#which leaves splatters and fly corpses...

[scxttershot]

[Lowkey part 2 of this.]

The roaring engine sputtered to a stop as the industrial grinding machine wore out. Rorschach stepped back from the opening, letting the half torso and legs slide off then tumble onto the ground. The workshop was finally silent, save for the dripping of blood from the ink blotted mask's coat and, well, practically everywhere else in the small, elevated garage. Bits of brain, tissue, and bone even stuck to the ceiling. All belonging to Rorschach's latest victim, as the news articles will no doubt say. Likely brushing past the details of why this man was sent to hell. No matter. One fly squashed. Well, forced head first into the jagged rolls of teeth of the high pressure grinder.

Rorschach noted the bloody shoe prints he left behind as he skimmed around the work benches to pick up a piece of paper. He barely needed to dip his gloved finger in blood to leave his symbol behind. Letting the paper flutter to the ground on top of the oozing half corpse.

There was a shudder down the masked man's spine as he popped the trench coat collar back up. While the coat helped keep blood off the tattered purple pinstriped suit underneath, the amount that splattered onto him had soaked through. He'd have some serious cleaning to do later.

However Rorschach's thoughts where quickly interrupted as he noticed the groan of the metal staircase. Someone was approaching. Acting swiftly, he snatched up his hat (which had fallen off during the earlier fight), and then a weapon of choice. There was only one way out of this workshop; through the doorway, and down the narrow staircase that was currently occupied by the unknown intruder. On the other side of the workshop was the windows, but they led to a 3-story drop straight down onto a warehouse floor. Not ideal. Conclusion; stay and fight.

With light footsteps Rorschach braced his back on the metal wall behind the door and waited, crowbar at the ready.

Stairs, Floyd's mortal enemy. ...Well, not exactly. That honor was reserved for A) literally any pedophile, and B) Deathstroke, who conveniently fell into the first category. But if he was being honest with himself, it was mostly because Slade was a self-absorbed prick. Deadshot bent at the waist to rub at his calf with a soft grunt, then continued onwards. Right. Yet more garbage to take out, and he was getting a decent sum of money for it. Or, at least he had been at one point in the equation. Even through the full-face mask, his sharp ears had picked up on the roar of the grinder. Not something that could have been accidentally activated. Ergo, someone was alive in there. Probably his target; and if it wasn't, he didn't much care. A bullet was a bullet. He aimed a wrist gun at the door out of habit, fiddling with the handle with his other arm. It opened with little trouble, but still he gave it a low-powered and extremely half assed kick just for emphasis. More of a nudge, really. The scope on his mask whirred gently, automatically adjusting to the change in surroundings. Well, that was a dead body. Part of one, at least. No doubt about it. His mossy-toned eyes flick around, taking in the bone, the brain, the blood stained metal - And then his ears started ringing from a very much unwanted blow to the head. "What," he barked, whirling to meet the figure behind the door with a gun pointed to the heart, "the hell." Notably, he hadn't shot immediately. Maybe he was going soft, after all. The tails of his trench coat waved lazily with the residual motion. Behind the mask, he scowled.

[lostwcnderlands]

tendons ached in raleigh's wrist, but they were barely noticed against the throb of his thigh, his head, his groin. the knife fell from bloodied fingers, an infuriating development - but he would rather die at the end of his own blade with some sense of honor than under the metallic bang of a coward's gun. there would be poetic justice, at least to be brought to judgement with the weapon slicked with blood he had drawn, in the hands of a victim dripping the same poison that would cross his veins as amber sliced him apart.

even if he still didn't think she would. there would be something major to unpack later, the thrill of hope that spiraled out from the insanity of ral's mind. he wanted her to do it. she wanted her to sink his knife in deep, wondered which artery she'd sever first, or if it would be a thousand cuts to shut off his final light.

she wasn't gonna bleed out. probably. well, he couldn't be sure, but he'd aimed away from major damage. he'd sank into the fatty, thick part of the muscle, where pain was most intense, but chance of survival high. the place you target when you're leaving someone alive... to suffer. the smell of sweat clogged in rally's nostrils with the suffocation of iron permeating the air. everything was glistening with a layer of salt; sparkling under the moonlight filtering through his windows. one might have thought it beautiful. fuck. maybe it was. they'd rolled a crime scene across his foyer, splatters on the wall from where she'd shot him - pools that crossed from one side of the room to the other, smears && smudges across the wooden floor, and the rug was utterly ruined.

a cackling laugh bubbled out like lava from the burn in raleigh's throat. it stung against the knife as he howled out like a lunatic, eyes half-lidded as he watched her with a vague amusement, teeth gritting down into lower lip when he felt the twinge of his blade cut ever so slightly within. fuck... he'd never been so vulnerable before. he didn't even bother to try && stop her from violating his space, tongue hot && sticky against his ear, her breath like venom as it breathed fire to his jaw. never had he been held under his knife before- and years had gone by since anyone had touched him before- no, raleigh deserved to die. losing a fight, falling weak to his own physical desire; fuck he wanted to die.

amber wouldn't do it. he hated her for it. " careful, baby... " he croaked out, swallowing hard && tasting copper on the way down. " any deeper 'n you're gonna lose me. i'll fuckin' die at last. all you'd have to play with is my corpse. dead bones don't get hard, you know? " wicked delight flickered in coastal clear eyes. a demented grin pulling over his lips, stretching too wide for his face framed with greasy midnight waves. a hand reached up, the facade of tender, smearing blood across her mouth as he thumbed her lip, slid it down the tear streaks upon her cheek.

" you love me? " raleigh breathed the words out, they tasted bitter - they didn't sound right, they challenged everything he knew, believed to be true. cupped her face in his hand as he pulled her closer. let the knife sink deeper yet into the sliver of a papercut barely starting to ribbon blood under the weight of her sway. butterfly kisses left by the gentle graze of his lips, not quite a kiss, to the side of her temple. bloody hand found tender home at the back of her head, and raleigh's words came pulled out with a long, sensual moan from somewhere deep within. " mmm. too bad. i... don't... belong... to you. "

CRACK! raleigh would never use the gun, would never pull the trigger, would never send a bullet flying - but he didn't mind using the blunt end as a means to an end. metal connected with skull, and he let go of her head, hoping that her body would go limp at last, and she'd fall off her seat against his hips. that she would release him from the hold of her seductive command, because he was so close, knees shaking, toeing the edge between explosion of pleasure from how her hips worked desperate magic to his own unbridled hunger && the darkness that threatened to seep all the way into his vision. it was a race to which would come first; his release, or his loss of consciousness. either would be a betrayal to himself. neither could be accepted. so he hit her, only once, ears ringing from the resonation of the clash of the butt of the gun above her ear.

" ...li-lily... " he muttered, blinking hard twice, but couldn't see anything anymore. it was a blurry haze of muted color, slowed motions. his hand, clumsy, trying to find the knife in amber's hand. on the floor? he couldn't think. fuck. he couldn't move. . .

AMBER KNEW IT HADN'T BEEN WISE to bring the very blade he had just stabbed her with in close proximity with the fragile features of her face , but it couldn't be helped . the temptation to perform for him was one in which she didn't have the means to fight , not even when he took control once more and slipped its metal edge into the supple skin of her lip . amber's lashes fluttered , slowly sucking air through her parted pout as she watched his face the entire time he moved the blade . felt his hips jerking against her , how hard he had gotten . hatred burnt in his shrouded sights , but something else did , too . that was enough to give her satisfaction - - curve her insatiable hunger . for now .

she gave him a low purr as her tongue slid along her lacerated petal , saliva thick as it intermingled with the wet blood that now dripped down her chin and puddled behind her bottom teeth . though it wasn't a rumble of seduction and more so a growl of annoyance . " you look pretty surprised to me , " she drawled , a knowing look to the steel rod tucked beneath denim he was doing a horrendous job at hiding , her own breaths panted as if they had just taken a break from an intense waltz . some kind of sick , twisted duet where they both were attempting to perform different choreography . out dance one another .

amber saw a moment of opportunity when the knife vacated her chin , porcelain burning where he had sullied its purity with his knife . she swallows , tasting rich iron as it slid down her throat , and grabbed his wrist once more with the arm not hung limp at her side . " if you don't kill me - - i'm going to just bleed out on your carpet , , , and that's not very FUN , now is it ?? " amber whispered , lowering her head to drag her nose along the protruding vein of his wrist before biting into his flesh . not enough to pierce , but hard enough where any blood vessel would break from the pressure . she moved quick , soothing the indentations with her stained tongue ( painting his salty flesh red in the process ) , the assault having lead to the spreading of his fingers , the dropping of the knife into her lap .

picking it up , amber cried in agony as she scooted forward to slide up against him , slipping one knee than the other over his lap as his head lulled back against the wall and his eyes seemed to cross . the knife , now in her hold , then lifted - - its soiled edge coming to press just beneath his exposed adam's apple . amber leaned in , touching the tip of her nose to his jaw , , , though the motion was clumsy as her own vision began to blur , swaying atop him . her mouth then moved towards his ear , tongue coming to flick his lobe before canines nibbled on the warm flesh .

" someone feelin' a lil' woozy ?? " amber cooed against cartilage , smearing blood across his skin as her mouth ventured across the uncharted terrain . then , longingly , as if he hadn't dismissed her affections with an onslaught of rude commentary ; " - - i know you , raleigh . don't you - - don't you want someone who understands you ?? " her words begin to slur , fingers twitching around the knife's hilt , head lulling as she pressed her temple to his jaw line . her hips drop down once more , his hardened girth greeting her , and she hummed from the friction as her mind spun from blood loss , blood lust , and the electric pain igniting every inch of her body.

her weight drooped forward , leading the blade pressing harder to his throat and slip a hair beneath the skin - - like a paper cut - - her whole body plagued by tremors . " i love you , " she wheezed , emotion bubbling in her throat , spiraling back down into hysterical depravity . her hips rolled forward , abdomen flush to his , knees squeezing his hips . her breaths became labored , weighted ; " - - and you know - - you know i can't kill you . i - - i can't . you're being mean . "

[goron-king-darunia]

IRL Achievement GET: Last Resort: "So it's come to this?" Use vinegar and an old broom to clean the fruit fly corpses off the shower walls.

[abluescarfonwaston]

Shapeshifter Au

Despite what Geralt might believe- they didn’t actually met for the first time in Posada.

No. They met several months before that. When his clothes were still far too rich for the road and his pockets far too obviously laden with coin.

Met the night bandits attacked him. Breaking his arm before he’d even had a chance to wake up.

That’s what he gets for not sleeping as a bear. It just made him smell funny and he’d just had a bath and-

That wasn’t important. What was important was now he was locked in a cage with a broken arm. He could get small enough to slip through the bars but. It would hurt. And he’d still have to get his lute back.

One problem at a time.

One problem at a time he assured himself as he shifted smaller and smaller until he could fit through the bars of the cage. A lark. That’d work. 

A lark with a broken wing trying to carry a lute out of a bandit camp. He hopped over to it and tried to figure out what he could shift into that would give him a chance. Curled up on the soundboard- they’d set it down the wrong way- and tried to gather his strength.

Turns out he hadn’t need to. The bandits began screaming. Dying. Then silence. When he finally had the strength to open his eyes a massive- was pretty sure they weren’t massive just because he was currently a tiny bird-  man with white hair was inspecting him.

He leaped- as much as this form could leap- back and chirped out in pain as his broken wing hit the strings.

“You’re hurt.” The giant stated like it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. Which he told them. Not that he understood. “Chatty little thing aren’t you? If you’ll hold still i’ll wrap it up for you.”

He pulled out a strip of cloth- probably ripped from a bandit- and those hands that were bigger than him and covered in blood splatter closed in. He bit into the lute string preparing to be crushed.

Gently he held him. Wrapped his wing stable.

“Alright. All done. Let’s go.”

He held as tightly to the lute as he could. He wasn’t going to leave her behind!

He chuckled. It was a very nice sound. “If i promise to bring the lute will you let go little lark?” He considered them with his beady little eyes.

After a moment he let go.

“There’s a good bird. Let me introduce you to Roach.” He said gently holding him in a single palm as he slung the lute over his shoulder. 

Gently settled him into a nest of cloth in a saddlebag.

Gently fed him berries and seeds.

Gently spoke to him as the fire burned down.

Gently. Always Gently. Like this massive mass of muscle didn’t know how to be anything but Gentle.

(He did. He remembers the piles of bandit corpses. He definitely did know how to be not gentle)

And then his wing was better. And he didn’t want to go but he wanted to play. And you couldn’t just. Admit to being a shapeshifter. People didn’t like that.

He found a crown. It wasn’t much but -well it was all this form could carry- and left it on the bedroll next to Geralt. Payment maybe? A thank you? Probably.  Shifted bigger until he could fly away with the lute in his claws.

Then he saw him in Posada. He wasn’t sure if he- Geralt of Rivia he finally realized now that he wasn’t a tiny bird- recognized the lute. 

But he recognized the coin.

So he followed after.

[ddarker-dreams]

Sweet Talkin’. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

There’s been an abnormal amount of sirens tonight.

It should be unnerving -- and to an extent it is -- but this isn’t what keeps you awake. Not that, or even the dogs barking outside accompanied with an occasional derogatory yell. With a heavy heart, you can say that you’ve gotten used to all of that noise. No, it’s something different that steals you from the welcoming comfort of a deep slumber. 

The thing that truly keeps you up is the anticipation of what is to come. Or more precisely, who. 

The bright glow of your phone strains your tired eyes, but it’s your best shot at finding entertainment. Squinting at the blinding light, exhaustion seeps into your being despite your best efforts to ward it off. No matter how much caffeine you drink later on in the day, it’s not enough to to thwart your natural inclinations to sleep.

For most, nighttime is a relaxing time of day that’s coveted. It brings a time of solitude, to reflect and rest up for the next day. While you wish you could return to the days where you felt like that, it’s long behind you now. Instead, you evade sleep, in fear of what could occur when you’re in the defenseless state. 

An illusion of control is better than none at all.

“You’re gonna get dark circles under those pretty eyes if you keep staying up this late.” 

A deep voice rumbles from the entrance to your shared room, one that you instantly recognize. Even in your groggy state, your emotions heighten in his presence. Turning off your phone and placing it down, you stretch your arms out, a yawn leaving your lips in the process.  

So he’s back. 

“Yeah, yeah…” you grumble back, caring little for the teasing comment. After feeling around your nightstand, a click resonates, light illuminating your room. Once your eyes adjust, you spot your unwelcome visitor, who makes himself at home. Dabi walks towards you, your bed creaking under his added weight as he sits down. Untying his shoes, he throws them carelessly in the corner.

Sensing your staring, he looks over his shoulder and grins at you. “Awe, you miss me or somethin’? How cute.” 

A groan leaves your lips, and you reach to throw a pillow at him. He easily deflects it with a snicker, working on taking his shirt off next. At least now that he’s back you feel more inclined to sleep, knowing that he can’t sneak up on you. Splatters of dark vermilion catch your attention, mouth curling downwards into a frown. 

If there’s anything you’ve learned in your time with Dabi, it’s that you shouldn’t ask where the blood stains come from. Ignorance is bliss, right? It’s still an unnerving sight, especially since you know it isn’t his. 

The relationship you two share is nothing if not unconventional. His occupation -- if you can even call it that -- has him coming and going at unholy times at night. Sleep is difficult to come by, not knowing when he might make an appearance. It’s what leads you to stay up some nights, a preferable experience to tossing and turning with anxious thoughts plaguing you.

As long as you stay in your designated place, Dabi holds true to his promise of doing you no harm. Thinly veiled threats under the pretense of being your “roommate” lead you to the current day, an awkward routine settling in. For all it’s worth, it could be worse. You’re acutely aware of what Dabi is capable of, having seen the ashes of corpses blurred out in the news. 

Why he’s taken a liken to you is beyond you. It still beats dying, only by a sliver. 

“There are some leftovers in the fridge,” you tap your phone, reading the time. Three in the morning. Great, and you have work tomorrow too. “I think I’ll give sleeping a shot now that you’re back.” 

Dabi raises an eyebrow at this, a fresh shirt without blood stains now on. “You always sleep when I get back. It hurts my feelings. What, am I not good enough company?”  

‘If I’m being honest, not really.’

He grins at how you shiver, lazily crawling over to be by your side. His sudden presence fills your nose with unknown scents, ranging from smoke to burnt leather. Underneath is hints of his cologne, all mixing together to disorient you further. Dabi loves riling you up, testing the limits of what you can handle. 

You take a deep breath, hugging your knees to your chest. As long as you don’t let it get to you, it’ll be fine. He always gets bored eventually, leaving you to do as you please. That’s what you’ll aim for.

“It’s not that. I just have stuff to do tomorrow, and I don’t like being exhausted. It’s my long shift.” 

His trademark grin melts away, furrowing eyebrows and a grimace taking its place. Mentioning your life outside of him is a tricky battle, and you can’t help but regret mentioning it. Being in a sleep deprived state is a major disadvantage in your interactions with him.

“This again? I thought I told you to quit. Rent or whatever won’t be an issue, I’ll handle it.” Dabi scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder. His skin feels rough against yours, coarse hands rubbing circles into  you. You bite your lip at the sensation, hair on the back of your neck standing. 

“I... I like my job. Sure, it can be irritating at times, but it gives me something to do during the day. I’d go stir crazy without something concrete to focus on.” The words are heartfelt, unfiltered. When he responds in silence you worry you’ve made a mistake, upsetting him with your defiance.

He huffs against your neck, lifting his head and shooting you a displeased look.  His voice is a low murmur, one that reverberates into the core of your very being. “Always making trouble for me..." 

Dabi’s grip around you tightens, and you gulp thickly. With how casual he speaks to you, it can be easy to forget the major power imbalance. Instead of greeting you with insults, or worse, he lightly flicks your forehead.

You blink, baffled.

“Don’t most people hate their jobs? I figured you’d be jumping at the idea of having more free time, or whatever. So you can focus on other things.” 

It’s not a confession you were expecting, your cheeks flushing at the considerate nature of his words. While it’s true quitting your job is an appealing thought, it creates a semblance of balance within your now chaotic life. Helping you stick to a schedule, in the same way school used to. 

Now feeling confident in expressing yourself, your taut muscles relax into his touch. “I’m too tired to think about it properly, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how you can stay up this late all the time without losing it.” 

Deflecting from the previous topic makes you feel better. If Dabi notices your intentions he doesn’t point them out, allowing you to take control of the conversation without complaint. He must prefer it over when you’d just shake and cry in his presence.

“You get used to it, sweetheart,” he drums his fingers against you, smirking. “I’ll make a night owl outta you yet.” 

Any implications in his words go straight over your head.

“As tempting an offer as that is, I think I’ll pass. ” 

He shrugs at your indifference, removing his arms from your frame. The lack of enveloping warmth causes you to shiver, Dabi searching through his bag. You peak over his shoulder out of curiosity, his scarred hands settling on an object which he pulls out. 

It’s a copy of Animal Crossing, in all of its beautiful glory. You wipe your eyes, unsure if what you’re seeing is reality.

“W-what?” you guffaw before your brain has the chance to stop you, jaw agape and head tilted. Dabi places it on your lap, and returns to his previous position of holding you. There’s clear amusement in his eyes at your stunned state, relishing in your every reaction.

“Did I get the wrong thing? This is that game you wanted, isn’t it?” 

It had to have been a week or so ago. You lamented to him about not being able to afford this, not even realizing he was giving it any attention. To think he remembered, and acted on it for your sake... is a touching sensation. Maybe he is capable of selflessness after all.

The cute box art puts a smile on your face, one that Dabi stares at. 

“I have to say, I’m surprised,” you pick it up, looking at the back with wide eyes. “Did the cashier give you a funny look when you picked this out?” 

‘I really need to start thinking before I speak.’

He shakes his head at your blunt comment, not taking any offense. “I didn’t get it that way.”

‘Oh, well... better not ask more than necessary. There’s no blood on it so at least that’s a good sign.’

Wiggling free from his grip, you rotate your legs over the side of the bed, intent on getting your switch. An opportunity like this must be taken advantage of, and you’ve wanted to play this game for some time now. Dabi must’ve read your mind, and pulls you back to him with little effort before you get the chance. 

“If I remember correctly, you said you were tired just a few minutes ago.” 

He plucks the game from your fingers, and places it on the side furthest from you. What a cruel world this is, to have paradise so close and yet so far. You can’t help the pout that forms at his actions.

“The situation changed, I’m wide awake now.” you explain to an unmoved Dabi, launching over his lap to get your coveted game back. He picks it up, lifting it over your head with a chuckle. So that’s how it’s going to be. 

Defeat settling in, you retreat for now. A sigh leaves your lips, arms crossing over your chest. You should’ve known better, Dabi has made it clear to you that he wants your attention. Looks like you’ll have to wait until after work to get a taste of Animal Crossing. 

There’s a glint of mischievous in his azure eyes, one that you’ve seen more often than you wish. Dabi sighs in mock hurt, placing a hand over his heart. “Not even so much as a thank you for my efforts. That’s cold, babe. Real cold.” 

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Thank you, it means a lot.” 

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s not what I was looking for. Try again, sweetheart.” 

A flurry of thoughts fly through your mind, all competing with one another to offer a solution. Does he want money for it? He should know that you’re not capable of producing that amount, or you would’ve bought the game for yourself. Dabi gives you a moment to think, before offering the answer to you.

He puts his pointer finger on your lip, maintaining eye contact while doing so. 

“Oh, t-that.”

“So glad to see that you’re finally catching on.” 

It could be the summer heat winning over your AC, the room suddenly feeling warmer than it did a few moments prior. You look down at your blankets, focusing on anything other than the person in front of you. This level of teasing is nothing new with Dabi, he always manages to fluster you. 

He sits, relaxed, waiting for you to make a move. There aren’t any other options that you can think of, so you give into what he wants. Moving closer to his face, you feel his warm breath fanning against your skin. Your hand twitches, pressing against his chest to offer balance.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you tilt your head, soft lips brushing over his own. All of your movements are hesitant, your entire body feeling like it’s on fire. Heart pounding violently against your chest, you move to pull back. Only to discover his hand on the back of your head is stopping you from doing so.

Dabi slants his lips back over your own, nibbling your bottom lip. You freeze, the unexpected affection leaving you incapable of reacting. It’s when you squeak that he finally loosens his grip, opening his eyes to take in your embarrassed countenance. 

All things considered, it wasn’t an unpleasant experience. 

You cover your burning face with your shaking hands, feeling the warmth emanating off of you. He makes it even worse by chuckling, the low rumble filling you with indignation. There never is hope of catching a break with Dabi. 

“You might be the one with a fire quirk after all,” he leans forward, placing a hand against your hot forehead. “Mm... that look you’re giving me is too much. You have to be doing it on purpose at this point.” 

Fed up with his relentless teasing, you smack his hand away and purse your lips. He props his arms behind his head, letting you glare at him to your heart’s content. From his lack of reaction, you get the feeling he isn’t too intimidated by you. 

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you huff, returning to your side and pulling up the blankets. He doesn’t make a move to stop you, and you take the opportunity to lay down on your side. Refusing to look at him, you focus on the wall. 

Dabi pokes your cheek, which you ignore. 

He lets out a long sigh at your antics, joining you underneath the covers. You hear shuffling behind you, and can’t help but wonder what it is that he’s up to. Maybe he’s succumbing to his own exhaustion, and will let you sleep in peace? What a perfect world it’d be if that’s the case.

The thought is entertained for three seconds before you’re pulled against his firm chest from behind, toned arms snaking around your torso and staying there. His body is always so warm. It doesn’t help that you’re already embarrassed from before. Dabi grumbles something incoherent, placing his head in the crook of your neck. 

Accepting the situation for what it is, you stop moving. He reaches over you to turn off the light, and darkness surrounds you once more. All you can hear are your own labored breaths, and rapidly pounding heart. It might be impossible to sleep like this. 

You’ll call out of work for tomorrow. 

“... Dabi?” you whisper, voice soft and barely audible. He grunts in response, nuzzling further into your neck. For the past few months, there’s been a thought that haunts you at every turn. One that you can never find an answer to, and have been too frightened to investigate beyond your own musings.

It’d be easy to play this off as sexual attraction alone, yet a voice in the back of your head says otherwise. That what Dabi feels for you goes beyond that, into a sinister territory that you want desperately to avoid. Why is it he’s patient -- borderline kind -- with you, yet cruel to everyone else? None of it makes logical sense, his actions erratic and seemingly without reason.

Maybe you shouldn’t know. Still, you ask, against your better judgement. 

“Why do you like me so much?” 

You feel how he smiles against the skin of your neck, the sensation stirring up unknown emotions within. He squeezes you against him once, letting out a low hum as he considers your words. While waiting for him to speak, you hold in a breath. 

“Dunno. Just do,” Dabi offers a noncommittal response, one that leaves you greatly unsatisfied. It seems he’s not even aware of it himself, the effect you have on him unlike anything he’s ever experienced. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” 

“... Alright, I won’t.” 

“Good. Now get some sleep, before I ask you to kiss me again.” 

[dcggersedge]

"Daaaaaang!" Yunaka peeks up over the bush a little, just enough to see the results of Bernie's shot. The student had been slain, knocked to the ground with an arrow sticking directly up from his forehead. She can't see the paint splatter from here (which is for the best, really), but the guy looks out, enough so that one of his friends leaves their own cover to check on him.

If she'd been actually trying to kill that guy, that would have been a one hit kinda shot.

"Not all that, my butt. That was fantasterrific!" She hooks the arrow with the thumb of her bow hand to free up her other one to ruffle Bernie's hair a little. "Gunna put your archery professors out of a job with performances like that!"

Her master had taught her how to use a bow. She'd learned most weapons, but her knives had always been what she was best at. The bow she has now (boring, cheap, barely stronger than a training bow) is faintly familiar in her hands, like a long lost hobby taken up again years later. The question now, is how good is her shot?

The student who came out of hiding is still exposed, reaching for their downed buddy once again. Yunaka pulls back the bowstring, aims, and lets the arrow fly. It cuts through the air, into the little gap between the student's hand and the fallen "corpse", before splattering against the wall. The student yelps as they fall back, but they at least have the sense to scramble back for cover rather than sitting on their ass in shock.

Yunaka clucks her tongue. She'd been aiming to hit... "Dang, the weight's different than I'm used to." She sighs, but it's only for a little before she's grinning at Bernie again. "Got another crazy shot ready, Miss All Star?"

they gave me the inexhaustible after 5 years and i'm using it as a paintball gun

anniversary '24 ⚘ bow +1

[comfortwriting]

The Widow - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Requested/About: The reader and Fred have been married for a year,  they were supposed to be celebrating their anniversary - but instead they are fighting for their lives in the battle of Hogwarts. When Y/N is finally reunited with the Weasley's in the great hall, her life shatters completely.

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, corpses, open wounds, loss of limbs, bombings/explosions, mention of children dying.

Cloud Nine. Above the clouds. That's how you would describe your life ever since you and Fred moved out, got married, and lived every day together like it was your last.

Too many late nights messing around in the living room, dancing, coming up with pranks for when you have children and grandchildren to fool around and cause mischief with. Too many early, sleep-deprived mornings watching the sunrise and listening to the birds sing like they were the worlds biggest choir.

You were initially quite excited to celebrate your first wedding anniversary with Fred - you had planned to cook him a three-course romantic meal if he didn't beat you to it, you had already bought him gifts - a new dragon scale suit for work, a car (which you guessed it, could fly), and you had papers in the thick envelope waiting for him to open with the news of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes going oversees to please many other young witches and wizards.

Instead of all you had planned, tonight, you and Freddie, like many others, were fighting for your lives in the battle of Hogwarts. Your wand gripped tightly in your hand, on the lookout for death eaters - even Voldemort perhaps - you and Fred got separated when a loud bang broke out, followed by the screams of young children.

"Do what you must, my love!" Freddie winced, lifting himself off the floor, striking his wand out at the death eater in front of him, George and Percy fighting alongside him.

You wanted to stay with your husband, you wanted to see him make it out of this alive, you wanted to have the chance to give your life to save his if it came to it - but you also couldn't justify leaving young children and teenagers to suffer at the hands of the death eaters, who were hellbent on causing destruction and tallying up the death toll - you had already lost enough; your little sister.

You shook your head, coughing at the dust and dirt rising in the air from the blast "I can't leave you - I can't-"

A bright flash hit the death eater, killing them instantly, Fred turned and hurried over to you, his hands cupping your dirt and blood stained face "Y/N Weasley, my darling, you go now and don't look back! Those children need you, I promise I'll find you - you won't lose me."

Tears filled your eyes at his words, at the thought of leaving him without knowing if he would make it out alive to deliver on his promise, but Fred was right - children were counting on you - you couldn't leave them to die.

"Okay love?" he kissed your lips softly, for as long as he could before another loud bang rang through.

Pulling away you nodded your head "Okay Freddie, I love you-"

Before Fred could respond, another bright flash burst through and George shot out, slamming against the wall, Freddie instantly yelling and pointing his wand, swinging it through the air.

Your tears spilt down your face as you mustered the strength to stand tall and run, run towards the sound of the loud blasts and screaming children. The smell of smoke choking you, the dust, dirt and smoke stinging your eyes as you pushed further and further towards the children - most of them already dead and cold, whilst the others were seriously injured, losing blood and missing limbs.

The children who were holding on, you aided, stopping them from bleeding, stitching their wounds and leading them all to safety once Tonks and Remus showed up, both worse for wear.

"We'll take it from here, Y/N," Remus said, whilst Tonks lead the children to safety.

"T-Thank you," you choked, coughing.

"You need to get out of here, now and fast, before they come-"

"I need to go back to Freddie," you quickly limped, wiping your eyes.

Remus stopped you "Y/N, you can't go back there, it's too dangerous, you need to wait for them out of the way-"

"No! I can't, he's my husband-"

"What happens if a handful of death eaters find you on your own? Limping towards a path you may not reach - they will kill you! Think of what that will do to Fred!"

"I promise I'll find you - you won't lose me."

Your gut feeling screamed at you, telling you to ignore Remus and sprint towards your husband, even if your ankle wasn't ready for such a trial - but your heart kept telling you to wait for him, to go to safety and wait for him to return.

You went with your heart, ignoring the strong churning of your gut.

"Thank you, Remus."

You limped throughout the castle, facing stray death eaters along the way, your strength and motivation to find your husband pushing you further and further, escaping death and more serious harm - part of you felt a little better, less on the edge and more relaxed, part of you felt that deep down inside you would get to see those deep brown eyes, and feel those strands of ginger locks through your fingers as you cuddle your husband in bed.

Before the hope inside of you could spread any further, the final blast shook the castle, the boom making your heart and stomach drop - you didn't know how, or why, but this time a switch inside of you flipped, and you the hope inside of you shattered to pieces.

Bursting through the huge doors you once stood in front of with Fred in the first year, you limped past the many wizard and witches, dead, injured, and alive in mourning. Before finally reaching the Weasley's you looked down and noticed both Tonks and Remus dead, their arms outstretched to one another - moments before they were alive, coming to your aid.

Looking desperately for your husband, searching for his blinking eyes, his golden hair, and clear voice, but instead, you were face to face with George and Molly, their eyes red, cracked and glassy with tears. George's jacket coated in filth, and in large splatters and trickles of blood.

"W-Where is he?" you asked, looking for Fred between the Weasleys "Wheres Fred?"

Molly's lips quivered and George's voice cracked as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Y/N... my dear... he..." Molly trailed off, coming closer to you, her arm wrapping around you.

"He didn't make it." George cried out, moving to the left, revealing Fred's body.

You weren't standing up anymore, you couldn't remember how you found yourself on the cold floor, on your knees, bending over Fred's cold stiff body, crying and wailing on his chest, the drying blood crumbling and smearing at your touch when your hands went to stroke his hair, full of debris.

The wind had been knocked out of you, you couldn't breathe.

"We're so sorry," Percy cried, crouching beside his little brother's body "I tried to save him - the blast - it just - it happened so fast, I-"

George and Molly cuddled you from behind, holding you and keeping you grounded.

Opening your eyes, you looked into Fred's searching desperately for any sign of life, but nothing was there, not a flicker of gold, or mischief.

Cloud Nine. Above the clouds. That's how you once described your life when a lad named Fred, your best friend, first crush, first boyfriend, and husband was in it.

Not enough late nights messing around in the living room, dancing, coming up with pranks for when you thought you would have children and grandchildren to fool around and cause mischief with. Not enough early, sleep-deprived mornings watching the sunrise and listening to the birds sing like they were the worlds biggest choir.

Fred would never have a chance to cook for you, or you for him, you would never get to see him waltz around the shop floor of the joke shop looking dapper in his new suit, you would never have your heart warmed by the joy and pride on his face as he opens the envelope and reads how his future is going to be more than he ever could imagine.

Last year, you and Fred got married and had the rest of your lives together waiting for you, and now, one year on, you had become a widow, having no choice but to live without the man you prepared to spend the rest of your life with.

"I promise I'll find you, Freddie," you whispered, walking around his joke shop, handing the letter to George "you won't lose me."

taglist: @horrorxweasley @amourtentiaa @alwaysnforeverfangirl @inglourious-imagines @reeophidian @sebby-staan @onlyfreds @xmalfoyweasleyx @livvysnaps @supermassiveblackhope @youralternantpersonality @snivellouss @potters-heart @the-romanian-is-bae

[kikyan]

Izaya Ending

His ending is here along with the smut! MDI after the cut! ALSO I RLLY HAD TO HAVE A FRIEND HELP ME WITH THE SMUT CUZ I WAS SO EMBARRASED TO WRITE IT ALL OMFG-

TW: Dub-con! Degration! Name calling! Oral Sex (both giving and receiving)! Collar! Choking! Vaginal Sex/Penetration! Think that’s it if not lmk!

ALSO I RLLY USED THE MOST WATTPAD BASIC ASS LANGUAGE FOR THIS SMUT THIS IS HOW YOU KNOW THIS SHIT WAS WRITTEN YEARS AGO

PART ONE

“Oh? It seems he even has the Dollars searching for you!” 

“ Izaya, please I apologize for anything that I did that caused you to do this, but I need to get back to Shizuo!” 

“ And do what? Apologize for my actions and say everything is fine? You truly are different than other humans (Y/N)! Besides, does Shizu-chan know?” 

“ K-know what?” 

“You can drop the act. I know who you are (Y/N) or should I sa-?!” 

“ Izaya, I won’t ask you again. Please, I apologize for what I said or did but I must return to my fiance.” 

“ I can’t do that (Y/N). You thought you had me fool, no you thought you had the whole world fooled, but unlike Shizu-chan, I know the real you. You are far too unique, too precious to be in the hands of that brute, that damned monster!” 

“ IZAYAAAAAA! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE AND GIVE ME MY DAMN FIANCE!” 

“ Speak of the Devil, he really did arrive, didn’t he? (Y/N) it’s better if you stay, wait no- I want you to see God punish his worthless creation, than have his Goddess forgive him and the cycle continues!” 

Grabbing her arm, (Y/N) was dragged to the door where Shizuo lay in waiting/ Shizuo’s eyes lit up with hope as (Y/N) arrived, quickly scanning her to ensure that she was not harmed by Izaya. 

“ This is low, even for you Izaya. What the hell do you want anyway?” 

“ I want (Y/N) of course! How rude of you to keep her from society, from me! She is too perfect, in fact, she is perfection! I can’t stand you of all people, a damn monster near her!” 

“ If I am a monster, what the hell does that make you?” 

“ That hurt Shizu-chan, but I’m sure my goddess, (Y/N) would forgive you nonetheless!” 

Grabbing a stop sign Shizuo prepared to swing at Izaya before seeing (Y/N) duck down. 

‘This is too dangerous for (Y/N)! I have to lead him away. . .’ 

“ You see (Y/N)! This monster swung at you! I told you, he would only hurt you! Stay with me, my Goddess!” 

Taking his knife out, he swung it at Shizuo cutting him horizontally across his chest. As Shizuo remained unfazed he swung the sign hitting Izaya as well sending him flying back inside the apartment complex. As Izaya got up and grabbed the knife and (Y/N), before placing the knife under (Y/N)’s throat causing her to panic slightly. 

“ (Y/N)! Izaya you damned bastard! Let her go, that’s low. . .” 

“ It’s fine! Besides, my Goddess is so forgiving, I'm sure she will let this slide! In fact, I feel as if instead of the way I initially thought, it was you Shizuo who used (Y/N)!” 

Catching him off guard Shizuo looked down from (Y/N) with a hurtful expression as he pondered if he did truly use her as Izaya said. 

“ Kid. . . ding. . .!” 

With that Izaya took this time to spin (Y/N) from his hold and bolted to Shizuo, knife ready and a gun to end this beast’s life. As Shizuo looked up he failed to notice the blade approaching fast, approaching close to his eye until it did, leading to Izaya stabbing Shizuo in the eye causing him to crouch down in pain and hold his eye that was bleeding profusely. Izaya held the gun on his forehead before looking down with insanity filled eyes and a smile to top off the look. 

“ Shizuo, let’s ask (Y/N) if she forgives you for using her?” 

Turning to the side he was met with (Y/N) sobbing as she looked at him straight in the eyes before blurting out, “ Izaya, please! Leave Shizuo alone! He did nothing wrong! I’ll do whatever you want me to do just please leave him b-!?” 

“ Oh but (Y/N), you already are. He did nothing wrong? That sounds like forgiveness! Now Shizuo, any last words?” 

Turning slightly noticing he lost the battle and that Izaya won, he mumbled a small “ I love you (Y/N), forgive me” before having his life taken away as well as his fiance. 

“ SHIZUO!” 

(Y/N) ran to catch his body as she sobbed louder before clutching his arm, the one that held his engagement ring. Looking at his corpse (Y/N) continued saying “I FORGIVE YOU I’M SORRY PLEASE, PLEASE COME BACK!” 

“ Heh. . . hehe, ha, haha, HAHAHAAHAHAHA! THIS IS SPLENDID! THIS IS GREAT! THAT DAMNED MONSTER IS GONE! MY GODDESS IS MINE AND MINE ONLY NOW! HEY (Y/N), YOU FORGIVE ME, RIGHT? I MEAN, ON THE BRIGHT SIDE NOW THERE ISN’T A SHIZUO TO EDGE ON, RIGHT?” 

“ . . . I-I-I-I-I. . . I f-forgive y-you. . . I forgive you Izaya. . .” 

“ SEE I KNEW IT! ISN’T MY GODDESS WONDERFUL? NO MATTER THE CRIME SHE WILL ALWAYS FORGIVE! OH (Y/N) YOU TRULY ARE SPECIAL AND ONE OF A KIND!” 

Crouching down to hug (Y/N) from behind, Izaya smiled before speaking. 

“ Indeed (Y/N), you truly are special! Who would have guessed in a million years that I would meet the one who changed me! The one who became my goddess, the one who made me see humanity in a new light!” 

“ I-I-Izaya. . . why me. . .? 

“ Why you ask? Simple, it’s because . . . yOu’Re My FaVoRiTe HuMaN~” 

Standing on the rooftop Izaya was speaking with a female in pigtails as he began to tell her that she wasn’t really planning on killing herself and that she had one or two secrets that she didn’t tell anyone, so if her parents had one. . . what was the big deal? 

“ All humans lie, hide things, no one really makes it through this life being completely honest. Everyone's the same, no exceptions! Well, that is what I thought until I met (Y/N) (l/n) but I’ll let her do the rest from here on out. What you choose to do is on you in the end so choose carefully~!” 

Walking out to the edge with the girl (Y/N) looks and stares at the blood splatter as she turns to her and says, “ we humans will commit the worst of crimes, murder, robbery, rape, you name it. Though, the biggest crime any human can commit and go about not knowing is lying to yourself and making a mistake thinking it will solve the issue. Do not fear, I am not judging you I just want you to know, no matter what you choose to do tonight, I forgive you and I assure you, a second chance is waiting for you all! So please, on the bright side, you now know what is happening and now you know what you can do to change it!” 

The girl began to sob as she clutched onto (Y/N) sobbing and pouring her heart out with her smiling as she looked at the girl. After some time she finally left and (Y/N) looked up to the moon before hearing Izaya speak once again before hugging her and smiling. 

“ Who would have known, so tell me is this you speaking (Y/N)? Or is it Saika?” 

“ You can rest assure it’s me Izaya, but please don’t mention Saika.” 

“ I never imagined someone as happy and cheerful as you to wield Saika, more importantly, go through something as traumatic as you have. Oh well, that’s life I guess! I’ll be waiting by the door whenever you wish to leave my Goddess. . .” 

“ Alright. . .” 

As (Y/N) stared at the moon and then the red blood splatter she began to recall that memory, that small memory that started it all. 

~ 

In a small room all alone lived a young girl in her ‘timeout punishment’ as they called it. It was actually isolation, for three days the young girl hasn’t eaten and was barely drinking enough water to stay alive, but who was she to complain? Looking out she saw several children walking around and playing and it began to sadden the young girl as she could not join them for a small game of tag. Her mother was most likely with some other man and so was her father. As they argued and took out their stress out on other people, such as their daughter (Y/N), they failed to realize the young girl apologize for everything. 

Blood stained the nice mats and floors as two bodies lay on top of each other with wounds in their stomachs causing their entrails to leap out. 

“ I’m sorry mother and father! I apologize, if I wasn’t so weak then this never would have happened. On the bright side, I have freedom now! I also heard that I can play with the neighborhood kids too! Ah, don’t look at me like that mom! I know that I caused you so much pain, but you did too! I know for a fact that I should have done so much more but it’s fine mother! Father was upset when I defied the orders but then again father always got mad!  I ended up reading a book on how to make friends and it said that I should try to make them happy and if I make them sad to apologize! I love people mom and dad! I’m scared they won’t like me or worse hate me! Which is why I need to make them happy, which is why I need to be happy!  I don’t know when they are sad so I will just apologize if I do something you would disapprove of mom, dad!” 

~ 

Looking down from the moon (Y/N) smiled before turning to face Izaya and walking side by side. He too was hurt and didn’t know how else to cope so it was fine! Besides, you’ve made so many friends so any sacrifice that was paid was rightfully paid! After all, you were his goddess and he treated you like one! You’ve made so many friends so it’s been working right! Well whatever, just remember that (Y/N) is afraid of people hating her and never wanting her, so treat a friend right before you start to see not only you fall but they themselves. 

“ What are you thinking about (Y/N)?” 

“ Nothing much Izaya, c’mon let’s go home if that’s all. I still have dinner to make!” 

“Indeed, so what are we making?” 

“ well, what’s your favorite meal?” 

“Well, what was Shizu-chan’s favorite meal?” 

“ Well. . . if you want we can make that. . .” 

“ Then it’s settled! Hey (Y/N). . . you don’t hold it against me for killing Shizu-chan do you?” 

(Y/N) turned to look at Izaya who held the same crazed expression as he did when he pulled the trigger. Shaking her head (Y/N) looked up to smile at Izaya before mouthing, ‘I forgive you Iza-chan!” 

Smiling at the nickname he approached the girl standing before him as he grabbed her by the waist before kissing her softly. Soon after the kiss turned heated as his tongue found its way next to the girls as their tongues entwined together. Feeling the need to breathe, they separated as their only connection was the string of saliva that hung from both of their lips.  

" You are just so forgiving and unpredictable. . . It's exciting to see what our dear (Y/N)-chan will do when faced with a predicament but I think it's more exciting to see how much you of all people can hold on, can withstand before you break! Don't worry my Goddess, because you have me to help you!" 

"Thank you Iza-chan! I appreciate that you will make me happy as much as I make you happy!" 

Grabbing the (h/c) haired female, Izaya began to walk downstairs with his goddess in hand as his mind raced and began to wonder, how far would your relationship with Shizuo last, that is if he was still alive? Well, whatever the case was, Izaya wasn't going to lose to Shizuo so with a sadistic, yet smug grin, he turned to the female he held in his hand and said, 

"(Y/N) - Chan. . . How does a baby sound to you?" 

Pushing Y/N onto the bed, Izaya began to remove his jacket. Pressing kisses onto her neck, mumbling to himself about how this child would be absolutely perfect.

"I-Iza. . .?" 

"Shh. . . (Y/N) - Chan~ don't worry~ The pain you will experience will only make you stronger, our baby will be the summit of all of humanity. Our child will be born to be the perfect mix of our best qualities.”

"Iza. . . I-I. . . If you want a baby then I'll give you one, I'll give birth to our baby. . ." 

" Perfect~ Just to make sure that monster hasn't tainted you, he didn't touch you did he?" 

"No. . . We decided to wait till marriage. . . But it's fine Iza! I mean the one I love is well. . . you isn't it?" 

Not liking the response the young girl gave him Izaya smirked before turning to a straight face filled with anger and lust. 

"That's perfect!~ That means I'll be your first right (Y/N)-chan?"

“O-Of course! You’ll be my very first Iza!”

"That's perfect! (Y/N), you should do more than love me, you should worship you me like your God, your savior, and your salvation. So until then, until I know I have your life, love, admiration, and belief, you are just a lowly human that doesn't deserve my attention."

"Iza! I'm sorry for what I said, but I hope you still know I love y-!?" 

"Apologizing isn't enough (Y/N) - Chan!~ You need to show me you mean it! Show me your love, your faith, show me who you belong to, lowly human. . . " 

" W-w-what should I do?" 

"Well. . . That's up to you to decide! I'm sure Shizuo asked you to do something naughty before right~" 

"W-w-well t-t-that's-!?"

" So you aren't denying it! Well, I guess I'll have you so the same but show more devotion to me! Show me your love!" 

Understanding what he meant (Y/N) turned to the side before nodding and proceeded to get off the bed getting on the floor before nearing Izaya again. 

Izaya began to smirk seeing how submissive (Y/N) was acting and decided to edge her on more.

"Let's make a bet (Y/N) chan~" 

"A bet?" 

(Y/N) tilted her head slightly adding to her "cute" factor causing Izaya to smirk seeing how he was about to taint his Goddess before that monster did. 

"Yes! Let's see. . . Oh! I know! If you can show me your faith by simply being a little naughty then I'll reward you! If not, you'll get punished!" 

"P-p-punished?!" 

(Y/N) scared expression causing Izaya to harden upon her expression. 

"After all, a lowly human like you has to be punished already for doubting in your God! Now (Y/N) - Chan, let's start!" 

(Y/N) began to near Izaya's jeans and nervously began to unbuckle them before turning away with red dusting her facial features. 

"Aww is a sinner embarrassed to face her punishment? Her God?" 

Nodding slowly, (Y/N) began to turn around to face Izaya who was smirking as he saw the young girl timidly stare at his erect member. 

(Y/N) began to fumble with his boxers as she blushed before thinking about the previous time she did something like this. It was late afternoon, Shizuo and (Y/N) had a mini drinking competition which lead to some intense moments. As soon as her mind came back to her she realized that Izaya's member was exposed and she was staring at it. 

A small chuckle brought her out of her daze before she remembered that she needed to do this, to avoid punishment, she didn't mind doing what she was going to do, but if she didn't do well, she was going to be punished and she feared that a lot more. 

(Y/N) began to near his member and placed a small kiss upon the tip causing Izaya to shift a little as he stared at the female below him as she nervously wrapped her lips about his member, begin to slowly suck on it. 

Izaya tilted his head back as he tried to silence his moans. His Goddess was tempting him, in fact, he had to restrain himself from taking her then and there. 

"A-a-ah. . . (Y/N)-c-chan. . . ~"  

Letting small moans escape his mouth he looked down to see the young female, she was red from embarrassment and small tears slipping from her eyes as she continued to tease the young male. 

As the female began to suck a little harder, Izaya bit his lip but it was futile as he huffed a little before letting out soft moans. 

"(Y/N) - chan!~ I-I-I a-a-ahh~" 

Letting his lust get the best of him he grabbed (Y/N)'s hair and pushed her mouth further in causing her to choke a little and to deep throat him. Getting used to his length was difficult for the young girl as she was trying to match the speed of his forcefulness and her own. 

Izaya was shaking a little as he began to chuckle as he stared deep into the girl’s eyes before whispering and grunting a little in response. 

"S-so (Y/N)-chan. . No more like a lowly human. . . Do you believe that was enough? Are you going to finish and follow through with your punishment?" 

(Y/N) continued to suck on his member before hearing more smaller grunts indicating he was close and he was. Izaya was blushing as he continued biting his lip, although this degrading was a big turn on for him and hopefully his "lowly human" he couldn't conceal his excitement as he let one more moan out before releasing inside the girl’s mouth. 

"Swallow." 

(Y/N), already a step ahead, began to swallow the male’s cum making sure to get any leftovers around her mouth. 

"Good job, but I still didn't feel your devotion, your faith in your actions. Nonetheless, I did feel pleasure, so I'll reward you my lowly human~" 

Izaya began to reach for a collar of some sort before showing it off to (Y/N). As she soon understood the message she allowed him to place it on her, she made sure her hair wasn't a bother as she allowed Izaya to gently place it around her neck. Soon after it was placed Izaya noticed how the collar had a circular ring piece in the center and as he smirked he allowed his fingers to wrap around the ring before yanking it causing (Y/N) to jerk forward and meeting his hungry gaze. 

"You were so good, but not good enough. . . Out of my utter kindness as your God. . . I'll pleasure you as well lowly human." 

"I-Iza. . . I-I-I l-love y-yo-?!" 

"THROUGH ACTION! NOT WORDS, ACTION!" 

Izaya grabbed the collar and dragged you to the bed, not before turning and witnessing your red face, you were being slightly choked due to the tightness of the collar, small tears from the previous event and the biggest turn on, you were drooling a bit and it was so cute, like a little ahegao face. 

" You look so fucking hot, are you tempting me? Do you wish to seduce me and make me forget your crimes? Well, that won't work human, but that doesn't mean I can't play with you~" 

"I-Izaya w-what are you doin- a-a-ahh~" 

Small moans escaped from the girl’s mouth as Izaya began to kiss her, his tongue entering her mouth and slowly melting together with hers causing ultimate bliss. Halfway during the kiss, Izaya's hands wandered downwards to the girl’s jeans before he unbuckled them and proceeded to pull them down causing the girl to gasp. 

"Izaya! W-wait!?" 

" I believe you mean God~" 

(Y/N)'s jeans were removed as Izaya's fingers began to near her clothed womanhood. As he massaged your clit through your (f/c) underwear he smirked as he saw his goddess bright red and soft moans and mewling sounds as he made her feel pleasure. Soon after his fingers made it inside and he massaged her womanhood with much ease and it drove poor (Y/N) crazy. 

"I-Izaya. . ." 

" I think you mean God my lowly human!~" 

"G-God. . . I-I f-feel strange. . ." 

" Not yet! Don't tell me that's all! Well, I guess I better start!" 

Izaya neared (Y/N) womanhood as his tongue went to meet her clit and massaged it ever so gently. Making sure she could experience everything he made sure to hold onto her thighs before sucking and nibbling lightly against the bundle of nerves. Causing her back to arch, (Y/N) moaned in pleasure before Izaya began to change not only where he was attacking but the speed. He slid his tongue up and down one last time before he used his tongue to plunge into (Y/N) womanhood. His tongue went in and out of you as you moaned loudly, it was driving you over the edge. Soon after he stopped before getting up and returning back to his position, straddling you but he replaced his tongue with his finger gaining more access. To start off "soft" he allowed two fingers to access the girl plunging them in and out at a small pace before adding another and going faster causing the girl to moan and turn to face her God. 

" I-I-I f-feel f-funny. . ." 

" It's only a matter of time, my dear human." 

(Y/N) began to feel a knot in her abdomen, it was getting more intense and tight with each time his fingers went inside of her. As she was reaching the point of no return he began to speed up as (Y/N) let out one more moan before her body trembled as her eyes slightly rolled back as her juices sprayed everywhere especially on Izaya's fingers. Izaya smirked before seductively removing his finger from inside of (Y/N) and licked them before smiling softly. He leaned down to whisper, 

"That was amazing! You taste so sweet I can't get enough of it!~ but. . . I think it's time we moved onto the main event don't you think, my lowly human, my little slut. . ." 

It was only at this point that (Y/N) noticed the mirror facing the bed. It was a large, floor mirror that gave the observer a good view of the bed. It hadn’t been there before meaning one thing: Izaya had bought it just for this event.

“Ah, I see you’ve noticed it, finally! The perfect instrument for this night of trial! It’s there to test you, you see. . .”

Izaya’s hands snaked around (Y/N) to the back of her shirt. From there, he pulled one of the straps holding her shirt up, letting the tie unravel. 

“You didn’t really think that our fun, little night would end here, did you? I said we were gonna have a main event; an event with a special little treat for you, my lowly slut. Take it all off, we shouldn’t waste any time!”

(Y/N) sat up in shock. Izaya was being too candid, too forward. The darkness of the room led to Izaya’s face having dark shadows. The look made him too lustful and brought a familiar knot to (Y/N)’s abdomen.

Leaning in, Izaya whispered, “Hurry up.”

With shaking hands, (Y/N) brought her hands to her top and took it off in one swoop. The air suddenly surrounded her and she felt ever colder. The easy part was over, but now came the bra. She had been dying to take it off ever since they arrived home, but she couldn’t have expected that it would be in this situation. 

She could feel her face flushing red as she undid the hooks behind her back. She couldn’t bear to face Izaya, but she could still feel his lustful gaze directed towards her. She could feel him surveying every part of her body in arousal.

When she finally slipped the garment off, her body may have been cold but she could still feel the heat pouring between her legs. The air enveloped her body and made her nipples harden up. They perked up even more when Izaya brought his face closer to her.

“No matter what, I want you to look at me. It’s the very least a whore like you can do during this. If you can prove yourself through this, then you’ll get through this next trial~”

Without breaking his gaze, Izaya began to descend upon her chest. Taking one bud into his mouth, he began to swirl his tongue around it. His other hand pinched the remaining nipple and worked together to create a rhythm. Popping it out of his mouth, he bit into the skin around (Y/N)’s chest before moving on to the opposite bud. The sensation made her mind cloud and her mouth threatened to let moans escape. Every part of her body was on fire.

“Mmm. . . Is this pleasurable for you? Are you enjoying it? Don’t forget, my little bitch, that you have to prove your love for me. How devoted are you really?”

“Izaya, I-”

“How many times do I have to say this, (Y/N), only through your actions. Hm. . . Maybe a little punishment will help set you straight?”

Izaya kneeled up from the bed, pulling (Y/N)’s collar with it. The collar constricted around her neck, bringing a wave of euphoria as she was choked for those few seconds as he filled the two of them, leading to Y/N being on top of Izaya. 

“Don’t think this is how we end it. Just for now, you’re nothing more than a slave with a hole. If you ever want to be anything more, prove it.”

Staring at him for a few seconds, (Y/N) was in disbelief of what she was hearing. Did Izaya really believe that, that she was just a warm hole for him? And she already sucked him off, what more did she have to prove?”

“Well go on, prove your devotion to your god, to your complete master.”

(Y/N) knew what she had to do. Her whole body was shaking as she lifted herself on top of Izaya. She could feel her cunt getting wetter by the second, almost soaking Izaya’s midsection. She couldn’t believe that she was doing this with Izaya, much less how obedient she was. It was her first time, she should be hesitant! Maybe she had been secretly wanting this for so long?

Once she was in position, she began to lower herself onto Izaya’s member before being stopped by Izaya.

“Ah, ah, ah, did you think that this is your only punishment? No, no, no! Turn around, (Y/N), face the mirror. If you dare to look away for even a split second, your god will make sure you get disciplined.”

(Y/N) found it good to not upset Izaya. That would be an adventure for another time. Hesitantly, (Y/N) turned around to look at herself in the mirror. When she saw herself, she couldn’t believe the state of her appearance. (Y/N) looked like an arousing mess. Her hair was messy, but it looked artistic in a way. Her hairs were jumbled up and her lips were swollen. Her chest was flushed, riddled with hickeys and as hard as ever. 

“Remember what I said~”

Filled with determination, (Y/N) rose onto her Izaya and steadied herself. She lowered herself onto Izaya’s member, sliding it in with ease. It hurt a lot at the start, but the pain went away and was quickly replaced with arousal. (Y/N) felt like a crab, looking at herself in the mirror. It was uncomfortable to watch, but she didn’t dare disobey Izaya. 

She started moving up and down, watching as her breasts bounced along with her body. Izaya laid below her, helping her along by holding her waist. His fingers dug into her sides, making her squirm around. If only she could see him, what face would he be making?

The room was echoing the moans of both (Y/N) and Izaya. He stayed silent, except for his grunts and the occasional moan. That, along with the sight of such a lewd image right before her eyes, made the knot in her stomach grow and grow. 

The wet claps grew within the room, along with Izaya’s heightened pace. Now, his nails dug into her sides but she didn’t dare comment on it. (Y/N) was too distracted by the intensity of her senses. Her hair started to stick onto her face and she found herself moving into Izaya’s thrusts. Her arms were burning from the position, she kept trying to adjust herself into a better position. 

Izaya’s hands briefly left her waist to play with her breasts some more, before returning to add some much-needed support. The clapping now was wetter, almost sounding empty and echoey. (Y/N)’s abdomen could feel herself tightening around Izaya, but the position just wasn’t enough. Lifting herself up more, she raised her heels and put all her balance on the balls of her feet. The position was just enough and to add more friction, pounding Izaya in further. 

She lowered her hand to play with her clit before her own hand was replaced by Izaya. He said nothing as he played with her folds, rubbing and tugging at it with ways that sent (Y/N) into a frenzy. Her legs twitched and shook, threatening to compromise her position. 

Soon, the passion was more than (Y/N) could withstand. She came all over Izaya, feeling the liquid flow out of her. Her vision blurred and she could feel chills wash over her body. Between her legs, it felt as if everything was pulsating and her heart was ringing in her ears. Izaya followed shortly afterwards, removing himself from her insides and letting her fall onto her side.

His arm snaked around (Y/N) once more, pulling her closer.

“Guess what, my sweet (Y/N). You passed!  You managed to catch my attention through that amazing performance! What do you think?”

(Y/N) had no thought within her mind. The pulsating still hadn’t gone away and the fluid between her legs still felt sticky. If there was one thing she knew, it was that this baby would certainly end up interesting.

[sasorikigai]

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || How Scorpion fiercely aches, as the hurtling echoes of swirling inferno continue to sing of the ephemeral snapshot life that rendered the vehement passion and intensity of his flames into the warming hearth. The tendrils echo blurry as it would the end of winter, the fleeting smoke running before his eyes and does cartwheels. Perhaps he was made of swinging fists and bloodchoked lungs; whoever there was of the determined, stubborn initiate who wanted to become the Shirai Ryu's greatest warrior seemed now far lost to the void. When he succumbs to his demons, he always drowns in his own fierce rage, and Scorpion's vessel is the flawless conduit to pass through such destruction and carnage. It is exquisitely addictive; this precise pain of grasping and tearing mortal flesh, pulling the hurtful pleasure as sanguine's arterial spray surges, and Scorpion tastes his own magmatic blood along with it. As apathetic gelidness which rapidly coursed through his once mortal being severed his family and Shirai Ryu's lifeblood, as did his own, he lets the erupting curse of hellfire become his own wicked god and butcher.

He cradles this newfound warmth in his chest that buzzes in his ribcage and warms the air. This whirlwind bloodthirstiness unfurling, vast as the horizon and embedded in his inhuman skin, moving him like the wind, lifting him over the trees to the space where only hawks fly with sharpened claws to prey on mice. He is lightweight, spectral and nearly invisible beneath the silvery glint of the moonlight shining through him; like stained glass in god-forsaken desiccated chapels, as swirling flashes of his wildfire paint the land in vibrant color, then renders everything as if there was naught in a second. His 'creations' of viscera and splattered flesh aren't something to be shown, to be appreciated nor even perceived. They are damaged, like his own immortal spectral being, meant to loath, destroy, to irreversibly scar and leave to pieces.

Scorpion always has been consistent with what Hanzo Hasashi knows of human behavior; that his demons take profound satisfaction in doing harm, particularly unconscious harm where his human heart and soul would be oblivious to the hymn of toxicity. As plunging descent of his chained kunai leaves countless spirals of bloody, skinned-off flesh, all dripping through the periphery of once sacred Shirai Ryu compounds, Scorpion lets fathomless emptiness consume the entirety of his being with a muted cry stuck in his throat. A silent cacophony, a whispered sigh that doesn't quite escape his grim lips beneath the mask. Heavily glazed white pearl of his eyes may reflect echoes of longing, an ache profound and ancient in this vacant space where no ounce of solace and peace could be found. He bulldozes through a male's body, leaving him bloody and visceral. Pulling the imbedded kunai out and watching the widening bloom of sanguine stain spread across his abdomen, Scorpion simply touches the sticky puddles with no puncture origins and imagines it blossom like rose petals in the moonlight.

Spilling out the corpse's guts in a metaphorical way, Scorpion revels in the persistent unfurling that reveals a deeper, unsettling truth - an intricate correlation between his unpent desires and the overly scripted nature of his present life. Embracing the uncharted facets of his identity induces a profound fear, for it introduces an unpredictable chaos that lurks at every corner. Strangely, within this chaos lies a deep-seated fulfillment, drawing him towards a version of himself that thrives in sheer extremes. It is a perplexing dichotomy, where the allure of Scorpion's unpredictable penchant for violence clashes with Hanzo's inherent aversion to it. This internal struggle underscores a profound yearning for spontaneity, despite the discomfort it brings - a complex narrative of attraction and repulsion within the pendulum of his own contrasting desires.

Victims ripped apart and gutted are merely seen as disgusting and vile, as they would be rendered as rotting flesh on hot cobblestone and sand - and how Scorpion feels as if he is an evil god; sinister and relentless, killing and giving life, creating and destroying his tales in a whim. As he methodically and ritualistically moves through the less known pathways of the village, the cruel glint of his eyes once again find humanity and rationality. Bone-seeped chill, painfully familiar and despairing, accompanies and consumes him as the bitter metallic tang drenches and devours him. As the soft wind blows off the horizon, with widening swell of the moon cradled by idyllic lake and suspended clouds above, Scorpion lets the pristine mirror of the water cleanse the molded film of the carnage off. Amidst the dark and misery, how he still hopes to construct a place of hopes and dreams, built on broken bones of mercy as he contemplates, eyes lulled shut, as distant caw of the ravens close their distance. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Once ripped apart and gutted, disgusting and vile, Hanzo Hasashi used to be nothing, but charred bones and rotten flesh on scorched earth. Scorpion is convinced that this is all he is and all he will be - fire and brimstone becomes him and he wields the sting of phosphorous and the shades of miasmic, nearly impervious smog beneath the golden mask. A simple death could have never been granted to him; for he was lost in the chasm of wrath and vengeance, and his hellfire was a relentless stream that would even drag the open sea's abyss. He was meant to be entangled in this endless storm, and he could only dare to yearn for a moment of being plain. Sometimes he looks at his skin with disgust and there would creep a deep urge to tear asunder his crimson flesh layer by layer until he finally reaches upon the core. What is his core? A diseased heart yearning for a dream he can never attain; a person he can never be. Even after such good days he cannot help, but feel a deep hatred for the world.

It's as if dandelions bloom on a sunny days, but his heart and soul would wither in an instant without the gleam of his happiness. This heavy feelings he ought to keep, this growing thorns of truth trying to escape become the agonizing constriction that would weaken the fragments of his soul. When can he ever find solace for the discordant echoes of his inner wounds, stubbornly refusing to heal? Time may naturally weave its magic of restoration, stitching together everything that has gone asunder and disarray. Each passing moment may be a subtle remedy, each sunrise a promise of renewal. Now, everburning embers blaze through his arms and send cavalries to his chest. How his heartbeat manifests as a cacophony of lightning and thunderstorms, his head a faucet of running problems and abandoned ideas. All caged into his ribs, bruised like a fallen apple from tree. His soul exists as a gentle whisper before the orchestra and crescendos of drumrolls. His tendrils of fire may wrap around the woman protectively and keeps him calm in the moment, but every time he surrounds himself in the vortex of maelstrom fire, Scorpion is reminded of the healing grace of magnanimous human warmth.

The shimmering pearl of his gaze is a child's heart; burdened, but ready to vocalize. With a heavy heart and soul, he will once again move towards tomorrow with sleeplessness, yet with unsteady consciousness. How it seems to release his pain and viciously clutches onto his sorrow. Ignoring the emptiness that clouds his mind and sadness which attempts to rob his joy in an unwelcomed embrace, the hellspawn specter inhales deeply, raising his head as wisps of embers scatter and dwindle away. "Hanzo, Hanzo Hasashi," as he valiantly scatters the rage that hungers, the anger that excessively burns within him, burning in the dark, waiting, watching, craving, yearning to be released and let loose, Scorpion refuses to release it as it goes unacknowledged with his human voice which has been excavated from deep within him. "I was once Grandmaster of Shirai Ryu, serving as one of the Protectors of Earthrealm devoted to participate in Mortal Kombat, but before it could take place, I was brutally murdered by the Lin Kuei Grandmaster."

How he reveals like he wants to tear flesh, as such need for carnage brews in his heart, as blood would shine dark in the starlight, emitting a potent, metallic tang. If Scorpion could live, and he'd dream again that he dreams, then he would go on to burn the whole bloody world so that he could be surrounded by roaming specters. Silence settles, and the demon watches. Stillness becomes a loud beating silence; shimmering, emotional vibrations intensifying. He broods of Bi-Han's fragile, completely charred mortal flesh collapsing before him, with the scattering stench of death and immolating, unquenchable hellfire. Did enough agony and pain seep through his ivory bones before irreversible death slipped through the cracks of mortality? Scorpion did watch him crumble, as hellfire feasted upon the banquet of karma that his Arcana has spoon-fed him. The pain from his scars continue to drag forth thoughts of anguish, of misery, of woe - through disjointed world of his. Hardly spoken, but screaming as Scorpion thinks too much and feeling too much.

Despite him having seen the Shirai Ryu rebuild on the very grounds he used to tread, Hanzo Hasashi's own world has long decayed, and he internally weeps. How each and every important memory he hold remains its own musical; on repeat for an eternity, the chimes to press forward are always ringing in his ears. But comfort is such a drug, and it drags him down with the tightest grip. He should have been dead and long gone, buried under a feet of dirt, covered in moss, deep in the last primal forest of Japan. His body rotted, already becoming one with the nature surrounding him. He would have been more useful, feeding small creatures and thousands-year-old trees alike; an infinitely modest repair compared to what Lin Kuei did to his people. Scorpion often yearns, soon, there will be nothing left of me, nothing, but my bones, licked clean by animals, and the stories told to whoever may listen. Before the demon dwelling within seethes under his skin, threatening to fibrillate and puncture through his being, Scorpion simply vanishes; his inhumane gaze staring into the three being's eye. The Death's song has long ended, and despite its melody lingering on, he will be unkillable. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

[whimsywispsblog]

Fault in Our Stars

Warning: PTSD, references to childhood abuse and trauma, sexual trauma and depression.

Inspired by: @vukis2

Lips quivering. Tears trailing. Body shaking from the cold and fear. Eyes widened- alarmed and frightened.

Running into the dark forest was definitely a bad idea. But what was Donna to do other than run? Run for her dear life? Run away somewhere- somewhere away from the lands infested with blood-sucking vampiric creatures that feasted on her family's blood, leaving her the youngest and the damaged for last.

Damaged. Ruined. In every sense. In every way, a woman is not to be ruined.

The hazy light of the gloomy skies shaded by the canopies of the tall and twisted brown trees lit the dark path ahead. Each step was taken carefully as the rustling of the carpet of dried leaves, and twigs below Donna's feet gave a crisp crackle, each sound making the girl turn back while tightly squeezing the arm of her ragged doll, Angie. And the sounds of the high-pitched giggles turned into ear-piercing shrieks. In the dark forests, vile creatures lurk in every corner, staggering and tottering in the shadows hunting their doomed prey. A forest lore, narrated by every village person. Or was it a forewarning left to the villagers by the unfortunate quarries who could never return to see another sunrise?

Most never knew which, but that day, Donna realised that it was the latter.

The dark forests always played with its victims' minds: most never escaped from its evil clutches, and the ones that did, they were driven to insanity by never-ending nightmares of its devilish creatures. There was no escape.

Donna stopped as she heard sudden footsteps approaching. They were fast, very fast.

'Run.' 'Run.' 'Run.' She kept commanding her body, but her legs shook and felt heavy, making the girl fall on her knees. The girl refused to turn back, and she closed her eyes. The wind was strong, pushing her backwards as if tempting her to open her eyes and see what stood behind her.

And then, the sounds of the ravens squawking, but in human tongue filled the languid air of the forests. Their crows were so frightening, so horrifying that they made poor Donna's flesh bleed and cut.

//"She the woman who made the Devil destroy the paradise for a kiss,"//

"I did not fall. I did not fall." The girl repeated the sentence over and over again, clutching Angie close to her breasts. The ravens flew around her, its sharp beaks piercing through her tender skin, its shrill squeaks hurting her sensitive ears, the pitch getting louder and louder until it started ringing in her ears. They started ripping her hair from her scalp and skinning her thighs, relishing in her decaying flesh.

The girl then let out a loud scream.

"HE PUSHED ME!"

//"No one questions the Devil, whore!"//

And with that, it was back to the eerie tranquillity of the forests.

Eyes watching. Ears listening. Tongues wetting. Stomachs growling.

She was tired. Scared. But determined to escape from the forests' demons. But would she?

Donna shook her head sideways, swallowing all her doubts. She was going to escape and start her life anew, somewhere far, far away. In lands where she was not damaged. Not cursed. But welcomed with open hearts and warm smiles. And with that, she pushed herself up, not letting her mind succumb to the dark pits of self-doubt.

The frigid air bit into the girl's tender skin through her ripped clothes and burnt her lungs while numbing her nose. The girl hugged herself, trying to keep the cold away. Lips pale, eyes swollen, hair covered in icicles, and her body covered in dried blood and mud. It seemed like the path went on forever, and the sky-kissing mountains were just an illusion.

The earthy smell after the first rainfall that loomed over the dark lands slowly faded away as a more metallic smell with burnt char took over—burning flesh. Someone or something was close.

Donna chanted words of Orison to her creator- for protection. For courage. For salvation. And if the Gods chose to cut her thread of fate, then so be it. She was ready to welcome the torment of hell that awaited her. Somewhere away from the abhorrent lands that she walked on. Was walking on. Her trembling hands tightly clasped on Angie's neck while her steps became slower and more cautious.

The girl found a rock big enough to hide behind as the smell got stronger and sounds of inhuman growls got louder. She didn't want to see them as she shut her eyes tightly, her prayers chanted at a frantic pace bobbing her head back and forth. Until. A human voice caught her attention- a voice which she regretted listening to.

"Take the fat one. That's all you will get for the night," A bunch of snarls poured out from all directions until the person finally screamed, "SHUT UP! Go find more food somewhere else!"

The sound of soft whimpers made Donna peek from behind the rock. In a wooden cage were 6 small-sized men, looking down at the creatures in fear. They were the dwarfs. On the ground was a giant dwarf that shouted for mercy, as his limbs were torn from all sides and his body ripped with the splatter of blood and his insides. Donna held back her urge to gasp, biting her tongue so hard that she felt the taste of blood in her mouth.

"Oi fish freak!" Donna's attention shifted from the mutilated remnants of the corpse to that of a man, tall and sturdy with messy, greasy grey hair covered by a hat. He wore a long brown coat that swayed with his every movement. He had a gigantic hammer in his hand, one that made the girl tremble in fear. Not only could this man control a horde of dangerous human-eating monsters, but he was also burly, judging by the size of the metallic hammer.

"Hey, moron! Yeah, you! Come here ya quim!" A blob-like grotesque creature stumbled towards the man. It looked so ugly and ghastly that Donna felt the contents of her stomach rise to her throat.

"Fry these midgets and send them to Miranda." The fish-creature bowed its entire body as if nodding to the man. The man with the hammer turned away, facing the rock as a slight smirk appeared on his face, and that scared Donna. Did he see her?

Donna pulled herself behind the rock as she breathed in heavily, hoping that he hadn't seen her. She felt something warm and wet on her shoulder, and she slowly looked up. To her horror, one of those creatures stood behind her, looking at her famished. The girl let out a loud scream, pulling Angie close to her chest. But before the creature could put its sharp rotten nails on her, its head was smashed by something, making its blood splash all over her. The girl, who was still in shock, stared at the creature's headless remains, her body trembling like a leaf and her heartbeat thudding loudly.

Suddenly, her hair was grabbed, and she was picked up like a rag doll. Her eyes stayed fixated on the mushy brown ground, but a gloved hand grabbed her face and forced her to look at the person. It was the man with a hammer.

"Mhmm...Young blood," He said, observing the girl's face. His eyes landed on her ruby-red necklace. "Scarlet, eh." The man dropped Donna, and she landed with a soft grunt. He bent down to her level, watching her closely. The girl was about to beg for grace. The sounds of painful screams made her turn towards the horrific scene. The dwarfs were set on fire, all of them hurdling close to each other, screaming into each other's bodies as if sharing their pain and death.

The man in front of her grabbed her face and made him look at her again, pulling out something from his coat. An apple. Delightfully red. He brought the fruit closer to the girl's lips. Without wasting another second, Donna grabbed the apple from his hand and bit into its scrumptious flesh, greedily and ravenously. Without chewing properly, she bit into more and more until she choked a few pieces out.

The man watched the girl eat in dark amusement. A raven perched on his shoulder, crowing in his ears, making him grimace.

"Yeah yeah, it's poisoned." He said, shooing the raven away. The girl was just halfway through her apple, but she felt dizzy and sick. It was as if the world was spinning at such a fast pace, and she felt as if she was losing control of her body. The man effortlessly put the girl on his shoulder and walked away while magically getting his hammer to fly right into his hands.

...

Donna's eyes fluttered open to the sound of people talking and the muffled mewls of a younger person, probably a girl. She felt hot, and an unusual but familiar pain tingled throughout her body, pulsating through each nerve excruciatingly. The girl tried to move her wrists, but there was something tight and sharp clamped around her wrists, restraining any movement.

Angie...Angie wasn't there in her hands. Donna bolted up, alarmed and terrified. The room she was in was quite cold, dark and damp, like the inside of a cave. It was dimly lit by the lamps on the walls. In front of her stood a woman with raven feathers unfurled behind her. To her right was the hammer-man, telling the woman about something. Between them was another chained girl with platinum blonde hair, bloodied, bruised and naked. Probably a survivor. Or a prey.

The lady with the raven feathers grabbed the blonde girl's face and lifted her up, her feet away from the ground.

"Young Rose...Fresh virgin blood," The woman mused with a slight grin, squeezing the girl, Rose's face. The woman brought her closer, taking a deep whiff of the girl's neck. "She smells delicious. Girls! Come here!" The woman shouted, and out of the shadows glided three women, giggling and jumping with their faces covered in blood. As they walked, a swarm of flies surrounded them and, out of their sleeves, fell off maggots- wet and slimy.

The raven woman threw Rose in their direction, and the poor girl fell with a loud thud. "Her blood, please." The woman ordered the three girls.

"Of course, Mother Miranda!" The girls giggled and laughed, taking Rose and throwing her to a bed of needles and kept pushing her deeper into the sharp metal, impaling the helpless girl's body. The cave echoed with the laughter of the insect-witches and the weak cries of dying Rose.

Donna watched the scene in horror and started crawling backwards until her back hit the wall.  The raven lady, Mother Miranda, turned her attention to Donna, looking at her with steely darkened eyes. The woman disappeared into a murder of crows and suddenly appeared in front of the girl and kneeled down to her eye level. Her pale and cold fingers grabbed the girl's jaw and pulled her forward, observing her closely.

"What is your name, child?"

"D-Donna", The girl stuttered, shaking uncontrollably. "Donna Beneviento."

"Ah, House Beneviento! My daughters and their spawns recently ravaged their Village and families," Mother Miranda chimed, looking at the three insect-witches who kept stabbing Rose's mutilated corpse with their large metallic nails. "Young Rose was from there."

"W-Why d-do you kill?" Mother Miranda smiled at the girl as she pushed the stray strands of her hair behind her ear.

"Human fear and blood keep us alive." The woman traced her fingers across Donna's cheekbones. "We were damned by the Old Gods, the ones who were in favour of your wretched kind."

"Y-you are all m-monsters!" Donna choked out, pushing herself away from the woman's touch. Mother Miranda grabbed a fistful of the girl's hair and pulled her close, biting the girl's neck. Donna let out a piercing scream, trying to pull herself away from the woman.

"Ah, that's a first. You're not Virgin blood. Unchaste!" Miranda raised an eyebrow and looked at the girl in disgust.

//"Stained and the tarnished scent of the vile harlot"//

A tiny scar near the girl's left eye caught Miranda's attention. The woman roughly pushed her hair away and looked at Donna's blistered scar in revulsion. "And she is a cripple."

"Not a virtuous Doll, eh?" The hammer man chimed, looking at Donna in amusement, but once his eye landed on her scar, his smile dropped.

Doll...Doll...Angie! Donna gasped and looked up at the hammer man in distress. "Angie! Where is Angie, my doll?!"

"Burning." Mother Miranda replied with an indifferent expression.

"W-What? N-no! NO!" Donna screamed and shouted, trying to push herself upon Miranda, but the woman was strong. Without much effort, she slapped Donna, making the girl break down into a whimpering mess.

Angie. The only remnant of her innocence now burnt away in the heat.

"This one's of no use to me."

"But she smells so delightful!" Said one of the insect witches, sniffing her around and licking the blood of the wound where Miranda had bitten her.

"Indeed she is, child. But your Mother won't be pleased with any of you drinking impure blood," Miranda spat, looking at Donna in contempt. Donna looked down, ashamed and embarrassed at the way they kept taunting her. Just like how she was harassed in her Village for something that wasn't even her fault...

'I did not fall...I did not fall...'

"Alright then, she can be a nice play-thing for the Lycans." The hammer man said, putting his hammer on the ground and resting his weight on it.

"Fine then, Heisenberg. The girl's fate is in your hands." Mother Miranda got up, glaring at the girl.

His name is...Heisenberg? Familiar name.

The man nodded, grabbed the girl's chain. He pulled the chain sharply with a slight grunt, making the girl stumble and dragged her across the sharp stony ground. Donna let out soft mewls of pain.

"Quit your whining!" He said as he dragged her slower this time, making every inch of her skin throb, red and wet.

-

Sounds of metal grinding metal stirred the girl from her disturbed slumber. She wasn't sure how she slept off. She was still shackled in chains, but instead of being seated in front of a Cult family, she sat alone in a chamber, cold. And wet.

"Ah, you're up!" A loud, boisterous sound made the girl flinch lightly. She slowly tilted her head up to look at the person.

Heisenberg. Smirking and eyes glinting with mischief. He held out a water jug to the girl. Although she desperately needed it to quench her thirst and wet her dried mouth, after the poisoned apple, she was afraid.

"Relax, there's nothing in the water," Heisenberg rolled his eyes in annoyance. The girl hesitated to take the glass from him, which caused the man to groan in frustration and sipped a little of the water. "See? I am alive. It's normal water,"

Donna quickly grabbed the jug from him with trembling hands and drank the water, messily and shakily, the water running down her neck. She drank in so fast that the poor girl choked on water, coughing up some of it.

Heisenberg chuckled, sliding a plate of stale bread and some bright coloured fruit. The girl didn't wait for another second and quickly devoured the food down, juice of the squished fruit staining her skin and clothes. Heisenberg observed the girl quietly with a neutral expression. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it up, smoking in a direction away from the girl's face.

"W-Why a-are y-you not killing m-me?" Donna's soft stutters pulled the man out of his thoughts. He rubbed his eyes as he contemplated her question, letting out a soft yawn.

"Didn't you hear what I told Miranda?" Donna nodded her head sideways, making the man sigh. "A play-thing for the beasts."

"W-Will they...k-kill me?"

"That depends." Heisenberg shrugged, walking away from the room. "Oh, and the chains will stay. " He said, closing the door behind him.

Donna pulled her legs close to her chest, tears trailing down her eyes. Her skin was bruised and bloodied, her clothes tattered, she stank, she was starved, she was tortured, and she was ruined. Too much for a lifetime.

The sound of the crow of a raven made the girl lookup. 'How did that bird get in?' The girl thought, looking at the bird baffled. The raven had red eyes and looked at the girl menacingly. It let out one more shrill crow and dove straight towards her, its sharp beak pointing at her. Donna curled into her legs and let out a whimper, too tired to scream. But the attack never happened. Instead, a laugh- malicious and vulgar- emerged. Donna looked up, and there stood the Hag.

//Broken disgusting whore! Shame on you!//

Donna didn't fight back. She stayed quiet, thinking of her time at home, back in the Village. The Hag continued with her taunts and screams, her ravens poking the girl's delicate flesh, but the girl was too tired, too lost. Too broken.

"I know," Donna whispered, fresh hot tears trailing down her cheek as she remembered the night, back in the Village, when she got the Stigma of the Fallen Maiden- The whore.

Bodies sticking together with sweat. A heavy weight on her chest crushing the delicate flesh of her breasts. Hair yanked and tugged with a few strands ripped off. Teeth biting deep into her skin, blood flowing out of it. An unbearable pain as she felt herself lose her chastity and virtue...No longer virginal and innocent. She was marked and claimed by another man.

//You are no graceful deer like a faithful virtuous maiden! You intoxicate them with your ardour! You vile demon!//

"I know," Donna whispered again, her eyes heavy and burning and swollen. She cried no more. She couldn't. There was nothing to cry for. She was forever going to be this- a whore.

"Oi Hag! Get the fuck outta here! Go teach your lessons about virtues and morality to those Demitrescu girls." It was Heisenberg. The Hag turned back at the man and laughed loudly and sharply, making both Donna and Heisenberg wince in pain. The older woman burst into raven feathers, disappearing from the room.  Heisenberg turned his attention towards Donna. He took a few steps towards her until he was close enough.

"I know what happened that night," He said, looking dead into Donna's shocked eyes. How did he know? The man sat down, placing his hammer by his side and taking his hat off, running his hand through his hair.

"H-how did y-you know?" Donna asked, looking up to the man.

"Tales like these spread fast through the Village and beyond." He shrugged. Donna nodded, her eyes glued to the cold ground, observing its cracks and crevices.  "You don't remember me do you?" Donna looked at the man. The name Heisenberg did ring a bell for her. But she couldn't recall from where. "Ya remember the name, Karl?"

Karl...Karl...Heisenberg...

Karl Heisenberg! Heisenberg's son!

Donna nodded her head lightly, old memories of their time together as children returning to her. It was him.

The only child in the Village who was never afraid of her or treated her differently. Every time they were together, Karl's father would forcefully pull him away, shouting and screaming and hitting him for playing with the Spawn of Demon. But that never stopped Karl from going back to her.

Until.

They turned 16. She was a woman, and he was a man. She grew beautiful, and he grew taller.

She couldn't remember much, except one night during the Village's ritual: Young women who bled for the first time.

It was in the outskirts of the woods. Young Karl and Young Donna. Sitting by the rock. Moonlight dancing on their youthful flustered faces. Karl's gentle hand on her cheek, pulling her closer. And closer. And closer. Lips just touching. So soft.

"You disgusting boy!" And after that, all she remembered was being pushed away by Karl's father, her head hitting the ground sharply. And Karl's faint cries, "Donna!"

"W-Where d-did you go after that day?" Donna asked, her hands deeply buried into the fabric of her clothes.

"Father sent me away to another Village, to live with my uncle. Cruel man- known to straighten up Wild Things. But I just ran away." He shrugged.  There was a silence between the pair. But this was a comfortable one—just the sounds of their breathing, with the gentle whistle of the winds outside.

"Why here?"

"Mhmm?" Heisenberg peered at Donna, rubbing his scruff. "Ah well, like you, that useless Hag caught me. But things are fine here. I get a roof on my head, food and clothes. No whores though," He snickered but immediately stopped seeing Donna flinch at the word. "If you want to survive here, don't let that hag get to you."

"Do you have any advice on how I'll survive you?" The girl asked.

"Huh. Why do ya ask?"

"You say I am a play-thing for the Lycans. You said they might eat me."

"Ah, that. Yes, the Lycans do enjoy the company. They're just dogs." He said nonchalantly, waving his hand.

"But I don't want to stay here."

"Unfortunately, Donna, for people like you and me who are called 'wild' and 'vile', this is the only place that we get close to home." Donna looked away, feeling fresh hot tears prickling in her eyes.

"There's no 'we', Karl," The girl snapped. Karl hid his surprise at her sudden change of demeanour behind an irritated scowl. "I am everything you're not. I am not a vile whore-"

"GODDAMIT DONNA", Karl stood up, throwing away his hammer in frustration, breaking something nearby. "How long, how fucking long are you gonna keep crying about that bullshit?! It happened. You were fucked, whether you like it or not. Going around telling everyone that you aren't a whore won't change anything-"

"I know," Donna whispered, shivering from cold and fear. "Believe me, I know." The woman looked up to Karl, staring deep into his eyes. "But that doesn't make me a whore. That doesn't make me vile."

"Then you fucking accept the circumstances. It is written in our fates." Heisenberg sighed.

Donna stared at Heisenberg, pained by the helplessness that radiated off him, as the memory played in her mind.

Fate...

"Karl, your father won't let me be with you. Forget being near you. Your reputation will be tarnished because of me. The Village thinks I am cursed," Said a 15-year-old Donna. It was nighttime during one of their many midnight trysts in the woods. When the Villagers were fast asleep, and no one tried to hurt the couple.

"To hell with the Villagers and my father. They can say whatever the fuck they want, but I will have this life my way, and I will take you with me." Donna smiled softly, feeling her heart fluttering at her lover's determination and adamance to want a life with her despite all the difficulties they would face.

"But what if this is how things have to be? What if it is just...written in our stars?"

"Well then, fuck the stars. It's our lives. No one has a say in it. You choose your path and if that makes you happy, then fuck everything else. You choose your fate," He said, planting a soft peck on her cheek.

"You told me that day, we choose our fate, Karl," Heisenberg grunted, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Yea. I fucking did. Now, where has it got us both, hm?"

Donna stood up from her place shakily and limped towards Karl until she could feel the tug of her shackles. She was close enough. She raised a hand towards the man's face, but before she could touch him, his hand shot up and grasped hers.

"Don't", He growled, his ocean-blue eyes piercing into hers, trying to intimidate her.

"Please," She whispered, wriggling her hands a little, making the man drop his hand, letting the woman touch his face.

Donna slowly traced his scars. A story behind every one of them. Some she knew, some she did not. Karl didn't flinch as she kept caressing his rough skin with her softer, bruised fingers. He just looked at her as if searching in her for the old Donna he knew. The old Donna would dream with him about a beautiful future they would never have. He found her.

But to Donna, she never saw her old Karl. The one who dared to dream despite their doomed circumstances. He was now a broken man. A hopeless man who had seen and been through enough. A man who forgot what it was to experience bliss.

"I don't know if I will ever get to live this life with you, the way we dreamed. But...If there is still some life in you, I'd like that." Donna said, pulling her hand slowly trailing to Karl's chest, feeling the soft, slow thud of his heartbeat. With a wave of his hand, Donna's shackles broke. Karl slowly encircled his arms around her waist, gently but firmly and pulled her closer. With a hand cupping her cheek, he looked at her.

"I would have loved that. But look at me now. I am one of them." He said, his hand lingering on a cut on her cheek that she got because of him when he dragged her towards the factory. "But you. You can live on. A better life."

"I could have, but that better life that I wanted," Donna paused, breathing in as she felt her words being swallowed. "I wanted it with you."

"But I can't give that to you, Donna."

"Then give it to me here. Right here." Donna said, inching closer to Karl, feeling his hot breath on her cold damped skin. Karl pulled her close and rested his head on her forehead, closing his eyes and feeling the warmth and comfort he got from her.

"Get some rest. By tomorrow, you will be better." Karl said, pulling away from her. Donna held his hands tight, afraid to let him go. Afraid to lose him again.

"W-What do you mean?" Karl slowly loosened her grip on his hands and smiled at her softly. Picking up his hat and hammer, he walked out of the room, shutting it from outside. Donna sat down, confused and dejected. Lying down on the cold floor, the girl shut her eyes tightly and sobbed, her wails and whimpers slowly lulling her to sleep.

-

It was as if the ground below her was shaking. She didn't know what it was. Donna jerked awake as she felt a sudden push from below. The girl gasped, looking around. It wasn't the room where Karl had kept her. It was...smaller and more cramped and...moving?

"Ah, Lady Beneviento! You are awake!" A jovial and cheery voice pulled Donna's attention. It was a man, friendly and big.

"W-Who are you, and where am I?"

"I am the Duke, a humble merchant, and you are in my carriage. Lord Heisenberg asked me to take you to the other side of the forest."

"Karl? Karl, where is he?!" Donna asked, looking around frantically.

"He couldn't make it," Duke said apologetically. "He wants you to take that little box. That should help you earn a living, not luxurious, but enough to survive," Donna looked to her right and there it was, the box. She opened it, and inside was Karl's chain that he wore every day, some coins and some ornaments. And a small doll that resembled Angie. But prettier and newer.

"What happened back there?"

"Lady Miranda caught him trying to escape. Ah, it looks like we're here!"

"Duke. Can I go back?"

"I'd suggest you not. He wants you to stay alive, my Lady. Best you honour his wishes. Do this for him" Donna looked at the chain, tracing the engravings on it. The girl looked into the box and saw a small note in it.

Thank you for setting me free. I hope to see you in another life where we will be together, just like we dreamt.

The girl pulled the note to her chest, feeling a strange pain in her body. She felt heavy. She felt like she was breaking apart. She felt as if she couldn't breathe. Duke looked at the girl sadly. He couldn't help her, and he wasn't sure how to.

"Thank you," Donna muttered, stepping out of the carriage with the box in her hand. Ahead she saw a little Village. A chance for a new life, but one without Karl. How could she live without him?

'Best you honour his wishes. Do this for him.'

"Okay, Karl." Donna sniffed, a bittersweet smile on her face, as she walked towards the Village, her hand tightly clutching the chain. As she approached, a man, probably the gatekeeper, stopped her.

"Who are you, and state your purpose."

"Donna. Donna Heisenberg. I seek refuge in your Village. Mine was destroyed by monsters." The gatekeeper nodded and took a moment to observe her ragged state, his eyes softening as he noticed her bruises and blood.

"Alright, follow me. You can speak to his Majesty." Donna nodded, smiling softly.

A new life. A better life. For Karl.

In the woods, near the factory lay Karl Heisenberg, bloodied and stabbed on the ground. He held a glove tightly in his hand. Donna's glove. The one he pulled from her when his father forcefully separated him from Donna. Rubbing his thumb across the soft material of the glove, Karl smiled, looking up to the heavens, his vision fading away slowly.

"Thank you, Donna."

[mylieutenant]

Can You Hear Me?

After the Promised Day, Team Mustang goes on a questionable mission in the rebuilt Ishval. Following Roy into Hell often feels too literal for Riza.

1.3k words | Warnings: Graphic depiction of violence, sexual innuendo (unrelated to each other) | Read on AO3

Originally written between 2016-2018.

---

“Slow night, Elizabeth?”

I’m going to ask something very difficult of you, Captain.

That’s how she was after an officer from Aerugo who was secretly working with the Ishvalan separatists. They had gotten orders from Central to handle this with maximum discretion. Which Roy had interpreted as, take him out as quickly as possible. Since Aerugo denied all current involvement with Ishval, they wouldn’t be able to explain such a case to the public.

That’s how Riza was in Ishval with her rifle once more.

Roy’s plan involved her, Breda, Fuery… and Scar of all people. Scar, everyone suspected, dreamed of an independent Ishval free from Amestrian rule just as much as any of the separatists. But Scar, Riza was almost certain, despised the separatists more than anyone. Creating tension, perpetuating prejudices, pushing for war. Hatred leading to hatred. Roy had thought the same, and their suspicions were confirmed when Scar begrudgingly agreed to be part of the mission. Scar became the spy they didn’t ask for, and it said a great deal about his reputation that the separatist leaders weren’t suspicious.

That’s how Scar was asked to cite the target in a designated spot during the night, to supposedly discuss his knowledge of Major Miles’s activities. The area was clear; Riza and Breda had scanned it hours earlier. She’d been keeping watch ever since, so unless they’d missed anything, the foreigner didn’t suspect anything.

Not a defenseless civilian, Riza reminded herself. My target is a spy from a different country, seeking to destroy our own from the inside.

“I cannot complain,” she said. “I was expecting it to be crowded, but it looks like we're going to be alone.”

“I could come over and keep you company.”

“Feeling lonely, Roy?” It was easy to be playful, when he was such an excellent lead. “I can assure that having me on the phone will do well enough to keep you company.”

That’s how they’d ended up connected to the civilian grid, which had taken three years and a massive effort to build. The line, still new in Ishval, rarely worked properly and it was being used mostly within the military. Fuery could even work it to their advantage, making the call nearly impossible to trace. It was more than enough. It was, in fact, still too dangerous. But Roy, feeling so inadequate, so dejected back in East City, had insisted on installing a line. At first Riza protested, but she had to admit that their banter was helping her focus.

“You can say you miss me, Elizabeth. It’s fine.” That was no lie.

“Wishful thinking, Roy Mustang. It suits you.”

“Well, a man can dream.”

Before she could think of an answer, a figure approached the meeting point from her right. Riza looked through the scope, but the insufficient light didn’t give her any useful information.

“Wait a minute, we have a customer. I think I know him. Kate, what do you think?”

Fuery, behind her with the equipment, spoke on a different line.

“Do we know this guy?”

Riza kept her eyes on the figure that approached Scar in the darkness, then looked through the scope as he slowed down. She had a clear shot, but she needed to wait for Breda’s confirmation as he carefully watched from a closer spot.

“It’s him,” Fuery told her.

“It’s him,” she repeated, then hesitated. Roy had planned carefully, down to the last detail, yet he hadn’t thought of giving Scar a codename. “Our new girl is greeting him.”

“Your new girl?”

“You’ve met her. Fairly pleasant. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Fuery snickered quietly, and then Roy’s ringing laughter soothing her enough to dispel all the tension she had accumulated in the last few minutes. That’s how she got the trust she was missing, that trust that always faltered, but never proved wrong.

“I must go and greet him properly. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Ah, Elizabeth. Always giving such good service to those who deserve it. I’m proud of you.”

Warmth settled in her chest. Roy was not only reminding her of the righteousness of their mission, but acknowledging the fact that this wasn’t easy for her.

Thank you, sir.

“You’re speaking nonsense, Roy Mustang,” she said. “Have you been drinking again?”

“Again?  Why, Elizabeth, I’m offen—”

The call fell. Fuery let out an exasperated sigh. She imitated him, more calmly. Breathe in, then out, holding that position as she made sure that the forehead of the target was right in the middle of her scope. That Scar couldn’t possibly get hurt.

And then, she pulled the trigger. The sound spread and echoed along the deserted streets. Her chest hurt. Blood splashed out and splattered on the ground as the target stumbled. And then, he fell. Riza closed her eyes. Yet another life taken by her hand. Another corpse without a tombstone. Another soul waiting for her in hell.

This is the enemy. This is what I’m here to do.

“I can’t get us back on. I fear we could’ve been intercepted,” Fuery informed her. “You got him, didn’t you?”

“I did.” And this meant they needed to leave. She remembered now, she had strict orders not to worry about the target. Leave it to Breda, now she should help Fuery dismantle the equipment. She ignored her rapid heartbeat, the breaking sweat, the inclement weather finally taking a toll on her senses. “We should go. We can communicate later as we—”

“Elizabeth!” The voice in her ear startled her. “Elizabeth, can you hear me? Please—”

The memories that crept up weren’t those from the Civil War, but memories of Roy blowing his cover so he could make sure he was safe. Roy’s anguished expression when she’d been bleeding out in front of him. Riza had sculpted it in every corner of her mind when she’d believed it to be the last thing she’d ever see. And it haunted her in dreams, it haunted her when sadness caught her off guard.

It was everywhere now. And Riza felt his fear, deep, devastating, as she knew he was feeling it. This was difficult for her, being back in the battlefield that had seen her become a murderer. But it was just as difficult for Roy, having her on the field when he was miles away. He knew this mission was of relative low risk. No one was after them; they were too many steps ahead from the enemy. And he still feared. He still grieved.

“I can hear you. I’m sorry. We’re having some issues with the line as of late.”

“Right.” Roy sounded defeated. “I knew that. I’m sorry.”

“Ah, I was too distracted by our customer to notice either way. I did an excellent job, if I say so myself. But it’s closing time now, so I'll have to leave you hanging.”

“Such a tease." And just like that, he was back. "Next time, then. The anticipation is killing me.”

Oh, if only she could reassure him, time and time again, that everyone was safe, that the mission had gone without a hitch and they should be back in East City by morning. If only he could acknowledge her state of mind, that he could remind her it was over, and she was doing this for the greater good.

“Always. Thanks for keeping me company,” was all she could muster.

She signaled Fuery to end the conversation he’d pretended not to hear. Fuery, with those big eyes behind round glasses, eyes that asked questions he was too polite to speak aloud. But Riza had no time to lose, no time to worry about discretion. It was over. East City, home, Roy waited for them.

“Let’s go.”

[prfctethereal]

no body, no crime. | marauders

pairing: platonic!james potter x reader, platonic!sirius black x reader, platonic!remus lupin x reader, platonic!peter pettigrew x reader

wordcount: 3,608

warnings: this whole thing is about murder, blood, swearing, alcohol use

a/n: so i accidentally listen to no body, no crime all afternoon and felt inspired to write this. it was supposed to be shorter but oh well. let me know if i should write a part two - kennedy

***

I need your help. Come quick.

I scrawled the message onto three different spare pieces of parchment and hurried into the kitchen, opening the nearest window. The rush of fresh air could’ve been clarity for me but what was done was done. There was no changing the past, but changing the future was still on my plate.

Waving my arm in the night sky, I signalled my owl, Stefan, calling him over to the window. He hooted excitedly, eager to be put to use in the cold winter season. As he landed on my arm, a dusting of snow ruffled from his feather, onto my blood splattered torso, bouncing onto the kitchen counter. Looking down at my appearance, the severity of the situation settled in. There was a dead body in my living room and I had no idea what to do.

“Stefan, I need you to send these letters to the marauders. Go to James and Lily’s house first; it’s the closest, but whatever you do, don’t let Lily see it. Then, go to Remus’ house. Sirius is staying with him as well. They can both see the letter. Lastly, go to Peter’s house and make sure he comes. Keep pecking him on his hand if he chickens out. Can you do that for me?”

Stefan hooted loudly, which I instantly shushed, taking note of the time of day. I didn’t want to wake any of the neighbours. Once Stefan understood the instructions, I let him fly away. A comfortable silence was left in my house as I paced through the kitchen, not even thinking about what to do next.

“I need a drink.” I hummed softly for myself, swinging open the cupboard and taking out a bottle of red wine. After pouring a glass, I waited, sipping to calm my nerves.

It wasn’t long before I heard the distinguished snap of someone apparating, followed by a small squeal. James had arrived first, right into the crime scene. He called out my name, which I responded to, and he trudged into the kitchen, unable to make a coherent sentence.

What he saw was one of his best friends sitting on the ground, blood staining their shirt, a glass of wine firm in their grips, eyes glassy and dazed over.

“Are you going to explain this or…?” James trailed off, realising that he wasn’t going to get an answer quite yet.

“Wait until the others get here.” I responded monotonously, finishing the glass of wine with a single gulp. Mindlessly, I reached upwards to the kitchen counter, patting around for the bottle, before it was snatched away by none other than James Potter himself.

“Darling, if we’re going to be covering up a murder tonight, I think it would be best for you to be as sober as possible.” He cheeked, a cocky smirk on his face. It was soon wiped away by the sound of someone else crashing into the living room, followed by a high pitch yelp; a similar reaction to James’.

“[Y/N]? Did you kill someone?” It was the distinct voice of Peter Pettigrew who followed the quiet murmurings of James and I into the kitchen. When he walked through the door, he seemed to be nursing his right hand, which looked like it had been pecked over and over by an owl, most likely Stefan.

“Take a guess.” I muttered, unusually grumping as I desperately wanted to refill my glass of wine and drown out the sorrows and voices in my head. Oh no, I didn’t feel guilty for killing the man in the living room. I felt guilty for not even having any sort of conscience.

Peter joined us, sitting down on the other side of me. His eyes lit up as he noticed the bottle of wine in James’ hand, muttering a quick “thank you” before taking a swig of the burning liquid.

“The other two should be here by now.” I deadpanned. James and Peter hummed in agreement but it wasn’t long before the rest of them arrived. A knock at the front door signified that Remus and Sirius had arrived, as Remus always felt it was much more polite to apparate outside of someone’s home, instead of directly inside it.

Begrudgingly, I went to stand up, before toppling over into Peter’s lap. I hadn’t realised that the alcohol had already affected me so much, my fist clenching to my temples as I moaned in frustration. It was common knowledge that I was a lightweight. I should’ve thought of that before I let my gluttony become me.

“How about I get the door?” James suggested, standing up instead. “Besides, what if it’s not the other two? What if it’s the police? Can’t have someone covered in blood answer the door.”

As James walked off to the front door, I stayed curled up in Peter’s lap, his hand slowly stroking my shaking arm in an attempt to sooth me. New flash: it wasn’t working.

Two more screeches emerged from the living room which meant that Remus and Sirius had finally showed up. Still shaking, I finally rose from my seating position, with the help of Peter, and made my way into the living room.

It was the first time I had seen the mess I had made with a clear head, or a head that wasn’t plagued with wrath and hatred. Blood was all up the walls, coating too many surfaces to count. The body was lying face down on the carpet, fresh blood still leaking out of his corpse. A putrid smell filled the room, coming from the gas build up in the man’s body. Gagging at the sight, I held my ground, fighting the need to run away and throw up in my bathroom.

“Okay, Remus and Sirius are here now. Can you please tell us what happened?” James begged, his eyes filled with fear. I couldn’t blame him. Finding out one of his best friends had murdered someone must have been horrifying, but it was no time to ponder about the drastic change in our relationship. I needed to explain.

“Do you remember Este, the hufflepuff in our year? She was in our herbology class year seven. She was also in our potions class up until year six.” I started, looking at my friend’s around me, who were all listening intently. “Well, we’ve been friends since year one I guess. We were friends for many years. Even after we left Hogwarts, I still caught up with her. Every Tuesday night, we’d have dinner together and chat, you know, gossip about what’s going on. Anyway, one night, she was talking about her husband-”

“Husband?” Sirius interjected, completely confused. “Este never dated anyone during the entirety of Hogwarts. We’ve only been out for less than a year. How did she find someone to date and marry in that timeframe?”

“Well, they met the day after graduation, at a ministry party. Este was starting in the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes department and met Jason Bulstrode. They must’ve hit it off because a month later they were married. I went to their wedding in August; it was quite pleasant.”

“Okay, continue with the story.” Remus hurried me along, getting quite fidgety with the body behind him. He was anxiously looking behind him, as if the body was going to start moving.

“Oh right, anyway, one night, she was talking about Jason. She was getting nervous because she thought he was cheating on her. She kept talking about how Jason had been spending money on jewellery that wasn’t hers and how he has been coming home from work later and later, smelling like cheap perfume and merlot. I convinced her to confront him about it. A week later, we were supposed to meet for our weekly dinner but she never showed up. I went down to this bar that Jason always went to to see if he knew anything. He was drunk, going on about how she went missing. I didn’t believe it for one second.”

I paused, taking a deep breath. Peter had started drinking out of the wine bottle once more. Remus was fiddling nervously with his digits, as Sirius tried to calm him down, while listening in to every word I was saying.

“Another week goes by and a woman moves into Este and Jason’s house. You’ll never guess who. It was Lucinda Greengrass. I thought it was strange to see Jason move on so quickly because Este could’ve still shown up, but then it hit me. Este was never going to show up. Jason had murdered her. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I confronted him once again at the bar. He seemed a lot more sober though this time. When I brought up the fact that he killed his wife, he lunged at me. I thought I could apparate away to protect myself but he had already grabbed onto me. He was trying to kill me first, so technically it was self defence. I grabbed a framed picture from my mantle and smashed it on the ground. I used one of the broken pieces of glass and used it to protect myself. Then, I wrote a letter to you four and got you to come over. I think we’ve caught up.”

I was out of breath by the time I had finished talking, expecting to be bombarded with hundreds of questions. Except, they all seemed quite silent, their own plans formulating over in their heads. I stayed quiet, letting them think, biting my own nails at what was going on. Remus was the one who spoke up first.

“Did anyone see you leave the bar with Jason?” Remus asked, hurrying out of the kitchen into the living room. He seemed to be looking for something, but what?

“No.” I put simply, watching as Sirius’ face lit up, understanding what Remus was getting at. James and Peter made eye contact and with that, it seemed like everyone was on the same page except me.

“Then his last known location was the bar. He could’ve gone missing at the bar.” James muttered, following Remus. Except, James headed for the laundry, hurriedly looking for cleaning supplies.

“Missing?” I called, frantically trying to follow them, but they all seemed to be in a mind of their own, understanding what had to be done. James emerged from the laundry with a mop and a bucket of bleach. Peter came from the direction of the kitchen holding a massive black garbage back, gloves decorating his hands.

“No one knows you killed him, [Y/N], and we intend on keeping it that way. He’ll stay a missing man.” Peter finished off the thought, carefully trodding over to Jason’s bloody corpse on the ground. “Besides, Este is also classified as missing. It could be played off that they ran off together or something.”

I was rooted to the spot as I watched what was going on around me. Peter had put Jason’s body in a weird contortion to fit in the garbage bag and tied a knot. Quickly, he grabbed another to double line the bag, making sure there were no leakages. Once it was secure, Peter placed the bag outside to air out, making sure the smell wouldn’t linger much longer in the house.

Sirius was quick to clean the linen. He picked up the rug from the ground and hurried it off into the laundry so it could clean itself the muggle way. The next task was trying to remember the cleaning spells from year three and being able to execute them at such a high quality that it can get rid of even the strongest of stains, like blood.

“Can you help me with this, love?” Sirius cooed, motioning for me to help him with the stains on the couches. Muttering the incantation, we watched the stain fade ever so slightly. Cursing under his breath, Sirius tried again, whispering the spell once more. The blood splotch faded once more but only slightly. “At this rate, we’ll be here for hours.”

At this moment, Remus came back into the room, holding up what he was looking for before. My old boat keys. Being a half blood with a muggle father meant that he had taught me a few things about the muggle world. He had also taught me how to drive a boat, helping me get my boating license at only fifteen years old. It was perplexing though; why would Remus care about my boat? It wasn’t going to help us now.

“Where do you dock your boat?” Remus said calmly, spinning the keys around in his fingers effortlessly. By now, he had caught the attention of the rest of the marauders. Sirius poked his head out from behind the couch, James looked up from where he was mopping the floors, and Peter walked back into the living room from checking on the bag in the backyard.

“Uh, all the way back in my hometown, miles away from here. Old Muster Lake.” I stuttered out. With that, Remus opened up more of my drawers, searching for a map. When he had found it, he motioned for me to follow him into the dining room where he splayed the map out on the table.

“Show me.” Remus stated firmly, brushing his fingers over the dirty map. Hesitantly, I pointed my fingers about a hundred miles north of here. Remus bit his lip, thinking about what to do next. His breathing was shallow and I could feel his nervousness from here. All I hoped was that his plan would work out.

“Can you still drive the boat?” Remus said after a while, looking me in the eyes. I nodded slowly and Remus looked content, grabbing the map from the table and motioned for Peter to come to him. “We’re going to the lake to dump the body. You’re coming.”

“What? No.” Peter spluttered, his heart racing quickening. “I get terrible motion sickness. Oi! James!” Peter called James over who was focused on his task at hand, scrubbing the floor with the mop. “I’ll take over your job and you can go to the lake with these two.”

“Alright.” James huffed, passing the mop over to Peter. When they were ready, Remus, James and I walked outside into the night, walking over to the garbage bag where Jason’s body was already rotting. Even in the darkness of the night, I could tell that the bag hadn’t leaked, which was a good sign. With a nod of Remus and James’ head, I knew they were ready, so I held onto the bag while they held onto my arms and I apparated away into the night.

As we arrived at Old Muster Lake, a wave of post apparition nausea washed over me, nearly toppling me over if it hadn’t been for James holding me up. When I got myself sorted, I looked out onto the lake where I hadn’t been for years.

The whole lake looked deserted at this time of year. A faint mist was rising off of the lake, reflecting in the moonlight of the crescent moon. Big trees breathed in the like breeze, swaying softly in the wind. A hooting owl and the rustle of tree branches were the only noises that could be heard between the three of them.

Remus was the first to break the silence, stepping forward, his feet crunching onto the leafy ground. The dead leaves cracked underneath his shoes, giving away his position. He paused, listening out for anyone, sniffing the air slightly, before continuing to walk up to the docks. Thinking it was safe, James and I followed after him until we reached the end of the dock. The planks of the dock were old and unkempt, seeming like they might break underneath our feet. Carefully, we walked across the together, before the dock finished beneath us. I could see my boat a bit away from the dock, but it was too far away. There was no way of reaching the boat, until I had an idea.

“Remus, give me my key.”

“What?”

“I can swim over to the boat and bring it around. Give me my keys.” I repeated, holding my hand out to him. Obliging, he placed the keys on my palm and watched as I looped my digits around the key ring tight so it wouldn’t escape me.

I hadn’t swam in years. As I dived off the dock and into the freezing water, I remembered the rush of it. Resurfacing, I gasped for air, shivering in the winter water. My clothes hung uncomfortably by my side, sticking to my cold figure. My teeth chattered unconsciously, reminding me to get a move on before I froze in the temperature. We didn’t want two dead bodies in the lake now, did we?

Free styling in the lake, I stroked my arms by my side, swimming towards my boat in the ocean. It was about a seventy meter swim which was an okay length, but the warmth of the water made it feel like an eternity. When I finally reached the boat, I climbed up the ladder at the back and clambered into the boat. A chilly gush of wind hit my skin, sending goosebumps up my spine. I was too cold but I persisted, fumbling with the key in my hand and struggling to put it in the key hole. When it finally went in, I turned the engine on, letting a roar come out of the exhaust. Luckily, there was still half a tank of fuel in the tank from the summers ago when my family had come to the lake. Back then, it brought such happy memories. Now, not at all.

I brought the boat around to the dock, letting James and Remus pile in, pulling the heavy bag over the side of the ship. When we were ready, I sped off into the middle of the lake, where it was deepest, the perfect spot to dump a body.

“The next open season will be summer. By the time it comes, the body should’ve decomposed a lot more.” I spluttered out, my cold body shivering, making the words come out of my mouth in an unsteady stream.

“Here. Take this. You look freezing.” Remus said quietly, placing his jacket over my shoulders, which I gratefully accepted. Immediately, I started feeling much warmer, continuing on with our mission.

Once we reached the middle of the lake, there weren’t a lot of words said between the three of us. Instantly, James started untying the knot on the garbage bag, opening it up to the world. It reeked worse than before but there was nothing we could do about it now. With all three of our strengths combined, we managed to hold onto the bag and tip the corpse into the lake with a splash. Wordlessly, we headed back to the dock, as I dropped the two boys back off.

Again, I turned the engine off, tying the boat back up at the buoy. Holding onto the keys, I dived back into the chilling lake, though the cold didn’t affect as much as last time. Swimming back to the dock, I relished in everything we had done, remembering the body that was now decomposing in the lake. I felt dirty as I swam through the contaminated water.

Reaching the dock, I pulled myself out via the ladder and laid down on the planks, catching my breath. That’s when everything caught up to me. Tears were ebbing in the corners of my eyes, spilling onto my reddening cheeks. My lip quivered as quiet sobs spilled past my lips. Closing my eyes, I let the darkness consume me for a few moments, until I felt two strong arms hoisting me back up into a standing position. Stroking my arms, they both tried to soothe me from my breakdown. Minutes ticked by as I let my tears run down my cheeks. I was openly sobbing now. All I needed was a sleep.

“You wanna go now?” James muttered to which I nodded. Holding onto the deflated bag, James apparated us away, back into my unrecognisable house.

Peter and Sirius had done a fantastic job. There wasn’t a speck of blood anywhere in the living room; everything looked spotless. The rug that was drenched with blood had gone through the washing machine and was now back in its usual spot. The couches looked brand new, meaning that Sirius must have figured out how to do the spell properly. An aroma of fresh flowers flooded the room, overpowering the smell of rotting flesh. It was perfect.

“How did it go?” Sirius asked, appearing from the kitchen with Peter.

“It’s been taken care of.” I mustered up the courage to say. “Now, if anyone asks, and I doubt they will, but just in case, we had a dinner party tonight.”

The four of them nodded in agreement, heading for the doorway to leave, but I stopped them.

“And you stayed the night. Everyone had had a little too much to drink. That means no one would have slipped off to kill anyone, okay?”

With that, they all followed me up the staircase into the hallway of spare rooms for them to sleep in. I thought I was alone as I stayed out in the hallway, turning the lights out. I cried again.

I cried for a while.

Until I felt a reassuring hand on my back, calming me down. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry, love. No body, no crime, right?”

[spc4eva]

Star-Burned: Chapter One

Ok, honestly, I couldn’t stop myself.

So this is my first reader insert. I am hella nervous. There will be no Y/N included, but pet names (and nicknames) given out by Paz that will act as Y/N. Additionally, feel free to imagine yourself in the shoes of the character, but I am going to include a few features that she has - to include very, VERY Merida curly red hair. Honestly, I'm gonna treat her more like an OC, but since it's a reader insert - imagine yourselves how you want QUEEN.

There's gonna be smut. But plot. I promise.

Summary:  A Mandalorian crash lands on your planet with severe injuries. You're a moisture farmer who's handy. It's been a long time since you've had company other than your massiff, Jumbles. You take the Mandalorian in because you're a bleeding heart, not realizing what danger you've put yourself in. But the Mandalorian doesn't forget and he's more than willing to repay his debt and protect you.

Word Count: 5,398

Rating: M (18+) explicit sex scenes

| Chapter Two |

Cross Posted on AO3

Someone had crash landed.

Which, for this quiet hovel a planet, was the most action you'd seen in foreverrrr. Maybe ever to be honest. You were used to dealing with Jawas, the occasional drifter, and patching up your moisture farm as best as possible. Was honest work, pretty lonely since your folks had passed away, but it was all you had. Not entirely of course, there was the local wiley massiff that you'd feed scraps and talk to, as if it were a kindred soul, eying you with those beady little eyes before salivating over its disconcertingly large maw. Yeah, you should have been worried that it might've been sizing you up in case you didn't come out with a meal for it, but at least you did have a blaster. Would've been a sad day to have to put Jumbles down - yes, that's what you had named it. For no particular reason other than it had spontaneously fallen out of your mouth and the creature seemed to listen to it.

So when Jumbles trotted up with its spines quivering, baying and leaping around, you half expected it was going to lead you to another rotting womp rat corpse. What you were not expecting was to see smoke peeling from between the canyon walls, dark and sulfuric. Your years patching the farm up, making repairs to any scraps you had laying around - to include droids at times - had made you rather handy. You had to be when the nearest town was a two day ride on your speederbike. Self sufficiency was necessary, because it cost credits to get fuel and to ride out that far. Additionally, you had to plan for it... months ahead. 

Jumbles sprinted ahead, wagging a tailless rump before glancing back at you with bounce in his paws. Follow. Come quick. 

Now that you had an idea of what it was, your strides lengthened until you were chasing after the massiff. Between the terracotta walls and around a bend, until you were face to face with a crashed starship that had smoke rolling off the main engines. You winced at the carnage, a good portion of the hull smashed inward and splattered open, storage containers and supplies dashing the sand like organs splayed from a chest wound.

Jumbles woofed, approaching the wreckage. 

"Not a good idea, boy," you started to say. Even if it was a dangerous wild creature, you still worried about it and this mess was still smoking. Who knew if it was about to explode, there could be fuel leaks in tandem with hanging wires and-

Jumbles went inside the ship.

"Ah!" Your legs churned after it. Even if you had to drag the massiff out of the carnage, you would. Jawas would find it soon enough and have their way with the supplies. Could be a good amount of things to take, but even if you were friends with Jawas, you didn't really like picking the bones of others. 

Wires snapped and hissed like tiny snakes around your ear, threatening to singe your barely restricted hair as you ducked. The ship was in an abysmal condition, but the upper echelons of the craft were still intact... Warped, but intact. Your mechanic eyes began discerning the issues, locating the biggest issues first, which was-

Jumbles barked, your neck snapping fast enough that you thought you pulled a muscle. Palming your neck, you trailed forward and saw what... no, who the canine was standing over. Maybe he thought it was a droid. Hell, you thought it was a droid for a moment until you bent down to get a better look and saw that it was breathing. Jumbles yipped again and you blinked, realizing that the massive armored creature was a living person and looked hurt. 

"Hey," you started, poking into the man's shoulder where the blue steel didn't meet. "Hey, you need to get up. This ship might go-" Maker, he felt like metal underneath all those layers. Could be a droid then and you were just wasting your time. "C'mon get up!" But you couldn't leave someone here to die on their ship as it leaked fuel and ignited itself. You rarely saw people as it was and what if the last person you ever saw with this guy and you let him become a toasted human inside his armor?

Hooking your fingers into the pauldrons of the armor, you made a valiant attempt at trying to drag the figure out of the ship. He didn't budge. Face down, unconscious, and weighing an absolute ton. Your heart was pumping by now and panic made your hands shake as you desperately glanced around for a solution. Just... anything, a repulsor lift, a speeder... a speeder? Jolting to your feet, you spotted the storage area, having been thrown haphazardly around like a pinball during the crash landing, but still intact. 

Now, the issue would be getting this man onto the speeder. You couldn't even drag him, how in the Maker's name were you going to hoist him over? You brought the speeder over and chewed your lip at your plight, hopelessly glancing from bike to fallen warrior. 

"Hey," you tried again, hoping that maybe you'd get an answer this time. "Hey, c'mon are you in there?" You knocked on the helmet as if it were a door, your knuckles screaming in immediate protest. That was the least of your worries, because a hand flew out, grabbed your ankle, and ripped you off your feet. Back smacking on the steel floor, you groaned as the metal giant finally stirred. Despite the brazen display of insane speed, the figure was barely able to move more than a few centimeters... but he was alive, so he had that going for him. "Maker-" Scrambling back to your feet, you gave him another look over. "If you can hear me, I'm going to try and get you on your feet. I need your help though, can't pick you up myself."

You positioned yourself around him, finding his arm and slinging it around your shoulders before popping a squat. Now, you weren't very big or very strong. Just strong enough to lift things when you needed to, but you had lifts to do the heavier jobs back on the farm. Your knees quaked as you tested the pressure before sucking in a greedy breath. "Alright, one, two, three-" Exploding upward - or making an attempt to explode upward - you made it about a foot and a half before your calves died on you and your back buckled forward. "AH!" It didn't feel good, the absolute loss of control over your body as you expected to fly face first into the side of the speeder. Unfortunately for you, you didn't have a helmet protecting your face.

But it never came and you chanced opening an eye to look. The man was trying to stand, alleviating a brief amount of pressure as you widen your eyes. Swallowing the huge lump in your throat, you quickly thrust him forward and unceremoniously onto the bike. He grunted, but didn't manage any words before lolling, stomach first, onto the seat. 

There would be no comfortable way to ride this bike, you saw that now as you tried to shove him over the tail a little better, squeezing yourself tightly into the thrusters, almost off the seat entirely as you kicked it into gear and backed out through the massive tear in the hull. Jumbles ran along dopily as you very carefully - at almost a gruelling pace - brought the bike through the ravine and up the ride toward your moisture farm. Now came the second issue.

Getting him inside. 

"We have to walk again," you warned him, the light of day revealing the color of the man's armor - a deep ocean (or from pictures you’d seen of oceans) blue accent with marigold yellow. Didn't quite strike you when you were panicking, but you saw it now as the haze of strife cleared. A Mandalorian. You had pulled a kriffing Mandalorian from the wreckage of his ship. Fuck. That ship definitely had carbon scarring on it - indicative of a dogfight.

Too fucking late now.

"6PO can you get the lift?" You shouted for the protocol droid, an old rusted out piece of crap that you'd reprogrammed to help around the house. There was too much for you to do with just your own hands. The droid could manage the more mundane tasks, but still made a piss pour cup of caf. 

The droid stuttered out - having never learned to talk properly - gave you a blank look, and then started waddling toward the work shed where the lift would be. 

"Alright, mando, can you hear me?" you bent over, turning his helmet so that the visor was sort of looking up toward you. "Your ship crashed. Where are you hurt? I can't see that much with all that armor on." Part of you was asking this so you could tend his wounds and then send him packing. "6PO?" you raised your voice irritably, Maker that droid was always slow right when you needed it to be fast.

"W-where?" Finally he spoke, his strangled voice translated through the modulator in his helmet, breathy and in pain.

You told him the planet, pretty backwater and without much activity. There was a spaceport on the other side of the planet, but nowhere near where he was now. Finally, 6PO came over with the lift, cocking its head as you sighed. "About bloody time," you grumble, dragging the lift up and devoting your attention to your charge once again. "Gotta get up again."

This time the Mandalorian was more receptive, putting weight on his legs as you eased him onto the lift, which sagged until his weight. By the way he was cradling his abdomen you were guessing there was some sort of trauma there, but it was hard to tell. You weren't a medic, you weren't even pretending to be as you brought him into your home and slipped him onto your bed since it was the biggest one in the house. But what you did have was bacta, because if something happened to you where you crushed an arm or broke a bone, you needed to be able to fix it. Wasn't often that you had to use the concentrated shots, but it was always better to keep one on hand (even if it cost a fuckton of credits for it). Better to spend the money than die with it in your pocket.

Should you use it on the Mandalorian? That was the question, wincing as he drew rattled breaths in the bed, holding the shot in your palm as you really considered how many credits you had spent on this last year. 

"I need to take a look. Can I remove your armor?" Very carefully you approached like a womp rat before a nexu, almost afraid that one of the very many weapons on his belt might soon be tilted toward you. Of course you knew the stories about Mandalorians and having a behemoth one in your modest home didn't make you feel much better. But he was still a person.

"Not... not the helmet," he grunted eventually.

Everything but the helmet. Alright, that could work. You didn't know how armor worked, so removing the armor was a shitshow of fumbling, your fingers catching buckles, pinching flesh, and other times was fastened so tightly that you had to put some weight into getting the kriffing things off. Took the better part of an hour, but you managed to remove the armor - aside from the helmet - and leave the Mandalorian in just his flight suit and boots. Now this next part felt a bit intrusive, but you convinced yourself that this was in for the better health of the mando.

Unbuttoning the top of the flight suit, you started to peel it down, a rush of heat playing across your cheeks as you revealed the muscular and well hewn figure of the ailing man beneath the beskar. You looked a little too long, but doubted the fellow was even conscious enough to catch your ogling. Biting your lips, you pushed the undershirt up and took your medical scanner to the constellation of bruising against his ribcage. Oh, it didn't look good and the scanner came back with a result that made your legs weak, but not in a good way.

"You've got three broken ribs, lacerations to your spleen and kidneys--" ok you didn't know medical stuff, but the device was blinking indicating that he needed treatment immediately or face going sepsis. Your brain nearly exploded with panic as you tripped over your own feet and sprinted for the bacta infusion, which jumped between your nervous, sweaty hands. "Th-this isn't g-gonna feel good," you stammered, uncapping the three pronged syringe. Maker you hated looking at it, the thing looked like a torture device. 

Or go sepsis---

You shanked him with the infusion, pushing the plunger down, expecting him to recoil in pain. Actually, he didn't, which made your head turn slowly and a cascade of fiery curls follow as you just stared, in more distress than the severely wounded mando. "I-I will leave you to rest."

---

The infusion had been enough to stave off sepsis and repair the Mandalorian's organs, but he was still recovering from the broken bones. From your readings, the bacta had set them back into place, but he required more time to naturally heal the rest. What that meant was that you had suddenly become his caretaker, which consisted of feeding and helping him over to the fresher because he couldn't take his full weight on his injured side. For a Mandalorian, you didn't think he was that mean or callous. If anything, he was pretty gracious that you'd put the effort into struggling to get him back to your ranch.

But work didn't stop. In fact, you still had to run the farm while periodically checking in on the Mandalorian. Despite it, you tried not to seem bone weary when he asked for him. Wasn't his fault. If anything, it was your fault for helping him in the first place. He did answer a few questions, rumbling in a deep voice that sounded like thunder hinting at lightning on the horizon. 

"What's your name?" "You can call me Paz."

"Why did you crash land?" "I was shot down."

"Why though?" "Made some Imps upset."

"So you can't take your helmet off?" "Not in front of anything living."

"Oh so, it's fine if they're dead." "I try not to remove it unless I'm alone."

"Why is it blue?" "Why is what blue?"

"Your armor? Why choose blue?" "It's my favorite color." 

“Mine’s gold. Kind of like the yellow there on your armor.” “Your what?” “My favorite color.”

"You think those Imps are going to come looking for you?" "My ship crash landed, so I doubt it."

That ship, you had actually gone back to one afternoon to cordoned off from the Jawas. You knew them and decided that you liked the Mandalorian enough you weren't going to let his belongings get looted. Since it was close to your farm, laying claim to it - by Jawa code - was not difficult. You left them signs in their tongue, warding them off, before finding yourself taken aback that the thing hadn't exploded while you were gone. It needed a lot of work and probably a proper spaceport where it could be hoisted up and repaired from underneath. 

Your stupid bleeding heart meant that you went and fixed a few wires in your spare time, soldering them off, and cleaning up the worst of the wreckage. The engines would take more time, but they weren't too dissimilar from what you'd worked on in other vehicles, including your speeder and tractor. Peeling open a few holobooks, you would hum yourself to sleep at night in your childhood bedroom, blinking away sleep as you contemplated how else you might help this... Paz. Being generous was not forlorn to you. You'd helped drifters passing through, offered to lodge them up for the night, fill their bellies before sending them off... This planet wasn't that bad aside from the arid landscape and mischievous Jawas. 

Not like you had to worry about raiders or skugs. So your tenderheartedness hadn't come to bite you in the ass yet and aside from wanting a replacement to the bacta shot, you weren't expecting payment. It was called being a good human being and you pride yourself on the fact that you'd done something so nice. Plus, the added bonus was you didn't only have Jumbles to talk to. Now there was a living, breathing person who could hold conversation with you. Course, wasn't really to his will, but you tried not to pester him too much even though you were incredibly curious about what he did. Plus he seemed to get bored being pent up in that room. 

"Tranyc," he'd taken to calling you that in some mysterious language you didn't know, as you hummed into the bedroom after knocking, carrying fresh caf and breakfast. Weeks had passed and he was almost well enough. "I think I might be able to walk on my own. Do you mind-"

Mind keeping an eye out for him? You nod, setting the tray down on the nightstand before preparing yourself. Now, you were a master of helping the blue Mandalorian on his feet, keenly aware of where you fit and could support him from without being crumpled like tin foil. He threw his legs over the bed, testing his feet on the floor as you stood guard, poised like a goalie ready to catch the ball in front of a net before the big shot was made.  Admittedly, you were a little too silly for your own good, but being on your own for so long had done that. You would talk to yourself, make funny gestures, and do ridiculous things just to chase away the loneliness. Those mannerisms hadn’t really faded in light of your new acquaintance.

Paz pushed off the bed and stood there, towering over you at full height. You relaxed, glad to see that he was able to hold his own, but also sad about that. A pit welled in your belly, the realization that these few weeks had brought you a lot of happiness in having the company of another. And... you kind of liked him. Not in a companionable sort of way. No, you thought he was attractive --- from his voice, to his sturdy body, to the calm manner he'd talk to you. Despite all the stories you'd heard about Mandalorians, he was very warm and patient. Even if there was no face to place with all of that, attraction was more than just appearances, wasn't it? Then again, you'd been shocked by your sudden arousal on the first day of his arrival after just brushing his muscular chest.

Living alone didn't help your touch-starved addled brain.

And then he took a step forward and your spine jolted, darting forward as he winced for his side and wobbled. "Ah-hee!" a strange noise came out of your mouth as you tried to stop the tower of a man from tumbling and honestly, he tried too. But the result was still a mess of limbs, and you tried to take the brunt of the fall, cushioning him so that he didn't hurt his ribs again. Maker, that was your first mistake, thinking that you could take the weight of his body.

All air was crushed from your lungs, vision spinning as you made impact with the carpet. And it wasn't coming afterward, your throat bobbing but the pressure on your ribcage still too much that you were suffocating and unable to see at the same time. "Maker!" it wasn't your voice, but at the sound of it, the air whooshed back into your lungs and you sputtered hoarsely as someone sat you up. Not someone. There was only one other person on this farm. "Tranyc? Hey, can you hear me?"

"Y-yup!" you squeaked, the frayed edges of your vision swimming hazily back into focus as you saw that Paz was sitting on the floor with you, propping your semi-noodley form up. "A-are you ok?"

He sighed, the noise crackling out of his helmet as you trembled, sensation returning to your muscles. "I nearly crushed you. What were you thinking?"

"T-trying t-to he-help," you stammer, taking big gulps of air in between each word. Now you could feel a bit better, rolling your neck as you took account of what had happened. You had jumped to his side before he fell, taking the brunt of the fall directly on top of you. Not very smart at all. Then, he'd turned, picked you up and you were --- you were on his lap. "Wha--" Lancing like wildfire across a dry field of brush, blush erupted up your neck and face. "I-I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I fell on you," Paz pointed out, his helmet tilting to the side as your ears began buzzing. "Are you certain you're ok? I nearly flattened you."

"C-couldn't b-b-be be-better," your tongue was betraying you, thick and clumsy as you pushed against his chest -- oh Maker, the chest without the armor and only the flight suit. You could feel the grooves of his strong pectoral muscles beneath, the color on your face heightening to as bright a red as your hair. "I should... I should leave you to eat. Breakfast is on the ta-table."

You got to your feet, the weak wobbly limbs shaking, but not because you had been used as a pillowy landing for the Mandalorian. No, a heat radiated around your tummy and laddled lower into the abyss between your legs. A very, infrequently ventured area that had been visited once or twice by drifters, but never for much longer than an evening. Anyways, the Mandalorian wouldn't be interested in anything like that. You were just being hormonal and touch-starved. A little alone time could help you with that, right? 

Pushing back your mop of hair, you trotted into the kitchen, glanced at the time and then rolled over onto the couch from behind. You flopped onto the cushions, hair flying everywhere again before you stared blankly at the ceiling, wishing you weren't so terribly horny right now after just grazing a man's chest. How pitiful was that? You were an adult, had been for a good amount of years, and all it took was a deep voice and strong body to make you lose all sense of yourself? 

A soft whimper parted your mouth, the ache so desperate and painful that you gripped the fabric of your coveralls over your crotch and pressed into the sensation. Well, he couldn't walk anyways and you were the only one who lived in the house, so there was no risk in just relaxing here, was there? Despite it, you grabbed the nearby blanket and kicked off your overalls, returning a hand to the ailing point between your thighs. 

Cheeks flushed, neck cocked against the arm rest, you spun circles on the fabric, your pads picking up the wetness through the material. Maker, you were absolutely dripping, soaking through your panties, and making your fingers tacky. Hooking underneath the textile, you run your fingers along the warmth, licking your lips and closing your eyes -- the first thing coming to mind being Paz. The mystery of the man beneath, the muscular pillars of his body, the golden blonde curls against his broad chest. 

Your fingers move up to the bundle of nerves so desperate for attention, nearly screaming at you as you finally lavish attention. His voice, the deep rumble and attentiveness as you talk from where you sit in that chair beside the bed -- your bed. He was sleeping in your bed. Would it smell like him after? Would you ever wash the damn blankets after he left? Probably not. Edging yourself closer, you imagined his thick fingers plunging into your heat, reaching up into your molten core and--

"Tracyn?"

You nearly fell off the couch, clutching onto your sex for dear life as you froze. Your whole body vibrated, muscles stiffening as you fought off the white hot surge of an orgasm. How the fuck had he gotten out of the room? 

Tufts of your long hair were sticking out from the couch. No matter how far you slumped down, tried to hide beneath the edge of the blanket, your fucking hair was a blinding curly beacon and fluffing out as an admission of betrayal. 

You couldn't hold your breath any longer, the guttural whine hitching as the orgasm pittered into a woefully unsatisfying leap -- like a bird that had flung itself over a cliff with a broken wing, somewhat flying before it plummeted to the earth below. He came around the couch, still clutching his side, and paused. Now, the blanket was in the way, but your coveralls were crumpled on the floor and your face was deliciously flushed. 

Oh, stars you looked awful. You absolutely knew how dirty you felt by assuming that he'd not walk out and find you, hand slicked with your own wetness and too embarrassed to move. 

"What are you- Did I hurt you?" he asked, reaching down to snare the blanket away.

"N-no!" you gripped it with your free hand, but half of it was pulled away to reveal the outside of your bare leg, and the arm that was still hiding down there. 

"Were you...?" his helmet tilted as you both just remained where you were for a beat. Heart racing like fathiers on a track in Canto Bight, your lower lip trembled in shame, waiting for him to throw the blanket back over and return to the room. He was walking. He could just leave and let you wallow in your own miserable chagrin -- drown in it at this point... "Did you finish?"

"W-what?" you squeaked, face managing to deepen another shade of crimson. 

"Did you finish, mesh'la?" he repeated, sitting down on the couch by your feet, a tanned palm tracing the top of the foot. His skin was calloused, rough, and sandpapery. The foreign sensation made you shudder in his grasp, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, you liked the way his hand slowly coasted your calf in a soothing manner. "All alone on this big farm. Not another soul aside from Jumbles."

True, not another soul. You gave a quivering nod in agreement as his hand reached to graze the back of your knee. Still so gentle, with no insistency or malice. 

"Doing everything all on your own. The farm, helping me, taking care of yourself," his hand moved higher, framing the outside of your lower thigh, which caused you to jump. "You haven't once asked me for anything. No repayment or deal despite using that bacta... Couldn't have been cheap. This is just a moisture farm, you're not raking in credits..." He paused, grazing your upper thigh now, daring to push the blanket over a bit more. "For weeks now... Helping me... Did you finish?"

You had, but it hadn't been any good. Your stupid head bobs anyways, sending a few curls tumbling into your face. 

"Maybe-" he was drawing his hand back, the warmth of his scratchy fingers receding and you actually whined because of it, his helmet tilting back up to look at you. "Maybe," he was stronger now. "I can repay you a little for all you've done."

Maker, not a word came out of your mouth, you were nearly gnawing on the blanket from how nervous you were, but also from how much your core began aching again. 

"Do you want me to, mesh'la? I won't touch you unless you want it. I don't want to overstay my welcome, I just thought that-" he trailed off and you wondered what he had thought. Had you been so obvious about liking him? You didn't think so, you thought you had been your usually, dorky but polite self.

"I want you to," you insisted, releasing the blanket so that the rest could slip off and pool on the floor. You still had your shirt on, but you were nude from the hips down, fronds of hair curling over your mound that matched the drapes. This felt oddly... exposing, even if it was only the lower half. And the fact you couldn't read him didn't help, just a blank mask of a face that was drinking you in and you had no idea if he liked or disliked what he saw. What if you were not at all what he had been hoping for? What if he didn't like what he saw?

He groaned, his palm returning to your leg, sliding up and burning a blistering wake of fire before he curved into your hip and jerked you toward him. "Oh, mesh'la," he moaned. "A desert gemstone hidden in these canyons. How did I get so lucky? Of all the planets and places-" he touched you down there, the very sensation of hands not your own making you jolt and your neck tense. Fuck --- it really had been a long time. "Wh-when the last time... have you ever... ?"

"A fe-ew ye-ears now," you admitted as his fingers scissor up between your folds. "Be-been on m-my ow-own for si-six. N-not ma-any t-t-travelers."

"So wet," he muttered, bringing the slick up and pinning two fingers on your aching bud. Back stiffening, you bucket at the sensation, grounded by his other palm pressing into the hollow of your hip. You were halfway tugged onto his lap as he watched on with fascination, the curve of your left leg hooked against his hip. "What were you thinking of? Before I found you?"

You blush deeper, if that were at all possible, turning your face away from him as he continued to draw lazy circles on your clit. "Y-you."

His groans again, a growing hardness against your leg -- a hardness for you. It's hard to decide what is more startling -- the fact that Paz is here getting you off or that he's aroused by the fact that you'd been playing with yourself while envisioning him. "I'll take care of you. You deserve it mesh'la. After everything you've done for me. I'll make you feel good," he promised, increasing his pace, dipping in his ring and pinkie finger while he continued to oscillate against your bundle of nerves. His fingers stretched you, just as thick and delicious as you'd imagined -- no, it was better than you imagined because it was real. Pumping into you gently, reaching so much deeper than your own small fingers can. "Tight. Maker, you're so tight."

Squirming on the couch, you grabbed onto the cushioned as he pleasured you, coaxing you toward the end of days, making you see stars beneath your closed eyelids. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, a warbled cry strangled completely as your legs locked out and walls tightened to vice grip his fingers. 

"Cum on me, mesh'la. Let it all out, come on," he encouraged, his fingers quickening over your clit, your soul absolutely rending as you as ecstasy drowns your senses, your muscles clench, and the scenery of the house falls away. You're floating, physical body panning away from you as you bliss out and disconnect from your breathing and deflating heart rate. You'd never had an orgasm this heart stopping, so utterly piercing that you couldn't even tell where you were anymore. 

Finally, you blinked out of your stupor, expecting to be left laying cock legged and messy, but instead you're in bed. Your actual bed, not the twin one that you had been sleeping in the past few weeks. Rolling your head to the side, you didn't see him, but you heard him in the adjoining fresher. You had underwear back on and a pair of pajama bottoms. 

What the heck was happening? Did it matter? You just hoped it wasn't ending anytime soon.

[alfredosauce50]

Mille feuille [Policeman! England x reader]

Synopsis: He knew what he signed up for when he put on the blue uniform. But nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

He did everything by the book. And yet, for the first time in his career, he’s responsible for a failed hostage situation. While he faces the aftermath of devastating guilt knowing he couldn’t save an innocent life, he spirals down a path of self-destruction. You’ve just returned from France after studying patisserie, and you immediately notice. He turned back to smoking. Drank more. Talked less. Unable to watch him lose himself, you encouraged him to take on new hobbies as a distraction. He has no idea where to begin until he eats a dessert you left for him in the fridge. He never mixed well with kitchens, but maybe, just maybe, he could surprise himself, and you.

Wordcount: 4,998 Warning: Light gore in the beginning. Proceed with caution.

It was meant to be a peaceful night.

The vibrant pulsing of red and blue forced him to squint. But there was nothing he could do to muffle the ear-splitting wail of sirens. Everyone in the neighborhood had been asleep, now slowly arising to the disturbances in the streets. God, he wished he was still in bed too. His job couldn’t guarantee such a luxury, so he was sent out in his car along with several other officers. And it wasn’t a task he could simply put off for tomorrow.

For the past hour, he had been shouting through a loudspeaker. Reasoning. Instructing. He tried everything. Then, pleading. Assuring. Nothing he said was unaccounted for. But in their frazzled state of mind, they never budged, keeping the barrel of a gun aimed at the poor girl’s head.

He could pull the trigger at any moment and send her into oblivion. Her life was dangled over the edge, and whether she’d keep it depended solely on his ability to convince him to lower the gun. “We’re here to help you, Adam. If you put it away, we won’t hold this against you. It’s a promise.” The said man shook his head, keeping the firearm pressed against her temple with a shaky hand.

“No... No! You’re just... You’re just saying that. I’m gonna end up in jail like the rest, aren’t I?”

The Brit swallowed thickly. “No, you won’t. We’re going to get you the help you need first. Alright?” He spotted the man do just that, albeit slowly. But perhaps, he was celebrating too early. Before he lowered his arm completely, he gestured to all the cars with his brows knitted together. “Tell them to go away first. I don’t wanna see a single one of you’s. How do I know you’re not lying?”

Arthur cursed under his breath and reached for his communicator.

“Get them out of here. All of them.”

It was a risk he was willing to take if it meant he could save them both. He could feel it in his gut. The SWAT team was getting into position in the surrounding buildings, ready to let the bullets fly. It was only a matter of time before they could get a clear shot. But as he spoke with the troubled man, he couldn’t bring himself to resort to that as a solution. If he could talk to him for a little longer, do what he asked, surely, things would turn out how he wanted them to.

The cars pulled out of the driveway. “They’re all gone. Now all you have to do is drop the gun. Then you’ll be home free.”

Adam loosened his fingers around the firearm, but that was when Arthur’s communicator crackled again.

“We have a clear shot. Permission to engage.”

“No. Hold your fire. He’s nearly there.” He whisper-shouted that into the device, but his mouth was too close to the loudspeaker. While the hostage-taker could only make out a few words, fire was enough to spark fear and reduce him to a primitive state of mind. Darting his wide eyes over the nearby infrastructure, he felt his heart sink at the black windows watching his every move.

“Fuck.” The officer breathed, watching all his progress undo itself as the other’s face contorted with betrayal, then terror. Then, he kicked the door open the door behind him, and dragged the girl inside. “No!” Dropping the loudspeaker, he chased after him. As he dashed through the dim halls behind the shopping district, he was forced to listen to her bloodcurdling screams. And it was the last sound she’d ever make before her life came to an abrupt end.

A gun went off. The explosion echoed to him and all color drained from his face. But he persisted, following him to the backdoor of the bakery where it all began. Beads of sweat had formed around his forehead, but he never cared to wipe them. Not when he was now met with the biggest mistake of his life. Not being able to save one. There on the bloodied tiles laid the girl he’d been trying to save, long dead and gone.

But the fear on her face was fresh.

Standing over her body was her killer, grinning at him tiredly.

“... I didn’t want you to find me, and she wouldn’t shut up.”

Arthur couldn’t even respond. Instead, he pulled inwards, staring wide-eyed at the corpse of a young girl. He’d failed to save her, and it was slowly dawning on him. So even when the man raised his gun again, the guilt quickly amassing in his tightening chest stopped him from lifting a finger. But he knew he wouldn’t die here. Instead, he’d be cursed to live a fate worse than death.

Watching the other point it at himself, he grit his teeth when a finger curled around the trigger.

Bang.

Blood splattered all over his face.

He’d never forget the taste of iron on his tongue. The stench of gunpowder. But it was the sight of them that would be ingrained in his mind forever.

A week had gone by. But it still felt like yesterday they died in front of him. He’d relive the moment, again and again, the memory haunting him like the vengeance felt by their tortured souls.

In every moment of silence, the screams of the girl would fill them. And every time he closed his eyes, he’d dream of the same minute where he’d run through those halls. Find her dead body on the ground. Then watch his twisted smile contort as he blew himself apart. All his mistakes that Godforsaken night cost both of their lives, and the regret grew so unfathomably potent, he began to question the worth of his own.

How could he have been so reckless? He’d clearly bit off more than he could chew, thinking he could save them both. He couldn’t. And he walked out in shame with blood on his face. But he felt it. The invisible blood on his hands.

He should’ve given the sniper the green light. That way, he could’ve saved at least one of them. The girl who stayed overtime at her shitty, minimum wage bakery job.

He failed to do anything right that day, and this was the devastating aftermath.

He wished he could just forget it all.

But no, he was alone with his thoughts. You weren’t here, so there was no way to channel his emotions, let alone get over it. Not as long as he could still think, anyway. So he opted to do the unforgivable. He’d pick up bad habits he dropped for you.

Every day, he’d visit the same bar, order the same drinks. Drink until he could barely see his own hands. Hangovers weren’t a problem, so what was stopping him? His department was considerate enough to put him on leave, so he had all the time in the world to do nothing in particular, nothing except this. Downing the last of his beer, he slammed the glass on the counter and groaned at the bartender. “Can I get a whiskey over here? I’m running low.”

The other shook his head and clicked his tongue. “No can do, man. You’re drunk enough already. I think it’s time for you to head home.”

“Wha-aaat? I’m not drunk.”

“Yes, you are.”

Arthur leaned forward with an accusing glare. “I’ll have you know... I’m a... I’m a cop, alright? If you don’t listen to me... I might just... Arrest you.”

The bartender furrowed his brows. “Uh, sure you can.” He scoffed, continuing to polish a glass in his hands. “It doesn’t matter what you are. If you’re drunk, you can’t have any more. It’s the law. And newsflash pal, it applies to you as well.”

“... You’re no fun.” He slurred out, sliding himself off his stool. Before he could fall flat on his face, he wound up stumbling forward a few steps. Then, he spun to him with next to no grace and pointed at him with an index. “But I’ll see you tomorrow. You better have that... Whiskey ready for me when I come.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you’re still alive to drink it.”

“No promises.”

Even he had no idea how he made it back home in one piece. But he did, collapsing right on his bed in the first couple of seconds upon getting inside. Kicking his shoes off and throwing off his clothes to a random spot in the room, he slid himself under the covers. He couldn’t tell if it was his inflamed skin making the sheets so cold, or if it was because you weren’t here. Speaking of which, his phone buzzed with a reminder in his calendar.

Holding it above his face, he scanned the contents. That was right. You were arriving at the airport tomorrow afternoon, and he was supposed to come and pick you up. He almost forgot.

Then, the first thought he had through his pounding headache was one of relief. Your plane wasn’t landing in the morning. After that came the excitement to see you after months of your absence. The house didn’t feel like a home without you, because home was wherever you were. He would’ve packed his bags and flown to France with you, but alas, he had a job, and this job ended up ruining him. But never mind that.

He needed you now more than ever.

It was a little after one did he arrive at the airport, but he didn’t leave his car before squeezing some eye drops in. Blinking that away, he fixed his hair in the overhead mirror. You’ve got this, Arthur. You look positively dashing. Was what he told himself, but he wished he’d believe it too. There were bags under his eyes, and there was tiredness dulling them that never seemed to go away even after sleeping in for a week.

Stepping out of the vehicle to walk to the entrance, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He hadn’t walked this much in a while.

Upon getting inside, he fixed his hair again after the wind tousled it. However, there was still one untamed lock sticking out on his head, but he never had the time to deal with it when you came walking out of the international arrivals. As he watched you glance around expectantly, a smile immediately lit up his face and his heart swelled with warmth. It was so obvious how your mind worked--how you’d been thinking of him. It was completely normal after he agreed to come, but it filled him up with nostalgia nevertheless.

This nostalgia would only deepen into something else entirely as the day would progress. A potent kind of lovesickness.

“(F/N)!” He called out, the sound of the familiar voice turning your head his way. “Over here, love!” You let out a euphoric squeal, pushing your suitcase so it would roll in his direction--all so you could pounce on him.

“Arthur, oh my god!”

He caught you in his arms and breathed out a few laughs, then buried his nose in your hair. Oh, how he missed this scent.

“Welcome home. You don’t know how much I missed you.” Arthur knitted his brows together at that, the words he spoke prompting a rush of emotions to come sweeping in like a tidal wave. Only now did he realize how much he actually missed you. The epiphany was overwhelming, even, leaving his chest to ache in all the right places.

Thank God you were here. Your presence was nothing short of a reality check, and feeling you envelop your arms around him pushed him closer and closer to the edge. But hearing your voice broke him.

“Mhm... I’m home, Arthur. And I missed you too.” Pulling away to feel heat radiate to your face, you were shocked to see tears streaming down to his chin. He was crying. Concern flashed in your eyes and you cupped his red hot cheeks. He was never the type to be emotional, let alone in public.

But seeing you was enough to start the waterworks.

He just couldn’t take it. The contrast between you and him was drastic. Even after a flight, you were bursting at the seams with energy and a love for life. You’d been studying and practicing your craft for months, while he was buried up to the neck with work he was barely keeping up with. And eventually, it all caught up, drowning him and leaving him in the worst shape he’d ever been in.

“Hey... What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He hung his head to hide himself. He even had to make a mental note to talk away from you because of the traces of tobacco in his breath.

“... It’s alright. I’ll tell you when we get home.” All you heard was a faint whisper. From that, you understood he didn’t want to ruin the mood of a reunion, but by his definition, he already did.

It wasn’t something you’d hold against him for. Frankly speaking, you were just worried sick. But that was exactly what he wanted to avoid.

Reaching out to his untamed lock of hair, you patted it down. And there, it stayed.

The ride back was mostly quiet. While you enthused him about your travels, you came to understand his one-line responses of ‘that’s nice’ or ‘good job’ it was best to stay silent. Whatever he was holding in was serious. He’d never been like this before, so soft-spoken, so jaded. It showed in his grayed complexion. Hollow cheeks. You even thought he’d start tipping off when the conversation died. Though one had to wonder if it was even a conversation at all.

When you managed to unpack and shower, you went straight to the kitchen to check the pantry. There was nothing but cereal and instant food. The fridge only had condiments too, not even milk.

“... Arthur, when was the last time you went shopping?”

He rubbed the nape of his neck. “Uh... Like... Two weeks ago.”

At the start of your relationship, this wouldn’t have been alarming considering how disastrous he was on a stove. But you started teaching him a few basic recipes even a child could easily manage, so you wouldn’t have to worry about him starving.

Turning to him with a small sigh, you walked up to him and held his hands. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?” You smiled softly. “Don’t tell me you’ve only been eating instant stuff while I’ve been gone. I know your taste isn’t that bad that you’d start eating cereal with water.”

He lit up like a Christmas tree and his face scrunched up. “Of course not! I’ve just been eating other things. Like... Like--” Take out. Air. Water. “--cereal bars.”

“Oh really? Which brand?”

Arthur closed his eyes as a frown downturned his features. “I can’t ever lie to you, can I?” You grinned.

“Nope. Now, what do you say we go on a little shopping trip?”

He blinked. “But you just got home, love. Aren’t you tired?”

“Sure I am.” He squeezed your hands as an apologetic expression contorted at his face. “But I can’t have you starving, can I? I’d say you’re looking a little worse off than me, to be honest.” Arthur separated his lips to interject, even when you were right on the mark. Raising a finger to his mouth to shush him, you offered another reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll drive. And I’m a little more energetic after showering. So cheer up, okay?”

His cheeks flushed red once more, but not out of embarrassment. Then, heat built up behind his eyes. “... Right. I’ll do my best.” It wouldn’t be long before his vision would start blurring.

He always loved how observant you were, but just this once, he wished you wouldn’t have to worry about him. But that was too selfish to expect of you.

Throughout the whole shopping trip, he looped a finger around one of your belt loops. He actually wanted to hold your hand, badly, but couldn’t.

You were pushing a cart after all, and while you made your way around the store, you’d catch him staring at you from behind. Even after checking a few times, his gaze on you never faltered, which left you flustered to know he’d been watching you the whole time. He never made a move to leave your side either, and remained stitched to you by the hip.

“Arthur, you wanna make yourself useful and go fetch me some milk? I didn’t bring you here just for you to follow me around.” You gave him a side-eye, finding him tense up with an awkward smile.

He was always so adorable when he was caught off guard.

“Oh yeah. Did you need anything else?”

It would only be a matter of seconds before he’d start blushing.

You hummed and reached out for his hips. “Actually, yes. Vanilla beans. Vanilla Extract. Oh! And puff pastry.” Spinning him around, you gave him a light push on the back. “Off you go now.”

Stumbling forward a few steps, he looked at you over his shoulder.

There it was--his cheeks were rosy as he stared at you through a frown.

You waved at him with a grin.

“What are you standing around for? Go!”

When you had dinner with him, you came to realize that shopping ended up being the best part of the day. Rather than indulging himself in a conversation with you, he sat there quietly and fiddled with his food. He only managed to finish half of it before scraping together the courage to tell you he was full. From that, you knew it wasn’t just stress that made him so down.

It only became more apparent when you laid in bed with him, feeling his kisses pepper over your neck and shoulder. Even after brushing his teeth, you could smell the traces of his cigarette breath. Hadn’t he quit ages ago? Needless to say, you were about to get to the bottom of it all, and find out what happened while you were gone. Clamping a hand over his mouth before he could seal it with yours, you leaned in. “Not so fast. I can smell the tobacco.”

He froze. Panic gripped hold of his system and he pulled away.

He was much too careless. Again.

But never mind that. “... Sorry.” Burying his hands in his hair, he turned away from you with a look of shame. “I was meant to drop the habit years ago. But I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry.”

It always broke your heart to see him so apologetic, so you didn’t hesitate to hug him. “Don’t be sorry. I know you’ve been struggling, and I’ll help you through it.”

An hour had passed since he told you everything, and it was only then did you process what he said. And you mirrored his every emotion and thought, managing a few tears yourself as he spoke to you.

The guilt he shouldered wasn’t something anybody should ever have to experience. And as thoroughly convinced he was it was his fault that two people were dead, you reminded him he wasn’t a God. He had no way of foretelling the future. He was a flawed human being, and he couldn’t blame himself for it. Not forever, at least. But you couldn’t expect him to move on so quickly.

So you’d help him forgive himself.

And you would start with this. While he had his face turned to the side, you moved it back to you. Leaning in slowly, he tilted his head to an angle fit for a kiss. Before he let his lips brush against yours, he whispered this. “... Are you sure you wanna do this? You’ll taste it...”

You furrowed your brows together and tightened your coils around his neck, bringing his body in to feel it press flush against yours.

“I don’t care what you taste like. Nothing will stop me from kissing you.”

“Fuck.” He breathed, screwing his eyes shut as his heart began to ache.

This ache then spread from his chest to the very ends of his body as he lingered over what you said. It was a miracle how mere words from you would leave him completely inundated, inundated with a terrible case of lovesickness. And he had no intention to hide it. “Kiss me now, then...”

You did exactly that, sealing the gap between your lips and his. When you did, tears overwhelmed his eyes once more, streaming down your cheek until you could taste the salt of them in your mouth. Securing his hands on your waist, he fell on his back and pulled you over him without parting. The whole night, you slept on top of his chest, and he never loosened his arms around you.

When he woke up, you were nowhere in sight. And it hurt to see you gone so early in the morning, but it wasn’t as if he could make you stay. He was the one on leave, not you. There was still a café to be run, and you were in charge of opening today. Forcing himself to get out of bed, he sauntered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. This time, there was actual food inside.

He scanned the contents before pulling out a plate with cling wrap over it.

On the top was a sticky note.

Breakfast :)

Since you couldn’t come to France with me, I’ll bring France to you!

Smiling to himself at that, he unwrapped the plastic to reveal some kind of fancy-looking dessert. In between three layers of puff pastry was a yellowish-white cream with marbled chocolate on the uppermost layer as garnish. Without wasting another second, he pulled open a drawer to get a fork. Stabbing himself a piece, his mouth was already watering before he even tasted it.

It was delicious.

But in the next minute or so, it was gone. He’d never eaten something so quickly. Hell, he practically inhaled it. That was when he realized that one slice wasn’t enough.

Setting the plate in the sink, he peered around the fridge to see if he could find some more. He huffed out a sigh of disappointment when he couldn’t. What he did find was some leftover ingredients. While he had no idea what went in these... Whatever they were called, he guessed they were made from the puff pastry he found. But the cream was the real gamechanger.

He could try baking the pastry, but he figured he’d wait for you to come home to do anything else.

When you did come home, you found him sitting around the kitchen island.

“I’m back!” Before he kissed you on the cheek as per usual, he scurried over to you and inspected the bags you were carrying. No desserts in there. A weird smile curled at your lips as you watched him stand up straight again. “Aren’t you curious? What were you expecting to find in there?”

Arthur rubbed the nape of his neck and laughed nervously. “Oh... Nothing. Just that... Dessert you had in the fridge for me. It was really good, by the way. Thank you.” Before he let the subject change to something else, he gripped your shoulders much to your surprise. “I know I might be asking for the impossible, but... You always have leftover ingredients in the fridge, and I was wondering if you could... You know...” As he trailed off as his face reddened.

Oh boy. If he was asking you to make some more, he wouldn’t be this embarrassed. But no, it was something entirely different he wanted.

“Could you maybe... Teach me how to make it?”

You blinked a few times at the unexpected request before bursting into a fit of laughter. That was when he exploded in numerous shades of crimson. Was it perhaps too much to ask for? He always was terrible in the kitchen, and it became an inside joke between you and him. “I-I mean, you don’t have to! I was just thinking... Because you told me to find something to do to distract myself and everything--”

Before he could ramble on and go on a tangent, you gave him an affectionate pinch on the cheek. “I didn’t say no, dummy. Of course, I’ll teach you.”

He lit up. “Really?”

You nodded. “Why not? If you want to make use of scraps in the fridge, I won’t stop you.” Leading him into the kitchen, you saw that he already brought out the puff pastry to thaw. "You’re a smart cookie, aren’t you?”

He totally wasn’t going to throw it straight in the oven. Definitely not.

With what you had readily available, you and Arthur made a small batch of mille-feuille. It turned out amazing, which was a given considering you did all the heavy lifting. Nevertheless, he was smiling like an idiot as he dug into his creation. That was when an idea struck you. Since he asked to be taught how to make it, you needed to test what he learned, didn’t you?

This would certainly keep him busy for the next few weeks.

When you proposed the idea, he paled. He took what he said back. There was no way he could do this himself, as simple as you made it look.

“On second thoughts, maybe not--”

You were you, he was him. Arthur. The man who could set his cereal on fire. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it wasn’t far off the mark. It was only recently did he figure out how to make pasta. The pre-made kind. As hopeless as that sounded for a fully grown adult, it was enough for you to believe in him.

While he couldn’t share the same optimistic sentiments, you always saw the good in him that he couldn’t.

“I want you to. This'll keep you busy at home. It’s better than hitting up the bar, don’t you think?” He fell silent. He wasn’t arguing with that.

So a few days later, he gave it a go like you suggested, only to end up wasting a whole pot of cream.

It was lumpy. Inedible. Disappointing.

Hanging his head by the counter, he prodded at the small bumps inside the mixture, defeated. He really couldn’t do anything right. You’d tell him he was stretching things, but he couldn’t stop his train of thought from venturing off to a topic he forbid himself to linger on. He was unable to do his job, and he couldn’t do yours either.

“Goddammit.” He grumbled out bitterly. “Sorry to disappoint, (F/N)... I think you have too much faith in me.”

Speak of the devil.

“I think I have just the right amount of faith, excuse me.”

He nearly jumped. “(F/N)? How long have you been standing there?”

You made your way to his side to peer over his shoulder. “Just a few seconds. I wanted to check up on your progress.” Seeing that things didn’t turn out well, you pat him on the back. It was an improvement nevertheless, so you weren’t giving up on him yet. “You didn’t burn it, so I’m proud of you.”

Not that it was that great of an achievement you made it out to be. That was precisely why he found himself red in the face.

“Just make sure to stir it quick enough. And make sure you cook the cream on low heat. Try again in a few days. Don’t give up yet!”

Leaving the kitchen at that, he was left to his own thoughts.

He couldn’t say he believed in himself, but he’d give it another shot. Like you said, baking was far better than his take on coping mechanisms. Even if he was terrible at it. But unbeknownst to him, that would change over the next few weeks as he improved. And slowly but surely, he’d come up with something on par with what you’d serve in your café. Piping out the last of his cream, he stacked the last layer of pastry on top before forking a piece to his mouth.

Dropping the fork to the counter in a clatter, he ran to his bedroom--or more accurately put, the bedroom he shared with you--and pulled you into the kitchen. Did he just bake something? Good? Something that didn’t taste like raw dough or scorched rocks? He was in too much disbelief to trust his own judgment. So he made you try it. And surely enough, you were in just as much shock.

“This... This is amazing. I could actually sell this.” You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling a wide smile work its way to your face. “People would pay for this, Arthur. And you made it!”

He dug his hands through his hair. “Oh my god. I actually did.” He shook his head. “Or maybe I was possessed. By the girl... At the bakery. It could be possible. Maybe she followed me home and--”

You pulled him in for a kiss to shut him up.

“Nobody possessed you. You made this yourself, so give yourself the credit you deserve.” Your wide smile softened. As always, you saw the good in him that he couldn’t. And every time, you would prove him wrong about himself. You just hoped he would realize it too--he wasn’t the static person he thought he was. Like everyone else, he could learn and grow.

Pulling you in for a tight embrace, he breathed out a few shaky laughs.

“I really did.” He murmured out airily.

It was only just a few baby steps he made, but eventually, he’d come to learn the hardest thing of all that baking followed as a close second. It could take months or even years, but with you around, he’d learn to forgive himself.

[rochiomaru]

Destiny

I am on the Numancia, sailing towards Mariejois. Just the thought of that place causes bile to burn the back of my throat. I spit over the side of the boat and grimace in distaste. If there was ever an epitome for the tragedy that has befallen me in my lifetime, it is found within its walls. I swing my head back and roll my shoulders as a wide sneer plasters itself on my face. I begin to laugh as I think of the fools living there, and the Marines I am on my way to meet within its gates.

Despite the bitter taste in my mouth, a smile finds its way on my face while I consider the events of the last couple of years since Rosinante’s betrayal. I still cannot stand to be in the snow to this day, but do manage to find my way to Minion island at the same time each year since he died. I can feel that wretched heat that always threatens to fill my eyes when I think of my broth… of the traitor lying on the frozen ground. I try to tell myself that my chest tightening and the sudden tightness of my throat is simply anger. I know it’s a lie, but that will have to be sufficient until I return there next time.

As my ship comes closer to the harbor, I can see that other ships have already docked within the walls surrounding the city. It surprises me that they would allow so many pirates into such proximity to such a supposedly holy place. I realize that these pirates are essentially held out as dogs on leashes, but even a trained dog can still bite its owner, should the mood strike it. The thought of the shichibukai turning on the marines makes me laugh as I picture bloody corpses and gore splattered along the pristine walls of Mariejois.

Once the Numancia has properly anchored and I give word to my crew that I am disembarking, I use my strings to fly the last few hundred meters to the shore. I see no need to entrust my family to the marines, even if I do hold all the cards in this particular game. I have been burned once by these bastards; they shall not get the chance to do it again. Until I know more about what being a warlord entails, my ship will stay outside of the walls.

Once I land on the dock, I see Sengoku and Tsuru standing there with about a dozen marines. I stop to stretch my arms over my head and crack my neck. I want them to realize exactly who it is they are up against, if they are planning an attack. I am fairly certain this was not a trap, as the invitation to join the warlords did not come from this loser. I have spoken with people, much higher up the ranks than Sengoku. He is, after all, simply their puppet. I begin to laugh at the thought and walk towards them slowly. If they are in a hurry, they can come to me.

The one they call “the Budda” confronts me first. He has the same look of hatred that Rosi...the Commander had that day as he stops me from getting closer to the entryway. I stop and look down at him, though I must admit the jackass isn’t that much shorter than me, but enough that I can smirk and allow some haki to push against him. Since submerging myself more into the underworld after that incident, I have found even greater information about my enemies. It’s quite useful what power and intimidation can buy. Now that my bloodlust is fully unleashed, no one is willing to stand against the Joker. Several marines were more than helpful in giving me details as to how my former brother came to be raised by this man and set against me.

I lean forward and speak, “Greetings, Fleet Admiral. How thoughtful of you to come and welcome me.” I cock my head to the side and let my tongue fall out as the sarcastic words practically drip with venomous undertones. My mind is beginning to scream and my thoughts are hard to control, but I have come to accept my own madness these past couple of years. Though I plan to burn the world, and these fools with it for what they have done, I can bide my time.

His face turns a beautiful shade of purple as anger wells within him. A vein becomes visible on his temple and he grits his teeth while he slowly begins to speak, “Captain Donquixote, of the Donquixote Pirates. Welcome to the Royal Shichibukai…”

I watch in amusement and he appears to begin choking somewhat. A half sobbing noise comes from within the man’s throat before he coughs and forces out the next sentence. “Your bounty of 340,000,000 is hereby exonerated.” 

I spy a solitary tear in his eye and cannot control the laughter that comes from my chest. I am so enraged that I want to slaughter everyone on this damned island. How dare he act like the victim?! This is the fucking bastard that set my precious brother against me and forced me to remove him from this life! I have no biological family to speak of due to this piece of trash in front of my face! And he has the utter gall to consider himself the one wronged?

The laughter comes louder and deeper from within me and soon I am doubled over with it. I have to laugh to keep myself from flying into a murderous rampage. The time to massacre this vermin has not come yet. However, I do not think Sengoku appreciates my benevolence. The harder I laugh, the more outraged he becomes.

Finally he screams and begins to shimmer. His body is morphing as he grows and turns golden, and his men take arms against me. My laughter stops instantly, as if cut by a blade. Quicker than anyone’s eye can see, I engage my strings and every man he has is strung in the air by their throat. My smile is gone, and I hold my right hand outward with slender fingers extended. Tsuru keeps calm and steps between myself and the Budda, all of our eyes look upwards to the struggling soldiers as blood begins to drip softly from the wounds digging into their tender flesh.

“Do not test me. I did not come here to fight, but I will finish this,” I inform them coldly, leaving no room for doubt as to my power. The voices I have come to live with and that own my soul are screaming to end the lives of the men hanging from my strings. They push me to make an example of these rats for having attempted to strike out against me without provocation. My teeth are grinding tighter and faster as I lose myself in the chaos within my own tormented mind, and my fingers begin to curl which causes the threads to tighten their hold on the men.

Tsuru puts her wrinkled hand on my arm and I hear a slight gasp come from her lips, but suddenly everything goes quiet within my mind. I search for the demons that haunt me every moment, but they seem to have withdrawn from my consciousness. Slowly I meet her eyes and she says softly, “You are not what I imagined you to be, brat.” I swallow a lump in my throat as a warm feeling settles in my chest. Though they really look nothing alike, there is something in her brown eyes that reminds me of my mother. 

The moments seem to tick off endlessly as we consider one another and she then admonishes in a louder voice, “Maybe you should quit with these games and we can get to business, eh?” The fearlessness of this old woman as she looks me in my face amuses me greatly and I smile at her. I drop my hand, causing the soldiers to fall from the sky. I can’t help but to chuckle at the sounds of them moaning while trying to stand and see to the superficial cuts and bruises on their worthless necks. It isn’t like I did any permanent damage.

"Anything for you, grandmother,” I chirp while blowing the older woman a kiss. She grunts and rolls her eyes at me, but I am sure I see a small smile in the corner of her mouth. I cannot help but to like her, and offer her a smile in return. She is so very interesting, and I think these meetings may not be nearly so dull if she is involved. 

Sengoku, on the other hand, still looks like he wants to kill me. The smile fades from my face and I clench my hands at my sides. She notices my change and quickly turns towards him. “Come on, you old fool! It’s time to start the meeting,” she snaps while grabbing a hold of his collar, causing him to bend forward. She then drags him behind her and into the building, the marines staggering after them.

I watch the door they disappeared through and continue to stew about the confrontation with that bastard. If it wouldn’t be so damn inconvenient to my plans, I would use my strings to strangle the life out of Sengoku here and now! However, I know that with this meeting to officially make me one of the Royal Shichibukai, I will have to have more interactions with him similar to the one we just experienced. 

The only joy I get is knowing the influence I hold over the Elder Stars. To watch that piece of shit have to bow to my whims simply because of who I can make a call to if he displeases me, almost makes all of this worth it. I cannot help but to laugh at the thought of him pissing himself in fear at what the Stars may do to him or his underlings if the Elders are pushed too far, or pressed with the right information. Perhaps Sengoku shouldn’t have turned the Commander against me, hmmm? Fucking bastard.

I take a few more deep breaths and close my eyes. I notice that the voices have returned to my mind, and though the reprieve was amusing, I revel in the chaos beginning to swarm in my mind. I have lived with it for so long, that I honestly don’t know how to react to life without them now. After a few more breaths, I realize it’s time to move on. I head into Navy Headquarters.

In the time it takes to enter the building and walk the hallway to where I am to meet the others, I prepare myself for whatever may come once I enter the room with the Warlords. Though I fear none of them, I know they are all powerful pirates and need to be on guard for any possible plots against myself or my family.

With a wide grin in place, I enter the room. It is time to step into the next phase of my destiny.

[slashthedice]

The Doctor x reader prompt in which Herman desires her, but can't get a hold of her. So he becomes desperate until that one day when he is lucky enough... 👀

I’m always thirsty for the Shocktor, and I haven’t written anything that wasn’t part of an event or a commission for a while. This is also an example of what four coffees ($12) will get you from a ko-fi commission. NSFW below!

Electricity licked around your feet and ankles, sparks dancing up your legs. The walls of the ramshackle hospital felt like they were closing in, squeezing tighter and tighter until you were sure you would be crushed. Laughter filled your mind, drowning out your thoughts and leaving you to act on animal instinct alone. Your legs burned, but you knew you couldn’t stop running. He was behind you, his sheer presence pressed up against your back like a wall of static, a wave just waiting to crash down upon you and pull you under.

You were the only one left. You had barely had time to ask Ace who he thought the killer was upon awakening in the courtyard before you heard Dwight’s scream from deeper within Léry’s Memorial Institute. The Doctor was unsettling enough to come up against in a trial, but as time went on, the more he seemed to fixate on you specifically. He had a way of getting inside your mind. He had taken root amongst your thoughts and showed you things in the static. Images, fantasies. You weren’t sure if they belonged to your own scattered mind or his. They were exhilarating. Mad, lusty conjurations of the mind that set your body aflame, but the prospect of indulging in your dark curiosity was terrifying.

Dwight had been the first to fall, the Entity tearing its way into the trial arena to pluck his corpse off the hook for its own. You and Ace managed to finish two generators between you. Adam completed a third before being caught and killed, brain fried with a pulse of electricity. You parted ways with Ace then, ostensibly to complete the final two generators, but you both knew the unspoken truth of the situation: if one of you was caught, then the other would at least have a chance at escape. It hadn’t taken long at all for that exact scenario to become reality. Far too soon after you knelt behind a generator, you heard Ace’s agonized screaming followed by oppressive silence, broken only by the buzzing of a nearby static-filled monitor.

For a moment, you were frozen in place, paralyzed by the knowledge that now it was just you and Him. A thrill ran through you. What was to stop you from acting on all those illicit fantasies now? You knew he was coming for you. You could wait and let him have his way with you, let him drive you insane in a whole new way. On the periphery of your thoughts you recognized that your heartbeat had picked up speed, and realized belatedly that it wasn’t due to the flurry of heated imaginings that played out behind your eyes.

He rounded the corner and your breath caught in your throat. He cut an imposing figure, standing tall in the center of the hallway. One fist was raised, familiar sparks flickering around his fingers and traveling up and down his arm with minds of their own. His unnatural, forced grin seemed broader somehow. Mirth and hunger tangled in his wide, bulging eyes as they focused in on you. 

“I’ve found you,” his voice seemed to come from all around you, just as his unhinged laughter always did.

Your mind and body were in a desperate war with each other, centered completely on the direction in which you were going to run. He took a step towards you, breaking you out of your temporary paralysis and convincing you to turn tail and sprint off in the opposite direction. You heard his spasmodic laughter follow your retreating form along with the pounding of your heart in your ears. He was faster than you, long legs eating up the space between you in no time at all.

You took every twist and turn you could in a desperate bid to lose him, vaulting windows and sliding across fallen pallets. The winding, discombobulating maze that was the hallways of Léry’s Memorial Institute seemed to spin you round and round like you were stuck on some sort of nightmarish carousel until finally it spit you out in a room unlike any other you had seen there. You could almost believe that the Entity had transported you somewhere else entirely. A chandelier flickered above your head, half of the bulbs broken and rendered useless. Wood paneling and bookshelves occupied a good portion of the walls. What wasn’t housing countless books, the natures of which you could not discern, boasted faded cream and grey striped wallpaper that had begun to peel away from the plaster over the course of its decay. What must have once been a rich, expensive rug spanned the majority of the wooden floor, now covered in dust and frayed in places. A large, mahogany executive desk was slightly off-center with a high-backed armchair pulled out behind it as if the occupant had just left for a few moments. Across from the desk was a wall-mounted mirror, bordered in a dirty but intricately designed frame. You could hardly see a thing in the tarnished surface of the mirror, peering closely into it’s dark reflection and searching the vague shapes for your own countenance. 

A sudden sparkle of bluish light in the cracked glass startled you from your contemplation of your surroundings, and you spun around with a gasp. The Doctor loomed in the arched doorway, electricity arcing and crackling brightly around him in a blue-tinged halo of light. The sharp sound of his breathing as it whistled through his exposed teeth fell across your eardrums in harsh waves. He hardly hesitated on the threshold, closing on you with purposeful strides. You scrambled back until your body hit the desk. You reached out a hand to steady yourself, but only succeeded in knocking a stack of old books onto the floor, sending loose papers scattering.

When you turned back to look at the doctor, you came face to face with the blood splattered front of a familiar white lab coat. You allowed your eyes to slowly travel upward, feeling very much the deer about to become acquainted with the grille of a speeding truck. A jolt went through you when you met his eyes. They were trained directly on you, incandescent irises glowing entrancingly. He reached for you and you let him, never flinching as his large hands circled your waist. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing, bringing you to rest on the edge of the desk with your legs dangling over the side. You twisted your fingers into the front of his coat, clinging to him like some sort of depraved lifeline. You pleaded with your eyes, begging him for something you dare not name.

Beginning with the buttons on your shirt, he worked methodically to divest you of your clothing. You couldn’t be sure if he had somehow hypnotized you with his presence, or if the unparalleled surreality of the situation prevented you from thinking straight, but you let him strip you until you sat before him completely bare while he had somehow maintained all of his clothing, looking far more composed than he had any right to be.

“Please,” you whispered, clinging all the harder to his lab coat.

He looked at you expectantly, seemingly waiting for you to continue your plea. You couldn’t breathe life into the sentiment of every deviant thing you wanted him to do to you, so you settled for allowing your hands to release his lapels and travel down the length of his torso until your fingers found the leather of his belt. You stripped him slowly, peeling away layers of clothing until his hands stopped your eager fingers at his fly. 

He simply stood there. He looked down at you with that forced, macabre grin and perpetually glowing eyes. His gaze swept over your form until you were trembling from more than just the chilled air. You knew it was on purpose, you knew each moment was calculated just to torture you. You wanted him so badly, if the electricity didn’t drive you crazy then the anticipation would.

When it appeared that he had had enough of simply observing you, his massive hands took hold of your thighs and parted them to accommodate the width of his hips. He moved to press in towards you in one fluid motion. You whimpered as his clothed sex brushed across your arousal slickened folds. His already wheezing breathing seemed to stutter and stall, the only slip in composure you had encountered thus far. 

One of his hands dipped between your thighs and you whimpered pitifully as his fingers teased at your entrance. He was immense and as he loomed over your bare body, you felt so small, so powerless. Your every nerve ending was alight with charged desire.

Your mind was spinning-- twirling, twirling, twirling endlessly. Your face burned, your body quaked. Your core ached and dripped with desire. You needed him inside you, you would admit it willingly. You would scream it for the whole world to hear if that was what he wanted.

You sucked in a sharp breath as he entered you. Pain flashed like a warning light across your senses. You hadn’t even heard the sound of his zipper, hadn’t noticed the heft of his length as it brushed your lower lips. It was only when he was splitting you open, threatening to tear you in half, that your mind snapped back to reality.

You cried out, scream lighting up the electrically charged air around you. His wheezing seemed to buzz through you on two frequencies as he caged you in with his arms. Tears burned your eyes, but through their bleariness you could make out the cracked and charred lines in his skin, broken by glowing pulsing wires and cables. A fleeting query danced around your thoughts, begging to know whether his cock had more of that same cabling. 

You whined as he pulled back, cock dragging along your strained walls. The sound was desperate and involuntary, but was quickly followed by a gasp as he thrust back in and stretched you past capacity once more. Your breath seemed to rattle in your lungs in time with the uncontrolled tremors of your sweat-slicked body. He repeated the motion and you heard yourself make a keening sound. Then again. And again. And again.

Pleasure boiled in your core, singing your nerves like you were being electrocuted. Maybe you were. You didn’t care. 

It was everything you had never allowed yourself to imagine. The way he felt inside you was better than any fantasy could have conjured. You had thought you would have felt guilty for the dark indulgence, but all you felt was ecstasy, bone-deep and all consuming.

Your nails dug into the desk, scraping up the varnish as you floundered for something to hold you in place. Loose papers whispered and bit into your bare skin as you were rocked into the surface. You looked up into his face only to find his horrifying, hypnotizing eyes boring into you. He was watching every flinch and twitch, observing the way your mouth formed around nonsensical words and animalistic sounds. He never blinked, not that he could, and he never looked away. You should have been embarrassed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed.

You came hard as one of his cracked fingers found your clit, he really did shock you then. You screamed your please, pain, and approval. He laughed that same familiar laugh as you threw your head back and thrashed, unable to force out the words to ask him to stop. Finally, after a torturous stretch, he removed the stimulating digit away from your overwhelmed sex and resumed his own chase for completion. 

You went limp, feeling more exhausted than you knew yourself capable of. You wondered if this would be it. Hypothesis tested, curiosity sated. You wondered if he would be done with you. But at the same time, your mind abandoned itself to that same dark curiosity that had gotten you here in the first place. In the most shadowed corners of your heart, you hoped that the next time you encountered the Doctor, you would be privy to the same treatment.