eyes still focused on his plate. You pick at the food in front of you, checking the time on the clock hung on the wall.

"I need to go"

He shifts his gaze to the clock, it's 11:23,

"My dad will be back soon"

He nods at you, gathering the plates and placing them in the sink. You walk to the door and he stands beside you, his hands cupping your face as he runs a tender thumb over your cheek.

"Such a pretty girl"

You stare at him as he scans your face,

"Goodbye Simon"

You leave through the front door and walk to your own house, walking in and releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding in, your hands moving to ghost over where his were, his touch lingering on your skin.

[ask-directorsada-and-friends]

Professor Lucina Sada was used to giving presentations. She was used to seeing her fellow professors. Sada was even used to being called nuts.

She was not good with surprises. Especially when she was running on 48 hours of coffee and little sleep.

So, as she prepared her notes for her presentation at the conference, walking through the Great Hall of the academy, the last thing she needed was for someone to tap her on the shoulder. So, when someone did, she swatted away their hand, not looking up. Whoever it was didn't seem to get the hint, as they did so again. "Go. away. I'm busy." She growled through gritted teeth. Hopefully this wasn't a poor student she just scared again- Jacq and Salvatore refused to let her live that down.

"You know, it's considered rude to not look up at the person talking to you, mi corazón."

She froze. That voice...

Whipping around, she was face to face with Professor Andres Turo, fellow Pokemon professor, co-creator of the Tera Orb, and... her estranged spouse.

Who was now out cold on the ground following her fist connecting with his face.

Whoops.

Ms. Tyme was NOT happy with her reaction, stating she couldn't have waited until she was in private to punch him?

Hassel, Saguero, Salvatore, and Dendra had to pay Raifort after she won the bet over how long it would take for them to be in the same region before she punched Turo. Miriam is amazed at how fast she moved, while Jacq... he missed the whole thing, having instead chosen to catch up with his brother and cousins over lunch in town.

Kukui, who witnessed the entire thing, was laughing his ass off.

A few hours before the conference began, she went to apologize to Turo. After all, he didn't deserve to be punched (well, he did, just not like that). The moment he opened his door, she ended up punching him again.

Augustine ended up having to sit between the two once the conference began. He'd managed to get them to agree to speak in private later, just for now to please stop punching the man when children are around. Jacq was sat besides Sonia and her assistant Hop- his baby cousin, as it turned out- while Juniper sat with Elm and Birch. Rowan, Oak, and Kukui had found themselves at the other end of the oval conference table, Oak's grandson Blue nearby with Bianca of Unova discussing their friends and their habit of "vanishing without warning anyone". Lucas and Brendan were discussing regional variants and the mysterious 'Hisuian forms' that once called Sinnoh home. She knew Champion Leon of Galar had accompanied his brother here, but he had opted to explore the academy instead, stating he probably wouldn't understand much of what was to be discussed.

Sada figured that as they were all here, she might as well take the chance to explain the strange multiverse she had experienced. Kukui had already been filled in, having dealt with something similar a few years back, so at least he wouldn't think she was crazy... at least regarding this.

"Fellow Professors and researchers, I welcome you to Paldea's esteemed Naranja Academy. As you all know, it is here where Professor Laventon studied and is said to be inspired to create what we now know as the very first Pokedex." The director began, gesturing to a framed photo hanging up on the wall between Rowan and Oak. A man with tan skin, a bowtie, and curly hair smiled back from the image, a plaque beneath it reading Professor Laventon, shortly before his trip to document the Pokemon of the Hisui region. "Since then, advancements in not only what he first documented but beyond in the area of Pokemon research have soared far past what we can expect he ever dreamed of. A computerized Pokedex, studies into baby Pokemon, the rediscovery of the Fairy Type- thought to have been lost since he first documented it- and Mega Evolution, Z-Moves, Dynamax, and Terestalization are only scratching the surface of what we have done here. Why, our academy's own Jacq Sycamore created the very first Pokedex app to document and study the Pokemon of Paldea and the regional forms that live here." She paused to take a breath. Alright. Time to drop the bombshell she knew.

"And during this time, we have witnessed strange disturbances in space-time. Laventon documented what he called 'Space-Time Distortions' in Hisui, rifts in the fabric of time and space that dragged Pokemon from different places and eras to the location they formed in. We have seen in Sinnoh and Alola that such things are possible- that multiple universes can exist. What I have discovered recently is-"

That was when the door to the conference room opened and someone tumbled inside. Wearing a labcoat (a rather outdated one at that) and a purple hat, the person seemed to be confused and surprised, hugging a bundle of papers to his chest as he groaned from where he landed by Sada's feet.

Sycamore was already helping the man up, but upon seeing his face he scrambled back, letting go and accidentally dropping him. The room was in a stunned silence before Rowan, the most senior professor (or second most senior professor now) spoke.

"If I am not mistaken... Is that Professor Laventon?"

(Hehehehehehe Sada sees Turo- OHKO.

Sees him again- OHKO

so @askprofessorlaventon and I have been planning this for a bit now. If you follow my other Pokemon ask blog, @silentzoroark, you no doubt saw the beginning of this.

[elena-mayfair]

Running toward danger

Paring: Paring: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: rating M, Explicit content!, NSFW!, strong language, graphic violence, themes of depression Summary: The last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone in his company. But Sunday's incident did not bring him any closer and Y/N was proving more and more every day to be his biggest clue and perhaps his best chance to expose him. He had to take that risk. He had to push aside his feelings for the greater good. He had to act quickly and discreetly. He had to find hard evidence that he could use against him before it was too late before Y/N becomes his next victim. But for now, he had no choice but to hope that after the failed attack Crane would be cautious that, if necessary, Y/N would activate the transmitter he had given her. That he was not making a mistake. Word count: 16.6k Note: Some gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series masterlist

Disclaimer: The following chapter contains an explicit smut scene! Reader discretion is advised.

"Shouldn't you be at home resting?" Bruce asked opening your office door wider and glancing inside, "can I come in?"

"Sure!" you smiled looking out from behind the computer screen, "I'm fine. I told you I don't need sick leave."

"And I'm telling you for the third day in a row that I'd rather you take a few days off," he replied, leaving the door slightly open behind him as he was in the habit of doing. He walked over to you and, while placing a mug of aromatic coffee on your desk, asked, "Why are you so stubborn?"

"A manufacturing defect," you smirked, as you reached for the hot beverage, "I appreciate your concern, but you won't make me." Even his charming smile and compelling dominance couldn't keep you at home. Locked inside your four walls you were losing your mind as intrusive thoughts returned time and again replaying images from the past few days. Fear of what you can do, guilt over what you have done, confusion, a feeling of powerlessness, enchantment, a fleeting feeling of happiness, an unstoppable desire to escape. All of them fought for control, tried to determine your next step, drove you to the brink of insanity. You could escape from them at work, working was a distraction at least until Bruce wasn't around.

"I noticed," he smiled then pulled a chair over so he could sit next to you.

Wednesday evening was slowly descending over Gotham. Heavy, rainy clouds loomed in the darkening sky, dimming the cool glow of the setting sun. The pale, cold sun had long since hidden behind the horizon, taking with it a touch of autumn warmth, shrouding the city in a familiar mystical veil. Just as the setting sun took with it the warmth of the day, the approaching evening brought with it the anticipated comfort, the comfort of his gaze that seemed to watch over you every evening. So it was that day and each that came after Sunday. Monday morning dawned with a smile on your face when a message full of concern appeared on your phone screen suggesting that you should stay home instead of going to work. You refused, which led him to your office in the evening hours. Bruce Wayne, although absent for most of the day, seemed to be always nearby, watching attentively. He maintained a slight distance, but his eyes betrayed more than he may have intended. You were learning about him, studying him while conclusions and assumptions formed on their own. Bruce was a man of action. Determined, confident, insanely intelligent, and yet cautious. You could only assume that if he decided to take one step, he didn't plan to wait long for the next one, let alone back down. His constant presence kept building confidence in you with each passing day. Always close, yet so far away from you. Always charming, always composed, a perfect gentleman. You couldn't help but admire the professionalism he displayed in the office. The door was always left ajar, physical contact was almost non-existent, while only his gaze seemed to be touching your soul, looking longingly at you as he silently built tension between you. He was driving you crazy with that deep voice of his that seemed to pierce you to the core, that gaze that seemed to look into the deepest corners of your mind, and that infuriating, barely visible smile. So you tried, you tried your best to stay calm and relaxed as he came closer to you. You tried so hard to match his level of professionalism, but his mere presence was enough to trigger thoughts you shouldn't have in the office. It was enough that he came close enough for you to smell his perfume again, to ignite still lingering memories, to recall the touch of his lips on yours, the closeness of his body against yours, the words he whispered in your ear as you twirled together in a dance. Some part of you screamed: "Fuck professionalism!!! Fuck the cameras, fuck the possibility of being noticed! Don't hesitate!!! I won't either!" But although he seemed to be getting closer every day, he didn't make another move forward, and you certainly weren't going to urge him to do so. Instead, every evening you replayed in your mind that brief moment when you felt safe when you felt that perhaps the fairy tale didn't have to come to an end after all, those magical moments of the past few days. You couldn't lie to yourself, even though you knew you shouldn't, you were falling in love. And that feeling was more frightening than any other.

Yet, the brief moments of delight and excitement did not last long. Once Bruce disappeared, reality began to take on much darker shades. Overwhelming feelings, fear, anger, doubt, moments of enchantment that disappeared as quickly as they appeared, only to plunge you back into the endless darkness of reality and your own intrusive thoughts. Monday brought distress, as once again your own decisions led you to the Gotham City police precinct to give a statement. Tuesday brought frustration and anger as you were denied the opportunity to see and talk to Harleen at Arkham Asylum. As the days went by, you became more and more anxious and fearful, walking the streets of Gotham and clasping your hand on the bat-shaped transmitter, ready to press it at the first sight of anyone who even slightly resembled the Joker. The nights brought restless dreams, lucid nightmares, evoking images that awakened in you a sense of guilt, and regret for striving so hard to remember them. At night you wished you had never remembered. Only the evenings brought that brief moment of calm and comfort. That fleeting moment when you felt good. For every evening when you glanced into his blue eyes you found something different in them, something unfamiliar, warm and inviting, surrounding you with a sense of safety within which you longed to disappear. But a quiet voice whispering words of doubt wouldn't let you. Bruce was a good man, an honest man, a man who invited you into his life, while you gave him nothing but lies and secrets which you could not reveal.

You did not talk much at all about the events of the past few days, which in itself seemed surprising. Bruce didn't ask, and you couldn't shake the feeling that he was waiting for you to bring up the subject. You didn't know how. You didn't know how you were supposed to open this pandora's box and start explaining, how you should open up to him and not lose his affection in the process. And even though his behavior reassured you that he wasn't going anywhere, you couldn't stop thinking that he would disappear as quickly as he appeared, once you told him, once he understood how broken you truly were. He would disappear and take away the warmth of his eyes, the touch of his hand, and the taste of his lips. He would take away all that and the fairy tale would be over for good.

"The wound is healing quickly," his hand brushed gently over your shoulder lifting the sleeve of your blouse, bringing with it shivers on your skin, "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, we'll drive to the hospital to take out the stitches."

"I still can't believe you made me go to the hospital."

"Don't you think it's ridiculous to think that a knife wound, ten stitches long, would heal on its own?"

"It would heal," you replied stubbornly.

"Y/N… don't be unreasonable."

"I hate hospitals. Even Batman couldn't make me go to the hospital."

"You hate hospitals but you still went to Arkham," he pointed out, "by yourself."

"I didn't want to bother you," you replied and he only sighed quietly, "I wanted to see her. To make sure she was doing well. Given the circumstances."

"You don't trust him?"

"Who? Batman?" he nodded in confirmation, "I don't know…" you continued, "I trust him. I think so. But I don't know him. I wonder if anyone knows him. Gotham's Mysterious Guardian, emerging from the shadows when you least expect it. It's hard to trust someone you don't know."

"You said he promised you."

"Because he did," you confirmed, "I wanted to make sure. I wanted to see her. But they won't let me in. They're holding her in Extreme Isolation! Maybe you could do something? I'm sorry for asking you this, but I'm convinced you have the connections that would get me permission to visit Harleen."

"Y/N, Arkham is a dangerous place," he began softly, "it's not a good idea for you to visit Arkham."

"I know, but I'd still like to get there. I'd like to see her," you lowered your gaze sadly, "I know she's done terrible things, and in everyone's eyes and probably yours as well, she's an insane criminal, but to me, she's just my friend. Whom I could not help…" You raised your eyes again only to meet the implacable depths of his blue eyes fixed on you. "I keep thinking that I should have noticed that there was something wrong with her earlier. That maybe if I had come to Gotham earlier, maybe if I hadn't hesitated so long to renew contact, maybe if I hadn't been so focused on myself…" he listened silently as his eyes watched with understanding, "maybe I could have done something, reacted earlier. Maybe if I had been there for her when I should have been everything would have turned out very differently."

"You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened," he mused quietly.

"And yet I can't help but wonder what if," you replied grimly, "so if there's even a small chance that you can get me a pass to Arkham, it would really mean a lot to me."

"I'm afraid even I don't have the power to make it possible for you," he replied but seeing your disappointed look he added, "but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," you smiled gratefully and, not thinking much, kissed him on the cheek. For a moment you both froze in suspense when your lips accidentally got too close to his. You pulled away hastily as your cheeks flared with a blush.

"I'm sorry," you gasped in embarrassment.

"Don't be," he smirked and your heart skipped a beat, "I do not promise anything," he emphasized.

"I understand. But I appreciate you trying," you replied with a smile.

"It's the least I can do, after all that's happened."

"About that…" you began tentatively, "you have no idea how grateful I am for your understanding, for not pressuring me, for being so caring…"

"I sense 'but' coming…"

"But I think I'm beginning to strain your patience," you continued.

"Believe me, you're far from it," he replied softly, "although I won't lie, the questions are piling up."

"I am aware of that," you admitted, "and I know that seeing me with a gun in my hand chasing after Harley Quinn doesn't help."

"I don't think this is a good place to have that kind of conversation," he interrupted you, "I will be out of town on business since Saturday but Friday is a good day to have dinner together," he once again decided instead of proposing.

"Bruce, I'm sorry but I'm not ready to be in Twitter and Instagram feeds again," you quipped then, not believing your own words, added, "but maybe we could meet at my place? I'd cook something and we could talk in private."

"You cook?" he smirked.

"Why do you look surprised! Of course, I cook!" you replied, amused as with his smile all your stress disappeared, "what, because I'm a woman, an engineer, single, that means I probably live on Door Dash, huh?" you sassed.

"I didn't say that."

"I may not cook to the standard of a Michelin Star restaurant, but I'm sure you won't complain."

"That honestly sounds wonderful Y/N and I'd love to have dinner with you in the comfort of your home," his eyes shone intensely.

"Then it's settled! In that case, I'll come to work in the morning on Friday so I can have the afternoon off. Jonathan is being released from the hospital. I want to pick him up," you immediately regretted mentioning his name. Another lie surfaced along with the reckless words. To Bruce, Jonathan was simply your friend, when you knew full well that his intentions were quite the opposite. "What am I doing?"

"Did you get a chance to see him since Sunday?"

"No, I didn't," you admitted, trying to hide a growing feeling of discomfort. Too much had happened that evening, too many things had been said, things Bruce had no idea about. "I went to visit him on Monday after work but I was not allowed in. Jonathan didn't want any visitors."

"You know how it is, if he has the same aversion to hospitals as you do, he probably didn't want you to see him hooked up to monitors and with a bandage on his head."

"He's the head of the psychiatric ward! Somehow I can't imagine doing that job and having an aversion to hospitals," you scoffed, "anyway, I haven't seen him. We only exchanged a few messages."

"Raincheck then? If you prefer," he offered kindly but his words did not reflect in his eyes.

"Another one?" you chuckled, "if we keep this up, the list of rainchecks will be full by next year!"

"That would mean we'll have plans for next year," the corner of his lips lifted again in a shadowy smile.

"Glass half full huh?" you tried to contain your excitement at the implication of his words, "no, no, no. I'll make it work. I'll get off work early, if Mister Fox won't mind of course, I'll pick up Jonathan and drive him home, make sure he doesn't need anything, do some grocery shopping, wrap everything up and I'll have the evening free."

"I could help if you would like. Alfred could go grocery shopping instead of you," Bruce suggested.

"Thank you, but I'd rather do it myself. I don't have many friends, I can't afford to piss off another one. Eight o'clock sounds good?"

"Sounds very good."

***

The only moment when Bruce's mind was free of intrusive thoughts was the moment of the fight. That moment when thoughts completely silenced allowing his body to take over. During combat, thoughts were an obstacle, a distraction, during combat there was no need for thinking. All that mattered was action and reaction, trusting the senses, relying on instincts. Dodge, strike, undercut and one opponent fell. Strike, dodge, grab and throw and another lost consciousness. The third one got smarter, the third one started to run away. Running away blindly from the menacing shadow that attacked them without warning. Still, the attempt to run away was pointless. A swift move, a shot, and a small grappling hook flew out with a high velocity towards the fleeing man, catching his legs and knocking him to the ground.

"Okay okay, man! You won!" the man exclaimed raising his hands defensively, "what do you want!?"

He gave him no answer. Perhaps he could, perhaps he would get the information he wanted. Yet, 'perhaps' was not enough for him. He had to have certainty. He had to have him scared. He remained silent approaching him with a heavy, calm step, he didn't even pull the line. He didn't have to.

"Oh god," the man cried still on the ground, "I don't know anything! I swear!" he tried to get up but a batarang thrown exactly an inch from his hand stopped him in place, "I swear!"

Everyone swore. They all lied in fear of him. Each equally naive, each sooner or later revealed the truth. All of them only needed the right persuasion.

His shadow slowly obscured the light of the lantern as he stood over him, grabbed him by his jacket, and lifted him off the ground at eye level. The man's feet hovered in the air.

"Who hired you," he asked in a grave tone, "who do you work for?"

"I don't know! I swear I don't know anything!" the man struggled in his grip.

"Who organized the attack?"

"It was the Joker! The Joker!"

"Don't make me hurt you," he threatened grimly, "there were ten of you. Seven in the building, three on the lookout. Did the Joker pay you to tip him off or did he threaten to murder you all?"

"Man, you're reaching! We weren't there! We work for Penguin!" the man defended himself, "I wouldn't lie to you! I'm not an idiot!"

"We'll see," he muttered then launched a grappling hook at the roof and pulled himself to the top ignoring the man's terrified screams.

Grabbing him by the leg, he dragged him to the edge of the roof then extended his hand and held him head down a hundred feet above the ground.

"Talk."

"Oh god, oh god! I can't! He's going to kill me! Or worse!" the man cried out pathetically.

"Do I look like I care?"

"Please! I don't know anything!" he begged.

"There are twenty-six bones in your leg that I can break," a terrified scream broke from the man's throat, "Talk."

"'Okay! Okay! I'll talk! Just pull me back!"

"I'm waiting."

"We've been working for Joker the whole time! For Joker! Me and those two downstairs! We were meant to tip him off when the other guy would be preparing an attack! Joker wanted to humiliate him in public, he wanted to piss him off because the other one robbed him! He wanted to provoke him!"

"Who delivered the bombs?"

"I don't know! I swear I don't know!"

"My arm is getting tired."

"I don't know! Seriously! I don't know! We never met him! Communication happened over the phone! The payment came in cash! Picked up from the safety deposit box on 8th Avenue!"

"Number."

"892! 892! Come on man! Pull me in!"

"How were the bombs delivered?"

"Container at the docks! Cape Carmine!"

"It's the Falcone district. Why there?"

"I don't know! We were supposed to find a container with a scarecrow painted on it! Inside were bombs and exact instructions! That's all I know! Pull me in, man!" the man pleaded desperately, "I told you what I know!"

"I know you did," Batman stated grimly then pulled him onto the roof and with a single punch rendered him unconscious.

He lowered himself to the ground again, tied him up with the others, sent a message to Grodon about a pickup waiting for him at the Bowery, then launched his grappling hook toward the rooftops once again and rose into the air.

The transmitter had been sending a signal for several minutes, a transmitter that was directing him toward the bridge leading to Gotham North. He didn't need to think, he's been thinking far too much over the past few days anyway, he knew who he would find there. "Why did she turn it on? What did she get herself into this time?"

He had not seen her for a long time under the cover of darkness when his face was hidden behind a mask when his shape was concealed by dark shadows when he could truly be himself. He scoffed under his breath, realizing the holes in his own logic, catching on to the next taller building to soar high above them. With her by his side, he was always himself. Day by day she unknowingly revealed the carefully hidden corners of his soul the ones he thought he would never see again. All it took was for her to be close for the smile to affect his face. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled so much. It felt good. As if the sparkle of her shining eyes and the warmth of her melodic voice were slowly melting his ice-covered heart. He had given up plans to stay away from her, it seemed impossible and he didn't want that at all. He wanted to help her, to get to the truth, to get to know her, to find answers to the questions that plagued him, and perhaps, perhaps find the courage within himself to let her into his life.

He landed softly on the roof and saw her in the same place where she was then, this time sitting on the edge with her legs swinging carelessly in the air. A coffee cup was waiting for him next to her. He approached without a word, picked up the cup wrapped in a thermic cover, and sat down next to her.

"Nice gesture," he said taking a sip of still hot coffee.

"I thought you might be busy," she replied, "I didn't want it to get cold. The nights are getting colder."

"I told you not to use the transmitter needlessly," he didn't want to be harsh and yet the suit imposed a tone.

"You give me a number I can call and I'll rethink my methods," she sassed, "I wanted to talk. If you have time of course."

"I'm here aren't I?" interest piqued.

"You are…" she sighed pensively and gazed at the city lights on the horizon, "you always appear when I need you. Why?"

"I have my reasons."

"You watch over everyone you saved like this?

"Most don't get notoriously into trouble."

"Fair enough."

"What you did was brave but extremely foolish," he alluded to the Sunday events, "my people would have handled it."

"Nightwing was occupied by Joker, Red Robin was dealing with goons, Robin disappeared from my sight and you were not there," she replied casually but it didn't escape his attention that she remembered their names, "I saw her run away. She already escaped once, because of me. I had to do something."

"As I said, brave but foolish," he repeated then added, "you shouldn't blame yourself for her escape last time. You meant well, you wanted to help her. You made the best possible decision at that moment."

"I didn't think you were so understanding," she smiled weakly at him, " still, I can't help but think that if I didn't get involved then everything would have turned out quite differently. That maybe if I had reacted earlier, arrived in Gotham earlier, none of this would have happened," she said quietly.

"There's no point in thinking about what might have happened if we had acted differently," even though she couldn't know it, he said what he wanted to tell her earlier. "Are you alright?"

"Mentally, I could be better," she replied, "physically, I'm okay. The knife wound, no big deal," she shrugged, "I'm going to get the stitches removed tomorrow."

"Since when is a knife wound no big deal?"

"Since my life turned into a continuous string of bizarre events," she replied. "How is she?"

"Safe."

"You placed her in Arkham," she frowned.

"Despite popular belief, it's the best place I could place her. The best specialists in the country work there," he explained, "it was either Arham or Black Gate. Trust me, Arkham is the better option."

"I'd like to see her."

"Out of the question," he shouldn't have given her false hope earlier.

"Why? Somehow you had no problem taking me to Arkham before!" she snapped at him.

"I had reasons for doing so," he replied sternly, "Arkham is not a place to visit."

"Batman, she's still my friend," she looked into his concealed under cowl eyes. He watched her. "I would like to talk to her."

"About?"

"I have my reasons," she snarled coldly. The coldness didn't suit her, the sternness and hard stare looked somehow out of place. And yet, he couldn't stop observing with fascination.

"You ask for help but in return, you offer not even an explanation," he countered.

"I'm not asking," she corrected him, "besides, it's not like you're particularly open. People around me seem to be like that," she scoffed, "are you even human?" he remained unmoved, "forget that I asked."

"What do you need to talk to Quinzel about?" he continued. Y/N merely sighed with resignation, gazed into the bay and began.

"During the gala, she said something I can't stop thinking about," she said with a single breath, "she said I should look at the company I choose for myself and the people I seek help from before I start judging her." She looked at him as if looking for an explanation, a clue that would help her understand. He remained silent merely watching as single drops of approaching rain glittered in her hair. He may have had his suspicions, but they were still only suspicions. Without evidence, there was nothing he could do. Without evidence, he couldn't protect her, because what if he was wrong? "Given that my so-called company isn't particularly extensive, I only have three people to choose from. You, my former therapist and Bruce Wayne," she continued, "of which I can cross you out right away. Somehow I don't think she meant you when she talked about the company. Which leaves me with a choice between Bruce Wayne and my psychiatrist."

"Bruce Wayne, huh?" curiosity took over him.

"Don't pretend you haven't seen it," she snarked, "the pictures went viral all over the internet."

"I have seen."

"But somehow Bruce doesn't fit that comment to me either," she sighed in reflection, "why him? What could she possibly have against him?"

"Wayne is a public figure and Wayne Enterprises funds the GCPD," he noted, "Wayne Tech's plans for improving the city don't align with the criminal activities of people like Joker."

"No, that's not it…" a single flash of lightning brightened her pensive face, "you should have seen her. It was as if she was pointing out my own hypocrisy when I said that the Joker is a murderer and a psychopath. Bruce doesn't fit that comment. Bruce is a good man, a truly good man. There is care, kindness, and compassion in him." A strange feeling of warmth spread inside him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had spoken of him with such affection.

"You say that as if it's a problem," he noted when sadness took over her eyes.

"I'm not a good person, Batman…" a murmur of thunder followed her words. "I'm not."

"Every time we meet you try to do something for others, to help the other. And yet you say of yourself that you are not a good person," she looked at him with hopeful eyes, "I know that the Wayne Tech plans are your initiative. How can you say that, then?"

"How do you know?"

"I make it my business to know," he replied sternly, "you didn't answer my question."

"You don't know me," she suspended her gaze on him, "I don't know if I even know myself. Fragments of what I know do not add up to an image of a good person."

"You can tell me," he watched raindrops running down her face, a phantom of impending tears. A storm was hanging in the air.

"I don't know where I would begin…"

"The night is still young," he encouraged, "we have time."

"You think that's how it works? You say two words and I'll start sharing with you?" she glared in his direction but he remained unfazed. The mask hid any glimpse of emotion. It hid his curiosity, it hid his worry.

"Is there any other reason you wanted to meet me in the middle of the night?" he asked as another flash of lightning cut through the sky.

"Maybe I just like the company of mysterious grumps," she snarled back.

"If you say so," he took a sip of coffee and gazed at the city on the horizon. Somewhere in the distance, a siren sounded. A moment later, a second followed. His intercom was silent. He was silent. He waited. He could see the anger eating her up from the inside, the emotions raging inside her as she tried to decide whether or not to open up to him. Nervously, she reached into her pocket, most likely for a hidden pack of cigarettes, but after a second thought, she resigned, took a sip of coffee, then another, then rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, too far toward the edge. His arm shot toward her automatically, stopping in front of her. She only smiled and meekly leaned back.

"Fine," she sighed, "my coming to Gotham was meant to be a new beginning, the start of a new and better life," she began quietly, "I was running away, but I don't know from what. I wanted to leave the past behind but I didn't know what kind of past. I only knew that I had to move forward. Something was missing. There were feelings, fear, anxiety, anger…"

He listened in silence, watching as she slowly removed her mask cautiously revealing herself.

"It was as if a part of me was missing," she continued, "as if someone had erased the last three, maybe four years of my life from my mind," she looked at him. Her eyes shone in the darkness, she wanted to trust him, she needed to trust him.

"You can trust me."

"Trust is not my strong suit."

"That makes two of us."

"Why do I keep getting the feeling that you know more than I think you do?" she mused suspiciously, "do you, Batman? Do you know more than you let on?"

"As I said, I make my business to know," he replied calmly, "but don't worry. You continue to be a mystery." She smiled in response encouraged by his words and continued.

"I am convinced that whoever messed with my head did it on purpose…" she hesitated for a moment, " you know, I didn't know about your existence. I didn't know about anything! How, living in today's world, can you not know about the existence of people like you? Everyone was surprised that someone could move to Gotham so willingly, and I couldn't understand why. Now I know. Gotham is a truly remarkable place. A city where the Killer Croc lives in the sewers, maniacal clowns, gangsters and psychopaths run the streets, and the Dark Knight rises above the rooftops," her gaze rested on him once again, "I didn't even notice when I started remembering things. I think it was when, while being with Bruce in Metropolis, I didn't react to the name Superman or Flash. Yes… I began to remember. Jonathan and his practices…" she frowned, "it helped me reach those parts of my memory that were supposed to be erased, you triggered them, and Bruce helped my head to clear."

"Clear?"

"I'm sure he didn't exactly realize what he was doing, but he encouraged me to give away the pills that Doctor Crane recommended to me," she explained, "from that moment on, everything became sort of clearer. There is something off about him…"

"Wayne?"

"No, Doctor Crane," she corrected, "his practices are unusual, to say the least."

"Meaning?"

"Doctor Crane focuses heavily on fear and how fear controls a person…" she began, "he puts a person into a sort of hypnotic state and guides them through their fears. At least that's what it was like for me." The feeling of anxiety rose in him renewed and the flashing blue light on his forearm, signaling an attempted connection, did not help. Fear, fear control, unusual practices. All he needed was proof. He needed confirmation. He needed to pay him a visit.

"I understand why you asked me if I would get rid of fear if I had the opportunity," he recalled of their previous meeting ignoring the insistent call signal.

"You helped me a lot then," her eyes glimpsed in his direction. The expression of pain and sadness on her face was breaking his heart. "I didn't go back to him for another therapy session. What I already knew was enough. You, Bruce, Jonathan, you helped me without even realizing how much."

"You speak of him with affection," he asked taking advantage of the opportunity, "as of a friend."

"Because he is my friend. Maybe even more than that," she admitted. Jealousy pierced him painfully. "He was there for me when no one else was. He stood by me when I growled stubbornly as he tried to help when I got angry when he confronted me with the truth I didn't want to hear. He answered every phone call, at every hour, when nightmares and fears paralyzed me, making it difficult to function normally," she continued calmly and with every word she spoke, anger grew in him. He should be there. "Fuck! Why am I telling you all this!"

"Doctor Crane would probably say it's because people find it easier to talk to strangers than to those they hold close," he said.

"You're probably right…" she scoffed then abruptly jumped to her feet and backed away from the edge of the roof. With a quick movement, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a packet, and lit a cigarette.

His intercom kept signaling an attempted call.

"Batman, what is a Metahuman?" she asked suddenly revealing the reason she wanted to meet him. He saw what she had done even though she didn't know that. He had suspected it before even though she was unaware of it. He verified and cleared it a few days ago, but how could he tell her? How could he reveal part of the truth to her without revealing the rest? He couldn't. He wasn't ready.

"Why?"

"From what I've read, a Metahuman is someone who has so called Meta-Gene, a change in the genetic code that when activated grants powers. Some people live their entire lives without being aware of the deviation in their DNA and others, well," she smiled as he stepped closer, "others become Caped Crusaders protecting people."

"You've done a lot of reading."

"In my dreams, my visions," she stepped away from him to avoid blowing smoke in his face, "I remember the lab…." she said quietly while her whole body suddenly seemed to stiffen in paralysis as her hand paused halfway to her lips, "I remember the white lights shining straight into my eyes, bright like in operating rooms. I remember trials, tests. I remember being cut, pierced, subjected to electric shocks…" Without a word he stepped up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I remember the doctors. I remember what they said, I remember them saying they wanted to get something out of me…" she looked at him as tears filled her eyes, "they laughed when I begged them to stop. They mocked when I talked about running away. They said that no one would believe me, that they would lock me up in a mental institution," her voice broke, "and now I can throw people against the wall using my will…." tears ran down her cheeks.

"I believe you," his heart was breaking but he couldn't show it to her.

"Batman…" she whispered through her tears, "I think I killed someone," she broke down, "I have blood on my hands. There was a doctor there. I remember him holding his throat as blood flooded his apron. I killed him…"

She fell apart. Crying hysterically, she wrapped her arms around his waist and cuddled her face into his chest letting all the emotions flow out of her. Letting everything she had been hiding, everything she had so meticulously kept under control, tucked away at the bottom of her mind finally come out with an uncontrollable stream of tears. He embraced her and wrapped her in his cape as if that would protect her from the pain of reality.

"I'm a fucking idiot. I delude myself that I can have a normal life, a job, a house, a loving man by my side," the crying didn't stop, "I don't deserve that. I deserve prison. No matter what I do I won't give back the lives of the people I killed," he embraced her tighter trying to calm her down but he knew it wouldn't help. She trusted him. Now she needed to let her emotions out. "Everything I touch turns to shit…" she wept into his chest, "I'm a monster…"

"I've seen monsters, Y/N," he whispered softly holding her tighter, "you're not one of them. You are their victim."

An explosion shattered the silence of the night. For a moment he thought it was the sound of thunder rolling over the city, but another one made him realize his mistake. With a heavy heart, he pushed her away from him, her teary eyes asked the question. He merely stepped back a few paces and picked up the call.

"Robin to Batman!" he heard in the receiver.

"I'm here."

"Shootout between Falcone's and Joker men in Bristol. Falcone's men attacked a police convoy. Two officers down. Nightwing and Hood are on their way."

"Don't let these three escape," he ordered, gazing at the horizon, "I'm on my way."

He cursed quietly and turned back to her.

"I have to go."

"Something's happened," composed, she calmly wiped away her tears.

"Yes," he admitted. He had to go, now. There was no time for explanations. "Call a cab and get home. Don't wander around town," he ordered before hurriedly walking to the edge of the roof ready to jump, but her words stopped him.

"I want to go with you!" she called out catching up with him, "let me go with you."

"No," dread stopped him in mid-step.

"I can help!"

"Are you trying to get yourself killed!?" he raised his voice but she stood unmoved. Anger simmered under the mask. "You keep running toward danger instead of running away from it! This is not a game! You could get hurt or worse, you could die."

"I want to help," she replied stubbornly.

"You are helping," he grabbed her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes, "you are helping where people should help! You are helping with your work, your innovations, your plans to improve the city. You are putting the company you work for on a noble track. You are raising awareness in the people of Gotham. You are helping. Let that be enough."

"I could do more," fire ignited in her eyes, "you could teach me how."

"Go home, Y/N," he ordered, "I don't want to find you following me," he warned then jumped off the roof and glided into the night.

He left her alone.

*

On the other side of town, Jonathan could not sleep. As he watched the raindrops running down the dirty window, he listened to the sounds of gunfire in the distance wondering if perhaps one of his hidden bombs had exploded causing the chaos. Wondering was all he did for the past few days. Locked in the hospital, under the watchful doctor's eye, he had nothing but time to think about every mistake he made. About every poorly planned step that led him to this place. Was it a mistake to hire thugs to execute part of the plan for him? Was it a mistake not to reveal himself yet and let the eventual blame fall on someone else? Was it a mistake to rely on money instead of fear for his small organization? Was it a mistake to steal the toxins that he knew full well Joker had his eye on? Was it a mistake to target civilians instead of going after those who protected them? Perhaps he should have weakened Gotham's defenses first? Strike at the police, perhaps the governing structure, perhaps even Batman and his men themselves? Perhaps he should wait longer? Perhaps he should hire serious people to work for him and not just any goons? Was it a mistake that he decided not to wait any longer, that he decided to seize the opportunity? Was it a mistake to attack Sarah Walters and let her escape? Allowing his emotions to take control when a woman who reminded him so much of Y/N walked into his office. Allowing his own anger to take control of his mind. The chances that she would lead the police to him were slim to none if her mind did not completely crumble after exposure to a more concentrated dose of his toxin. He still remained invisible. He still had time. Finally, was Y/N herself a mistake? Was it a mistake that he didn't draw her to his side? That he failed to release the darkness trapped within her so she would stand shoulder to shoulder alongside him instead of unknowingly working against him?

Nurses came and went, doctors visited him more often than he would have liked, and no amount of assurances that he was alright and didn't need constant care helped. They didn't listen, after all, "Doctor Crane may have had a concussion, he may have experienced psychosomatic disorders, Doctor Crane eats and drinks too little, Doctor Crane should know better than to refuse to talk to a psychiatrist, after all Doctor Crane is one of us and we take care of our own." But Doctor Crane was not one of them, far from it. Doctor Crane's knowledge and genius exceeded their primitive understanding of medicine, their limited academic knowledge of human bodies and minds, their narrow-minded understanding of the scientific field in which they had come to work. He looked at them while disdain grew with each passing day. He watched their inept practices while derision and hatred built up within him like layers of renewing skin that began to cover his cut forehead. He despised them all and every single one of them. He despised their mediocrity, their limited minds, their contentment with the constraints they themselves agreed to. He smiled kindly when the nurses changed the bandages, but the touch of their hands on his skin brought him nothing but disgust. He listened with feigned attention as the doctors updated him on his current condition, but their words brought him nothing but a sense of superiority. Only the thought that he would soon show them what a brilliant mind is capable of, to what limits it can push the human psyche, kept his nerves under control. The soothing vision of their faces contorted in horror, their throats torn apart from screaming brought a smile to his face, comforted him during sleepless nights. Soon everyone would see how limited they were.

The door to his room opened again but in his reverie, he couldn't care less. Another nurse, this time with fiery red hair, entered his room presumably to check his temperature, the condition of his wound, perhaps to inform him that they were planning to remove the stitches, or perhaps to finally tell him when he could leave the hospital. He only cast her a fleeting glance when the heavy thud of her shoes interrupted his musings. Haotic movements and lack of professional greeting ignited his fading hatred as he mentally added her to his list of future test subjects. Looking up at the blackened sky outside the window, anticipating the inevitable unpleasant touch of her hand on his skin, he could not help but smile at the vision of the near future.

However, the touch did not come. With a loud clatter, the nurse only dragged the chair closer to his bed and sat down without a word. The cold realization of another mistake cleared his mind.

"Hi," Joker grinned dangerously, "you look good Doc! How you've been?"

"What do you want? How did you get here?" Jonathan asked calmly. His mind was clear and his nerves were under control. The Joker didn't scare him.

"Rude," he grimaced with feigned offense. Jonathan raised himself up on his elbows wanting to level with the clown but Joker merely pulled a gun from underneath his lab coat and pointed it straight at him. "Now now, don't be hasty," he sang melodiously only to turn serious in a split second as his voice took on an icy tone, "we need to talk."

"I see you brought arguments with you," Jonathan quipped, "you have my undivided attention."

"Perfect!" he grinned, "listen, quite a number you wanted to pull off at that gala! Seriously, my respects! The whole operation so nicely organized! All the important people in one place! Oh, it would be fun if everyone started running in horror and throwing themselves at each other's throats! It would be glorious!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon Doc! You can't fool me!" Joker waved his gun, "you can act innocent or even heroic for the cops, or maybe for my lovely runaway driver," he smiled ominously, "I know how close you two are. I wonder if she knows about your unusual activities."

"You don't know anything."

"Oh do I?" the smile didn't disappear from his face, "I know you stole my transport from the docks! I know it was you so don't try to lie. I hate liars!" he raised his voice gruffly, "I know they were used to create that wonderful gas which your people stuck all around the venue. Oh, they're dead, in case you're wondering," he quipped casually, "I know you're planning something exceptional, I just don't know if you're doing it all by yourself or if someone else is controlling the whole operation. Care to explain?"

Jonathan remained quiet, only his eyes betrayed a stilled desire to clamp his hands on the clown's throat and squeeze the life out of him.

"Doc, you don't look happy. Did I spoil your mood? Sheesh, and here I was, thinking we'd form some kind of partnership. I'd take care of my friend Bats, and you'd have a full rein to spread mayhem. Disappointing," he sniffed comically, "after all, we already share associates!"

"You're delusional," Jonathan scoffed.

"Oh, am I now?" with the agility of a predator he jumped to him and clenched his hands around his throat, "you, Doc, bring trouble. Your plans cost me my shipment! Do you know how hard it is to bribe people these days?! But you do know. Sure you know. You bought off my former men to work for you!" Joker's hands clenched tighter, "you bribed or intimidated! Like a puppy who is looking for his pack, you took what I threw away and usurped it as your own! You are creating a media fuss! You are drawing the cops' attention! They are beginning to snoop! Batman is starting to snoop! You don't want Batman snooping," the air caught in Jonathan's lungs but the Joker only squeezed tighter and, bringing his face closer to his, he growled, "she has the Bat on her shoulder. He's following her every step, watching her from the shadows. Do you think it was a coincidence that Boy Blunder and the birds appeared so quickly? There is something quite different about her that draws him in. She shoves herself everywhere, she's always where she shouldn't be, somehow always in the middle of things. And where she is she the Bat is too. And she cost me Harley!!!"

"I can take care of her," Jonathan gasped out through a clenched throat.

"You better," a low growl came from deep within the Joker, "because if you don't I'll take care of her myself. I've got my own plans and I don't need the Bat flying all over town."

"He won't."

"Stop screwing with my business or Bats will be the least of your problems," he snapped and let Jonathan go. "Well, good talk! We need to do that again soon!" he bared his teeth in a smile, "get well Doc!" he added and nonchalantly left his room leaving Jonathan alone with his anger.

***

Throughout your life you have seen many hospital corridors overcrowded with sick people, busy doctors and nurses doing what they could to provide the best possible care to patients. However, none even came close to what you found at Gotham General Hospital. Doctors left one room only to immediately head to the next, calm and composed, despite the suffering surrounding them from all sides. The nurses tried to maintain a smile on their faces and a warm tone of voice, but their eyes betrayed how many of them were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. As for the patients, they seemed to fill every available space in the hospital. Elderly people trying to fight another illness shared halls with young ones intoxicated by drugs. Young women looked disdainfully toward those who found their work on the streets, and with whom they had to share space. Accident victims and those of gang wars merged into one endless image of wounds, bruises, blood stains and cuts. Someone shouted, "I oughta butcher you! Penguin won't let it slide!", someone else dropped, "Fuck you you pathetic motherfucker! Falcone rules this city!", a mother covered her child's ears in time as the halls filled with the echo of a woman's frustration, "I may be a whore but at least the gangsters pay well and protect us from freaks!" Someone wept from one of the rooms, someone groaned in pain from another, as a doctor walked out cursing under his breath. Gotham was infected, steeped in violence to its core, and nowhere was this more apparent than in the hospitals.

If it hadn't been for Bruce walking beside you with a calm, steady step, you would have run home and removed the stitches yourself. The late night conversation with Batman left you in a somber mood and piling up guilt while the hospital environment didn't make it any easier to conceal that from him. You could only hope not to raise any suspicions. So desperately did you want to escape. Still, his towering figure filling much of the space next to you brought a strange sense of comfort. He didn't have to come here with you, truthfully you didn't even think he was willing to. And yet there he was, glancing at you time and again as if checking to see if everything was okay. He observed everything around with a stoic face and yet, you could see the pain and anger in his eyes.

"Why do you hate hospitals so much?" he asked, watching the changing expression on your face.

"Bad memories," you replied weakly then added, "I spent too much time in hospitals. I entered the hospital grounds too many times wondering if it was the last time," maybe you couldn't reveal the whole truth to him but you wanted to give him something. You might as well have reached further back in your memory. After all, the bad memories weren't just confined to the last missing years.

"They'll remove your stitches and we'll be out," as usual he didn't pressure you for which you were grateful, "a few minutes at the most."

"If it weren't for you, I probably would have pulled them out myself at home."

"Y/N! Would you really do that?"

"I would," you smiled innocently seeing his surprised look, "hospitals give me the creeps. Thank you for coming with me."

"You have nothing to thank me for," a gentle smile lifted the right corner of his lips brightening the dreadful reality surrounding you. You wished so much for that light and warmth he brought with him to stay in your life longer, but deep down you knew that he would disappear from your life as soon as he knew the truth. Pillar of the city, philanthropist, benefactor, for some a reflection of what Gotham could be, for others the only living memory of better times, for many a billionaire businessman, for few a father. You glanced at him stealthily once again painfully realizing that there was no room for damaged goods in his life, no matter how much you wished it would be different.

"When we get back to Wayne Tower I'm getting to work immediately. I'm in contact with several suppliers who will hopefully provide us with the materials we need to make the sensors. After I verify the specifications, I plan to provide a list of potential suppliers to Mister Fox and ask him to order the small quantity needed to make the test components."

"You're starting with sensors?"

"Linking with telecom, internet, satellite and whatnot won't be a problem. Only whether I can design and make sensors that will detect exactly what we need to detect could be. It's the base of the whole project so yes, I'm starting with the most difficult part."

"This is not the most difficult part," he countered, "I have no doubt that we will be able to achieve the design goals. The biggest problem will be the implementation of the system and convincing the city authorities of its relevance."

"Look around!" you stopped in mid-step allowing the nurse steering the medical bed to pass, "it may be naive thinking on my part, but at least some of those victims could be at home instead of in the hospital thanks to this improvement."

"You're right," he admitted in a lowered voice, taking a step closer to you and forcing you to raise your head to look him in the eyes, "I only wish more people in Gotham shared your thinking, especially those in power."

"Did my ignorance and lack of knowledge once again derail my thinking?"

Bruce did not answer immediately. Only gently placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you in the direction from which you came. Your shoulder rested against his chest as he leaned closer to you and began to explain.

"Now you take a look around Y/N," a husky voice sounded right next to your ear as Bruce discreetly began pointing out different parts of the vast infirmary, "to the left next to the entrance in black and white sweats are Penguin's men," you trailed your eyes along his words, "the one in the suit is probably their leader. The Penguin, as the people call him, is really named Oswald Cobblepot and is the last living member of one of the oldest families in Gotham. Penguin built his empire on weapons smuggling. But not just any weapons. Firearms, biological weapons, chemical weapons, whatever was in demand. Once he established himself in the city, he changed his role from a supplier more into a broker. His club Iceberg Lunge continuously hosts Gotham's criminal underworld as well as politicians and businessmen. You see, this is how Penguin views himself, not as a criminal but as a legitimate businessman. Anything that can be bought, sold, sourced, and liquidated with additional profit serves as an object of interest for him. Items, information, people, it doesn't matter. His record includes many assassinations, extortion, blackmail, bribery, and he does not hesitate from getting involved in politics. Just like Carmine Falcone, whose people you can spot at the entrance to the main block corridor, you swept your eyes down the hall toward a group of people dressed in sleek suits. Bruce continued, "Carmine 'The Roman', Falcone is one of the most feared and ruthless gangsters in Gotham and he does not disguise himself as a businessman at all although it's hard to deny his talent for business. Falcone doesn't act alone, he has a whole empire behind his back managed by many members of his family, as befits a true mafia. Brilliant and brutally efficient, he has on his payroll not only countless enterprisers who buy their protection from him but especially police officers and politicians. His organization mainly supplies Gotham with weapons and drugs, but he derives most of his power from his extensive connections, employed blackmail, bribery, intimidation, assassination, and kidnapping. Nothing in Gotham happens without his knowledge. No one gets to power without his approval."

"I assume that those on the opposite side closer to the ER entrance are the rival gang?" you asked quietly looking at the group of people in black suits.

"Maroni's men, always competing with Falcone for positions and territory," Bruce explained, "Sal's chain of Italian restaurants is just a front for his criminal organization. Simply put, where Roman's hand does not reach, Maroni's does. They hate each other but one thing unites them. They both hate Penguin more."

"Why?"

"You see, Falcone and Maroni are classic gangsters, people in power which they acquired in the most brutal way possible. Penguin, on the other hand, represents a new species of criminals in Gotham. Penguin doesn't shy away from working with those whom both Falcone and Maroni treat as freaks. You would never see one of them selling weapons to Joker. Penguin has no problem with that."

"How do you know all this?" you asked turning to him and gazing into his eyes again.

"I'm Bruce Wayne," he replied as if that explained everything, "you don't get to be me and not cross paths with one of them. Or as in my case with all of them. I have power, money, influence and I do what I can for the benefit of Gotham. The name Wayne means a lot in this city and public opinion takes into account my perspective. It's fair to say that they resent the fact that they don't have me under their control."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Gotham is my city, my home. I won't let fear of people like Falcone or Maroni stop me from doing what I do."

"But you are knowingly exposing yourself to a potential attack from their side."

"Believe me, it's not as scary as it seems," he replied with a nonchalant smile, "as you can see we went through the hospital and no one rushed at me with a knife."

"Bruce…"

"I didn't mean to scare you, Y/N. I only intended to make you aware that it's not the city government we'll have to worry about but them," the seriousness returned, "but enough of that. Come on, let's do what we came here to do." His hand moved to your waist steering you toward the surgical ward.

"Wait a second," you placed your hand on his chest, "since we're already here I'll ask if Jonathan is leaving tomorrow as planned," you informed him and without waiting for his answer you moved towards the nurse at the reception desk.

The reception desk was only a few steps away and it didn't even take you a minute to cross the hall. Yet a minute was enough for you to observe the unpleasant stares from the gangsters who shot in your direction time and again, to hear quiet whistling and disgusting comments.

"Look, look, Wayne's new doll. Nice ass. Why don't you introduce yourself?" came to your ears.

"Come on Frankie, the Prince of Gotham is right there."

"So what! What's he's gonna do? Fucking nothing! But I know what I'd do to her if I got my hands on that ass. She'd be squealing."

"It's not what he's gonna do. But what the Boss will do if he finds out."

The shivers ran down your spine only for moments quickly replaced by a new, yet familiar feeling. He watched you. His gaze, like a cool soothing touch rested on your back and did not leave you waiting for you to return to him. There was something reassuring about it, and yet strangely unsettling at the same time.

"Excuse me," you turned to the nurse drowning in patient files.

"Wait your turn."

"No, it's not that, I just wanted to ask about the patient who is staying here," you continued but the nurse didn't even raise her eyes from over the documents.

"When was he admitted?"

"Four days ago," you replied.

"Ask in the ward. This is an emergency room."

"I don't know which ward he's in. I would be very grateful for your help," you tried again feeling an increasing chill on your back, "Doctor Jonathan Crane? If you could at least point me in the right direction."

"Are you family?" she asked moving her eyes from over the documents to the computer screen still ignoring you.

"No, a friend."

"We only give information to the patient's family."

"Please, I'm sure he wouldn't mind," you insisted while the chill on your back continued to rise. The gangsters' conversations quieted down.

"We do not give information to non-family members."

"We're not asking for his health status but what ward he's in," Bruce corrected the nurse appearing silently beside you, "I'm sure you can give us such information."

"What don't you people understand, this is an emergency room not a ward!" the woman finally raised her annoyed eyes that instantly softened, "Bruce Wayne…" she whispered stunned, "I mean, Mister Wayne, yes, of course."

"That won't be a problem, will it?"

"Absolutely not! I'm already checking," she replied with a smile while tapping Jonathan's name on the keyboard, "yes…. Doctor Jonathan Crane, admitted to trauma, transferred to general after a day, head injury, possible concussion…" she read from the computer, "discharged today at his own request."

"Discharged?" you asked surprised.

"Yes. But he hasn't picked up his papers yet so I assume he's either still in his room or in the treatment area for a bandage change."

"Thank you so much for your help," Bruce's charming tone brought a smile back to the nurse's face, "we were just going there."

*

All Jonathan wanted was to get as far away from all the overprotective doctors as he could. Settle into the peaceful silence of his lab and continue his work. All he had to do was get his bandage changed one last time and pick up his discharge card.

The Joker's visit brutally made him realize that he was not as invisible as he would have liked. The fact that the cops were looking for him was known to him, but he was sure he could deceive them indefinitely. But if the Joker was able to get to him, Batman was certainly closer than he thought. After an unexpected encounter in Arkham, he was convinced that Batman was there because of Harleen Quinzel. After all, that seemed to be the most logical explanation. Just one of the many errors in thinking he made. Y/N and her lies, her half-truths, her untold facts caused him to overlook another explanation. He failed to see the obvious connection. Sure, she told him about the events at Iceberg Launge, she told him about how he rescued her from the sinking car, but how many things did she leave out? How many things did she leave unsaid during their sessions? She claimed to trust him and yet she was never completely honest with him. The trip out of town turned out to be a party in the company of none other than Bruce goddamn Wayne of all people, he could only assume that her previous date was also with him. A lying imposter, she chose her words so carefully to give him exactly what he wanted while not revealing the whole truth. "Fool!" he gritted his teeth.

"I'm sorry Doctor, but I'm trying to be as gentle as I can," the nurse uttered seeing his sudden reaction, "unfortunately the wound may still hurt for a few days," she added applying a fresh bandage to his temple.

"It's fine," he muttered in response.

If she had concealed so much he could only guess how many other things she had kept from him. Did he have reason to believe that she had seen him more than the two times she had told him about? Perhaps because of Quinzel she kept in touch with him? Perhaps she even told him about his unusual practices? Perhaps she didn't have to. Perhaps he already knew. Did he have reason to believe that Batman knew how unusual she was and that's why he decided to observe her? One thing was certain, whether she wanted it or not, she had led Batman to him. He had to act fast. He had to decide his next move quickly and deal with the problem she posed. All he had to decide was how. He had roughly 24 hours to plan what he would do with her. A day to decide before Y/N would show up again and start lying and cheating under the guise of being honest and open. A day before Y/N…

The door to the treatment area opened and in it stood Y/N. Behind her back towered none other than Bruce Wayne. She looked around the room as Wayne grabbed the doctor's arm, stopping him in his steps. Two sentences were enough for the doctor to point them in his direction. She smiled brightly at the sight of him, and with her smile the 24 hours he had to make plans disappeared.

"Jonathan!" without a moment's hesitation she ran up to him and, completely ignoring the nurse finishing her work, threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. Although rage boiled within him, he welcomed her embrace eagerly.

"Game on, Wayne," he thought as he watched his icy stare while he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tighter.

"It's so good to see you. I was worried," she beamed and before she pulled away from him her lips pressed a light kiss against his cheek, "you look great! They took good care of you here!"

"What are you doing here?" he asked her simultaneously acknowledging Bruce's presence with a brief nod.

"Bruce brought me in for stitches removal," she replied lifting the sleeve of her blouse and showing a long wound, "supposedly scars make the man. I'll have another one for the collection," she sassed.

"Very kind of you, Mister Wayne," Crane turned toward Bruce with feigned courtesy.

"You were supposed to stay in the hospital until tomorrow," Y/N continued, "I was planning to pick you up."

"I'm definitely fed up with the hospital," he replied, "so fed up that I think I'll take an overdue vacation."

"What were you thinking! What you did was incredibly dangerous!" anger ignited her eyes.

"No more dangerous than your actions," he pointed to the wound on his arm, "maybe we shouldn't talk about it now."

"Right," she agreed, "since you are leaving the hospital today…damn. This is not how I planned all this. "

"Things don't always go according to plan. But don't worry, I'll call a cab."

"Nonsense," Bruce inserted himself into the conversation, "we'll give you a ride."

"There is no need for that," Crane refused but Y/N completely ignored it.

"Seriously, it won't be any problem?" she asked, walking up closer to him. Too close for Jonathans' liking.

"Absolutely none," he replied without a second thought.

"You're the best," she smiled brightly, "I'd stay for coffee, maybe do some shopping for Jonathan. I know a moment ago I was talking about work but…"

"Relax," Wayne interrupted her, "do what you have to do and come to work later. I don't see any problem."

"But Mister Fox…"

"Flexible working hours, remember?" he noted, "don't worry about Lucius. I'll take care of it."

"Bruce, I don't know," she hesitated.

"But I do," he interrupted her again, "let's get your stitches out and get out of here," he decided, " Doctor Crane if you're done why don't you wait outside with me? Let's give Y/N a little privacy."

The nurse nodded, gave final instructions advising Jonathan that for the next few days he should take things easy, avoid long baths and soaking the wound, keep it clean, and report for a check up if necessary. She also instructed him to pick up a discharge card before leaving, then bid them both good day, focusing her attention on Y/N.

"We'll wait outside," Bruce threw in her direction before closing the door behind him.

They were left alone. Although the hospital life in the hallway was bustling with machine sounds, conversations, raised directions, clattering equipment, and whining patients a complete silence settled between them. Standing on one side of the door, Jonathan occasionally glanced silently toward Bruce, who without a word pulled out his phone and immersed himself, as Jonathan could only assume, in his work. "Bruce fucking Wayne," he cursed in his mind, "on top of everything I have to deal with him. As if it wasn't enough that Y/N drew to me Joker and Batman she had to catch his attention. Fucking magnet for trouble."

"Mister Wayne," he began, glaring at him from above his glasses, "thank you again for offering to drive me home but I assure you it won't be necessary. I'm sure someone of your status has much more important things to do."

"As I said, it's no problem," Bruce replied without taking his eyes off the phone screen, "Y/N was very worried about you, I can see how important this is to her. It's the least I can do."

"Speaking of Y/N," Jonathan lowered his tone and stood closer to him, "let me be direct and ask, what do you want from her?"

"I beg your pardon?" Bruce glared at him sternly.

"A simple question Mister Wayne."

"I believe it is none of your business Doctor Crane."

"It happens to be my business," Crane countered, "you see, Y/N is in a very fragile state right now. When I met her she already had a ton of problems and buried trauma to work through and, let's be honest, Gotham hasn't been kind to her. I'm sure you know that. She looks like she's fine but the experience makes me wonder how much she can take before she snaps," his gaze traveled through the glass of the door in her direction then returned to him.

"Your point?" Wayne's face expressed no emotion.

"She was making fantastic progress and then you showed up and she stopped. She is living in denial and you are the distraction that gave her an escape route," Crane continued, "please understand me, I only have her best interests at heart."

"She is lucky to have a friend like you," Wayne remained unmoved.

"Leave her alone," Crane's words sounded closer to a warning, "for her sake. Let's not fool ourselves sooner or later this will end in tragedy. At the risk of offending you, Mister Wayne, everyone knows your reputation. How long will it be before you get tired of her and move on to the next flavor of the season? Weeks? Months perhaps? Y/N doesn't look at you through the same lenses as others, and I assume you must find it extremely refreshing. But sooner or later you will disappear and leave destruction behind," Jonathan's cold gaze confronted Bruce's stern one, "all I want is to protect her from the inevitable. Y/N is strong but I can't let her take another hit. I'm not sure I'll be able to help her put herself back together."

"I'm sure Y/N would appreciate your concern," Bruce spoke gravely, "and I will agree with you on one thing, she cannot take another hit. But rest assured you won't be helping her put herself back together."

"I'm glad we understand each other."

The door to the treatment center opened brightening their surroundings again.

"Stitches are out, another sexy scar for the collection!" Y/N sassed with a broad smile, "I don't know about you but I'm so ready to leave the hospital! I could use some coffee though!"

*

On the way out of the hospital, Y/N didn't hide her joy at seeing Crane back on his feet. Yesterday's sadness and despair had disappeared replaced by her usual cheerfulness and Bruce couldn't help but wonder how much of it was an act. The intrusive thought prompted him to imagine how easily she would have found her place in his world returned but he quickly pushed it away focusing his attention on observation. She kept asking him about his health, about what the doctors said, about what recommendations he had, and he politely answered. But the politeness of his voice had nothing to do with the expression on his face that Bruce monitored in the rearview mirror. Restrained and cold, time and again laced with a calculated smile as he glanced in her direction. Bruce had seen this expression countless times and understood very well what it meant, Crane was hiding a completely different emotion. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone in his company. But Sunday's incident did not bring him any closer and Y/N was proving more and more every day to be his biggest clue and perhaps his best chance to expose him. He had to take that risk. He had to push aside his feelings for the greater good. The unease he felt suspecting him of being involved with the attacks on the people of Gotham, of messing with Y/N's mind, was becoming increasingly more justified and after the night's conversation, it almost became a fact. An uneasiness that was now further intensified by his growing jealousy. But what worried him, even more, was that Y/N seemed to completely ignore the obvious signs. She was so eager to jump right back into the middle of danger as if her instincts were working in reverse. Driven by concern for others, she completely disregarded her own safety, which she only proved to him yet again last night. He had to act quickly and discreetly. He had to find hard evidence that he could use against him before it was too late before Y/N becomes his next victim. But for now, he had no choice but to hope that after the failed attack Crane would be cautious that, if necessary, Y/N would activate the transmitter he had given her. That he was not making a mistake.

He stopped the car outside the small building that Crane had pointed out to him and carefully scanned his surroundings. "A few CCTV cameras, no problem," he quickly counted six that could record images located nearby, "but neighbors' prying eyes could be," he scanned the surrounding buildings, combining the number of parked cars with the number of tilted windows, "I'll have to come at night, make sure Crane isn't home, disrupt the cameras, turn off the street lights, and get in through the balcony window, preferably from the roof," he planned quickly as he got out of the car and walked around it to open her door and help her out.

"Thank you again," she smiled, standing in front of him with her hand still holding his. He didn't let go.

"Let me know when you're ready. I'll send a driver to pick you up," he ordered.

"Come on. I can call an Uber."

"All right. In that case, the driver will wait for you as long as it takes," he replied gently but leaving no room for argument.

"You don't take no for an answer, don't you Mister Wayne," she smirked.

"I do not," he smirked back, "don't be long."

"I won't," she replied, slipping her hand out of his hand. He didn't let her. Instead, he put his arm around her waist, pulled her closer and kissed her. She didn't resist. The brief surprise subsided when her lips softly welcomed his as her free hand rested on his chest. Her lips craved it as much as his, and although they both maintained decent control, he prolonged the kiss.

"I'll see you later…" he said when their lips finally parted then kissed her again briefly, nodded shortly to Crane, got into the car and drove away.

*

One glance in Jonathan's direction was enough to cool your burning feelings. His face set in stone and devoided of emotion, a cold and disappointed look, without a word he headed towards the entrance of the building while you followed. The rest of the day did not look pleasant, but you could not simply ignore him. For the past months he had been there for you every time you needed him, so now it was time for you to be there for him. Even if everything was much more complicated now. You were ready to endure his reluctance and aloofness, maybe even anger, if it meant that you would be able to take care of him the way he took care of you. After all, he was the one who stepped forward to defend the people, standing up to your friend and the Joker. After all, it was your friend who got him into the hospital.

As you walked in silence up the stairs leading to his apartment on the third floor, you couldn't help but reflect on your Sunday conversation, on the words he said that made everything feel different. He cared about you more than you thought and in the meantime you let Bruce sweep you off your feet and take you to Wonderland. Simultaneously, with that in your mind, you allowed Bruce to think that Jonathan was just a friend to you, you took advantage of his understanding and lack of knowledge when you could have simply been honest with him. Perhaps Jonathan was right, perhaps lies and half-truths indeed came too easily to you? Life around you seemed to take on a frenetic pace, events unfolded one after another and you tried your best to keep everything under control. Failing miserably.

"So, you and Wayne are like a thing right now?" Jonathan asked bluntly as soon as the apartment door closed behind you.

"Wow, that was quick," you snarked with a frown.

"What else did you expect? That we would waltz around the subject?"

"No pun intended, huh?" you scoffed angrily, "I don't know, maybe the usual hey coffee on the second shelf in the cabinet above the countertop."

"Coffee on the second shelf in the cabinet above the countertop," he snarled, "I need a shower and a change of clothes. I stink of the hospital," he added then disappeared behind the closed door of his bedroom.

"Fantastic start, great job," you sighed throwing the jacket and bag on the armchair to head toward the kitchen, "but he's right. What did I expect?" You turned on the coffee maker, then the air conditioner to pull out the stuffy air then opened the window to let out the weird smell spreading through the apartment. You regretted not taking your cigarettes with you. You could use one right now. Instead, caffeine had to be enough. The black one which you hated. But the milk had managed to spoil in the four days of his absence. You couldn't find any cream either. Neither could you find bread, nor any essentials. The refrigerator was glowing empty.

"When was the last time you cleaned the air conditioner!" you threw loudly in the direction of the bedroom, "and did any shopping? Your refrigerator is empty like no one has been here for weeks!"

"I've been eating out or at work a lot lately, and the AC is broken," he replied, as he walked out of the bedroom. Dressed in a suit, a clean white shirt and a silver tie tied tightly around his neck, he looked like he was heading straight to work. Only the wet hair pulled back from his face implied otherwise.

"The doctor told you to take things slowly," you scolded, "I'm going to run down to the grocery store, and cook something for today and tomorrow. Stay at home."

"I have work to do," he grunted under his breath while pouring himself a cup of coffee, "I'm not going to sit at home and do nothing."

"You said you'd take an overdue vacation."

"I have other work to do."

"What other work?"

"Other work," he repeated with emphasis, "outside the hospital. Stop with the questions. You know I don't just work at the hospital. My patients have been unattended for the last four days. I have to check on them."

"Jonathan I'm sure your patients will understand that you need a few days off," he avoided your gaze, "work is the last thing you should be thinking about right now."

"Look who's talking," he mocked, "how quickly did you get back to work?"

"On Monday," you admitted, "but it's not the same. I only got a cut. You got a baseball bat to the head."

"Why did you run after her!" he asked suddenly and his gaze finally focused on you, "why do you keep running toward danger? You're only drawing attention to yourself," anger blazed in his eyes.

"You know very well why," you replied calmly, "I had to do something."

"No, you didn't have to!" usually subdued this time he raised his voice, "you didn't have to Y/N! Normal people see danger and run away in the opposite direction! You run towards it!"

"Maybe I have things to make up for," you argued quietly.

"What things? What aren't you telling me again!"

"I didn't come here to talk about myself," you muttered, "I'm no longer one of your patients you have to check on."

"You're right, you're not," sounded menacingly. Jonathan stepped closer trapping you between the kitchen counter and his own body. "You're not my patient. You won't be my patient ever again. But you are a woman I care about, whose well being I care about. The fact that Wayne came into your life doesn't do any good."

"We're not going to talk about Bruce," you snapped.

"He's playing with you."

"You don't know him, you have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Fuck! Y/N you sound like Qunizel," he laughed, "and you supposedly know him? He's a womanizer! Playboy. Everyone knows about it! He changes women like his suits! He constantly shows up with another one! I thought you were smarter than that."

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"You're not special," he smirked spitefully, "you're just another one."

"It was a mistake for me to come here," you growled slamming your coffee mug on the countertop, "I thought we could continue being…"

"Don't say friends," he interrupted you, "no, we won't be friends. Friends don't lie to each other."

"I am more honest with you than with anyone else!" you lied without thinking, "I thought you of all people understand that it is not easy to talk about certain things!"

"You lie, you lie constantly," he placed his hands on the countertop on both your sides, "you hide from me, you conceal the truths. And even though I confronted you with this barely a few days ago, you are doing it again."

"Get away from me…" you whispered, trying to find a little distance. You had never seen him so angry.

"He is bad for you Y/N," Jonathan continued lowering tone of voice, "he brings to you danger you can't see. Don't you have enough excitement? Do you really need an aristocrat who will entertain himself with you and leave you more broken than you already are?"

"Space, please…" you looked at him fiercely but he only pushed back the hair falling on your cheek before trailing his hand along your neck.

"But you like it. You like danger," resounded from within him ominously, "after all, no one forced you to go to the Penguin Club, to risk your life back then on the bridge, to confront Harleen, to seek help from Batman instead of me."

"Jonathan stop…" you warned while the familiar feeling inside you reawakened. Energy seemed to pulsate through your veins, filling your body, infusing the muscles, forcing you to act.

"How did you feel when the Joker put the blade to your face?" he asked as he pressed his hand to your throat, "were you afraid?"

"I was not afraid."

"Lies," the green eyes brightened intensely, "lies, lies, lies. Did I ever tell you how much I hate liars?" he clenched his hand tighter on your neck.

"I'm not lying," you replied stubbornly.

"Were you afraid when the black waters of the bay filled the car?" he ran his free hand up your thigh, "when life began to flee from you?"

"I wasn't afraid," you replied unmoved but inside the energy was burning. The same energy that pushed you to act, the same energy that made reality seem to yield ignited your senses. It was furious.

"Were you afraid back then, when in visions you lost control over your own body? Over your own will?" he moved his hand over your hip while tightening the other more firmly around your neck, "powerless, hopeless."

"Take your hands off me…" you warned.

"I'm not going to hurt you," a deep smokey voice assured, "I'm just trying to help you."

"Stop it…" your senses ignited dangerously as his hand moved higher up your waist.

"You're afraid," his eyes demanded submission, "you're afraid. I can see it…" he slid his hand under your blouse, "I can feel it…" he smiled with satisfaction, "but you like it."

"I said stop!!!" you shouted extending both hands in front of you and pushing him away. Energy flew out of you sending Jonathan several steps backward. A fright took over you when you saw his shocked face, "I'm sorry…" you whispered but he only smiled.

"How did you do that?" he was fascinated.

"I don't know."

"Do it again," he demanded moving toward you. His eyes blazed.

"I don't know how."

"Do it!"

"I can't! I don't know how!"

"But I know…" he growled menacingly jumping at you again, "I told you that fear controls you. I told you what power it has over you," he closed the space between you again, "admit it. You are afraid."

"I am," you replied, looking into his burning lustful eyes, "but not of you."

"What are you afraid of?"

"Loss of control," you replied, "I'm afraid of this strength that's inside me," you looked at your hands, "I'm afraid of my thoughts. Of the fact that I might hurt someone. I'm afraid they'll lock me up. The feeling of powerlessness."

"Let it go," he grabbed your hands firmly, "give me your fear. Let it go. Feel the strength," he tightened his hands around your wrists, "I can make you stronger than you have ever been. Free from the fear that limits you," he murmured softly, "I have opened your mind, I will take away your fear and fill you with power you have never known. I will show you the world as I see it. I will open to you possibilities you didn't know you had," his hands gripped tighter on your wrists, "we could do so much together."

"Stop…" you whispered slipping your hands out of his, "I can't control something I don't know. I could hurt someone. Like then…"

"You'd rather others hurt you!" he shouted grasping your arms. You squirmed in pain. "You'd rather they were the ones inflicting wounds on you!" he gripped your arms tighter.

"You're hurting me!" you groaned as his fingers painfully dug into the wound.

"You'd rather be a victim!"

"No!"

"How did you feel when you took control! How did you feel when you inflicted pain on those who hurt you!" blood ran down your arm, "how did you feel when you lost control for a moment!"

"Alive…" you whispered quietly, "I felt alive."

"You are chasing danger," he growled, "danger excites you," he pulled you close, "it fills you with this burning exhilaration."

"It does."

"They've used you, they've abused you," danger ignited in his eyes again, "you continue to let them. Those who held you, your friend, Batman," his hands took hold of your neck again, "they tightened the noose of fear around you and you let them," he clenched tighter, "they suffocate you. And you let them. How much can you take before you snap?"

"What makes you think I haven't already," you whispered pulling toward him ignoring the pain pushing against your throat, "I remember the terror I felt in the past. Fear, helplessness, pain, weakness. You helped me remember," you released one of his hands from your neck placed it again on your waist. He squeezed painfully. "I remember the harm that was done to me, the will that was taken from me," you released his other hand. His eyes widened with fascination. "I remember how they cut me, stabbed me, tested me," you ran his hand down your arms, tracing each vein directing it upward, over your breasts where electrodes used to be pinned, down over your stomach to direct it down to your back toward the spine where needles used to be inserted. "I remember their laughter, I remember the mocking, I remember the voices and faces of the people who did this to me," the hand on your waist clenched tightly as the other pulled you closer, "I didn't tell you. I remember more than I would like to remember."

"What do you want?" he asked as his hand traveled further down to slip under your skirt.

"Justice," you replied as your body trembled.

"What do you really want?" he tightened his hand painfully on your hip.

"Vengeance," you smiled, "I want to make them afraid as much as I was afraid," the green of his eyes grew sinister. You grabbed his jacket and yanked him closer, "I want you to show me your world. As you see it. I want to lose control."

His hand clenched harder but your scream stifled his violent kiss. He drew you close while his lips began to greedily drink the hatred from yours. You threw your arms around his neck and drew him stronger to you. The pain on your hip disappeared when his fingers entwined in your hair and yanked strongly back.

"If you lie to me," he began ominously.

"Awh, come on Doc! Are you scared?" you purred, unleashing lust in him. You grabbed his neck and drew him back to you. His strong arm wrapped around you as his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You moaned as his hand went under your blouse, closing on your breast. He pushed against you with all his strength, kissing your neck, your collarbones, caressing your nipple with his fingers. Taking advantage of the countertop, you gently bounced up and wrapped your legs around his waist. He hardened against you as with one hand holding you in the air he pulled off your blouse with the other. You entwined your fingers in his still damp hair as his greedy lips closed on your breast. Blood pulsed in your temples as he sat you down on the countertop and slid his freed hand between your legs. You tugged at his hair forcing him to look at you. The green in his burned venomously. You drowned again in his lips. In his passionate, lustful lips. You drowned in freedom, in bliss, in anger, in hatred as his fingers began to wander at your entrance. Kissing incessantly, you loosened his tie, ripped his shirt open while buttons scattered over the floor. His fingers entered you as you dug your nails into the exposed skin of his arms. You moaned in pleasure as you slid your hand into his pants.

"Show me," you whispered in his ear sensing him hard under your fingers, "show me what it's like to be powerful," you tightened your grip on him, "take away my fears," he pulsed in your hand, "make me free." He pulled his fingers out of you, grabbed your hips and lifted you allowing your legs to wrap around his waist again. Devouring lips crashed against yours again.

"I'll do a lot more than that," he breathed against your lips.

"Do whatever the fuck you want," you murmured in delight as he continued to hold you in the air while heading for the bedroom. With a kick, he opened the door as his passionate kisses caressed your neck. He threw you on the bed and ripped off your skirt. Naked, uncovered, you watched as he slipped his pants off revealing himself in all his glory. Your hand went between your legs invitingly. You moaned as he watched you tease. You didn't stop when he climbed onto the bed positioning himself on top of you. When his hands and lips began to cup your breasts again. He gripped your hips painfully as he pulsed at your entrance. He ran his fingers along your thighs only to slide down lower a moment later to kiss the inner of your thighs, to tease your lips with his tongue. You moaned arching under his touch. Giving him temporary power over your body.

"I knew you were hiding from me," he whispered as his eyes shone in front of yours again, "why these games. Why the lies?" he asked kissing you passionately, teasing you with his aroused hardness, "what was the game of appearances for?" he asked sliding over your wet entrance.

"I needed to understand," you replied arching toward him, "I needed to remember," you wrapped your leg around him encouragingly, "maybe I was afraid."

"I'll show you fear," he growled entering you violently, "I'll show you the fear no one knows," you moaned and he thrust in again, "I'll show you what power fear has," you spread your legs and he pushed in deeper, "I'll show you how to control it," a cry of delight broke out as he penetrated deep. Harder, with rhythmic movements, he moved inside you pressing you with all his weight against the mattress. Slowly and steadily at first, only to increase the pace as your body began to beg for more. He sped up and slowed down while his breath cooled your burning skin. He teased you with his fingers pressing his lips to your breasts as you moaned from pleasure with each violent thrust. Your body trembled as he knelt down, grabbed your hips and began to push rhythmically, deeper and more intense. A loud ecstasy filled the room as he pressed his hands against your breasts. Your body arched when his lust took over you as he drove his fingers into your hips pushing into you with all his strength filling you with an electrifying feeling of freedom. You were close to the end but he was just beginning. With a swift movement, he turned you on your stomach, trapped your legs tightly between his own and thrust into you violently, pressing his whole body against yours.

"Is this what you wanted?" he again clamped his hand on your throat tilting you back pumping intensely, "pain and pleasure," he rammed into you harder, "are you afraid?"

"No," you groaned.

"You should be," he purred sliding out of you only to lift you up, sit on the bed and let your legs wrap around him tightly as you slid down onto him. His lips once again found their way to yours. Found a path down your neck to your breasts. His hands tightened around you again as pleasure filled you completely. An explosion of sensations as you took control sliding out and onto him. The thrill of desire as you sank your nails into him, rising and falling rhythmically, making him penetrate you deeper with each movement. Your bodies pulsed in unison as he pressed you tightly against him with one hand while the other wandered into the drawers of the nightstand. He took control and quickened his pace, you felt blood under your fingernails. He tugged your hair and lustfully began to pleasure your breasts. Exhilaration pulsed in every bit of your body as his fingers found their way to your rear entrance sliding inside. Your body trembled in his hands as his tongue circled around your nipples while he ravaged your insides. You muffled cries in his neck as he invaded your rear with his fingers thrusting from both sides. Another orgasm shook your body but Jonathan only laughed deeply. He slid his fingers out of you, paused for a moment inside you, yanked painfully on your hair tilting your head back, and before you had time to react he sprayed gas right in your face.

Fear gripped you completely. Terror took over all other emotions when Jonathan's face twisted into a wraithlike smile. The lights suddenly seemed brighter, the sounds seemed louder, the blood in your temples seemed to pulse harder than anything else. Panic overwhelmed you completely as you drove your nails into his chest. His eyes blazed venomously as acid rushed from his mouth. His fingers suddenly seemed rough, scratching your skin painfully. His lips savaged yours until blood flowed as he laid you back on the bed with a terrifying smile, grabbing your arms above your head with one hand while pressing the other against your mouth.

"Don't scream," he ordered sliding slowly out of you, "I know you're scared but you can't scream," with his legs he spread yours wider, "you won't scream will you?" he didn't wait for an answer. He rammed into you violently while his hand muffled your cries. Again and again, with a rhythmic throbbing movement, he ripped your insides apart, thrusting harder and deeper each time. "You're so beautiful when you're afraid," he whispered, pulsing inside you, "when terror makes you want to scream but you can't," he pounded harder, "when all your nightmares come crashing down on you and there's nothing you can do!" he exclaimed, ramming into you.

The world suddenly flooded with white again. The white of bright burning lights fell on your bare skin, hurting your eyes, burning your senses.

"That's it," he pushed in harder, "feel the fear. Let go."

They were cutting, slashing and stabbing and there was nothing you could do. Red life was escaping from you through plastic tubes and you couldn't stop it. Powerless. You wanted to scream, but his hand covered your mouth. You wanted to cry but the light seemed to burn the tears in your eyes. Only the violent thrusting sensation slamming into you again and again. Only his exhilarated murmur when the acid from his mouth seemed to flow into yours. Only his strokes between your legs invading you. You snatched your hands from his grasp and sank your fingers into his paper skin, tearing it apart. He moaned in pleasure as he advanced inside you. You sank them in once more but he refused to be hurt again. The only venom in his eyes glistened as he turned you on your stomach for a second time and rammed into you. Pillows stifled a scream when you felt him deeper than before. Like a nightmare monster, he invaded you from behind while a laugh of satisfaction echoed through the apartment. You were completely subject to his will. Powerless as he slid his hand in front and with his burning fingers began to tease you. Acid burned through the skin on your neck and your back as he devoured your flesh. The blazing light burned your senses with each successive thrust. They cut, sliced, and stabbed as he crushed you with his whole body, grabbed your neck with both hands, and squeezed hard pushing down harder and deeper and faster until finally a cry tore through space with the feeling of acid pouring inside you.

Darkness fell.

The monster sank down heavily beside you cradling its hideous face into your neck.

In the darkness you found peace.

"I'm glad you came," he whispered kissing your back, " I really didn't want to kill you," he wrapped his arms around you, "and now that you are mine, I can show you my world."

A single tear ran down your cheek.

You were scared.

***

Chapter thirteen: Questionable choices

~~***~~ Author note: No comment... Well maybe except, I don't know how this happened, it just happened, I wasn't planning on this, I definitely wasn't planning on this! And honestly, for about a week I was thinking about removing that scene and reworking the whole chapter. But ultimately I decided to leave it. I don't know, it ain't my usual thing to write, but it kinda fitted the story, will see where it's gonna lead. I have tons of ideas moving forward. So I hope you won't mind this well...let's call it a moment of weakness. Till the next time Dear Reader! ~~***~~ Tag list: @mrsgrahamsdesign @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming @julesjewelss36 @cherryflavoredcoke @grandstrangerphantom @maripositanoctruna @pluckastarfromthesky @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @pirate-with-internet-connection

[thebiscuiteternal]

Okay, sending the picture doesn't work, sorry about that, so:

Anything for the Au where Meng Yao gets snatched up by a wen solider, works his way up and is one day 'rewarded' by wen Ruohan who has Nie huaisang sent to his room?

Ah, yeah, nonnies can't send images. Submitted images require a name attached too, but with that I can at least edit you to be anon in the actual post. Totally understandable if you'd rather not, however, no push.

(note: I originally had an opening conversation between Meng Yao and Wen Ruohan for this, but my WRH "voice" felt... slightly off. Not up to my standard. I didn't want to extend your wait while I fought with it, so I might try revising it another time.)

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

By the time he opened the door to his room, he had gone through over two dozen possibilities for what this 'mystery present' could possibly be-

-and what he found was not any of them.

He put a hand over his mouth to keep any sound of surprised dismay from escaping, lest someone be listening in where he couldn't see them, then stepped into his room, closed the door, and immediately pressed a silencing talisman to the seam before approaching his bed.

Where there was a boy tied to one of the posts.

Almost immediately, his mind began instinctively taking an inventory of information. Which was good. As long as it was occupied doing that, it wasn't panicking.

First off, the clothing that bore all of the hallmarks of the Nie sect- captive, an important one, clearly, yet sent here instead of the Fire Palace.

The overall ragged state of his hair- clearly pulled more than once in a struggle- and the painful looking bruise that spread down from his left temple over his cheekbone- a favorite knockout tactic for attempted escapees.

Gingerly, he lifted the boy's chin, and estimated that they weren't that distant in age, maybe two or three years at the most.

As he continued his examination, his unexpected... guest made a faint little disoriented moan, eyes fluttering open just enough for him to see they were a vivid pale green before they closed again and the boy once again went slack in his bindings.

Meng Yao took a very slow, deep breath and let it out.

Then did so again.

The number of Nie family members who were in or close enough to the central bloodline to inherit that eye color could be counted without running out of fingers, which, put together with the other things he'd made note of, meant he'd been handed none other than the brother and heir to the sect leader currently leading the war against his own.

He had heard quite a bit about the Brothers Nie since he'd first come under the direct command of the Undying Sun. Wen Ruohan's opinions and feelings about them wandered the entire gamut from 'upstarts to be crushed under heel like bugs' to 'wayward children who merely needed to be taken well in hand," depending entirely on his mood at the moment he happened to be -frequently- thinking about them.

One of his very few requests of his sect leader was that he be allowed to keep his job and his home entirely separated, so given that... that Nie Huaisang had been sent here, it seemed that Wen Ruohan's opinion was currently in the 'wayward child' category.

Which didn't exactly make things easier for him, since, again, it could change at any time. For all he knew, this was anything from a genuine gift to some kind of test.

He sighed and rubbed his head.

Alright.

Alright.

He would simply -as if anything about the situation he'd been handed was simple- focus on 'for now,' to prevent giving himself a headache.

For now, this was intended as a gift.

One to be taken care of, akin to a surprise puppy.

He could do that.

Maneuvering into a position that would make it easier to catch Nie Huaisang once he was no longer bound, he pulled a knife from his sleeve and went to work on the ropes. When the last came free, Nie Huaisang slumped forward into his arms.

Huh.

He was a lot lighter than expected.

Filing that away in his mind in case he needed it for later, Meng Yao managed to get him laid out on the bed with very little difficulty.

He was not, however, a fool, so before he resumed examining for other injuries, he tied both of Nie Huaisang's hands back to the bed post.

By the time he was done, he'd found a handful of other bruises -though none as serious as the blow to the head- and some minor scrapes, as well as a qi-slowing sedative that would need to be burned out of Nie Huaisang's system.

And then it would just be a matter of figuring out what to do once he woke up.

[armpirate]

The Only One || JJK || Ch. 37

Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship

Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons

Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.

His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.

Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 10 minutes

Y/n woke up first, alert by the muted sound that came from somewhere outside the car. Looking behind, she saw nothing other than tree trunks and the muddy road completely dry when she looked through the rear window. She still moved slowly, reaching the gun Jungkook had sneakily hidden under the pilot's seat in case something happened. 

She made sure to unlock the safety, holding the gun tight while she also looked at the front. There was nothing, yet she was convinced she had heard steps and a voice somewhere around the car. 

Maybe her mind was tricking her after everything that had happened in the previous days. 

She almost dropped the weapon, placing it back to where she found it, until the door on Jungkook's side clicked and opened. Her hands moved faster than her eyes, pointing straight at the man who broke into their small peace. 

Assaulted by the loud gasp Jimin let out, and the sudden move from Y/n that made the whole car move, Jungkook woke up to the gun barrel centimeters from his nose and his friend raising his hands in the air, signaling her to stop whatever attack she was planning.  

—I see your girl learns fast —Jimin teased, smiling at Y/n. 

—And you should know better, considering the situation we all are in —Jungkook scolded him, taking the gun away from her. 

—Says the person with no security, sleeping in the middle of the forest —the blond rolled his eyes—. Why are you two here?

—We got a flat tire, and it was raining too much to change it —she explained to him.

—And neither of you thought of calling me, or someone for help. It was better to stay here?

Jungkook and Y/n exchanged looks, completely omitting the fact that getting stuck there was just an excuse for them to get away from all the noise and stress they were in back in the real world. 

—I don't even wanna know all the nasty shit you two have probably done here, but get out so we can change the tire. 

Although Jimin was the one who came up with the idea, Jungkook took his spot and got in charge of getting the car ready to drive back to the city. Not because his friend was doing a poor job, or because he wasn't able to, but he wanted to show Y/n how he'd be able to take care of her even with the simplest things. 

—We get it, your dick is bigger than mine —Jimin mentioned, crossing his arms over his chest—. No one is taking Y/n away from you.

—What do you mean? I was just doing something she didn't let me do last night. 

—Yeah, whatever —his friend ignored what he had to say about it—. There's a small town near here, and probably a repair shop to handle the flatten tire —he said, aiming at Y/n—. Drive safely, big boy —Jimin patted Jungkook's head—. You don't have any more spare wheels. 

—Jimin, don't cross any lines unless you want me to wreck your fingers one by one —Jungkook threatened in Korean, glaring deathly at him. 

In a peaceful sign, the blond raised two of his hands in the air and stepped back, walking to his motorbike -parked at the left side of the car. 

Y/n barely knew the area they were in once they went back to the highway. She was able to tell she had been there before by the surroundings, she could tell apart some places and names on the signs in her memory, but she was way too young back then to have a proper and clear image of where they were. 

—Sineu... —she read out loud, warning him of the nearest place. 

—Is it this exit?

—I guess —she shrugged.

After going through a secondary road, and entering the town but with no luck in finding the repair shop Jimin had sent them. Y/n made him stop when she saw one that was open, although it wasn't the same one they were looking for. 

Jungkook made sure he hid the gun on the back of her pants, giving her a small pat before he handed the keys to the mechanic, while Y/n still communicated with the old man in Spanish, trying to know how long it'd take them to change the tire.

—It'll be quite fast, but I'm still with this car —he pointed to the lifted vehicle in the middle of the shop—. But once I get my hands on it, it shouldn't take longer than fifteen minutes. I'll send you a text when I'm done. Don't worry. 

Jungkook and her exchanged glances, wondering what they were supposed to do there with no car and no way to get out of there. 

—There's a market in the old part of the town. Just an idea if you want to kill some time while I'm done here —the man kindly mentioned, while smiling at Y/n. 

—Thank you. 

Even if Jungkook wasn't too keen on the idea of walking around unprotected, he still followed Y/n up close, walking next to her while they headed to the market the man told them about, surprised by the big amount of people -and tourists- that were there. 

—Doubt they'll try to do anything with so many people —she whispered.

Jungkook smirked at her comment, pleased with her way of thinking, before he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

—Also, second date —she reminded him.

—Date? —he raised his eyebrows— Do you really consider this and what happened yesterday a date?

—You haven't gone on many, right? —she squeezed his side, as they walked past the several stalls. 

It wasn't like he was able to, nor like he wanted. His whole life had been focused on training for the position his father gave him. And it wasn't like his romantic relationships were romantic at all.

—It doesn't have to be something extravagant. Sometimes something simple works —she shrugged—. A person you like, a nice place and good talk can make it. Just get rid of the tension, relax and act like a normal person. 

—Am I not normal? —he jokingly asked, raising his pierced eyebrow while twisting his lips. 

—Your hand is ready to hold the gun at any moment —she pointed out—. If they didn't try anything last night, I doubt they will now. So —stepping back, she made sure his hand would be hanging on his side to be able to hold it, and intertwine their fingers—, let's look around and let's find something to eat. 

—You really aren't aware how dangerous this is, right? —Jungkook didn't move when she tried to start walking. 

—I do —she nodded—, I'm aware. But they will try something even if your guard is up. You have the chance to be calm for a few hours, walk around like there isn't a gun pointing at your head and enjoy the things you weren't able to have when you were younger. 

He then understood what her insistence was on living a normal day and being calm. After what he told her last night, she was using the small things to her reach and control to give him a taste of the life he had never been  allowed to have. She saw the way his face softened in a matter of seconds, poking his cheek with his tongue while he tried to fight his two interests at the moment. 

He would never forgive himself if something happened to her. 

—Do it for me —she asked him. 

—I'd kill for you, Y/n —he assured her, looking deep into her eyes—. But don't ask me to put you in danger, never. 

—Okay —she nodded—. Let's say you don't allow yourself to have fun, and disconnect. And someone shoots from there —she pointed at the top of the church—. How would you avoid it? 

Jungkook knew she wouldn't let it go, and he also knew it probably would end up with both of them arguing. He knew that side of her way too well, to even think he'd get away with his plans if she got in that challenging act. 

He started walking next to her, after letting out a loud sigh that he made sure Y/n would hear. He promised her he'd take it easy, but his eyes kept flying from one person to the other, constantly attentive to the slightest suspicious action that could force a reaction on him. Everyone was suspicious and able to do the most awful crime in his eyes. 

—Oh my god.

His hand was pulled by her, attracted by some of the hand-made traditional toys she saw in the stall at their right. 

—I had one of these when I was a kid —she picked the white clay figure, fingers touching every red and green dot—. Well, my grandpa gifted it to me, but it ended up as decoration in my house.

There was something in the joy in her voice while talking about it that made Jungkook endeared by her. Maybe it was the way she was looking at the ugly object as if it was the most impressive thing, or maybe the way she so carefully left it back to its place while greeting the owner of the stall before stepping away. 

—Who in their sane mind gifts a kid something so fragile? —Jungkook teased her. 

—I was careful with my things —she teased him. 

Y/n saw him relaxing with every minute they spent there, his body finally reaching a full carefree pose that made him even more excited for the time they were having there. 

They walked around over the whole thing, seeing every stall and every beautiful spot in the old part of the town before they reached a food stand. There was a huge variety of pastries, salty and sweet ones, and Y/n was having a hard time just picking one. Whenever her finger pointed somewhere, it quickly moved to a new thing. When the time to order came, she was even more indecisive than when they first got there, which led Jungkook to choose for her. 

Without speaking, he pointed at two pies, that she called cocarroi and empanada; moving his finger over some type of cold pizza topped with vegetables -that he couldn't understand the name of because she covered her mouth with her hand out of excitement. When he thought they were done with the salty snacks, he motioned the man to pick the rolled up biscuit, the meringue cake -that looked more like an ice cream-, a sweet pie filled with chocolate and a small cake that resembled a muffin. 

Even if Y/n had wanted to complain about the amount of food he bought for the two of them, she still happily took the plastic bag and walked with him over somewhere away to sit. 

Before eating, Y/n pointed to the name of each of the things he had bought. It was like she was giving him a small lesson into her culture, and apparently her childhood, too. "My grandmother always prepared this for me" "My father bought this whenever we went back home from hiking". Despite what happened, she seemed to have lived a happy childhood with her family and she still remembered all those memories with love.

At some point, they started eating in silence, looking at all the people that kept walking around, coming and going from the market, before her eyes fell over a couple that was probably their age. She wasn't really thinking of anything, her mind was just enjoying their happiness and their compenetration. It made her think about the weight circumstances have on the way people react to some things, and how they act. Meanwhile, Jungkook's thoughts were guided more towards guilt, and how they'd never be able to have that type of stability, because they'd never be able to feel as carefree as them. 

—I can't give you that —he muttered.

Y/n turned to him, looking into his big doe eyes confused. Her eyes went back to the young couple, pressing her lips together before she spoke. 

—I moved from that phase years ago.

—What phase are you in, then?

—The phase where I carry a gun to stick it up in the ass of the person who tries to mess with our date —she joked.

—Y/n, I'm serious. I can't give you that normal and peaceful life.

—Bold of you to assume I want it —she scoffed—. I want a life that has you in it. Fuck what's normal or not. I just want to love you and grow older together among bundles of coke.

Jungkook wasn't able to hold the snort, followed by a cackle when she mentioned that.

—And we'll be leading Bangtan until then? 

—Of course —she nodded fast—. A walking sting on the left hand, and a Magnum on the right. 

Among jokes and laughs, Y/n made sure her hand would reach his cheek, tracing circles over his skin. He had nothing to feel bad for

—I'm with you until the end reaches us —she whispered.

Cupping her neck, he pulled her in for a kiss. Her lips molded onto his so perfectly and softly, that it made the hairs on his body raise. That passionate link suddenly turned into a playful one, when she moved back and started pecking his lips, chin and cheeks. 

—Let's take one last look around before the car is ready.

Whatever she wanted, he was ready to give it to her. 

It seemed like her words only worked as a reassurance that everything would be fine, it didn't matter what happened. They only paused their walk because her phone started ringing. 

At first, she thought that it was the mechanic, to tell her the car was ready for them to leave, but she frowned when she saw the several texts Jorge had sent her. She already talked with him when Jimin took her out of the disgusting place Pedro had put her in, she reassured him that everything was okay, but he kept confronting her for all the times she had disappeared out of nowhere, for all the money she had been sending him and her weird attitudes ever since she came back. 

"If you're involved in something dangerous, tell me. I'll take you out of there".

Jungkook saw the way her features kept distorting with every second that went by, picking up the phone by himself to read the texts by himself -since he knew she wouldn't speak about it. 

—The police have gone looking for you?

Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc @amy2006jones @allamericanuniverse @00frenchfries00 @massivelyfullenthusiast

[ynisreal]

wires (6) - michael afton x reader

summary: An unfortunate event happens. Michael finally leaves the establishment. You´re getting close to the truth. (5.5k) tw: death scenes, description of a corpse, police? and mentions of trauma.

Chapter Six

You arrive at the establishment at your usual time. Your interaction with Michael yesterday made you a little nervous, the stories he told you and the reaction he got at the end of his shift made you more paranoid than you really should have been. They were rumors, they were just gossip around the neighborhood, at least that's what you believed, but Michael's reaction, the strength with which he held you in the air, despite your protests and kicks to get you down, he didn't flinch. Michael carried you across the auditorium, his arms firmly around you, acting as if you were a threat to yourself. As if what you did or how you behaved would hurt you. It hammered away in your head all night, the confusion keeping you awake for a few hours until your heavy eyes forced you to sleep.

Your thoughts haunted you until this morning, following you to the front door of your work, greeting you at the entrance. Michael wasn't at the office waiting for you, unlike yesterday. You had warned him about Noah coming to the establishment today, which meant that Michael couldn't be seen here with you during your working hours, otherwise it would raise questions and problems with the company's head office, which would be a problem the two of you didn't want to deal with.

You go about your usual routine when you arrive at the establishment, checking all the closed doors that Michael locked during his working hours and turning on the lights in the animatronics' rooms. When you arrive at the Funtime auditorium, your eyes immediately meet the mysterious door you opened last night. You remember the events that led to Michael's reaction, and the presence of the forgotten animatronic comes to mind. With all the emotions that arose between you and Michael, you ended up forgetting to mention the hidden animatronic in the room, since the subject would probably aggravate Michael's nerves.

Your steps are directed towards the mysterious room, with the aim of checking whether Michael has locked it. Your fingers touch the cold handle, which is still a little dusty from lack of use. To your immense surprise, the door was still unlocked. Michael must have been so shaken up last night, you thought, that he forgot to lock the door again. And you were right, Michael wouldn't let you out of his arms for a few moments before you insisted that you had to go back to work. The man never went near that door again, and neither did you, feeling his gaze burning into your back every time you entered the auditorium to carry out a task.

You find the animatronic in the same position as before, the eyes that looked like two lanterns reasonably illuminating the dark room. "Damn, I'm sorry I left you here alone again," you criticize yourself for not having done anything about the great forgotten robot, "When Noah comes today, I'll have to ask him to notify headquarters." You take one last look at the robot, feeling a sense of pity for the disused machine.

As this little interaction comes to an end, the interphone sounds throughout the corridors of the establishment, announcing Noah's arrival. You quickly leave the room, leaving the door open as a reminder of the conversation you would have to have with the architect. Your run to the control room leaves the audible traces of your loud, careless footsteps for Michael to hear in the secret room, chuckling softly as he realizes the hurry in your steps. He was deep in thought today, seeing you so close to the scooping room brought such despair to Michael's already dead heart that he had to take several breaks to breathe and calm down during the day. He kept thinking of all the possibilities, the images of you with your stomach open and your guts spilling out onto the floor being imprinted on his mind. Michael doesn't know what he'd do with himself if that happened, well, he'd probably die again. And what's worse, he'd have no one to blame, no one to torture or kill for your death, being, once again in this absurd franchise, a terrible accident.

"Yes, yes, the report should be in the control room," your voice carries through the corridors, silencing Michael's aggressive thoughts, " I'll go get it," you answer Noah.

"Alice is doing some errands I asked her to do," Noah continues, his tone more irritated than usual, perhaps because of his assistant's absence. "You need to pick up the wood from that carpentry shop, there are some flooring options that the team is analyzing," the architect mentions to you, to which you internally roll your eyes. Michael clenches his jaw as he hears what the architect has asked of you, for fuck's sake, why couldn't Noah get it himself? Michael can already visualize the scene of you carrying the heavy wood, letting it fall on your foot or your delicate hand full of wooden splinters.

As frustrated as you were by the inconvinience of having to pick up the materials, you nodded enthusiastically, especially given Noah's mood, thanks to Alice not being here to mediate between you and the architect. However, you couldn't deny it, Noah was a brilliant architect, from the glimpses you had of the contents of the boxes, it was quality work with a well-defined theme, which made you excited to see the results of the work by the duo of architects who always took your peace away.

Noah stares at you, with an irritated look on his face, seemingly waiting for you to react. "Now," he says, frowning in frustration. This makes you widen your eyes in surprise, as you thought you could pick up the wooden items on your way out of work. Noah rolls his eyes at your surprised look, used to Alice's immediate responses.

"I can't leave the establishment before my workday is over," you try to explain, but Noah doesn't wait to hear it, taking the report from your hands. "If you come by tomorrow, I can have the materials here-", you sigh when you realize that he really didn't wait, already starting to walk towards the animatronics rooms, signaling that he doesn't care about your answer.

Michael is going to go crazy when he finds out that I carried pieces of wood into the building, you think, smiling to yourself. It's true, you may not know it, but Michael was able to hear Noah's request, and indeed, he was annoyed with the architect, always making sure that you didn't have to hurt yourself carrying heavy materials. As you remember the man, your frustration subsides a little, and you think about leaving a note for him today when you leave, given how nervous he was yesterday.

You make your way to the elevator, quickly checking that the keys to the doors are in your pocket along with your credential as you go. Michael hears the sound of the doors opening and closing, signifying that you had gone out to get the wooden materials. Now that you were out of the store, Michael was no longer entertained by hearing you work, so he lay back on the mattress, his head hidden in the thin pillow Henry had brought for him. After his death, Michael no longer had the ability to sleep, which was greatly missed in the eternal boredom that awaited him, but he could manage to relax in a state of meditation, his soul quieting down along with his thoughts. It wasn't like sleeping, but for the time being, it would do.

Michael could still hear the sound of boxes being dragged around the premises and Noah's annoying voice that was sometimes present when the architect was thinking aloud. It was the complete opposite of how Michael wanted to spend his afternoon, he wanted to be listening to your voice, your careless footsteps and watching you work while he hid in the shadows of the corridors. The dead man was tired, the image of you near the scooping room having drained his entire soul of any vitality, and going without hearing or seeing you didn't help. Frustrated, he picked up the small cottons next to his pillow and covered his own ears, being careful not to let any more skin fall off, as his skin was extremely weak and had to be stitched up several times a week. It was odd to not hear anything, but strangely liberating, the absence of the drums his heart used to play leaving a quietude inside his dead body.

With these thoughts, Michael kept his eyes open, picking up one of the many medical books Henry had gathered. The field of health had become one of Michael's interests after his death, since he was a failure at the various lessons the books pointed out, but it was interesting to understand the changes his body would witness. He now knew that his hair would take longer than other tissues to decompose, and that, as he had no intestines or stomach because the scooper had removed them, the hungry bacteria wouldn't eat his body from the inside out. This was a small relief in the desperate situation he found himself in, so he began to devour the diverse knowledge presented in the short sentences together with the complex images, forgetting how much he was missing your voice.

Your return to the store is delayed, taking longer than necessary, since you had dropped one of the pieces of wood on your foot as you were leaving the store and the caring owner bandaged your foot for you, afraid that you might have broken something. You don't think you broke it, but the impact of the wood on the bone of your foot had swollen and turned the skin purple. The way back to the establishment was made with you limping and the woods leaving small splinters in your lap during the cab ride. On the way up the elevator, you sigh heavily, pleased with your success, even at the cost of your foot, in bringing the pieces of wood to Noah. You are aware that the architect will not show any gratitude for your hard work, but just being able to tell Michael about your strength and ability brings a smile to your face. You can imagine the duality of pride and anger in the man's face, proud to see you working hard but angry at the architect for sending you to do a job that could have been solved by Noah himself.

"Sir? I've arrived", you announce as you open the noisy doors of the establishment, "I've brought the woods". You don't wait to hear a reply, leaving the pieces of wood on one of the tables in the main hall, walking towards the corridors. Noah wasn't very receptive, so it was no surprise that he was ignoring your presence. "Noah?" you called out as you looked between the open doors of the animatronics' rooms, searching for the architect. He still wasn't answering you or revealing the room he was in, which was making you frustrated. Your foot wasn't in the best condition to be walking around the entire establishment looking for Noah.

You entered the Funtime Auditorium when you saw the lights on, so you assumed that Noah was inside the room and maybe he was ignoring you for some reason that only made sense in his head. And well, you were right, Noah was there, but not ignoring you because he wanted to, but because he couldn't answer you. The architect was dead, but specifically with his face deformed, his chin dislocated to allow his mouth to be open in a non-human capacity, as if someone had tried to enter. His body had several deep cuts, so deep that they painted the floor with blood and allowed organs and muscles to be exposed or fall out around him. His eyes were on the door, they were on you, as if he were crawling around looking for the exit.

You don't scream, you don't really do anything. Your blood pressure drops, leaving your body immobile and your eyes glued to the corpse in front of you. You didn't have the strength to move your head, your body forcing you to face what would be one of the worst traumas of your life. Shit, your mother was more than a bitch to you and to your sister, your father also abandoned you even when your brain couldn't process what abandonment was and the responsibilities that took your freedom so early were traumatic, but they were alive and warm. They weren't full of blood, with exposed muscles and the ground littered with organs around an empty human.

Your survival instincts finally took over your body, the adrenaline making the pain in your foot disappear and your blood pressure rise again, pumping blood throughout your body, silencing your mind, knowing that the anxiety and fear could be felt later. You take off running, your breath caught in your chest, thinking that if you left the oxygen in your lungs it would let you go unnoticed by the possible killer. Your legs think the opposite, sticking to the floor roughly and noisily, not caring about anything other than getting out through those doors.

When you reach the main hall, you bump into tables and chairs, not bothering to change trajectory, just feeling an unimaginable force rise up inside you, pushing all the objects in front of you, allowing them to leave bruises on your legs from the impact. You open the doors and the loud sound doesn't scare you, the scene you've encountered leaving no room for any other fear or surprise to stimulate your brain. The elevator doors are open, and you rush in, clicking the first button you can reach. You collapse onto the floor, crying loudly, begging anyone listening to make this elevator go down faster. You were desperate, your heart burning in your chest, signaling to your brain the state of stress you were in.

The elevator doors open, and you run through the streets, looking for anyone who can help you. You finally find a small family, who flinch in fear at the sight of a woman running through the streets screaming at the top of her lungs - you probably looked like an insane person. When the words "police" and "death" sound coherent between your panting and your screams, the lady holds the hands of the small child next to her, and calmly replies that they will take you to the nearest police unit.

Michael was still reading, the cotton in his ear allowing his concentration to be enhanced, analyzing the various images that represented the division of the leg muscles. The man, in boredom and endless quiet, challenged himself to memorize the differences of each, pointing at his own leg and trying to guess. Even though his muscles were practically atrophied by this point. The sound of the doorknob of the secret room being forced open was so loud that it pierced through the thick cotton fabric, startling the man. He keeps quiet, thinking it was you trying to get in or checking that the doors were locked properly before you left.

"Michael? It's me, open up," Henry's voice makes the younger man sigh in relief, getting up from the mattress to open the door. Henry practically pushes Michael as soon as he gains access to the small room, which makes Michael frown in annoyance. Why was Henry in such a hurry? The older man was gasping for breath and sweat was showing on his blue shirt.

"Pack your things," Henry says quickly, pulling the sheets off the mattress on the floor, "Anything you can't carry, hide it, we're getting out of here," the older man continues, hastily gathering the sheets in his arms to pick up other items scattered on the floor of the small room. Michael couldn't ask what was going on, used to the trust he had in Henry, only listening to the man he considered family and starting to hide the books and throw a cloth over the small television in the corner. Michael's items weren't cluttered, taking up a small amount of space in the secret room, given that he always organized it to be more visibly comfortable, leaving his things lined up and clean of dust. Michael picked up the mattress and put it under the metal rack, helping Henry pick up the last of the books and CDs that had been stashed away, finally following the anxious man out of the establishment. He had quickly put on his mask, covering the lower part of his face, letting the hood hide his eyes and skin.

Michael was nervous, of course; he hadn't left the same place for months, staring at the same walls and corridors for what seemed like an eternity. As he reached the elevator, he heard Henry leave the items he was carrying on the floor while he reached into the pocket of his jeans for something. "Put these on," the older man handed Michael a pair of sunglasses, which he quickly put on, knowing that the sunlight would be unbearable for his eyes, which were used to the darkness and yellow bulbs of the establishment.

The pair got out of the elevator and walked straight to the garage, where there were three vehicles: Michael's old, abandoned motocycle, Henry's car and a luxury car that he assumed belonged to Noah. Michael's thoughts were racing and anxious, full of questions and guesses as to what might be going on. However, after so long living with doubts and an eternal state of anxiety, Michael knew better than to question Henry in these moments, knowing that the two of them could trust each other more than anyone else. Henry would never do anything to hurt or harm Michael, he knows that, so even if he was confused by the abrupt way the two were leaving the establishment, he would wait for the right moment to get the answers he wanted.

The two of them practically threw the items they were carrying into the back seat, as Michael began to hear the loud noise of sirens arriving near the establishment. Henry hears it too, quickly starting the vehicle and rushing Michael into the passenger seat. The gray-haired man drives out of the parking lot at a speed so fast that it must be illegal for a street as quiet and abandoned as this one. Through the dark lenses of his glasses, Michael turns back to find the scene of several police cars and an ambulance arriving at the establishment through the rear window of Henry's car. The distance between the vehicles and the pair was enough to calm the nerves of the older man, who let out a loud sigh, letting his grip on the steering wheel relax. Henry had managed to get Michael out of the establishment before the police arrived, leaving without suspicion or trouble.

Michael looked at the man next to him when he heard his sigh, quickly analyzing Henry's body language. He was a little pale, sweat had accumulated on his forehead and shirt, his eyes were wide and his face bore fear. No, not again. Michael immediately thought, knowing what it meant to see Henry afraid. The pair had witnessed the horrors and traumatizing scenes that made any horror film or story seem like a fairy tale. Seeing Henry afraid was alarming, and it could only mean something. Or someone.

"Where's Y/n?" Michael asks, voice hoarse and low, his bandaged hand rubbing lightly against the inside door handle of the car, knowing that, depending on the answer, he was ready to throw himself out of the moving car to get to you. Henry takes a deep breath, and looks at the man he regarded as his son, smiling slightly, "She's fine, don't worry," he replies, quickly returning his gaze to the street.

"What happened?" Michael knows that Henry wouldn't lie in a situation like this, so if he said you were fine, it was the truth. But where were you? Where was Noah? Why were there police cars and an ambulance at the establishment? Michael wanted to know what had happened, why Henry had brought Michael out of hiding and if it somehow involved you.[

"Noah's dead," Henry replied dryly, "He was murdered." Honestly, anyone would have screamed or burst into tears at hearing about someone's violent death, but, sadly, Michael and Henry had heard this same phrase so many times that Michael was expecting to hear news similar to this. It was selfish, but the fact that your name wasn't on the phrase that haunted Michael calmed the man's nerves. "The police called the company, reporting that one of our employees had seen a dead body in this facility," Henry continued, "I came running to get you before the police arrived on the scene."

Michael's eyes widen, and he clenches his fists, "Who found the body?" He already knew the answer, but it was a reality he didn't want to accept. Henry took a deep breath, clenching his hands on the steering wheel again in frustration, not directed at Michael, but frustrated with the eternal heartbreak and disappointments that their life seemed to have become. "Y/n, Mike," the nickname came softly from the older man's lips, knowing it was a difficult reality for Michael to accept. Henry knew that the younger man had found comfort in you, always recounting the little interactions the two of you had or revealing traits of your personality that seemed to charm Michael more and more. It was heartbreaking to see the sparkle return to Michael's dark eyes, eyes that had become dead and black because of the various situations that Henry had no control over. The older man had already lost his only daughter to this nightmare in the form of an entertainment franchise, he had found a family and support in Michael, and he wanted nothing more than to see the son he had raised be happy. But that's what usually happens, that's what Henry knew would happen when he saw the smile on the younger man's face again: you would get involved. You'd be lost and caught in the spider's web that was both of their lives, and it would kill Michael all over again.

"Fuck," is what comes out of Michael's lips when he hears your name, even though he already knew it was the most likely thing to happen. But damn it, he couldn't help getting angry, clenching his fists and closing his eyes. Why did it have to be you? A woman who looked so beautiful with a smile on her face, who matched it so well with a soft, happy complexion that seemed to become even more charming when you laughed. You had finally faced a bit of the hell that Michael lived in and he could only imagine your features full of despair, your delicate figure trembling in fear and agony, your beautiful smile turning into a loud, tormented cry.

"She's fine, the police have taken care of her," Henry tried to comfort the man next to him, seeing Michael's closed fists, recognizing the all-too-familiar anger that had stalked Michael's body language since he was a teenager. "Y/n should be in the ambulance being cared for by the professionals," he continues, knowing that if Michael knew you weren't alone and receiving proper support, it might calm the man's nerves.

But no, Michael wasn't with you. Michael wasn't comforting you, he wasn't holding your trembling figure, holding your head as you cried. Michael wanted to whisper in your ear how protected you would be in his arms, how far he would go to ensure your safety. He knew that you should be receiving professional support and would probably be escorted home, where you would cry in the arms of the sister you love so much. Michael didn't answer Henry, knowing that the thoughts he was having wouldn't be understood by the man. Michael just wanted to see you, he knew what it was like to see a corpse for the first time, having experienced this scene all too soon.

"Look, I'm going to check on her later," Henry says after a moment's silence. Michael looks at him, finally a softer look when he hears that Henry is going to check on you. "I need to talk to her anyway, to understand what happened... I can take a message from you to her."

Michael nods, grateful for Henry's help. He knows it won't be enough, just a note or a caring message, Michael wanted to be by your side, healing all your fears just like you did for him.

"Okay, thanks Henry," Michael says and goes back to staring at the view from the window. He had so many thoughts running through his head that he didn't even stop to realize that he was finally out of the establishment. Michael understands that it won't be forever, and that eventually he'll have to go back into hiding, but just being able to see the sunlight again, feeling the warmth illuminate the purple skin of his fingers and the sound of cars interupting the silence.

The day he was left in an alleyway by Ennard, dumped to decompose, it was night, dimly lit and there was little movement on the streets. The establishment wasn't the best in terms of lighting either, so it was the first time he was seeing, really observing, the state of his body. The purple tone covering his skin was dark, some black spots were forming due to necrosis of the muscles and skin, the bands covering his hand were already old, but he knew that if he took them off now, his fingers would probably fall off. Michael opens his jacket a little to see the scar that expands from the beginning of his chest to the top of his pelvic area, bringing back memories of Henry stitching up his empty torso, his bloody hands pulling out any form of wire he could find inside Michael.

It didn't hurt, at least not at the time, the reality of the situation he was in being too absurd for him to focus on anything other than the fact that he wasn't dead*.*** Now, seeing that scar, it was a bit nostalgic, the changes in his body signifying this new phase of his days, and well, the days he met you.

You were still in shock, your hands hugging your two legs while your head was up, watching the policemen enter and leave the establishment. Your body had used up all the adrenaline, leaving you in this state of waking unconsciousness, just letting the stimulus be noticed but not responded to. You didn't have the strength to answer any more questions or listen to the various words of kindness from the health professionals. From what you had understood, you were not a suspect, but they had to keep you close to answer any more questions, given that you were the only one to interact with Noah on his last day. Alice had already been notified, rushing into the establishment, throwing herself on the concrete and crying loudly to see her insufferable boss at least one last time before his body was taken away. Well, he was unbearable, and probably very lonely, given that no one could bear to live with a man like that, but Alice came and mourned his death, over the fact that he would never disturb the little assistant again.

You couldn't feel sad, just going over the terrible image you'd found today, you'd never seen organs or the deformation of a face. It was so bizarre to see a capable, living human being turned into a transfigured image. You didn't want to go home, afraid of seeing the same image on your sister's face or in the dark corners of your room. You were feeling afraid, and it was a bit selfish, you believe, rather than mourning the death of a work colleague, you were afraid of being next. Certainly, dying like that must have hurt, and it must have been a torturous pain. You don't want to die in pain or screaming for help, but Noah probably didn't want to die like that either.

"Y/n?" a male voice calls out to you, but you don't turn your face to see who it is. Honestly, your eyes couldn't leave the doors of the establishment, ready to see the killer running after you or Noah's ghost waving at you. "Y/n?", the voice calls out again, which irritates you, making your face turn automatically to look for whoever was disturbing your silence.

"Oh, hi," you let out when you see the man who interviewed you in front of you. You had forgotten that a body was found inside the establishment where you were employed, so it was obvious that someone would be sent from the main office to come and talk to you.

"I don't know if you remember me, my name is Henry, I'm the one who interviewed you in the selection process," Henry comments, a soft smile forming on the man's face. He seemed nice, you remember, despite the lie he told in the interview, you seemed to like him. You don't smile back. "Look, I came to talk to you about what happened, but from what I've been told you're here all day, so we can talk another time if you prefer," Henry says, giving you the freedom to impose whatever limits your trauma allows.

You put your hands to your face, tired of having to recount the same sequence of events to every person who came to talk to you. It was only fair that they wanted to know, in fact, they needed to know, but the last thing you wanted was to be constantly reliving the scene where you found a dead body in the Funtime auditorium. "We can talk now, I don't want to keep doing this later," you sigh, letting your hands fall into your lap.

Henry nods, understanding your reasoning. "Well, before that, one of the workers found me and asked me to give you this," Henry holds out his hand, carrying a neatly folded, wrinkle-free piece of paper, "I had to send him away, but he insisted that I give you this."

You immediately take the note, already guessing who the writer was. You'd been thinking about Michael all day, waiting for the man to arrive for work only to see you in tears and police cars. You waited for him to come running towards your figure, taking you into a strong embrace, and letting your senses flood with the man's presence. You wanted to feel cared for by him, just as he made you feel every day at work. He always carried the heavy items for you, maybe he could carry the weight of your heart now too, letting you only feel lighter things again. But he didn't come, and it was understandable, probably the cops or the ambulance wouldn't have allowed him to go beyond the perimeter or get in touch with the only person who had information about the case, namely you.

Henry's eyes widened at the speed at which you grabbed the small piece of paper out of his hand, as if you were going to heal all your pain with just Michael's poorly written words. Perhaps they were, yours certainly cured some of Michael's pain. He watches you open and read the paper, the first smile in hours appearing on your face. Henry had seen that smile before, Michael having that same look every time he spoke of you. He didn't know what the younger man had written, letting you two have the privacy you deserve, but after seeing your face light up again, well, he was a little curious.

You smile and hold the paper in your hands, bringing it to your chest, as if Michael's words of comfort could be absorbed into your skin and act as a remedy for the emptiness your heart was feeling. As if your memory could be deleted, restarting a new story at the moment you read that note. But well, reality was never as sweet as Michael.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could give you the peace you now offer me every day. Everything must be a mess, but I promise you, my strength may come from my physique, but your strength had always come from your soul. I'll help you carry that weight too.

Love,

Michael"

[cherrycola27]

Nevermore

Summary: In Scottish folklore a raven is an omen of death. Maybe that's why Raven was the perfect call sign for her, because death followed her, always om her heels. Maybe it was the perfect call sign because she brought death, a grim reaper in her own right. Or maybe it was the perfect call sign for her because much like the ebony bird, she preferred to work alone.

Paring: Rooster x OC Commader Skylar "Raven" Blackwood

Warnings: Language, drinking, Mentions of violence, Allusions to Smut. Minors DNI 18+

Part 1: Quoth the Raven

One month, one measly month is all the Dagger Squad had been given off after the Uranium Plant mission. It was supposed to have been three, but apparently new information had come in, orders had been given and over the next few days the members of the Squad had come from their respective vacation places back to their new home base, Top Gun.

Maverick's foot tapped impatiently against the tile floor as he waited for Cyclone and Warlock to join him in the briefing room. He stood up abruptly as he heard the door open and the two men walked in.

"At ease Commodore." Cyclone stated. Maverick internally grimaced at his new title. The successful mission brought a promotion to him and the Daggers.

"I know you were promised a longer leave, but you and your team are needed for a mission, that well only pilots of their caliber can handle. And Maverick, I'm not going to beat around the bush, there will be civilian casualties. There is a high profile target that we have been after for awhile. We now have the chance to neutralize them but not without collateral damage." Cyclone cuts to the chase.

"With all do respect sir, my team and I, we aren't civilian killers." Maverick dead pans while staring the Admiral down. "Well, Commodore Mitchell, this is war, and in war there are always things we don't want to do, or things we wish we didn't have to do. I expected this response from you which is why I have recalled another pilot to join your team." Cyclone tells him.

"Who?" Maverick questions as he wonders who else could be elite enough. He had the 12 best aviators in the Navy on his squad.

"She is a mystery, a myth, a ghost. Some people in the Navy aren't actually sure if she exist. Covert missions are her specialty. Just operates in the grey area for the US Navy. Follows orders without question. Much like yourself she is an Ace. No one knows she exists unless you need her. Maverick meet Commader Skylar Blackwood. Call Sign, Raven." Cyclone finishes as her picture appears on the screen.

Maverick stares at the image and suddenly he doesn't remember how to breath, because looking back at him is a young woman who is the spitting image of her mother, but with his eyes.

"Blackwood?" He asks turning back to the men at the table. "I believe you knew her mother Charlotte, call sign Charlie. She was a civilian instructor back in the 80s for Top Gun." Warlock replied.

"I did know her, she, she was one of my instructors actually." Maverick tells them. His hands are clenched by his sides. He looks at her information on the screen and then he sees it, her birthday.... 1987... it all but confirmed what he was thinking. Raven, this pilot he had never met, was his daughter.

"She will be joining you and your team tomorrow at 0800 hours. For now, go home, get some rest, we will see you on base tomorrow." Warlock finishes before he and Cyclone leave the room.

Maverick stays frozen in place for a few more minutes racking his brain. How could Charlie have never told him about her? Did this girl know he was her father? Did she hate him?

He took a deep breath.

He was getting ahead of himself. He wasn't certain she was his daughter. It could all be a coincidence. It could be a coincidence that she had the same eyes as him. It could be a coincidence that her birthday was 9 months after he and Charlie had been together. It could be a coincidence that his 1986 class was the last class Charlie ever instructed. It could all be a coincidence right? Right?

Across town a young woman made her way into the currently, relatively quiet Navy bar on the beach that she had once heard her mother speak of. She walked up the the woman at the bar; she was older, probably around the same age her mother would have been if she was still alive.

"What can I get for you darlin'?" The bar tender asked her. "Could I please get a cranberry mule and start a tab if you don't mind ma'am?" Her slight souther accent came out with her manners as she handed over her card and her ID.

"Sure thing honey I can get a tab started for you miss.... Blackwood." The woman says reading her name off the ID.

"Thank you very much." Skylar replies. She hops up on a bar stool as she waits paitently for her drink to be made. Skylar scans the bar and takes in the few patrons that are there. She notes a few men and a woman in service khakis over by the pool table. She wonders if they are part of the team she has been brought in to join, if they have heard of her, if her reputation proceeds her here.

"There you go love." The bar tender says as she sets her drink down infront of her snapping Skylar out of her thoughts. "Thank you Ma'am" she replies back. "Name's Penny if you need anything else." The bar tender smiles at her before going to help some other patrons.

"Oh my god...oh my fucking god!" Skylar hears a familiar voice called from behind her. She whips around in her stool to see a face that she hadn't seen in ages.

"Skylar Blackwood... now there is a face I never thought I would see again!" Rooster calls out stepping towards her.

"Bradley Bradshaw, my word.... is that you?" Skylar drawed out lowering her sunglasses.

"In the flesh honey. Now tell me why on earth are you in Miramar?

Skylar thought for a moment. If Rooster didn't know why she was here, maybe the others didn't... "I'm here to teach at Top Gun" She lied. Well it wasn't a total lie... but she knew what would happen if people found out why she was really here.

"No shit. That's awesome. You know I just got stationed here permanently. Me and some other Top Gun pilots went on this mission about a month ago and well, the powers that be decided instead of sending us back to our home squadrons, they wanted to base us here." He told her with a bright smile.

"Wow Bradley that's amazing. Looks like we will being seeing a lot of each other then." She smiled back at him.

"Hey, some of the squad is here, let me introduce you to them." He told her as he grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bar stool. "Bradley, you don't have to do that. I'm sure I will meet them all later." Skylar protested.

"Why put off what you can do now. And you have got to stop calling me Bradley. Everyone I know calls me Rooster. My call sign.... remember." He jokes with her.

"Ah yes I remember, though I always preferred to call you Roosie." She winked at him. "Skylar, if you call me Rooise infront of the squad I will fight you." He half jokes.

"I think I could take you... Roosie." She quips back. "Speaking of call signs... what's yours? You never had one back in flight school." Rooster asks her.

"Oh... just um Sky... basic I know." She lied again not giving him her real call sign. "Sky? Not bad.... could be worse." Rooster nodded before draping his arm over her shoulders.

"Penny m'dear" He called over to her. "Yeah Rooster?" Penny asked back. "Close miss Blackwood's tab for me would you, anything she drinks tonight is on me." He stated before looking down and winking at her.

"Bradley! You can't do that." She scolds him smacking his chest. "I can and I just did." He argues back. "And what did I say about calling me by my government name?" He chastes her.

"I thought you liked it when I called you Bradley?" Skylar challenged him.

His voice dropped an octave as he whispered in her ear "Sky, the only timed I liked it when you called me Bradley was when you were screaming it."

A hot blush spread over her cheeks as he lead her to the group of pilots. She thought back to the first time when she met Rooster... well Bradley Bradshaw back in flight school.

Her friends from school had invited her out to a party with some other students. She had one too many tequila shots and made a stupid bet that she could get him to go home with her after her friend group had watched him turn down at least three other girls.

Skylar had marched right up to him and said "Hi there, my names Skylar and I have Daddy Isses and a Praise Kink and I think you and your mustache might be just the thing to scratch both of those itches" He had laughed at her but admired her confidence.

Bradley did take Skylar home that night and every night for the rest of flight school. For 6 months they were tangled in the sheets and feelings. They dated and made love behind closed doors.

Bradley was the first and maybe the only person Skylar ever truly loved.

But after flight school the orders came.

She remembered pounding on his door, tears in her eyes telling him she was being sent to the other side of the world while he was staying in the states. It had been the most heartbreaking moment for both of them.

They agreed to end things on good terms, both knowing that long distance wasn't going to work for them. Skylar threw herself into her work, later graduating top of her class at Top Gun, and being recruited for some covert missions.

On those missions she proved herself to be a valuable asset to the Navy, too valuable for people to know who she really was and to be tied down to a base squadron, and that's how the rumors and whispers started.

"I'm telling you guys.... I heard they are bringing in Raven for this mission. The guy is a legend, myth, a killer! The Navy brings him in when they need someone taken out!" Hangman was ranting to the other members of the squad as Bradley and Skylar walked up. Her eyes widened for a moment, catching the end of his speech. The rumor mill already in full effect.

Back at the bar top, Maverick was informing Penny about how he might possibly be a father and that his possible daughter was going to be on his next mission and he wasn't sure what to do. Penny lent a listening ear, and maybe if she had put two and two together, she would have noticed that the cause of Maverick's trouble was just a few feet away.

"Bagman if you could cool it with the doom and gloom for a minute that would be great." Rooster interrupted him.

All eyes turned towards Rooster and the quiet woman tucked next to him.

"Well Bradshaw, you leave for beer and come back with this fine drink of water... what's your name sweets?" Jake asks instantly turning on the charm.

"Hangman, back off, she's an old friend of mine and off limits to all of you." Rooster states shooting them all a firm glare.

"Bradley, I can speak for myself and I'm not off limits for anyone thank you very much." Skylar sassed back earning a laugh from the group.

"Hi everyone. I'm Skylar... call sign Sky... and I'm here to teach at Top Gun. Bradley and I went to flight school together... thats how I unfortunately know him." She kidded with the group.

"Well, welcome to North Island" Bob said with a smile.

Skylar chatted with the group and got to know them. She made mental notes about each member of the squad, things that would come in handy later when training and flying with them.

At the end of the night Rooster insisted on driving her home. When he dropped her off at the door to her rental, she almost drug him in with her, but decided against it. He wished her a good night and told her he would see her on base tomorrow.

That night she rested as well as she could. Then the next morning Skylar got up, went for a run, showered, had a coffee and a quick breakfast.

Then she dawned her gear. She would be lying if she said her heart didn't skip a beat when she zipped up her flight suit and caught sight of the black patch with her call sign emblazed on it in white lettering.

She made her way to base and met with Admiral Simpson and Bates. They led her to the doorway of a hanger which had been made into a classroom. She heard Commodore Mitchell briefing the squad on the mission and their sighs and groans and complaints of some of the details. She could just make out the back of Rooster's head.

"I know the parameters for this aren't ideal, but those are the orders which is why, someone else has been recalled to fly with you" Maverick told the team.

Taking that as her cue, Skylar pushed open the door and began to walk to the front of the room. Her boots echoed against the concrete floor. She kept her chin high as she marched forward.

She expected every head in the room to turn but it didn't.

Maybe they were too afraid to put a face to the name they had whispered about.

She kept her eyes straight and her body calm. When she reached the front of the room, she paused before turning to the group.

12 pairs of eyes lit up with recognition.

The room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

Skylar took a deep breath before speaking.

"Good Morning Avaitors. My name is Comander Skylar Blackwood. But you might know me better by my Call Sign... Raven."

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @nursemegmitchell @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22

[goblin-spider]

Deadlander

Chapter two

Mer's hover blades clunked upon the smooth tiled floor as he powered off his gear, placing his helmet under his arm as the back doors sealed themselves shut behind him, their familiar whirring sound easing his nerves a little, as nostalgia of his childhood filled his being, remembering that this was once home. No amount of potential judgement from his co-workers could change the connection he had with this place.

Taking a deep breath of the fresh, filtered air within the building, he started to detach his hover blades from his steel capped boots, holding them firmly in his free hand once he was done.

He scanned the corridor for a map of some kind, hoping that he could somehow find a locker room to put his stuff in, thinking to himself that carrying around his hover blades and dust helm all day would be impractical.

He wandered for a bit, feeling the helmet start to get heavy in his arms as he continued to walk down the hall.

"This doesn't look right."

Mer was definitely lost now, despite the familiarity with the corridor, the rest of the building had been renovated, the changes so drastically different that he had to stop and pull out his tablet to call his mother for help. As he leaned against a nearby wall, punching in the numbers to her ai goggles, he noticed a large sign across from him that said 'BEWARE OF RADIATION' in bold lettering. His eyes narrowed as he noted the direction the arrow was pointing and went back to typing in the number, hitting call and waiting as the phone rang out.

After what seemed like forever, his mum answered, his screen filled with the image of test tubes as she filled them with green liquid,

"Hey sweetie, whatcha need?"

Relieved, his lips curled into a smile. It'd been so long since they'd last talked. The sound of her voice was comforting to him against the anxiety he felt just moments before.

"Hey ma, I'm kinda lost. Can you give me directions to this observatory I'm supposed to be working in?"

"Sure, where are you right now?"

Mer looked around and chose to turn the camera on the tablet towards the large sign in front of him.

"I'm wherever this is. Came through the back but everything has changed."

Nadia read the sign as it displayed in the lenses of her goggles and went silent for a bit, thinking about what the best course of action should be, figuring it'd be easier just to give him a tour and then show him to his office.

"Ohh I know where you are. Just take a left at the end of the corridor. You'll find the doors to my new lab there. Head on in and I'll give you a tour."

"A tour eh? Guess I'll see you soon then. Bye."

Hanging up, he started hauling his belongings to the end of the hallway, stopping and glancing back over his shoulder at the room that the sign was pointing to, noting to himself to go check it out later.

Oscorp hadn't worked with radiation before, not that he knew of at least, so the idea of possibly being able to see what they were doing with it piqued his interest greatly. Perhaps he'd be assigned to that area one day, he thought, but only time would tell. 

He finally came to the heavy double doors of the lab and the door automatically opened without him having to scan his chip, which surprised him, thinking that the lab should have been secured like everything else but it just simply wasn't.

A wall of eye watering odours hit him as he stepped in, making him cough and wipe the tears welling up from the corners of his eyes. The air inside the lab stunk of patchwork venom and rats fur mixed with the distinct scent of disinfectant that made him sick. His stomach churned watching as the scientists sat at their stations, dipping each rat into some mystery serum before pulling them out, blistered and squealing. They looked almost bloated before each were bitten by irritated patchwork spiders, the acid coursing through their veins only making their pained noises louder.

Nadia spotted him and rushed over, placing a pair of Normtech goggles over his eyes to protect them from the fumes, taking his dust helmet and hover blades from him before raising her voice over the noise.

"Mer! By the trees! Look how big you've gotten!"

He stiffened, not used to her being so close or caring, watching cautiously as she started smoothing his long fringe back so she could see his face better, noticing all the grazes on his skin.

"What's this from?"

Choosing not to answer, he pulled away from her and gestured to the mass experimentation going on below the platform.

"Eugh! What's all that about?"

Nadia grabbed his shoulders steered him away from looking at the scene and ushered him into a more calm area of the building, not wanting him to see their current project,

"It's nothing. None of your concern at the very least. Come, this is the computer lab."

He hesitated to follow for a moment, glancing behind him at the closed lab door, the sound of muffled rat squeals still emanating from beyond it as they walked away.

"Uh, right. So I'm guessing i'll be working here to write about any new planets I discover?"

She shook her head and led him through the computer lab, a big smile plastered across her face as they entered the waiting area, right up to the front desk, gesturing for him to sit in the comfortable chair there.

"This is where you'll be working."

Mer looked at her skeptically. There was no way she was that out of touch with him... Was there?

"You're joking right? You want me to be the receptionist?! What happened to the astronomer job I studied so hard for? Dad wanted me to explore the stars, not be a receptionist."

Nadia only shook her head in disapproval of his attitude, placing her hands back onto his shoulders and sitting him down,

"You would work much better here, greeting visitors and filing things than being in the observatory with all those stuffy galaxy heads. Remember when you were 4 and-"

"-ah, yes... Four... Of course. I was an outgoing kid, I get it but Mum, I can barely hold a conversation with people I don't know now, how do you expect me to do this at all?" This had to be a joke right? Mer sat there both annoyed that she'd lied about there being a position open in the observatory and also that she'd only remembered what he was like as a very young child.

She smirked, stubbornly sticking to her decision, "I expect you to greet our customers well and book appointments for them efficiently. Now, I've got to get back to the lab. I'll see you at lunchtime sweetie."

Mer sighed and sunk into the chair, defeated. "Great. See you then, I guess."

Exasperated but more so anxious with the situation he was in now, he thought about how he couldn't stand the idea of sitting there, terrified and under pressure, as a stranger asked him important questions that he might not be able to answer.

"Just say 'welcome to Oscorp! How can I help you today?' like a normal person."

He muttered to himself, trying to push down the nerves bubbling up even higher.

There were a few moments of him sitting there, tapping away at the table, before the front doors conveniently opened and a tall man walked in, his scuffed protection gear covered in a thick layer of dirt.

"That was quick-"

"-what?"

"I-uh..."

The stranger's voice was muffled by the dust helmet he wore, it's red and black accents gleaming in the fluorescent lights above them. Mer stayed silent for a beat, mainly out of nerves that the man would chew him out if he repeated his sarcastic self talk. He had a sort of menacing aura to him that irked something deep within mer's gut and unnerved him.

The man gruffly nodded once at him, as if to try and seem more friendly than he actually was, watching as Mer nervously adjusted his glasses and uttered "err hi, Oscorp welcoming? I mean-"

Raising a brow at him, Kirk took off his helm, hoping that if he showed his face, that it'd calm the poor guy's nerves. He could tell that mer was new there, not just by his nervous demeanor but also by his crisp uniform, his lab coat barely touched by the chemicals or oil he'd seen on the last receptionists uniform. Dusting off his death hawk, he couldn't help but snort,

"Yeah, g'day to you too mate. I've got an appointment with that miss osborn doctor. She in today? Appointment for Kirk Connelly."

Mer nodded sheepishly and pointed to the seating area "please uh...wait. I'll-"

Before mer could finish, Kirk was leaning against the desk staring him down in a manner that intimidated him more, before he quickly continued, "-I'll just call her up then."

Kirk remained where he was, not moving an inch to sit in the designated seating area, "Cool. Don't mind waiting right here."

Mer's mouth twitched a little in irritation, picking up his tablet from the desk as he started to dial Nadia's number, trying to stay as polite with kirk as possible, "I'd prefer it if you went and sat down... Mr. Connelly."

"Mr Connelly?!" He tapped his fist on the desk and laughed as if 'mr Connelly' was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Haha, Nah, just call me Kirk. Mr. Connelly makes me sound like some uppity important person."

It was obvious by the way he was trying not to screw up his nose in irritation, that mer felt mocked by his laughter,

"Okay... Er... No problem kirk. Just don't lean on my desk then, please. You're getting dust on it."

He proceeded to sweep some of the sand and dust away with his fingers as Kirk stared down at him some more with his sharp dark eyes, somewhat offended by this action.

"You're in the Deadlands' and you're afraid of a little bit of dust? C'mon mate, grow a backbone."

Mer gritted his teeth and smiled the biggest, fakest smile he could muster,

"A backbone eh?,"  his face immediately dropped again, "You're so unfunny, get your filthy gear off of my desk and wait like a normal person."

Stifling a laugh, Kirk backed off only a little bit from the desk, as if to reward him just a little for his frustrated reply,

"Ooh! Now that's better. I think you have some bite in you after all. Still not moving til she comes out though."

He groaned in annoyance, the irritation written all over his face, clear as day, as he called up Nadia and told her about the irritating man waiting to see her.

After a short amount of awkward silence and Kirk drumming the rhythm to some unknown song on the desk, Nadia came out and guided him towards the back of the room and through the computer lab, leaving Mer alone in silence again.

He eyed the pile of paper that seemed to be for notes and haphazardly tossed them in the nearby recycling unit before shuffling through the messy pile of files left on the desk from the previous receptionist, waiting for the next customer to arrive.

He skimmed over the titles of the files and got to organising them into alphabetical order, grimacing occasionally when he came across files with what had to have been blood drops or paint dried into the paper. He knew nothing about the previous receptionist or what must have happened to him for Oscorp to have chosen mer to fill in his role within the company but now that he looked at things carefully, it all seemed just a little bit too convenient and made him feel a bit uneasy.

Opening the filing cabinet next to him, he noticed more old blood dried up in spatters along the metallic handle and files. Hesitating to touch the handle again, he decided he'd discuss this with his mother at lunch, sliding each file into its correct area carefully.  Mer shuddered at the thought of the last receptionist bleeding over his own files, wondering what exactly had taken place for blood to even be on them in the first place.

"Wildlander attack?... No... Couldn't be. Maybe his head was bitten off by my mother for doing a bad job? Hahaha now that I would like to see."

Bending over, he dared to look at the filing cabinet closer, opening the second drawer to find that to no surprise, there were bloodied fingerprints all over the inside. He followed them to a file all the way at the back and poked it with his pen, rustling the files, just in case there was something in it that could bite him. He waited and when nothing emerged, he cautiously reached in and pulled out the file.

There was nothing distinct about the file on rats, as he opened it, besides the bloodied fingerprints and scatterings of  weird notes scribbled in the corners about chemicals mer didn't understand a lick about.

The contents of it were mostly filled with the ethics of using rats vs humans for experimentation, using alchemax's 'wildlander project' as one of the biggest reasons not to use humans until the final trials of an experiment and even then, it stated you needed to be cautious.

The whole thing read like a propaganda leaflet against the previous corporation and although he was used to hearing about it through stories from his uncle's youth, seeing something directly referencing one of alchemax's mistakes only intrigued mer into delving further into it.

Just as he was getting to the meat of the file, the front doors slid open again as someone dressed in a complete, old timey cowboy outfit, competed with Spurs and an interesting kind of mask, stepped in and just sat down in one of the chairs.

Mer side eyed him, both cautiously and utterly stunned by his choice in clothes and the way he didn't come up and ask him anything about an appointment, at all. It gave him time to gingerly close the file and place it aside to greet him.

Clearing his throat, he said in a low, nervous voice,

"Welcome to Oscorp.... How can I help you today?"

Mer's quiet voice caught the man's attention and he took off his cowboy hat to place it upside down on the chair beside him, leaning his head back against the wall, as if tired from whatever he'd been doing before he came inside.

"Nothin' sir. Just waitin' for my partner to get out from seein' your lady doctor."

His accent and way of talking really caught him off guard. It was as if this guy was randomly plucked from the past and was just sitting there in front of him.

The idea of calling his mum a 'lady doctor' made him chuckle lightly, lifting his nerves just a bit, until he saw that the cowboy actually carried guns on his hips.

Pointing to them, mer couldn't help but ask about it,

"Are...they real?"

"Course' they are. Never seen a real revolver before?"

Shaking his head, he went back to reading the file, still thinking about the fact that there was - indeed - a whole cowboy in the waiting area.

"...where are you from? We don't get very many people... Er... looking like you... Or any cowboys really, in the Deadlands. Maybe a few Bush Rangers and farmers but none that carry... guns."

The cowboy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not liking being asked so many questions and adjusted his poncho to snuggle into while he waited for Kirk.

"I'm from all around darlin'."

He hoped that'd be a sufficient enough answer for him.

Mer on the other hand, wanted to pry him for more information about himself, really curious about him now.

"I'm guessing you're waiting for that Kirk Connelly fella right? Is he your kindred?*"

Pat froze, still getting used to the fact other dimensions were perhaps a little too open about prying during small talk than what he was used to,

"What's a- no, he's my work partner. Help's me catch things."

"Oh! Gotcha. What do you catch?"

"None of ya business."

His gruff answer made mer immediately shut up and decide to stop pestering the eccentric stranger with his questions, instead focusing back on the file and only occasionally glancing at the man, still so confused about his outfit.

As the day went on and the more that people came in, the more he got used to his job. It started to feel comfortable almost, having a set of lines he'd made up in his head helped the most and come lunch time, he had them nailed down.

It was when he got up to close the front doors down head to the lunch room, that he noticed the cowboy still sitting, alone, waiting for Kirk.

"Hey, mate, you might want to go outside while we close for lunch, your friend's probably going to be in there a while. Dr. Nadia is very thorough."

Patrick stirred from his nap, too comfortable in the cool, air-conditioned building and soft chair to want to move.

"Can't. Gotta wait for him in here in case somethin' goes wrong."

Mer sighed, deciding it was reasonable enough to let him wait there and decided to skip lunch anyway, since his mum was too busy with Kirk to answer his questions about the file and former receptionist anyway.

"Okay.... but no leaning on the desk or getting dust on it like your mate, alright? Just do whatever you're doing now until he comes back."

Pat nodded once in understanding and closed his eyes again, snuggling back into his poncho.

*kindred is the word for spouse in mer's dimension

[booksnstuff58]

Now that I have finished the ARC I was reading, I can finally tell you what it is!

Beauty and Deceit by Carol Beth Anderson!

It's a Beauty and the Beast retelling with fae!

Here's the blurb:

Aeryn is hungry, perpetually exhausted, and short on hope. Ever since her merchant father lost everything to pirates, the twenty-two-year-old has worked endlessly to meet the needs of her impoverished family. But it's never enough.

That all changes when a mysterious faerie invites her to a competition hosted by a Fae beast looking for a wife. Tor, the castle-dwelling creature, is wealthy enough to provide for Aeryn's family ... and she's desperate enough to say yes.

The castle is beautiful, straight out of Aeryn's dreams. Tor is more suited to her nightmares, with his red eyes, long claws, and rat-like tail. But looks can be deceiving ...

Then there are the other contestants, nine powerful faerie females. Aeryn is a mortal. How is she supposed to compete with their otherworldly beauty—and thwart the curse magic some of them wield?

The complicated situation quickly turns impossible for Aeryn. As her romance with Tor progresses, she also finds herself drawn to Wyatt, the castle gardener. He's nothing like the powerful Tor, yet Aeryn's feelings for him keep blurring the lines between friendship and attraction.

Winning Tor's heart is the only way Aeryn can save her family. But can she fend off the attacks of powerful faerie females, ignore her growing desire for Wyatt, and let herself fall for a monster?

If you like fairytale retellings, bookish heroines, love triangles, and a little bit of steam, you'll love Beauty and Deceit.

***

Originally published on Kindle Vella as Beauty and the Beast: A Faerie Tale Retelling .

This story is romantic, and there's mild steam. The intimacy is open door but with minimal explicit detail. Written for NA (new adult) audiences, appropriate for ages 16+.

*Copied from Goodreads*

And here's my review:

Ok, so first of all, I love fae. What's really funny is I hadn't heard the word until last year. I also love fairy tale retellings, especially Beauty and the Beast.

This was an awesome mix of Beauty and the Beast, fae, and The Selection. Like I said before, The Selection wasn't my cup of tea, but the idea was interesting.

I enjoyed listening to it very much! The characters were written well, and the plot was interesting!

The images I got while listening to this were beautiful! The author certainly knows how to paint a picture with words!

I also love listening to audio books that the author narrates themselves. That way I know I have the pronunciation of the names right! 😂

Now for triggers:

So, as said at the end of the blurb, this one is a bit steamy. She goes into a little more detail with the kissing than I'd like, (I prefer less tongue talk) when it gets to the other things, there is thankfully little to no detail. Like you know what's going on, but you don't get all the lovely pictures that come with it.

There is also quite a bit of swearing, which, as I've said before, I don't really mind, but I know some people do.

Also, once again, some people will find this the opposite of a trigger, but I'm putting it here anyway, there was a lesbian couple. No detail with them, they were just there.

I can't think of any other triggers, but I may have missed something. I'm not perfect!

So, in my opinion, this was a good book! If you don't mind a bit of steam which was really not graphic other than the tongues, I definitely recommend you check out this book. It was a lot of fun!

Now hopefully I can finish the other two books I'm working on and get a new review out for you soon!

[dragon-in-the-watery-bowl]

Calm Before the Storm

Another Ghost AU fic. I'm going to be doing a lot of these around these months.

The last thing he remembers from before he lost consciousness was the image of Mondo about to punch him in the face.

And now, he was waking up in another mysterious room, and being spooked by Utsuro's presence besides him.

He really hoped this didn't became a regular thing.

But, where was he right now?

Like if he was reading his thoughts, Utsuro opened his arms and, with a flat and emotionless delivery, said just four words.

"Welcome to your room"

Well, that explained the fact that he was lying on a bed moments before.

Not having much else to do, he decided to take a look around the room.

Besides the bathroom door, that looked like it was locked, the only things that really caught his attention were a key with his name, probably being the key for this room, and a piece of paper written by Monokuma, judging by the scribbled characters written in it.

The note was mainly about the room, talking about stuff like the keys and the bathroom, but at the end, it mentioned a 'gift' that Monokuma had made for everyone.

A small kit, its contents depending on the student's gender, full of everything they could need to kill each other.

He ended up throwing the paper on the trash can.

After finding Monokuma's 'gift', a small toolkit, in one drawer, he decided to leave the room and see what the others were doing while he was unconscious.

But, right when he left the room, he ended up bumping against something in his hurry.

Or better said, someone.

Right in front of him it was Sayaka, having fallen to the floor alongside him after they crashed into each other.

After he got up and helped her doing the same, she told him that, after he lost consciousness and he was left in his room, everyone else split up to investigate the place, and had planned to reunite later in the dining room to talk about their findings.

So she had went to see if he was conscious again, and pick him up.

While they walked towards the dining room, he took a look towards Utsuro, silently asking him for confirmation of Sayaka's words.

He only said to him that he saw some of his classmates roaming the bedroom hallway, but he didn't elaborated.

Once they arrived at the dining room, they realized that they were the only ones in the room, the others still not having arrived, so they sat down on one of the tables, waiting in silence.

After a while, she started talking, telling him about how she still recognized him from their time together as students on Blackroot High, and how she was going to take the role of his 'Ultimate Assistant' as a thanks to "helping her out".

He wasn't really sure what he did to make her want to stay at his side so badly, not having really interacted with each other until now, when they ended up trapped inside this building, but her words were making him start to feel better about the entire situation.

With the rest of the class still not arriving, he decided to take a look at the room's clock, to see what hour it was at that point. To his surprise, it was already striking 7 pm.

He really spent an entire afternoon unconscious? If so, then Mondo's punches looked like to be much more powerful than he thought.

Thankfully, they didn't needed to wait much longer, because soon after they heard the doors open, and Kiyotaka's voice inside the room, things that told them that the others would arrive soon.

---

It took a while, but eventually everyone arrived to the dining room, ready to tell everyone else their findings.

Well, almost everyone. Kyoko still hadn't arrived at this point, so they were forced to start without her.

At the beginning, he felt a bit unconfortable, partly thanks to Mondo deciding to sit down right at his side, but, thanks to both Sayaka's presence and the biker apologizing to him for his previous outburst, he started to calm down and prepared himself to hear what the others had discovered while he was knocked out.

Sadly, no one was able to find a way out of this place, and it looked like that the one behind Monokuma already prepared everything for them to be confortable during their imprisonment, as evidenced by the dorms and the food being restocked every night.

The only thing that really surprised him was when Junko mentioned that only the girls' rooms had bathrooms with locks.

Because he was sure that his bathroom's door was locked up too. He would need to take a good look at it later.

While the others talked around, he decided to take a look to Utsuro, only to realize that he was looking at the camera inside the room. Whatever he was trying to do with it apparently failed, so he turned around, looking in boredom at Mondo, Leon and Junko, who had started arguing with Hifumi after the doujinshi creator started to perv around.

In that moment was when Kyoko arrived.

And she confirmed to everyone that they were trapped inside Hope's Peak Academy.

Soon after that, and with Celestia suggesting an unofficial rule of avoiding wandering around the school during nighttime, the meeting was declared finished, with everything walking back to their respective rooms.

But, before he got into his room, he felt someone touching his shoulder.

It was Kyoko. And she had something to ask him.

"How did you knew that the Monokuma was going to explode when Owada manhandled it?"

He wasn't really sure on how to answer that question, he couldn't just say 'A ghost told me' without sounding like a lunatic, so, after a bit of pondering, he just told her that the beeping reminded him of something he saw in a movie once.

His answer looked like it had placated her, so she left and he was finally able to get into his room.

Now, it was time to know what was wrong with his bathroom's door.

He tried to open it again, the attempt ending up in failure, when Monokuma decided to make an appearance, scaring him half to death.

But the bear was just there to tell him how to correctly open the door.

Apparently, the door wasn't locked, it was just badly done, and if he lifted the door while pulling, the door will finally open.

And, as soon as he appeared, the bear went away, but not before making a joke about having a bad bathroom's door when he was supposed to be the "Ultimate Lucky Student", leaving him alone with the ghost stuck on his side.

His grumpiness at this had to be obvious, because Utsuro decided to comment on it.

"They did it on purpose"

After giving him a questioning look, he continued "Giving you the room that had the ill-fitting bathroom's door, they did it on purpose. They clearly find the idea of someone who has 'good luck' getting into bad situations hilarious"

Just when he finished talking, a pre-made recording of Monokuma played out on the room's monitor, announcing that it was already nighttime, before going back to showing the Hope's Peak's emblem.

After everything that had happened, he was exhausted, so he ended up crashing right onto his bed, and falling asleep almost instantly.

His last thoughts before sleep overtook him were of how he wanted this to be just a dream.

But, like it was going to be proven later on, escaping from this place wasn't going to be that easy.

---

At this point, Junko's killing game was identical to the one him and Akane did before, including everyone trying, and failing, to find a way to escape, and someone suggesting a rule against going out at nighttime, that he was sure it would be broken eventually.

It was just boring.

And he couldn't do anything but watch, thanks to now being a ghost.

His only source of entertainment at this point was the boy he was stuck with, Makoto, who was mainly investigating the place with the Ultimate Idol at his side, or trying to socialize with his classmates.

He even asked him to help him with the investigation, and look beyond the metal plates to see what was going on outside the building.

To see if there was people trying to free them from this place.

He wouldn't tell him the truth, but he wouldn't give him false hopes either.

So he just told him an half-truth.

He told him about the guns outside the building, put there by Junko to deter any rescuers from the outside.

And, if they wanted to leave, they would need to do it by themselves.

With two days already going by like this, he was sure that Junko would be bored out of her mind from the lack of bloodshed and would already getting something ready to "convince" at least one of her classmates to start killing.

So when a Monokuma appeared during the class' first breakfast meeting to announce the first "motive", he wasn't surprised.

The box of DVDs inside the A/V room felt like a deja vu. If this killing game was like the one he made, those disks had to have a video of someone, or something, dear to the students in some kind of danger, done in such a way to send them into a desperate worry, and making them more susceptible to the idea of killing.

After Sayaka left, Makoto decided to take a look at his own disk, and see what Junko had decided to put on them.

His video showed two recordings, one of his family, and another of his destroyed home, while Junko taunted him in Monokuma's voice about their fates, and how he would need to "graduate" and get out to know it.

Once the video ended, the luckster's face was twisted into a grimace, fear and anger clearly running around his mind. It reminded him of when "Yuki" saw his own video, a recording of when him and Akane killed the real Yuki's family.

Makoto even screamed the same words that "he" said after seeing "his" video.

"I have to get out!"

The others arrived soon after that and, after Makoto pointed at the box, they saw their own videos.

With Makoto still reeling from what he saw, he decided to take a look at the other videos.

All of them were like Makoto's: A recording of a loved one, something destroyed, and Junko taunting them with the possibility of that loved one being dead, but hiding the truth behind a message saying "Look for the answer after graduation!".

No one liked what those videos showed them, that reaction being the one Junko wanted to cause when she gave them those videos, but the one who took it the worst was Sayaka.

For someone who worked so hard to get to where she was now, cared for her bandmates like family, and was terrified of being forgotten, the video Junko did for her was a nightmare coming true.

It was clear that Junko had broke her.

And she was going to kill.

After she ran away from the room in pure panic, Makoto started to search the entire floor for her, clearly worried about her.

During the search, he was able to hear him mumble something, clearly thinking out loud and not realizing it. He didn't heard much, but he heard enough.

"...what did that video ended up showing her...?"

He didn't answer him, not only because he wasn't talking to him, but because he should have known it by now.

Sayaka already told him that, after all.

After a while, Makoto eventually found her inside one of the classrooms, face blank from sheer despair, and curled on one of the chairs.

Once he got at her side, he did everything he could to calm her down, to tell her that everything would be fine, but his words felt like he was trying to calm himself down too.

It made sense, not only he told him that getting help from the outside would be almost impossible, Junko then decided to show him a video that implied that his family could have been killed.

Makoto was clearly hanging by a thread at this point.

And no matter what he said, Sayaka was still too despaired to calm herself down.

That's it, until he promised that he would do everything in his power to get her out of this imprisonment.

After she heard those words, she jumped towards him and hugged him, making him promise that he would be at her side no matter what. On Makoto's eyes, he had successfully calmed her down.

But he knew it was something else, something darker.

And the grim, determined, expression he saw in her face before she went to her room just confirmed it for him.

The killing game was going to start.

And Sayaka Maizono was going to do the honors.

[xxjustawanderingsoulxx]

🧤

"🧤Gloves: share a snippet you’re particularly proud of!"

Ok so get ready 'cause this is a long one (and sadly no images for this post)--

I haven't talked about this (I think) but sometimes I write scenes in a doc or sort out my thoughts with a friend of mine (thank god she's okay with it).

I've got A LOT of stuff I'm proud of from these scenes I haven't been able to put in comic form because limitations and willpower.

For example, have this really old and potentially not that well written bit from me trying to write out Espresso and Madeleine during their little Christmas side story (I did flower symbolism research before writing it):

[start of snippet]

Espresso stood up abruptly and dropped his book onto the couch before storming to the door. He took a quick breath to try calming himself down and unlocked the door. He yanked it open and glared at the only human out there who would bother him now: Madeleine.

Madeleine's eyes were wide with surprise. He was holding a bag obviously containing gifts and something that almost threw off Espresso's glare entirely: a bouquet of flowers. It wasn't anything big—red tulips and white roses throughout—but what had nearly caused such a double take was the single black dahlia in the center. It wasn't truly black (instead being a dark burgundy), but something about it almost made Espresso's heart stop. Perhaps it was just how much it felt out of place. Perhaps it had a hidden meaning that he couldn't figure out in that moment. Nonetheless, it was there, and it was blooming against the brightness and warmth surrounding it.

[end snippet]

Imma put the takeaways I got from me literally just asking google and looking at flower sites as well and putting it on the doc:

Black flowers are usually negative, but a single one with a gift can show a "powerful gesture with a hint of mystery" and apparently a black dahlia makes a great centerpiece. (source: https://www.interflora.co.uk/blog/black-flowers)

Red tulips = perfect love

white rose = purity. Often used in weddings

Black dahlia (usually dark burgundy) = negative, sadness, betrayal. (Espresso himself)

Am I an expert on flower bouquets? No. Would Madeleine Cookie know his way around flowers in the AU really well? Also no.

I'm just proud of myself for using flower symbolism, though my excitement has cooled off a bit since January and last year's December.

btw if you wanna send in the same prompt or another one I don't mind it helps me focus on this au in particular--

[wouldhope]

✉ @roleplay-parlour said: It's never the sign of something good happening when you hear something break out of sight. And when it’s out of sight, you cannot assess the damage done. Off in the distance, somewhere away from where the troll was currently hunkered at, the sound of something glass shatters against the floor into what could possibly be a thousand little bitty pieces. And it further increases that feeling of something unwanted happening when you hear a gasp following the sound of something breaking. Meant that somebody was doing something they shouldn’t, or were being annoyingly klutzy. And knowing some of the people here, it's most likely because they're fooling around when the shouldn't, the absolute lunatics. All of this was something Karkat wasn't in the mood to deal with right now. Shenanigans were the last thing he wanted, now or later. Karkat had just wanted to have some peace time when this had happened, had hoped to relish in the rare moment of quiet he’d gotten. But, his luck just didn’t allow that, it seemed. Somebody always seemed to be in some sort of hijinx while in her proximity. At first, he’d wanted to just ignore it, get back to what he’d been attempting to do before. But, he couldn’t do it, couldn’t shake thoughts of what exactly happened out of his line of sight, and couldn’t stop worrying about the mess. Cringing a little at the mental image of sharp pieces ended up everywhere. With an irritated mumble of some obscene word under his breath, Karkat dragged himself over to the source of all the racket and the possible glass-mess awaiting him in the other room. “Okay, what the fuck did you do? Don't think i didn't hear the sound of your bullshit from way of there” He immediate questions the second he’s in the other room, ready for an answer to the racket, eyes dropping down to the floor.

How John ended up here was something of a mystery, to be honest. He'd only started playing SBURB recently... Or at least, it felt recent. He didn't have much of a good idea of how long he'd been in here, honestly. A month, maybe? Whatever, that didn't matter. What did matter was that he'd recently hit god-tier, and now he'd somehow ended up in this strange place, far from the Land of Wind and Shade that he recognized, and it sure as hell wasn't Skaia or Prospit, either. Did someone else teleport him here, somehow? Or had he done something to trigger this without knowing? Ugh, this game was so confusing sometimes...

Oh well. He was sure he'd be able to figure out something, as long as he didn't just stand around doing nothing. There had to be a way to get back, but first he had to figure out where he was in the first place. He took a step back to try and get a better look at the dark room he'd ended up in, not realizing there was a table behind him until he'd already knocked into it. Instinctively, he turned around to try and catch what he felt himself knock over, but it was too late - the table wobbled, the item shattered on the floor, cutting his hands in the process. Shit, that hurt-! What did he just break, anyways? It looked sorta like... A teapot or something...

Before he could do much to clean up, though, he heard an angry voice coming from the other room, footsteps getting closer. He braced himself for a fight, ready for an enemy to attack him or something, having no idea what to expect - but as soon as the other opened the door, he totally froze. He'd never heard that voice before, but the way he spoke was familiar, and now that he was looking at him...

"Oh, hey - sorry, I kinda knocked something over on accident, uh..." But that's not was important right now, was it? He squinted at the other, as if trying to remember something, before his face lit up, and you could practically see the lightbulb go off above his head. "Wait, you're one of the trolls, aren't you? Huh! Man, I didn't think I'd ever get to see you guys in person, haha! I guess you really are aliens!"

[relmi]

Ⅱ. MYSTERY

I had so many doubts in my mind, so I wanted to go out and figure it out. I stood on the second floor and looked down. a man with his back to me was sitting on the couch, I thought this must be my father. I lowered my voice to call him, but when he turned around, I felt a chill again because this man wasn't my real father either!

"What's wrong, kid?"

I struggled to put on an ugly smile, "Nothing, Dad, I just wanted to see what you were doing."

When I got back to my room, I immediately locked the door and collapsed on the floor. The home had become a place of danger, no longer the warm and happy haven it had been. After a few moments of stagnation, I suddenly thought of my boyfriend Thomas, who visited me last week, and we had dinner together at home. Thomas didn't notice anything unusual about my parents, which means my real parents were in the house last week. I hurriedly picked up my phone and called Thomas and told him everything.

(image credit to https://xsj.699pic.com/)

"I'll be right there." Thomas said.

Suddenly a knock sounded, and the strange man reminded me to take my medicine. My heartbeat was faster once again. The man saw me hesitate to open the door and began to turn the handle. I was determined not to open the door no matter what, unless Thomas came. After a few moments, there was no sound outside the door, I walked nervously to the door and climbed down to see through the crack if the man had left. Just then, my eyes met the strange man's and I saw him staring dead at me. At that moment my whole body's blood seemed to flow backward. I forced myself to calm down, pretended to be invisible, and groped on the floor.

"Where is my phone? I heard it dropped near here."

(image credit to Mr. Nobody)

When he heard what I said, he slowly left. The hands clutching the phone shook uncontrollably. I called Thomas again and asked him when he would arrive.

"Babe, I caught a traffic jam and may not be able to get through for a short time, I've called the police, but the house is in a remote location, and it may take a while for the police to get there. Although I don't know exactly what's going on, the most important thing right now is to keep yourself safe and stay on the phone with me."

(image credit to Xiangming Wan)

But I realized that my phone was about to turn off. Since I've been blind, I rarely use my phone, so I don't charge it often, now it's down to the last ten percent of its battery. I'm worried that I won't be able to wait for the police to arrive, I need to make sure my phone is in a fully charged state. I had to go downstairs and get the charger. I clenched my fist and quickly went downstairs. I was just about to turn my head upstairs, but I was confronted by the expressionless woman.

"Honey, I just noticed that you're walking so much faster than before. Are you able to see now?"

Fear spread from the heart to the whole body instantly, and my clenched fist fingers became white because of blood impassability.

"After living here for so long, I've become familiar with the environment, so that I can walk fast." I said. Pretending to be relaxed.

"I thought you could see. Don't worry, give me the phone, Mommy will help you charge it." The woman acted like a good mother who loves her daughter very much, but I knew that it was all disguised by her.

[jovnie]

The devil's desire | Yoongi

Summary;

You fell in love with a man of many pasts, however he desired more than a relationship. He wanted your soul for eternity.

Words: 13k

Devil yoongi! Demon au! Human reader

Very Dark themes

Warnings: religious concepts, gore, porn without plot, death, big dick yoongi, clubbing, kidnapping, non-con touching, blood, cnc, prey ( y/n ), stalker yoongi, drugged, drugs, chains, cutting, rough sex,

"She's almost ready sir!" a winged creature announced. Nodding in his throne, he took the mirror and looked through it. There you were getting ready to meet a mysterious guy at a club or well hoping to once again. He smirked devilishly knowing you remembered to come back to this particular club.

He previously brought you to this nightclub in Korea, hidden through an alleyway in the darkest part of Busan. There was danger and a constant fear of being robbed, kidnapped. Even if Korea was a safe place, things like kidnapping and murder still happen and even more so at night.

He remembered that you kept a knife and a taser with you, he liked the vulnerability you had going to a place not meant for angels let alone humans at night. He found it charming how oblivious you are to your surroundings as well. He was a man of darkness and hell for sure, but one thing was for sure. He only craved humans who were pure and light energetically. 'Suppose you did know that the Club was own by the devil himself, would that really stop you' he thought.

He watched her put on clothes and noticed how delicate she was in his eyes. No, this wasn't the first time he'd watch her. Not the last either, it seemed like a generational curse in his eyes. He wasn't mad he placed it on the females to feel tempted by his actions, however, each one passed the test. you however failed it the first two times, making it the third time.

Sighing, he put the mirror down and stood up. Stretching, he allowed his black feather wings to elongate and move around before putting them away. Looking at his watch it was a quarter past 11 pm, he'd knew you want to be early and try and catch a good table. However the little worry of what if someone wanted to take you before him, hurt you before him. The thoughts riled him up, making him grab his keys and wait by the portal. Besides the gate doesn't open until 11:59, so his intrusiveness can calm for now.

While waiting, he took out the cute little human hand mirror you'd gifted him a while back. He looked at himself and the scar over his left eye, "maybe this is what attracts them" he chuckled softly.

As time fastened, he waited for the lock in the air to appear. He waited long and hard for that little red lock and once it appeared, he opened all the portals from his underworld to the human world and the other one which lead stright to his club.

Formally known as 666 plaza to hadians, the chosen humans only knew it as void 218. To you it was just another club on the holy day of Sunday. Although you were never brought up with Christianity, you had the basics that everyone knew, loved, and hated.

Waiting by the gates or humanly known as "doors" you pulled out your phone to realize there was no battery or charge. Confused as you could've sworn it was full when you left, you herd the doors open and the mini line began moving. Your eyes wandered the room to find the stairs that led to the upper level where you would meet and see Yoongi. You knew it was stupid to keep doing this, but with yours and his schedule it wasn't at all.

Passing by the few people, you found upstairs and walked up seeing there were already people inside which confused you, but you paid little attention to it. Waiting by the usual black velvet seats and area, you head a familiar voice.

"Is this your regular peach vodka with light ice?" yoongi asked loudly over the now loud music playing. Nodding, you sat up and greeted him before getting your drink. Little did u know about his plans with you or what tonight was gonna be.

Smiling softly, yoongi was gentle eyes admired your beauty as he get down with his own drink. He took a sip of his own drink that was laced with a sleeping drug, one that'd do nothing to him and more to you.

"So what are you doing here?" He asked knowingly.

"Well, it's a Sunday and I have nothing planned so I thought I come by" you lied, hoping the white lie would slip. Nodding, yoongi put his hand on your thighs and moved closer to talk to you about life and each other week. You mentioned something about the campus or school you were studying and he lied about his "forensics" job and how hard it was to see how people died. Continuing, he bought the two of you more drinks and when the timing was right offered one of his. Thanking him for the kind jester, you took a sip. He smiled and also took a sip after you, then placed it back down.

"Good isn't it?" he said, reaching over to his phone and at the time. Noticing he did so you hummed and snuck another sip. Then another. Whatever was in had you almost drinking his entire cup down.

"Omg what is this, what's making it so good. I can't put my finger on it" she said as her words slowed down and her eyes blinked slowly. He watched her body start to feel tired, then at the right moment whispered in her ear "apple, cherry, lime, it's a light alchcolic drink and right, drugs."

Soon as her eyes closed and body dropped, he mustered enough strength to pick her up and sling you over his shoulder. "Another one taken by the devils favorite drink, poison apple," he whispered knowing nobody cared to stop him not could. Well not if they wanted hells punishment if not worse death, even if they were immortal. Walking up the last set of stairs he opened the portal and handed the keys to his servant and told him to look after.

Noting the girl, the servant nodded and knew the king was gonna take his time and would be in a long "meeting." Taking charge of the place, yoongi walked up to his Castle surrounded by blue flames in the middle of nowhere and walked in. He demanded for total privacy, meaning nobody in or even near the castle or be banished for eternity and with that everyone wondered what that soul did to get his undivided attention. From there gossip spread about you from one to another creature and it traveled fast.

Meanwhile, he laid you on the bed and looked at his watch. The drug last about 30 minutes and about 20minuets have gone. From there he requested one trusted worker with a list. The list was :

The devils list

Body Chains and rope

Salt and a black cross

2 Robes

Wipes

Black paint

Sheep's blood

Lube any flavor

Nodding the worker flew off and yoongi allowed his wings to expand out his back and eyes to turn a dark blue color as his hair contained white strips. He watched your sleeping body, before checking the time and seeing he has 5 minutes left before you wake up. Taking that in he stretched his neck and before activating his speed and undressing you, cleaning the area around the bed, making sure the chain locks are stable and if not changing them, turning off lights and lighting candals all around the room and the whole castle and finally sitting down at the edge. Checking the time once again, he had 3 minutes left and so did the worker before he'd get pissed and with that thought the worker came to drop everything off before yoongi told him to get lost.

With the activation of speed he quickly undressed, sat the cup near the bed and filled it with sheeps blood, put salt near the edge without touching it as it stung him, put the cross around his neck and began drawing a ritual circle around the bed then finnaly the walls. To end everything he placed the chains on your hands and feet then connected to each end of the bed. The rest of the stuff he just put next to the bed and laid naked above you waiting for you to wake up.

He knew the drug was strong, but he didnt think it was that strong so he checked the time again and 10 minutes had passed by. Sighing, he began taking the knife and cut a slit on his wrist and placed the wound to your mouth. After a few blinks, you began to wake up and within a second you panked and a minute later realised you were chained.

Weak, scared, targeted, blood covered lips, chained and his favorite vulnerability he finally felt aroused at the sight. With lust in his eyes and an aura darker than night himself, he slowly kissed your cheek.

"Welcome to hell baby" he greeted, confused you closed your eyes and for once prayed you'd be able to wake up in where you left to only get the image of him drugging you and making you pass out. To then opne them and see the same sight.

"Wouldn't that make you?" She paused trying to yank the chains.

"Hades, satan the devil or whatever you humans call me for ruling the underworld. Then yes that's me and as you see, you're caged like a bug trapped in a spider's web. How cute. How naive to trust anyone you've properly met either. " he whispered the last bit in your ear as his lips traveled around your chest and neck leaving hickeys as he moved.

Groaning, you tried yanking the chains hearing a noise and hoping it ment it broke to realise no he fooled you with the sound of his nails knocking on the wood.

"Got you" he chuckled as you began scared, moving his lips towards your breast he sucked softly getting slight moans from your mouth. "Mm good girl continue with it an d maybe I'll spare your soul" he joked, sucking and groaning your other breast with his hands. Ignoring him and forcing your mouth to close. He raised an eyebrow and sat up, he then looked at your mouth and then his length.

"That wasn't smart now was it dsrling?" He asked, as his crouch hovered your mouth and his length being rubbed on your face as the other hand rested on the wall. "Noe open wide and if not, I can allways just shove it. Dont think about biting as i can manually remove teeth of needed" he mentioned as tears rolled down your eyes as he slowly entered his length.

"Good girl, suck it like that" he groaned, slowly moving his hips all the way in and out. With doing so he admired the trlaclesnt salty wetness driping from her eyes that he took a finger and wiped it. Caressing her face as he continued thrusting and groaning till he felt hard enough and then pulled out. Wiping her eyes again he grabbed the lube and posed the non negotiable question of

"May I pretty angel, take this as mine?" He whispered softly as he leaned down to her ear. Nodding yes a tear ran and he licked it clean, causing a slight shiver down her body. "Good" he replied, putting lube around his own length and stoking it on.

"If you cum on me will I get pregnant?" You asked shyly.

"Mm, well yes and that's my goal princes or should I say queen. Your body is mine after all." he tells, taking his fingers and tracing a cross between your chest as he watches a dark mark appear in a mini cross between your chest.

Crying harder knowing you've not only been kidnapping, but there was an even little chnace of seeing your family friends and well your little pet. "I love when you cry my love" he said softly as his fingers softly rubbed against you clit and his lips attach to yours. Knowingly you kissed back and surprisingly it felt like comfort but tasted like sin and poison. One your body will soon adapt to. As your mouths moved in unison, his fingers rubbed softly around your bud and you were finally able to relax and enjoy the feeling. He had an undeniable hold on your body, one your soul started to grow a liking too the longer her rubbed and kissed your lips. Soon you became hungry for more and grinded against his hand and with the hint he rubbed quicker as you moaned down his throat and his free hand now snaking behind your back. Moaning more you called his name, in which he loved begging you to say again.

"YOONGi!"you moaned louder as his stomach and cock felt it making it twitch slightly. stoping his finger he guided his tip and put his chin on your neck and slid in slowly, taking his time as you adjusted before moving faster. You pulled the chains trying to hold onto him but he shook his head no and softly held your body up with the help of the chains and began pounding into you.

No it was not a speed nor length you were used to, but the feeling you could by a heartbeat. You legs became weak, your back arched hard, your mouth could only stay open and your head was in a daze as he fucked you without mercy. His length was big enough to make you scream from the top of your lungs and beg for more. He loved that and too started moaning which soon started to sound like deep breathes and heavy grunts. He loved the warm, pulsing feeling of your pussy on him as it dripped with cum around him.

"Ah, fuck, That's hot!" he moaned loudly. Moving his hips closer, he pushed his length in deeper and the sounds of his hips crashing into yours echoed the room. You were now at a point of no return, all you could do was moan and take him, which only increased his horniness and overall arousal.

"I'm close!" yoongi groaned and panted as his hips movements slowed down, but the deepness was still there. Shopping, yoongi's body out of tiredness fell on top of yours and he kissed your neck softly. Without enough energy to pull out, he came deep, groaning in your neck and laying still. Both overly fucked out and deep breathing, laid there until yoongi got enough energy to unchain your hands and drink from the cup of blood that started to reek and fill the room. The room that once smelt like lavender and vanilla now smelled like sex and sheep's blood. Leaning down to kiss you, you kissed back with your body begging to ache like hell and body starting to contort you screamed in pain. Whispering something into your neck, he held you close to his chest as you grabbed and scratched his back till the blood came from it.

"Submit and it'll go quickly." he whispered tired as can be. Taking his advice, you closed your body and let it take over. Suddenly your eyes and hair became white as a dove and the pain stopped. Not only did he claim you as his, the kiss of blood crowned you queen of the underworld.

They laid naked as each could no longer have the strength to get up, but hold each other in a soft hug. Comferting and relaxing, considering what had to happen. They slept wedded that night, perfectly times as the full moon was now full and the ritual circle could light up red as the two came into harmony.