#you were riding to hide or you were looking for a brand new life. if you even care

[suncatchr]

would you guys still love me if I just started posting song lyrics again

[starryhutcherson]

━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones. 

It’s no different today. 

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils. 

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it. 

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you. 

“I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom. 

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is. 

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.” 

Mike scoffs. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.” 

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas. 

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything. 

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway. 

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.” 

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation. 

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air. 

“If anything happens, call me.” 

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream. 

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that. 

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.” 

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out. 

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity. 

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild. 

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.  

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so. 

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you. 

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode. 

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this. 

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly. 

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat. 

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again. 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks. 

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble. 

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.” 

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.” 

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth. 

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.” 

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!” 

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house. 

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!” 

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!” 

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is. 

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in. 

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it. 

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.” 

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle. 

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him. 

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.” 

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down. 

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak. 

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever. 

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face. 

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up. 

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you. 

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you. 

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking. 

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed. 

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you. 

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so. 

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter. 

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon. 

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing. 

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to. 

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud. 

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be. 

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink. 

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples. 

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him. 

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton. 

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar. 

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.  

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor. 

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his. 

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you. 

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge. 

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps. 

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you. 

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body. 

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly. 

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch. 

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes. 

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently. 

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw. 

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless. 

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach. 

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you. 

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute. 

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him. 

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it. 

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does. 

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins. 

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you. 

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same. 

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it. 

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake. 

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls. 

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well. 

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace. 

He’s found his new familiar. 

masterlist

✩‧₊

[writeforfandoms]

Welcome to New York 1

Find the series masterlist

I hope you guys are ready for a long haul because this is gonna be a slow burn with lots of feels. 

Eventual Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mention of blood, multiverse shenanigans, little bit of paranoia. 

Word count: 2k

Moving to Nueva York had been a tough decision, but one you ultimately hoped would be right. Your work had offered you a good bonus to move there, and although it was more than a little terrifying, you were also exhilarated. Nueva York was a beautiful city, tech integrated all over for convenience. And you’d been able to afford a decent apartment, so your commute wasn’t terrible.

Sure, you didn’t know anyone. And you were living alone. And the city could be a little bit terrifying. But still! You had hope that this was the right move to make. 

It didn’t take long to settle in to your new routine. Work was work - you were fortunate to have a decent office job. People were still the same they were everywhere - some were nice, some were rude, and there were a lot of them. 

The first couple weekends you spent unpacking and making your apartment homey. 

But after that? You had a whole brand new city to explore, and a list of places you wanted to visit. Which is how you ended up at the Natural History Museum on a beautiful Saturday, excited to spend the day wandering around. 

You got as far as the Ocean Life exhibit before something happened.

Because this was Neuva York, and you’d forgotten to take the superheroes and villains into account. 

The lights flickered, a subtle vibration running through the floor. You tensed, ready to dive for cover. It felt a little like a tiny earthquake, but Nueva York wasn’t supposed to get earthquakes. The low murmur in the room ground to nothing as lights burst in the middle of the room, a kaleidoscope of colors that expanded until a black hole had formed. A figure dropped through, and the colors and the black hole were gone. 

A figure you’d only seen in news reports rose from the floor, looking around slowly. The yellow mask stopped facing you, and your breath froze in your lungs. 

“This isn’t right,” he muttered, and you could just hear him. But that seemed to be enough - people ran. Someone knocked into you, pushing you back a step, your balance completely thrown. Shouts filled the air as people ran, advising others in the museum to get out too. 

Someone got smart and hit the fire alarm, lights flashing overhead. Between the flashing lights and the noise, Electro seemed to come back to himself, electricity crackling between his fingers. 

You fled. You were one of the last out of the room, stumbling out even as the general lights started flickering and went out. Screams rang out, shrill cries of small children only adding to the din. You grit your teeth, heart pounding. 

The crowd pushed as one panicked mass, making for the exits. You tucked your hand under the elbow of an older woman, helping her along until a surge of people from the stairwell shoved you into a wall, between two display cases. 

Glass shattered above you, and more people screamed. But this time it was Spiderman leaping down to a clear spot on the floor. 

“Everyone out!” he shouted, somehow audible over the din and the chaos. “Go!” 

Well, you’d been trying to do that already, but thanks for the helpful directions, dude. You made a face, trying to push back into the crush of people escaping. 

But a stray elbow caught you in the chest, and you wheezed, falling back into your unintentional hiding space. You coughed, debating the merits of waiting the rush out versus getting potentially electrified. 

The revving of a motorcycle caught your attention, and you looked up in time to see a motorcycle fall through the space Spiderman had made. You had just enough time to see a black woman riding it, the blue and red of her outfit bright in the light. 

And then another person dropped through the hole in the ceiling, this one also in blue and red. This one shot webs out to catch and redirect a glass case that had been thrown from somewhere further in the museum.

What the actual fuck.

There was more than one Spiderman? Or, er, Spider-person? 

Electricity arced through the air and everyone hit the ground as more glass exploded overhead. You covered your head with your arms, tucking your head down and squeezing your eyes shut. By now the crowd had started to thin, at least a little, and when glass stopped falling you lifted your head. 

A little kid was stumbling out from the staircase, face scrunched and red and wet with tears. But no adult was with them. Your heart lurched, and another bolt of electricity sent people scrambling out as fast as possible. 

The kid was getting left behind.

You were not a hero. You weren’t even very brave - you avoided confrontations and would rather duck your head and agree than argue. Hell, you were still too scared to move from your protected little niche. 

But you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the little kid. 

The last of the people cleared out of the front entry. You could just hear sirens now over the cacophony of shouting and electrical sizzles from the fight. 

And the kid was still looking around, going even redder, tears rolling fast down their chubby cheeks.

Fuck.

One deep breath and you scuttled out of your hiding spot, trying to keep low until you got to the kid. “Let’s get you back to your parents,” you breathed, scooping up the child. Thankfully, the child didn’t try to hit you, one chubby little fist twisting into your shirt. 

You turned to head for the exit, holding the kid probably a little too tight, heart pounding, throat tight. 

One of the Spidermen slid across the floor in front of you, hard enough to hit the glass doors and shatter them. You ducked down, covering the kid’s head with one arm.

Okay. There were more doors across the way, you just had to–

The building shook, and the kid wailed into your chest. Three heads jerked your direction as the fight left the ocean room and into the main room: Electro and the two remaining Spider-people. 

“This feels different,” Electro quipped, lifting one hand, gaze now focused on you. “Let’s see what this does.” 

All the hair on your body stood on end, your feet rooted to the floor at the sheer horror of what was happening. Oh no. No no no. You had to–

The big (very big) Spiderman tackled Electro, the motorcycle one throwing webs and roaring in a circle around the villain. You backed away as fast as you could, feet skittering and crunching over glass. The third Spiderman vaulted over your head to get back in the fight, and you couldn’t help the terrified little sound that left your throat. 

Something glowing orange-ish surrounded Electro, two of the Spider-people apparently keeping him contained. The last one, the big Spiderman with the darker suit, leapt over to you. You barely had time to blink before he scooped you and the kid into his (very firm) chest. 

Not that you had time to enjoy it - he deposited you both outside on the concrete as something inside crashed to the floor about where you’d been standing. 

You stared up at him, shocked and overwhelmed and definitely a little punchy. The space of his mask where his eyes would be had focused on you. Just for a moment. Just for long enough that you felt seen, that you felt safe. 

And he was gone, throwing himself back into the building without a single word. 

Paramedics helped you to your feet, although it took long moments for their words to make sense. Then you handed over the kid, because no, it wasn’t your kid. You were just in the right place at the right time. Someone dropped a shock blanket over your shoulders, leading you to an ambulance, although you declined a hospital visit. 

It wasn’t until one of the paramedics sat you down that you realized you had dozens of tiny cuts from the glass, and all of them hurt. The pain hit you all at once, a wave that had been waiting for acknowledgement to crash. 

You caught the flash of multi-colored light through the empty doorway into the museum as a nice paramedic was cleaning and bandaging your arms. 

You didn’t see any of the three Spider-people or Electro emerge. 

It took hours to get the okay to go. You had to give your statement and finish getting patched up, and the mother of the kid you’d grabbed had to hug you within an inch of your life. (You really couldn’t blame her for losing one kid temporarily since she had four of them, and things had gotten very chaotic.) 

It wasn’t until that night, finally safely back in your apartment, that you realized you’d never heard a peep about the other Spider-people. But you were sure that you’d only heard about one before you moved.

Which meant it was time to hit the web (you absolutely did not snicker to yourself out loud in your apartment). 

Naturally, searching for Spiderman got hits stretching back years. So you had to narrow your search, trying different terms and looking only at recent additions until you struck gold. 

A fan page had stories of other people seeing multiple Spider-people, too. You browsed through the stories, frowning to yourself.

It didn’t take long to start recording things on your own, keeping track of different Spider-people and sightings. Because this? Was a little crazy. 

Honestly, you felt a bit like you were diving into a conspiracy theory, but you placated yourself by reminding yourself that you were simply gathering information. You weren’t spreading it, you weren’t creating wild theories. Just gathering things into one space. 

Besides, you knew what you’d seen. Three Spider-people taking down Electro. Electro, who, upon further research, did not look like the Electro in past news reports. 

There was definitely something there. But theorizing made you feel like a crazy person, so you tried not to do that. 

You kept your research to your off time, scrolling through news articles and keeping an eye on certain accounts. There were of course still the normal stories of Spiderman, including shaky footage and blurry pictures. 

Most of which you ignored as unhelpful. 

Falling back on your bed a week later, you puffed out a breath. Was this level of curiosity really necessary? No, probably not. Were you ever going to get anywhere with it? Also probably no.

Could you stop yourself? Eh. So-so. 

“I need a new hobby,” you muttered to yourself, staring up at the blank ceiling above you. 

But the puzzle kept ticking away inside your head, even when you told yourself to leave it alone. It just didn’t make sense, Spider-people appearing out of nowhere and then disappearing again. 

You probably would have never gotten farther with your research than that - compiling dates and lists and sightings. 

Except that you got lucky looking out the train window one day, flashes of blue and red and pink catching your attention. You watched from a distance as a man in a pink bathrobe went out a window, scaling the side of a building with his hands and feet before going back in at least fifty feet further up the building. 

Now that? That was too good to ignore.

[moreliketearsofpain]

Old Friends | Mando x Reader

Part 1 of my new series ‘Weakness’

Part 2

Full story will also be on my Wattpad

"I didn't realize asking for a ride was so offensive on this planet!" I roll my eyes, wiping blood from my nose as I crouch behind a large crate.

"Show yourself you thieving SCUM!"

For a moment, the fact that you're currently in the midst of what is essentially a fight to the death slips your mind. You quickly stand from where you hid, turning to to face your opponent with a look of offense branding your face.

"Thief?! Jinshi, pal, don't you think that's a little ha-" your eyes widen and you drop to the floor, the sound of your rival's blaster, firing overhead. "Harsh, I was going to say harsh..."

"Stop hiding you coward!" Jinshi bellows, firing another shot, this time shattering the corner of the crate. You feel the anger building; for once in your life you hadn't been in the wrong, you'd come into town hoping to find passage on a ship but an old "friend" seemed to have other plans.

"Jinshi..you know I don't want things to end like this-" one last attempt at diffusing things without any more violence than what has already occurred . "But you also know that I'll do what I have to do to save my own ass. Always have, always will."

Silence. You don't hear so much as a footstep.

"Jinshi?" you stand slowly, blaster tight in hand as you survey the room. The confusion only lasts for a moment, as two stubby arms latch themselves around your neck from behind. Your weapon hits the floor and your hands shoot up, grabbing tightly onto the limbs that bind you.

"I told you you'd pay for what you did to my family!" Jinshi growls as his grip tightens, arms constricting around your neck like a snake preparing its meal.

"And I told you-" each word catches in your throat as you use all your strength to loosen his hold as much as possible. Even the air struggles to pass through. "I told you, it wasn't me!"

Another blaster shot rings through the room, followed by a heavy thud and suddenly your lungs are flooded once more. Eyes wide, you look around, hands still at your neck.

"Jinshi?" you crouch beside his limp body, feigning a look of sadness before reaching a hand under his collar and snatching a locket off of the corpse.

"Guess you were right...maybe I am a thief." standing now with a disgusted expression, you give your old friend a final word. "Bastard."

"If I had known it was you, I wouldn't have shot." A vaguely familiar voice echoes behind you. "Or maybe I would have...just not him."

"Mando." You turn smoothly, a sarcastic grin emerging as you see the familiar sheen of his beskar.

"I almost feel bad for the guy...I'm sure whatever his reason was for wanting you dead, it was justified." he takes slow steps forward, keeping a solid aim locked on you with his blaster as he closes the gap between you.

"Oh how I love visits with old friends.." you match his pace, stepping forward, not even bothering to get to your weapon.

"What did I tell you about that armor?" his voice is cold and demanding as he holds his stance. Your arms swing out at your sides as you glance down at your armor, the style of which resembles his own.

"Oh come on, don't you think it suits me?" the mischievous smile growing on your lips is just the icing on top of the faux-charm act you're performing.

"Take it off. Or I will." he takes one more step forward. With every inch lost between the two of you, his looming dominance grows. Even with his helmet inhibiting you from seeing the brows that you knew were furrowed in disgust, you could feel his power. It was a force that radiated out from within and showed in the way he held himself, but the intimidation wouldn't set you back.

"Oh please," you glance at his gun and back up. "You wouldn't want to damage the precious armor that you care so much for, now would you?"

"You talk too much."

"Says the man who saved my life."

"I said take it off. Now."

"Or else you will, right?" a final step is taken in his direction. "I'd like to see you try."

"What was that?" you could see his frustration in the way he cocked his head, his grip on the blaster shifting.

"I said..." your voice drops to a slow whisper as you lean closer. "I'd like to see you try..."

You maintain a deep stare at him, a stare so strong he could've sworn you could see right through his helmet. Without breaking your gaze you swiftly grab at his blaster, successfully disarming him and aiming his own weapon back at him, keeping it tight, pressed against his abdomen. Had it been surprise or anger that kept him quiet, you couldn't tell, but you used your new position of power to your advantage.

"Now what do you say...we make a deal?" the tip of the blaster presses more firmly against his body as your voice stays low.

"Unlikely." a simple reply from the man of few words, to which you respond with a feigned look of pleading innocence.

"Oh come on now Mando, I think we could help each other out, don't you? See, you want this armor...I want passage off this sorry excuse for a planet..." you raise your eyebrows, head tilting up. "Can't we come to some sort of agreement?"

There's a tense pause before he replies.

"Not happening." You relax your arm, letting the blaster fall to your side with a half-assed shrug.

"Ah...what a shame.." you turn on your heel, beginning to walk away without another word.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"there's a spike of urgency in his voice as he takes a brisk step towards you. Even quicker than before, you turn around, blaster now held out straight, a firm grip holding perfect aim at his head.

"Ya know...that armor may be tough and all...but there's this nice little spot.." you slowly drop your aim ever so slightly down. "Right at your neck...a fully exposed jugular. Nothing but a bit of fabric to protect it, a fatal shot if made right...and I never miss."

One last pause before finishing your final offer to the hunter before you.

"I'll give you one last chance...you give me passage on your ship, I give you your silly little armor back, everyone wins."

He takes a moment to contemplate, his helmet not doing much to stop you from feeling the daggers his eyes are shooting through you. The pause is broken and he gently raises his hands in surrender, causing you to relax, blaster dropping to your hip.

"Fine." no other words are said, he simply extends his arm, his hand requesting the return of his weapon. But you shake your head, pulling the gun away from his reach.

"You'll get this back," you give a slight wave of the blaster. "Once I'm safely on that ship of yours."

All you hear is a muffled grunt as he pushes past you. Quickly, you grab your own blaster off the floor and follow him as he leads you to the spacecraft.

[harlowcomehome]

“Mommy’s night out.”

A/N: Thank you @mortirolo for the idea. I loved this one!!

Hazel was six months old, and you were going to have your first night out of the house. Jack assured you that you deserved it and he didn’t mind staying home and taking care of Hazel alone. A major part of you felt guilty for leaving the two of them at home but you were excited to have some normalcy back in your life.

Your friend Nicole came over making sure that you weren’t going to flake out on her and the rest of the girls, she knew you were nervous and decided to offer to help you do your hair for tonight. “You sure you don’t mind?” You sighed as you looked through your closet. “Of course! Me and the girls are so excited you’re coming out with us.”

You had a stressed look on your face, Nicole noticed it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to find a dress that will hide my baby weight, I still haven’t lost it all” you huffed as you grabbed onto your belly, tugging at the loose skin. “You look amazing! There is too much pressure on women these days!” She came and hugged you as you started to tear up. You knew she was right but it didn’t make it any easier.

Jack knew you like the back of his hand, truly all too well. He heard the sniffles coming from the bedroom and picked Hazel up from her swing to go see what was going on. “What’s wrong mommy?” He mimicked a small voice, pretending to be Hazel as he walked into the bedroom.

“I can’t find a dress” you sniffled and he handed Hazel to Nicole for a quick moment. He walked to his side of the closet and brought out a brand new dress he had hidden. “I had a feeling you’d be feeling this way, so I made sure to get you something new for tonight.” He smiled and you bursted into tears. “I love you so much” you said between sobs as he held you close. “I love you too , I just want you to have a good time.” You smiled and watched as your friend held Hazel close.

“She’s squeezing my finger” Nicole giggled and you and Jack did too. You took Hazel from her after a while so you could feed her while she did your hair. Jack lingered around, Nicole didn’t mind because they actually got along very well. “Have you seen Urban lately?” Nicole asked innocently but Jack raised an eyebrow “Why?” Nicole laughed “just making conversation.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, you and Jack both knew she had a crush on him, even Urban knew it. The two of them both being too awkward to make the first move.

Eventually Hazel nodded off to sleep, you gave her a kiss goodbye and Jack took her into her bedroom to lay her down while you finished your makeup.

When you were done getting ready, Neelam and some of your other friends showed up at the house so that you could ride to the club together. Usually going to a club would be outside of your comfort zone but you were trying something new today. While everybody was piling out of your house and into the two Ubers parked out front of your house, you were making sure to tell your husband that you loved him and gave him your worried goodbye.

“If for any reason you need me to come home, don’t hesitate to call me” you reassured Jack with a smile, he returned it only to say “enjoy yourself babe, you deserve this.” You knew you were incredibly lucky to have such a supportive partner, you had heard too many horror stories about peoples partners changing after having a baby. In this case he changed for the better, which you were really grateful for. 

When you walked out of the door, Jack immediately turned around and went into Hazel’s room. He enjoyed the time alone with her, even though he didn’t get it often. The only time he had been with her alone previously is when you were being forced to take a nap. ”Looks like it’s just you and me kiddo” Jack laughed to himself.

Hazel started to stir at the sound of her dads deep voice. “Are you hungry again Hazey?” Jack put on a baby carrier, just the way you showed him and carried Hazel around in front of him, against his chest. He immediately went to the kitchen and started to heat up a bottle, just in time because Hazel started to get fussy. “I know mommy’s not here right now, but she’ll be home later Hazey girl.” He patted her back and bounced her as he checked the milk temperature.

After feeding and burping Hazel, Jack laid her back down. He scrolled through his phone, putting one airpod in before you facetimed him from a dim lit club bathroom. “How’s it going?” You yelled over the loud music. He turned the volume down on his phone, still walking out of the room to respond to you.

“It’s going good” he said a little louder than a whisper, giving you a thumbs up. “Having fun?” He asked with a smile and you nodded, blowing him a kiss before hanging up.

The rest of the night was going smooth, Hazel ate a few times, and Jack read her stories and told her all about how much he loved her mommy.

It was starting to get late and Hazel was fighting sleep, she had finally realized that you had been gone. this was the first time Jack had to deal with a fussy Hazel all alone. “Hazey, please go to sleep” Jack begged as he swaddled Hazel tighter before bouncing her up and down. Hazel continued to cry, louder than before. “You’re breaking daddies heart, my love.” Jack could feel himself getting overwhelmed, his first thought was to remember to praise you, you never complained even when nights were hard like this. His eyes were teary and heavy, but he kept at it.

Eventually Hazel cried herself to sleep, Jack was careful in making sure he put her down gently. Jack was exhausted and rested his cheek on her crib, closing his eyes for what only felt like a moment.

When you got home from the club you immediately noticed Hazels light still on, you took off your heels, placing them to the side and walked in on Jack and Hazel both sound asleep. You used your phone to take a quick picture before walking over to him.

“Babe…” you whispered “babe, baby, Jackman!” You shoved his shoulder slightly and he woke up frantically. He looked at Hazel first, who was still sound asleep and then you.

“You have crib marks on your cheek” you held back a giggle and he smiled “sorry, I must have fell asleep.” You nodded “that’s okay, she’s fine.” He smiled at you “did you have fun?” You smiled back “yeah, but I missed my babies” you bent down to give him a soft kiss.

“Go get in bed, I’m going to feed her and make sure she’s okay and then I’ll be in there.” You smiled and Jack nodded, he yawned and gave you another kiss before leaving the room.

“Did you have fun with daddy tonight?“ you whispered as Hazel cooed. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool huh? We lucked out.” You giggled in response, not knowing Jack was still listening with a smile on his face.

[meteor752]

This is Halloween

We’re just a few days away from the new life series, and judging by the status of a server I’m on and Trafficblr as a whole, none of us are quite ready

But I do what I gotta do, and the spoopy season is upon us, so here we are

I said I would be making Halloween costumes for the kids a few days ago, and I’ve slaves away all night and day preparing this presentation

No but fr, I had fun. Hope you like em

Liana as Mumbo Jumbo

We’re starting out strong boys. Liana considers Mumbo her biggest financial rival, so their relationship is very, well, rivalesk. At least on her end. Mumbo’s still confused. She probably spent the entire Halloween night imitating him the best she could in a half mocking manner, and both her dads found it hilarious

Wes as a cat burglar

Because what is Halloween without someone in a tight latex cat suit? Wes was 100% forced into this, and as much as he’s a little uncomfortable, he also finds it kinda fun. Jassy def tried to make him wear heels as well, but his balance is shit. He also managed to talk his way out of the tail, since he already has one.

Gertrude as a mobster

Well, she is a king, might as well expand on the brand. Absolutely slaying too, I need to put her in more suits. She probably spent the entire Halloween night sitting mysteriously in some corner, “smoking” her fake cigar.

Johnny as an angel

Cute ironic costume. This was actually suggested by someone in my dm’s, so I thank thee for the idea. The little wings were probably hand crafted from chicken feathers that my lad spent months on, and he’s very proud of them. He’s using the wreath crown to hide his horns as well, they ruin the angelic look. The lyre was borrowed from Novo as well, and he absolutely does not know how to play.

Jassy as a ghost

Can you just put a sheet on your head and call it a day? Yes. But is that any fun? Fuck no. Chains will be rattling all night, and she’ll be throwing them around left and right. The white makeup is probably crappy af too and will start to come off after like, half an hour, but she still looks pretty fucking cool. Will try to scare as many people as she can.

Jekiv as the real monster

A lot of Cleo designs incorporate the classic stitches across the skin, and Jekiv does have that as well on some places where his skin has just come off. But dressing as “Frankenstein’s monster” would be too easy. No, let’s go for the true villain of that story, Viktor Frankenstein himself. It’s a bit fitting too tho, since Jek is a necromancer. He’s just a lot nicer to his creations, amongst other things

Novo as little red riding hood

His gf is a wolf, and the reasoning for his costume ends there. Very disappointed that Gert didn’t want to go in a couples costume, but oh well. The red hood is strangely comforting to him as well, what with his mom and all. He’s girlbossing

[zorilleerrant]

Jason was right about the school. Bruce pulled some strings and went on some whole long thing about scholarships. Not to Jason, but he can still see it in the haggard smile on the face of the woman in charge of liaising with all the educational institutions, the way she overemphasizes certain phrases like she’s repeating them word for word.

Not least of all the part where she pushes seventeen brochures into his hands and asks him, with a pained look in her eyes, if he’s thought about college, and work-study programs, and student discounts on all sorts of things. Thin lips biting back the way Bruce obviously wants desperately to pay for it all, as if he isn’t already paying Damian’s tuition out of pocket.

The scholarships are real, this just clearly isn’t one. This is someone paying too close attention to someone who should’ve slipped his view, and now Jason can’t even use his own name anymore. A Jason, sure, there are lots of them, but the one Bruce has gotten so worked up about? Best case, he’ll think Jason’s a plant by some villain who wants to throw him off his game, worst case – worst case he’ll know.

He doesn’t think he can use Peter, either. Not unless he wants to see tears pile up in the corners of Bruce’s eyes while he smiles softly and pretends they aren’t. Not that Jason’s ever gotten entirely used to that one, either, the handful of times he used it.

Fuck, it would all be so much simpler if he really were just some down on his luck single dad, going back to university to learn things he never got a chance to, never having to hide all the things he shouldn’t know. But he’s about as much Greg Cather as the guy who made the fake ID was, if you don’t count the picture. It’s not actually of Jason, but it’s close enough.

Damian can still keep his given name, at least, and Jason can be Baba all he wants, and they have, you know, the things he planned. All the things he planned. They have food, and clothes, and somewhere to stay, and Damian’s going to school soon. Everything but Jason’s rock solid plan to hole up in a safehouse and do who knows what.

Put on a mask and be Robin again. Be Batman, but better. Hell, be a supervillain, maybe, just so long as he got to dress up as someone else for a while, have an excuse to run and jump and climb and stare at the blurry stretch of Gotham under weightless apogee. Drag himself back into the moment when he could fly.

He still has weapons. He just also has Batman’s scrutiny.

There’s something almost as soothing about packing a bookbag for Damian. The bag he had, sturdy canvas dragged all the way from home, and Damian would probably throw a fit if he had to go to school without it, so just as well. Something has to be consistent in the kid’s life. But everything else is from this neat little closet, smelling like artificial flowers over industrial cleaner, someone trying to pretty up another soulless shell. But under that, he can smell the paper scent of brand new notebooks, carboard boxes and plastic discarded to the side.

Everything is new and fresh and unmarred. Jason doesn’t think Damian’s ever used a marble composition book before. He’s used a ballpoint pen, but nothing this cheap, used markers, but never the washable, nontoxic kind. The books are well below his reading level, but he hasn’t studied literature yet, doesn’t know what he’s in for, and Jason finds himself a little jealous. Back to school shopping was always his favorite, just for this, even if the charity bins look a little brighter these days. Bruce’s fault or whatever. At least he’s done something right.

Damian looks skeptical at the neatly packed bag, lighter than he’s used to hauling around, but Jason’s riding his satisfaction high, brushing out the kid’s hair and feeding him breakfast, getting him to his first day of classes on time.

Breakfast is a granola bar and an apple. Jason will go shopping after.

Damian glares at Jason for clutching his hand too tight, but they make it to school without incident, and Jason barely has to juggle pleasantries before he remembers how to sign a form, sign Damian in. Hopefully not consign him to – well, Jason went here, too, and it was bad, some days, and worse others. But Damian is starting sooner, knowing more than he did at that age, and with Jason to back him up if anything goes wrong. So.

So.

“I’ll be fine,” Damian says, with an eyeroll that doesn’t cover the tremble in his lip, but makes Jason smile all the same.

He packed Damian a lunch. It’s not a very good lunch, but it has a note in it, some aphorism he’s already forgotten, just to get the kid through the day.

“I know you will,” Jason tells him, and wonders what he’ll do the whole time Damian’s in classes. Find someplace to hide and watch the school all day, waiting for something to happen? Better at least pretend to look for a job. Better plan how to make his money look legitimate and keep the Bats off his tail.

“Be good for your teacher,” Jason says, because he knows the three people in the office with them expect to hear it, even though he’s never understood exactly what it meant. But it sounds good, fatherly, when he says it, and causes Damian to give him a serious nod.

“I’ll pay attention and take notes,” Damian says, solemnly, with the double meaning Jason can’t break him of, because he’s still convinced they’re undercover somehow. He knows they left, he knows they’re hiding, he knows all the implications of running away, it’s just that Jason can’t explain what that means about their life. What is there to compare it to?

How do you ever explain to a kid that you’ve dragged them into a world they always knew existed but never got a chance to see? How do you teach them to fit in without telling them day after day this isn’t right anymore and that isn’t how we do things and for god’s sake, Jason, you can’t pick fights at school and calm down, it’s just a test.

Damian looks over his shoulder to wave goodbye as the smiling sunshine teacher takes him by the hand, and Jason waves back, fingers stiff as he tries to look casual. It’s easy to be calm in the face of the quotidian. Everything is a test.

[yanderecrazysie]

Bad End Night (Yandere Males) Chapter One

Summary: When your car breaks down, you find yourself staying overnight in a mysterious mansion. However, the inhabitants of the manor are clearly hiding dark secrets from you. There’s only so many ways this night can go. Can you find the happy end or are you heading for a bad end night?

This story is based on the song “Bad ∞ End ∞ Night” by Hitoshizuku-P and Yama△, while the characters are based on a cover of the song on 高生紳士 YouTube channel. You don’t have to know anything about the song to enjoy this, but I totally recommend it as a song in general.

This story will contain graphic violence, swearing, bisexual men, and your general yandere themes. If any of those is a deal breaker, please leave instead of hating.

I have finished the entire story (except for the endings) at this point in time, so no real worries about me failing to finish this.

This reader was fun to write. Also, I picked each character’s name for a reason.

Previous Part/Beginning: Prologue

—----------------------------------------------------

“Life is a highway! I wanna ride it all night long!” you belted out the lyrics along with the radio. You tapped the steering wheel to the beat, “If you're goin' my way, well, I wanna drive it all night long!”

The street lights flew by as you pressed the gas pedal a little harder. You held down the button that lowers the window and smiled as the cool wind hit your face, blowing your hair back in a wild fashion. The envelope on the passenger’s seat flew onto the floor, but you didn’t bother to pick it back up.

You pressed your foot down even harder. The street lights were getting farther apart as your car swapped the busy city road for a country one. The houses are farther apart, but bigger and more beautiful. You assume it’s a rich neighborhood, if the mansions and acres of land between each one are anything to go by.

You doubted there were cops in this area. Cops were stationed on busy roads, not country paths where cows and horses stood staring at your speeding car. You put the pedal to the metal, letting out a whoop as the wind became almost too much against your face. 

You felt free this way. No parent in the seat next to you, urging you to follow the “rules of the road”. Please, there aren’t even any speed markers. Who’s to say I’m not going the speed limit?

Then again, you doubted that any non-highway roads would let you go 80 miles per hour.

You almost didn’t want to arrive at college, because arriving meant rules again. Strict rules about keeping the dorm clean and in working condition and no candles and no noise after 9 and, and, and… 

You hated rules, but you followed them like the good little girl you were. A good little 22-year-old girl whose parents were so strict that you’d never tasted a drop of alcohol or left the house except to drive to necessary places.

And, since college was a “necessary place”, you were free to do what you want, taking back roads to make the ride even longer.

Suddenly, you lurched forward. You nearly hit your head on the steering wheel and a gasp left your mouth. You took your foot off the pedal, but your car continued to give little lurches until it came to a complete stop. 

Heart rate rising, you put your foot back down. The car sputtered, gave a tiny lurch forward, and died. 

“No, no, no…” you reached forward and turned the keys. No response. “Oh God…”

You climbed out of your car into the darkness. You felt little drops of water hitting your skin and turned your face up to the night sky. Great, it’s raining. Just my luck.

You opened up the hood and stared down at the engine. You stood there for a few moments before burying your face in your hands. You had no idea what to do or what was even wrong with the car. It was a hand-me-down from your aunt, so it wasn’t exactly brand new, but this was the first time it had broken down like this.

The drops of water were falling faster and hitting your head more insistently. You looked up again and got a drop of water in your eye. “Shit!”

You kicked the front tire of your car and pulled out your phone. If there was one good thing about your paranoid mother, it was that she had put the name of every mechanic in the state. You scrolled down to the most familiar one and tapped on it. 

No service.

“Fuck,” you muttered. You were far too away from any 24-hour mechanics or stores in general to walk. Not to mention, it was dark and now raining heavily, the water soaking through your shirt and wetting your hair.

You turned around reluctantly to the nearest house. You had broken down right in front of a driveway- the long stone pathway weaving its way to the wooden front door. 

“I don’t really have any other choice,” you murmured, locking your car door and, while trying to cover your head with your hands to escape the pouring rain, jogged up the driveway. The manor got larger and larger with each step closer. When you reached the entrance, you couldn’t help but admire just how big the building was, with its stained glass windows and flawless white paint. 

The door, however, was an eyesore. Parts of it were rotting away and splintered wood poked out here and there. Avoiding the sharp wooden splinters, you knocked on the door. 

Little did you know, you were setting in motion a nightmare that’s ending was all up to you.

[skuhy]

kiribaku fic recommendations

-a (too long) collection of my all-time favourite kiribaku fanfics! :) (available on ao3!!)

-Artificial Affection by KiriBakuHappiness

chapters: 1/??

(unfinished)

Hello Bakugou-san, welcome to Karbon Copy!

Your new personal AI wellness companion is only [1 day old] but it’s already capable of changing your life. Kiri-bot will help you become a better you, and provide you with the support that you need whenever you need it most. Have you got goosebumps yet? We do too! Follow the personalized link to get started!

Katsuki stared at the generic, copy-paste, IOS-riddled template. He continued to flick his pen around restlessly between his calloused fingers while he read that carefully crafted marketing blurb over and over again before he finally straightened up in his seat and flipped open the cover of his brand new composition notebook.

Well… better get this shit over with.

-- OR --

After being forced to take a leave of absence from his research program at the Musutafu Artificial Intelligence Agency, AI-software engineer Bakugou Katsuki decides to bring his work home with him.

-Why Is Everything So Weird With the Lights Off? by KiriBakuHappiness (yes, again)

chapters: 1/1

Kirishima’s never really considered what Bakugou would be like when he was drunk and he’s kind of curious to find out but also a little apprehensive. This was still Lord Explosion Murder he was dealing with, after all.

Bakugou stops in the middle of the room, taking in all of the posters on the walls and eyeing suspiciously at the punching bag as if he’s never seen one before in his life. He sways a little before he frowns and squints dangerously. Kirishima tenses in preparation for some snarky remark about his inability to decorate, but all that comes out of Bakugou’s slurred mouth is, “This isn’t my fucking room.”

Wow, okay, maybe he’s a lot more drunk than Kirishima first thought.

--OR--

Kirishima can't imagine who would be trying to talk to him so late on a school night, but when he opens the door and finds Bakugou Katsuki drunk, he can't just turn him away, right? What kind of a friend would he be if he did that?

-Roses are red and they taste like shit by Unbreakable_Red_Riot

chapters: 6/6

Katsuki was really fucking sick of the smell of flowers.

-I wasn't looking for love (but then there you were) by dragontrappedinhumanskin

chapters: 1/1

Bakugo always fucking hated riding the subway every week, its crowded, loud and he's tired, but then he starts seeing the same redhead every time.

-- Katsuki blinked in disbelief. What the shit, he’s asking to play rock, paper, scissors. Is he fucking five years old? Who can be this stupid?! And he took his hand off the handle, does he want to fall?

Katsuki glared at him, but the redhead just smiled, and his eyes glint with a challenge, and before Katsuki can really think it through he’s taking his free hand and making a fist in front of himself.

The redhead’s smile turned less challenging and more cheerful, and Katsuki decided that this might not be that bad. He’s going to fucking crush him at rock, paper, scissors, even if it’s a stupid game.

-My Baby (Literally) by dragontrappedinhumanskin (yep, again)

chapters: 1/1

Bakugo gets turned into his five year old self.

__ He finally notices the blond fluffy hair, and with that anger, and the lack of Bakugo even though he’d been running errands with Aizawa as a chaperone. . . No fucking way.

-hummingbird boy by gumrude and liliumm

chapters: 1/1

Bakugou has dimples.

They’re not noticeable. Not by much, not with the way he scowls to hide them. But Kirishima still catches them, the first time he makes Bakugou crack a grin after he trips and fails a new stunt on his skateboard.

When Kirishima sees it—it’s a tiny dip in his cheeks, and one under his chin. They’re out in the sun, and small shadows tuck into his dimples charmingly. He’s grinning wide, boyish and rude and unhinged. He’s laughing, too, and the sound is brash.

Or; Kirishima learning what it really means to yearn.

-president of the krbk club by hiuythn

chapters: 1/1

Izuku watches, in a disbelieving and horrified sort of fascination, as Kirishima and Bakugou fall in love.

-disarm me by hiuythn (YES, again)

chapters: 2/2

Bakugou’s hands are made for winning.

They’re made to reach for victory, to grab what they want and refuse to let go.

Bakugou’s hands are not made for holding. They’re not made to cradle, or to help. His hands are calloused and rough. They are not meant to cherish, to be gentle, to be safe.

When he’s not using them to blast his opponents to dust, he keeps them sheathed in his pockets like the weapons they are. A gesture of goodwill—a handshake, from him, would be deadly. His hands are deadly.

And that’s how he likes it.

That is, until Kirishima.

-i can be needy (way too damn needy) by hiuythn (AND again)

chapters: 1/1

Standing on your own for so long has its drawbacks. Bakugou learns.

-ORBIT by hiuythn (...i like hiuythn)

chapters: 4/4

Bakugou is hit with a quirk that throws him through space and time—only to end up at Kirishima’s side every time.

-help me get out of my head by popcap

chapters: 1/1

“Don’t let go."

"Deal."

-to bury my love by armadil_Lo

chapters: 1/1

Bakugou Katsuki has been in love with Kirishima Eijirou for six years. And today, Kirishima is marrying somebody else.

-every little bit (helps the fire burn) by mintandmarmalade

chapters: 1/2

(unfinished)

Force is all Katsuki’s ever known. He’s never stopped fighting, and he has no intention of changing that now. It’s worked for him so far.

But the new guy lifts a rough, bandaged hand out of his pocket before answering; his eyes are bright, like he’s thrilled to get to take the mic. “Hey! I’m Kirishima,” he says, then locks eyes with Katsuki before flashing a grin full of huge, shark-like teeth. “Nice t’meet you guys!”

Oh, no.

There’s no fucking way this is happening.

Katsuki has spent his whole life trying to prove himself by beating down everyone who doubts him, whether they think he’s weak or because his bullshit Goddess of a mom won’t stop flinging love interests his way. That was the plan for his sixth summer at Camp Half Blood - never show weakness, even if the new Ares kid with the unwavering smile isn’t deterred by his walls.

Honestly, it's not going great.

-it's really good to hear your voice by mintandmarmalade (again)

chapters: 1/1

Kirishima Eijirou is happy - twenty-five years old, a rising pro hero, and living with his childhood best friend and long-term boyfriend, he has everything he could ask for. He’s happy. He has to be. This must be all he’s ever wanted.

Late one night, Eijirou gets a phone call from the one person who makes him wonder.

[allexthakatt]

I am writing this as a small form of therapy lol. I may have projected a tad bit into the story due to my own personal life but it is still very much a X Reader one shot I promise.

This is also my entering to the #lovelylynnchallenge by @lovely-lynn-writes ! I love their work and I figured why the hell not?

-Please keep in mind I have been out of the writing game for a bit.-

PAIRING: SPENCER REID X PLUS SIZE! LATINA! FEM! READER

WARNINGS: SMUT! MINORS DNI!!! 18+ ONLY! A bit of family drama, the fear of thunderstorms, lightning, maybe mild angst if you squint?

Summary: Spencer and Y/n haven't really talked or connected before. But when a loud thunderstorm roars overs Quantico, Y/n struggles to keep her childish fear at bay. Who else to stay by her side than a sweet lanky FBI agent?

-----

Thunderstorms Are Scary, But You Make It Better.

It was getting pretty late by the time the jet arrived back at Quantico. At that point the team was glad to have made it back safe and sound given the angry looking clouds surrounding the building. Lightning was far in the distance and, though pretty far, Y/n can tell a pretty bad storm was coming their way.

The look on her face throughout the whole ride home was flat out proof of her uneasiness. She never liked thunderstorms. They always made her want to hide under the bed like a scared puppy all alone. No one seemed to really pay attention to her being uncomfortable. No one except Spencer.

Y/n and Spencer weren't really friends. But they weren't enemies either. They were simply coworkers. At first, Y/n had tried to make friends with him. Even going as far to bring him a brand new book she'd heart him talking about a few days prior. To no avail unfortunately.

It's not that Spencer didn't like her. In fact he liked her quite a lot. Often choosing to just enjoy her personality and humor from afar. It's simply because he was... Afraid. He knew from the start he'd develop something with her. A certain something he didn't want to think about anymore. Not after all he'd been through with so many women before her. He'd for sure crush on her. Truth be told, he already was. (Not that bed admit it.) There's no telling what might happen if he put himself in such a vulnerable state again. After what happened with Cat and then Max... It was best to just stay away.

But the way she looked tonight. The slight tremble she had when a thunder boom would get just just a bit louder than last time. The fear was building, slowly but surely there. The tough facade already cracking. Yet it seemed no one noticed her distressed state. Why? She was clearly uncomfortable, rubbing her thighs with the palm of her hands (something she'd probably had developed as a habit to help anxiety.) Not engaging as much in conversation as much, not even making eye contact anymore.

By the time they were all walking in the bullpen she was lagging behind, not really looking forward to drive in the weather. Spencer had seen enough to feel the need to do something. She wasn't a friend, but he wouldn't be able to relax at home knowing he didn't at least offer.

"Do you maybe want to ride together?" The question came out of the blue, especially from Spencer. She wasn't about to turn down company in the storm though. "Uhm, sure. But I live a little ways away, I wouldn't want to be putting you out of your way." Spencer shook his head, "You wouldn't be. It seems a pretty nasty storm is on the way, and I saw you pretty nervous on the jet. I just want to make sure you get home safely."

He noticed? Y/n genuinely thought Spencer wants nothing to do with her. Confusion on her face, "Are you absolutely sure?" Not wanting any regrets from him. "Absolutely. I can even drive if you'd want." She shook her head, "No no no, I think I'm okay enough to drive. Thank you though. But how are you going to get back home?"

The elevator opens for them after Spencer pushes the button. "Oh I usually take public transportation. I don't use my car much." They reach the lobby as Y/n pulls out her keys. "You can just sleep on the couch. I don't want you going on the subway in weather like this. If that's okay with you?"

He'd thought of the situation, it would be nice not having to go back out in the rain. With his go bag and satchel as they were quite heavy for the long journey. No harm in just a night, right?

-

The car right was silent for the most part, aside from the calm music coming from the radio. Y/n was just trying not to look at the ominous lightning that seems most definitely closer than earlier. Spencer was trying not to focus on Y/n.

The storm was coming in heavy pellets when they finally walk through the door. Spencer looks around and sees what he can only describe as Y/n. Vintage vinyl records framed with the album cover right beside it. A fairly big TV with an Xbox and a few games and controllers scattered around. At the center of the wall was a guitar, one that she'd most definitely cherished. It was dusted, in pristine condition. With an autograph on near the bottom.

"Steve Harris." She said. Spencer turned to her, a confused look spreading across his features. "The autograph on the guitar. I see you eyeballin' it. Steve Harris signed it back in 2012. He's a guitarist in Iron Maiden." She had a smile on her lips, remembering the day she met her heroes. He nods slowly, "Is Iron Maiden a band?"

She giggles slightly, finding it cute and yet not surprising he'd never heard of them. "Yea they are. A heavy metal band formed in the 80s and still going strong today. My favorite band actually." She took off her shoes and jacket, about to go change.

"The bathroom is right over there, if you wanna get into something more comfortable than a suit. I'll be right back, I'm gonna get in jammies myself." She walked away and he notices how she said 'jammies' instead of just 'pajamas'. another cute little quirk she has he finds himself thinking about often. Her personality is very confident, yet her demeanor is often times shy and reserved. She never really talked about her family or childhood. He guesses there's a story as to why.

"Okay, I'm back. Do you want some tea or water? I don't have any coffee but I can do hot cocoa if you'd like." She made her way to the kitchen to prepare storm tea for herself. "Just tea is fine, thank you. I'll be right back."

The tea is brewing as he leaves to change. She'd never thought he'd actually be here in her house; Spencer of all people; this late at night. Perhaps there was just a misunderstanding between them and she'd just assumed he didn't like her. She gets along so well with everyone on the team but when it comes to Spencer, she freezes up. Afraid to say the wrong thing.

The storm is right above them, making Y/n more on edge than ever. They're both on the couch lightly chatting as a massive bout of thunder booms, sending Y/n practically jumping into Spencer's arms. And just as luck would have it, the power goes out.

Sitting in Spencer's lap in the dark was a lot more sensual than she'd thought. Of course how wouldn't it be, though, right? Especially when Spencer finds her so damn attractive. Y/n quickly stands up, still scared from the thunder and flustered from being in Spencer's arms.

Y/n lights a few candles in the living room, navigating her home with her phone flash light. She also opens a window because, while also being terrified of thunder, she loves the rain itself.

"Is this okay? I can close it if you want. I just like the rain." She sits down with her tea near the window. "That's fine. But I'm assuming you don't like the thunder though, right?" He sits beside her with his own tea. "I really don't. I never have. In fact as a child I'd hide under the table and cry when it'd be this loud. My mother always said it was fine not to worry so much, never believed her though."

She smiled lightly and looked down. It wasn't a smile you'd do thinking of your mom, though. And Spencer noticed. "How come you don't really talk about your family?" It came out too fast, and he'd regretted it immediately. "I'm sorry if that was a little forward. You don't have to answer if you really don't want to." To which Y/n thankfully replied "Don't worry about it. I'm not sure why I don't talk about them. I just.. Don't I guess."

She fiddles with her nails, another habit she'd developed to help anxiety. "I don't really talk to them much anymore. Not my siblings anyway. We don't really get along, never really have. I'm not like them, thank God. And they have a pretty petty problem with who I've become. It's that things are better if we don't talk anymore." The darkness only adds to the silent environment. "My mom usually sides with them, but my dad always just did his best. He's the one that actually took me to the concert where I got that guitar."

That makes sense. That guitar isn't just a fan memoir, it's a memory with the one person in her family she felt safe with. Spencer put it all together. Music was probably a way to ease her pain when nothing else did; an escape for her, just as books were an escape for him. Then when her dad took her to see her favorite band and even meet the band themselves, it meant much more to her than just a simple autograph on a guitar. That's why it's so taken care of, in the center of living room where she sees it every day. It's her most prized possession.

"Do you still talk with your father?" He wanted to learn more. He'd never really had a family, his mother having episodes more frequent than not and an absent father made it hard to feel like he had one at all.

"Occasionally, I call as often as I can, what with all the cases. He's still the same old fire chief he was back then. Out of all of them my dad's the only one that really kept a bond with me." She takes another sip of tea, trying not to really think of her broken family life. Y/n didn't really want to bore Spencer with her sob story of how her siblings practically despise her and her mother doesn't like her.

Spencer takes a risk, a pretty big one at that. He lightly puts a hand on her own. To his surprise Y/n take his hand in hers, awkwardly holding it avoiding eye contact.

Eventually her curiosity takes over. "Why don't you ever talk to me? Or.. Do you not really like me?" She still avoided eye contact, her shyness showing through the tough exterior. Spencer doesn't really know how to respond. Is he honest? Tell her that he's just a damaged boy with lots of trauma but still really likes her? Or lie and say... What would he even say? No lie could sound better than the actual truth so... Why not just tell her?

"I actually really like you, Y/n. I've been through a lot. Especially when you first came on the team, I wasn't really ready for a new friend. And by the time I realized what a wonderful person you were, it was already too late." He scoots just a bit closer. Close enough to hold her hand more securely than before.

Nothing could really prepare for that. She doesn't know what she was expecting, but she wasn't expecting that, that's for sure. Deciding to take it a tiny step further; "Everyone deserves seconds chances." Looking up to see him already staring in her eyes.

Her eyes were so pretty. He could stare at them for as long as she'd let him. And her lips. Her lips were so plump, so ready for the taking. Practically begging for him to inch closer, so he does.

He inches just a bit closer, seeing her pupils dilate just a little. Enough for him to see a difference. "Do I get a second chance, Y/n?" They were centimeters apart, her heart beating as loud as the thunder outside. (Which she had all but forgotten about in the moment.) Seeing him so close to her, the only light in the room being a few candles and the occasional lightning shining through the open window, and his pupils just as darkened as hers were. How could she say no?

"Of course you do." He leaned in and closed the gap, gently gripping her face with his free hand and he kisses her with all the passion that's been building up all this time.

She leans into the kiss, hands around his neck inching closer to the roots of his hair begging to be pulled. He tasted like tea and honey, a small hint of peppermint. His scent made her body burn, nothing she could really explain. It was just... Him. A hint of cologne and a but if aftershave, but it was him. And he was all over her.

Hands started to roam her frame. Too long had he imagined how she'd feel underneath him, every curve and dip waiting to be explored by him. She was so soft, so delicate, so fucking irresistible he had to get to know every inch and remember it for a later night.

She fell back onto the couch, bringing him with her. He lay between her thighs, gripping him in place and keeping him there. Where he belongs.

God... He thinks. How could she already feel so good? He knows she could probably feel how hard he is already through her thin shorts, and oh was he right.

She felt him, all right, and holy shit. He was big. Bigger than what she'd originally thought. Not too thick, but long indeed. Long enough to get the job done, she assumes. Hopefully, she doesn't have to wait too long to find out.

Without realizing it Spencer starts mindlessly grinding against her. Needing some type of friction to ease aching in his groin, begging to be released with the beautiful woman he has under him. Her breath is becoming more erotic, wanting him so much closer than where he is. She can hear little grunts from him, and decides she needs to hear more.

His hands are grabbing at whatever they can get (mostly her thighs) so tight she's sure she'll have some marks on her in the morning. Not that she really minds, though.

"Spen-Spencer.. Please.." She was hot and heavy, feeling like she was about to snap if he didn't get inside her soon. "Tell me what you want, baby." He needed to hear her say it. Straight up how much she needs him.

"Spencer.. Fuck me."

He didn't need to be told twice; he sits up, slowly lowering his pants to tease her just a bit more. Two can play that game, Y/n sits up slightly, undoing the buttons of her shirt even slower than he. Making sure to look right into his eyes. He's staring right back, anticipation building up, and the last button is finally gone as is his pants.

Spencer didn't want to waste any more time not being inside her. He practically rips off her shorts and panties, keeping in mind where they land for later, knowing she'll need them again. Spencer leans down again, his hands cupping both breasts and pushing his face between them. This, he thought, is what heaven is.

She tugs on his shirt and before long that's gone too. Her hands roam and touch at anything she can reach, but before she can explore further, he pushes her back.

"Are you sure you want this? We can stop now, Y/n." He didn't want any hesitation, he needed to know this is what she wants. That he's what she wants. "Yes, baby. I want this. I want you."

She gives him another kiss, except this one felt more... passionate. She wanted him in every single way, any way he'll allow her.

As their tongues fight to dominance, he slides into her, she's so dripping wet already he's not surprised he can go in so smoothly.

He's finally fully in, and she has to break the kiss to let out the sexiest sound he's ever heard. She feels so good, so beautifully wet and the best part is, it's all for him.

"Ugh, fuck baby... You so wet for me, huh?" He does a little thrust, emphasizing the sound it makes. "O-oh, Spencer.. Fuck.. All for you baby. Only for you." Her grip on his shoulders tighten and her breathing increases. Spencer can't think of anything but her. Beautiful, sexy, special Y/n.

His thrusts becoming more rhythmic, and the sounds coming from both her and him are absolutely sinful. Y/n tries to focus, attempting to commit this all to memory. She hopes this isn't a one time thing, but if it is, she wants to remember every minute of this.

One hand grips her thigh and the other gets tangled in her hair, loving the way her body feels against his. The moans coming from her mouth making it difficult for him to keep it together, and she's having the same problem.

"Ugh! Fuck, Spencer I'm so close..!" He's hitting that perfect spot, that perfect angle and it's about to send her over the edge.

"Cum for me baby. Let me know just how good I'm making you feel." His grips tighten and so does her stomach. The moans are getting louder now, Y/n no longer having the mental capacity to keep herself in check.

"Ack...! Fuck! Spencer!" She didn't have to tell him, he knew, and fuck did she look good. Her head tilts back, giving him the perfect opportunity to leave little marks, claiming her as his.

He can feel himself get closer to that same high. "Where do you want me to cum, baby?" He'd cum anyway she'd wanted, but she had to tell him soon before it spills into her.

"I-I'm on the pill baby.. But you can pull out if you want to. I've never had someone cum on me before." She pulled him even closer, kissing his neck and pulling on his hair. That was it, his orgasm coming full force as he loses his composure. "Oh fuck, Y/n!" He pulls out, spilling over her hips and abdomen.

They lay there like that for a couple minutes more, not wanting to leave each other's embrace quite yet. Until Spencer sits up lightly and leaves a kiss on Y/n's forehead.

"Let me get you a towel, darling." He gets up to go to the bathroom. Leaving Y/n laying with a smile on her face.

When he returns with the towel he leans down to clean her up. Wiping away all evidence of him off of her. She sits up, reaching for her shirt and putting it back on.

"I didn't even realize, the storm has passed." They both let out a laugh, thank it wasn't awkward now that they'd been intimate.

Now that they were sitting together again, fully clothed once again, Spencer spoke up. "Would you like to go on a real date with me? I'd like to get to know you. The real you."

She smiles at him, "Spencer, I'd love to."

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

Should I do a tag list? I know I don't update much, but if that's something you'd wanna be a part of let me know!

Enjoy! Baiii! 🥰

[pjisskullourful]

𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

🎸Thomas × reader

NSFW🚨 nasty & fun sexytimes

Thomas Raggi/female reader insert

° you buy your boyfriend the guitar of his dreams, & there is only one appropriate way for him to thank you for the gift

wordcount::::       2,524

° anon request:  can we have female mc riding thomas' guitar? i heard a rumour that thomas bought a gibson and oml those guitars are hot asf  [ask& it shall be given- requests are open! but commissions get priority, there are currently 3 fics in cue, secure your own spot in my priority list here] this idea quickly got me thinking& i started playing around with it instead of sleeping. shoutout to kat @mistressofthecats-blog for naming the guitar

° using this guitar as inspo

You were lying in bed as you awaited your boyfriend’s return home. You were naked as you did so, which wasn’t very unusual.

The unusual element came from what you were sharing the bed with, hiding the object under the covers as you keenly anticipated Thomas coming into the bedroom. 

You finally heard his key in the lock. Recording time with the band had gone much longer than expected, but now he was back and you lifted your head from the pillow, unable to keep yourself from perking up - as if it had been weeks of him being away on the road, as opposed to an extended studio session. You ran your fingers over the perfectly smooth edges of the object, giddy at the thought of how he might react to this surprise.

"I'm in here, angel." You called out.

"Bedtime already?" His voice got louder as he approached the room where you lie, as excited as if it were Christmas morning. He came into view and your heart lifted, had you forgotten how cute he looked leaving the house in those skinny jeans? You licked your lips, smiling as you noticed how most of the buttons on his shirt were open, this instantly brought to mind ideas of kissing him all over this flesh. But why did his shirt need to be so open to record music?

He took in the scene on his bed, smiling at the sight of your bare shoulders and décolletage. But then he got sight of the long lump alongside you, his brow furrowing as he tried to figure out what this strange shape could be. You were a little surprised that he didn't recognise it straight away, this should be the most familiar shape in the world to him.

"What have you got under there, what are you cuddling with?" He asked, pausing to look at what was taking up room on his side of the bed.

You giggled, rolling onto your side. "Not cuddling, just waiting to introduce you."

"Introduce…?" He trailed off as you reached over, starting to lift the covers. "Holy fuck."

The brand new electric guitar rendered him speechless - his mouth hanging open as his whole face lit up. You didn't mind that he wasn't paying any attention to the fact that you were naked, the metallic-cyan guitar was very impressive after all. He was in awe of the instrument, slowly bending down to touch it.

"Holy fuckin-... A Gibson?" He noticed the brand name engraved into the silver bridge. "You got me a motherfucking Gibson?"

You couldn't stop smiling as you watched him pick the guitar up. "That's the one you wanted, right? The one you showed me online and said you would call it Halen?"

"It is." He said, slowly appreciating the two separate points at the top of the body, which mimicked the shape of horns. He moved his fingers over these, his eyes sparkling. "I can't believe you- you didn't have to- this is- holy fuck…"

"You said that already, like, twice." You teased.

He clumsily sank down, sitting on the mattress. "Because look at it, this is holy fuck and you can't convince me it's not. It's not my birth…day… it's… what did I do to deserve this beauty?"

You sat up, pushing his unkempt hair back from covering his face. "You're you, that's all you need to do to deserve the best, most fabulous things in life."

"Thank you." He looked at you with his wide smile. "I really don't know how to tell you how much I love it and appreciate it."

"I'm so glad." You said. "And I'm naked because… well, you know, that's how they advertise stuff like this. Sex sells. And I didn't want this thing upstaging me in the sexy department."

He rolled his eyes. "And that's the only reason why you're naked, there is no other kinky little agenda running through your mind. 'Cause you've been at home alone all day and now that I'm here, it's got you feeling some type of way…"

"I'm sure that I don't know what you're talking about." You said.

He placed his fingers under your chin, drawing you in for a kiss. "Nothing could upstage you when it comes to sexiness."

"You really think so, have you seen this guitar? It's the sexiest guitar I've ever seen."

"Should I leave you and the guitar alone, 'cause I'm picking up on a vibe here." He said. "Are you, like, turned on by it?"

"Why do you gotta make it weird?" You asked. "I'm not sexually attracted to an object, okay? But what I am sexually attracted to is you, angel. I'm attracted to you, these magical fingers…" You linked your fingers with his, squeezing them before bringing the back of his hand to your lips. "And do you know what I'm crazy attracted to? Your talent, that's what gets me turned on and the guitar is an extension of that."

"It's a fucking awesome guitar, that's for sure and it looks amazing on your naked body." He said, extending the instrument out and placing it on your lap. "You turn me on, not it. Maybe if you got some pussy on it, then it could turn me on."

You smiled as you changed how you were sitting, wrapping your hands around the guitar's neck. "If that's what you want…"

"I was joking. Baby, I was joking."

You turned the guitar around so that it was on its side, between your legs. "Were you? Because I'm not joking…" You pressed the smooth edge of the body into your crotch. "I am very much not joking."

His eyes grew wide and he looked down to where you were defiling his brand new guitar, beginning to spread your moisture onto the shiny finish. You rolled your hips forward, feeling the pressure against your pussy. You let your folds part, the sturdy curve going between your labia majora.

You snagged your bottom lip between your teeth and rocked against the guitar again. You gripped it tight enough to turn your knuckles white as you rolled again, figuring out how to make this work for you - it was an unusual route to stimulation, but you were beginning to feel tingles that added to your already-established arousal.

"Oh my God baby, you're doing it, you're actually doing it." He said, his mouth hanging open. "You're riding the guitar. I can't believe it…"

"You can tell me to stop." You offered in a quiet voice. "I'll stop if you don't want-"

"No, no, you look really fucking good, so you should…" He cleared his throat, his cheeks bright as his eyes briefly flashed up to your face. "If it's comfortable for you, only if it's comfortable… is it good for you? Because it looks- looks like it's good for you."

"Uh-huh, I like it. I just wish my mouth wasn't empty." You said, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

He smiled and scooted in closer to where you sat. He raised his index and middle fingers up to your face, following the natural curve of your bottom lip. You pushed your tongue out, running it along the tips of his fingers as you kept rocking on the guitar. He placed his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck on them. 

You could feel your moisture spreading across the guitar. You were starting to find your pacing, maybe you could keep going with this rubbing - the more that you did, the better it started to feel, even if you were certain this wouldn’t lead to an orgasm.

He stroked his fingers along your tongue as you sucked. "God, you are so ridiculously sexy."

"Get your shirt off." You said around his fingers, grabbing for the half-undone shirt. "I wanna see that body, give me some inspiration…"

He put both hands to his shirt, immediately rushing to open the last of his buttons. "Fuck, I've got plenty of inspiration for you…" His hands were moving so fast on his belt that they were almost a blur. "Right here, so much inspiration."

You leaned forward, still working your hips. You opened your mouth and applied your teeth to his protruding collarbone. This brought a growl out of him and you kept your teeth here. Sparks were flying in the air between the two of you as he readjusted, getting his jeans down.

"You're so feral…" He said as you sucked on his skin, prepared to leave marks. "All because of a guitar."

Now it was your turn to growl, rolling your eyes. "Forget about the guitar…" You grabbed the top of the instruments' body, pulling it out from between your legs. You could smell the tang of your cum as you moved it aside, setting it carefully down on the ground. 

"If you wanna really see feral." You said, putting your palms to his chest and pushing, until he was flat on his back. "I'm gonna show you feral…"

You reached across to the bedside draws as he wriggled the rest of the way out of his pants and underwear. You pulled out and unwrapped a condom. You placed yourself on top of him, straddling his hips. His lips were parted and he appeared to be holding his breath as you steadied his boner by placing your hand around the shaft. His eyes were fixed on you, watching with rapt attention as you placed the latex over the swollen head of his dick. You rolled it down, covering his length.

He put his hands on your hips, easing you down to sit firmly on his lap. "Even on the best gig of my life, I could never make this guitar sound as amazing as I'm about to make you sound." 

You smiled and tensed your thighs, seeking to line the crown of his dick up with your sensitive entrance. You bit into your lip, both of you holding your breath as you started to sink down onto his shaft. You watched his eyes flutter shut, his fingers gripping your hips tighter and you took more of him between your walls.

You threw your head back, whimpering as you felt the stretch of him going deeper. "Oh, angel…"

With your knees braced on the bed, you started to rock your hips forward. He let out a breathy moan, slowly raising his hips to meet yours. He kept his hands on your hips, using this to guide you into a sensual tempo.

You rode the increasing waves of pleasure. The sensations were going so much deeper than before, your chest swelling up with excitement.

You leaned forward, creating more friction between the two of you as more of your body rubbed against his. His eyes slowly opened, a small smile on his face as he watched you. 

You planted your hands down on the bed, gripping the sheets on either side of his head as you moved quicker. The air between the two of you was electric, making you giddy, even before your lips met. 

You sank down into all of these sensations, your bottom lip slipping in between both of his. He was pushing his hips up more, his tip pressing deeper into you as your rhythm continued to quicken.

He pumped into you harder, stirring a whine from the back of your throat. You put a hand up into his hair, winding some of the strands around your fingers. You tightened your hand into a fist, giving his hair a little tug. You were rewarded by hearing him moan and you kept your hand here.

Your hips stuttered in response to the unrelenting nature of his bucking, your body filled with so much warmth and yearning. 

Your ecstatic movements couldn't quite match up with how he was working you over, not now that you were facing such a threat to your composure. You couldn't hold yourself back, you were too excited to possess any elegance.

"Ah, mmn…" His mouth left yours, his needy vocalisations making your inner-walls spasm. "Ah!" He was getting louder, the endless grinding of your bodies unlocking a different side of him.

You moved your lips across his skin, kissing a trail down from his lower lip onto his chin. Then you pressed kisses across his throat, where the cords of his neck were more pronounced. 

You whimpered against his skin as you kept pushing against his thrusts, feeling that release getting closer. It felt like you were rushing, your teeth returning to his collarbone as your shivering grew more powerful, taking over more of your body. You were ready to be a desperate mess for him.

"Oh, fuck…" He rasped over your muffled noises. "I'm gonna- yes… I'm so fuckin' close… do you wan'- do you need to catch your breath, or- or…?"

You felt too weak to raise your head. "Uh-uh, I wanna- 'cause I'm really close and I wanna- fuck angel, I wanna come for you." You tilted your hips, each collision between the two of you having a grander impact as both your bodies kept going, kept contributing to the merciless rhythm. "Fuck, fuck. I'm gonna- I'm almost…"

You hit a new octave, your mind going blank when you felt him find the perfect angle, his cock gliding right up to your g-spot. He consistently jolted into it, his passion so overpowering that it took all of your effort to hold on. Your cunt stretched around him, the sounds of your bodies striking together accompanied by a near-constant stream of moans from each of you.

"Oh, yes." You could see bursts of light behind your eyelids as you pounded all of your body weight onto him.

"Come for me, come for- ah, mmn, yes." He growled, an arm around your waist to keep you close for his continued rutting into you.

Your jaw dropped open as you were flooded, these stimulations inside your needy pussy finally reaching the peak. You started to convulse, falling out of his tempo.

"Mn, mnn, mn…" His last few thrusts were marked by his grunts of effort, breathless until he started to dissolve into pleasure.

You let your body go limp, resting your cheek on his chest as you started to come down. His arms loosely wrapped around you and he was still inside of you. Your bodies remained connected, no words necessary as you both basked in this afterglow, slowly catching your breath again.

You moved over to lie beside him, unable to keep yourself from placing some chaste kisses on his face. He smiled a little, but kept his eyes shut. You felt the tingles still radiating through your body as you absent-mindedly ran your fingers through his hair, which had become thoroughly mussed during his exertions. 

“Holy fuck…” He whispered, showing his first signs of coming back to reality.

You giggled. “I agree. I should buy you more guitars, you need more, right?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[hardcore-lonewolf]

🤡PUNCHLINE🤡: YJ 2010!OG Six!Team + Fem!OC X FEM!Reader

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PLOT: Joker and Harley Quinn's adopted daughter Punchline has been a constant headache to the Team ever since she broke free from Arkham Asylum without getting caught with her neapolitan fun boy Andrew Merry. This clown princess was only pulling an act to get free from her so-called parents and lover. She found out the truth about herself a week ago within LexCorps and heard it all...she was a missing child stolen from a family. Punchline suffered from many things cause she never kills and left innocents alone, but has murdered bad guys only when she deems them as threats to the world. She felt those harmful words and they played with her pain by hurting her rather than healing her. They pushed her around and pulled her down into the bottomless pit of bittersweet vengeance. Will the Team save her from these bloody killer clowns and bring her out of this freakshow of circus psychos? {ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA}.

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WARNING: DARK ANGST, SOFT FLUFF, ROUGH SMUT, ETC.

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"Breaking news, deranged beta criminal Andrew Merry has successfully escaped Arkham Asylum after Punchline blew up his cell and got tons of criminals out alive. Joker and Harley Quinn's legacy has begun her reign of terror all over again in Gotham City as her boyfriend does the same. If you see them out in public and anywhere else...run, I repeat run from them as far as possible." Punchline smiled with fake happiness as Andrew pulls her on his lap and smooches her lips with his own.

Andrew was once a beta named Lucas Nero Kaye, but another beta Harley changed him like Joker did to Punchline and gave him the special roller coaster ride to his fun-land. She was renamed as a beta named Alecia Delilah Napier and got branded by force. Ace Chemicals did all of its tricks of making her into their daughter and turning her mad like Alice Liddell.

Alice and Luka were toxic with each other. Punchline never loved him and cared for him, though Joker did care for Andy while Harley only loved her. Harleen Francis Quinzel and an alpha known as Jack Oswald White did favor Andrew rather than Punchline, it made her go fully black and white with splashes of red all over her body.

The gothic punchinello was protected by the female harlequin and the male jester was very close the neapolitan mime. Punchline vows to run away and never come back this life she's been breathing in as a hellish life. She has to wait and get rid of the tracker before she can make her escape to freedom and see broad daylight.

Punchline begins packing up her things and putting in a dark purple Lamborghini car she got from Joker for her assumed birthday. She waits till Andrew, Harley, and Joker leave for their annual heist at Gotham City Bank and gets inside her luxury car. The gothic punchinello slowly cranks up the fast car engine with one hand and begun leaving the hidden garage to the main exit.

The clown princess was lucky to remove the trackers and chips on her car, though the ones in her body were harder cause it was injected into her veins. Punchline drove from Arkham to some random city in baggy sweats to cover her scars and other evidence of abuse she went through as a little girl. The gothic punchinello kept driving and taking breaks by using all of the saved money she stole from a fellow beta Riddler's bank account thanks to Catwoman.

Every single day and night, she would drive from each city till she found herself in Robinson Park and was happy to find a place to hide from others. She manages to make some money with dancing and singing in subway stations to the public plaza till it went viral enough to become an internet star on social media sites. Punchline never showed her face, hasn't talked, and would always keep her looks to herself including her body...it was major insecurities.

The gothic punchinello suffered from the child neglect and domestic violence from her abusive lifestyle where she has no freedom to be herself. Punchline was safe from others and has to stay low for now on since Andrew will try multiple times to get his way with her for fun. She was suffering both inside and outside cause Joker can kill her in seconds if he finds out his porcelain doll got away from this playhouse...until one dreadful night at Jump City inside her apartment.

At Mount Justice, Batman somehow managed to locate where Punchline ran off and hide for a temporary amount of time. The Team watched the first day of her staying at Jump City by the cameras and saw the gothic punchinello looking paranoid about something. The seven sidekicks listened to what she said and understood why the clown princess ran away...to get out of an extremely toxic environment filled with crimes and scenes.

"She's the only key witness to finding out who's behind this plot with the Syndicate and why she became Punchline. Be careful Team, we know how she tends to be silent and deadly. Don't let her intimidate any one of you," the Team left the Secret Sanctuary and headed to Jump City where they found her car.

"Anything good in there?" Superboy opened the trunk and saw nothing but documents of a crime scene.

"It's just some papers," the clone replied as he raises the lid wider for the rest to see themselves.

Robin picks them up and reads each one by hand. It was from an unsolved mystery of a missing child back in the early 2000s, Bruce's godchild Evelina Gwendolyn Nelson was abducted by Harley Quinn and was personally "killed" by the Joker after he murdered her own parents in cold blood. The Boy Wonder see more files and other information in the trunk, such as DNA tests, birth certificates, ancestry trackers, hospital records, pharmacy visits, criminal history, and lie detectors.

"She has all of the files of Bruce Wayne's godchild including hers in there. Why does she have them?" Wonder Girl begun finding an extra key card and hands it to Robin.

"We're about to find out ourselves, come on guys." The Team followed the female demigod in the elevator and got in the private top floor.

Punchline was currently fast asleep with her scars and bruises from her last ambush a few days ago by the Joker, who notifies Andrew that his "girlfriend" dumped him and left the Laugh Pack for good by her death with a gunshot in her chest. The clown princess suddenly wakes up from her sleep when she hears a ding from the elevator and grabs two twin handguns along with a matching pair of daggers for safety precautions. Punchline hears several knocks and went into the bathroom by locking the door shut, leaning against it as she tries to find something for her joy in her backpack.

The Boy of Steel heard light shuffling behind the front door and knew Punchline was now fully awake. Kid Flash uses the key card and he went inside to see the whole apartment was surprisingly spotless from head to toe without traces of flaws on it. His six comrades can feel the tension as they went into different rooms and couldn't find her until they found her bedroom.

'Punchline's probably inside her room,' the archer said in the mind link, turning to Wonder Girl.

'Xena, you go open the door.' Kid Flash told the female demigod.

The leader of the Team gave his two teammates a raised eyebrow and he shakes his head no while his half-god girlfriend was unimpressed. Wonder Girl carefully opens the door and saw the room was shockingly clean, but a book was on the desk. The female demigod reaches for it and storms out of there with a neutral look on her face.

'Is that a journal?' Miss Martian asked her best friend.

'Yes, but I'm not reading it. We'll give this to Batman till further notice...unlike three of you who will more likely to read it.' The speedster, archer, and acrobat went silent while Aqualad, the female Martian, and Superboy nod their heads yes in agreement.

Punchline's heart was beating like crazy while tears came down her hollow cheeks and from her sunken eyes. She took her happy pills from her duffle bag and popped them into her mouth. The gothic punchinello was giggling quietly through tears of pain and faking her joy as she curls up in the bathtub, feeling the symptoms and effects it gave her.

Her stomach was scarred and burnt like other places on her bony frame. Punchline was diagnosed with major disorders and have health problems, but doesn't want immediate treatment due to trust issues. The clown princess has low self-esteem problems after Andrew tried to win her back at Arkham Asylum a few weeks ago and attempted to break her with the Joker watching both of them, but Catwoman saves the gothic punchinello long enough to let the young child escape from that horrifying nightmare to Jump City.

Catwoman was also the first person to see Punchline without her makeup and realize that her lover's godchild was actually alive. The cat burglar got what the gothic punchinello wanted in exchange of diamonds and pearls. The black cat burglar told the Dark Knight and he took a test between his childhood friends with Punchline's blood sample to confirm that Catwoman was right...the Joker broke Batman's godchild.

Punchline will always hug her stuffed animal she got from the Shadow Dame named "Koneko" which means "Kitten" in Japanese, it was sewn right and made with her love for animals. She doesn't like how people treats nature, the gothic punchinello has a soft spot for animals and flowers. As for food, she was born a natural vegetarian and doesn't like meat or anything that came from animals.

"Punchline, we know you locked yourself in there. Please come out of the bathroom," the gothic punchinello froze with shock and horror written on her face. "Don't make me hurt you honey, we know you're scared and in danger. Please sweetheart, we won't arrest you and treat you bad."

Punchline puts her things in her backpack and places her mask to cover her face from outsiders before pulling the hood over her head. Her dyed black locks of hair was peeking out and put her weapons in her bag. The clown princess gets up from the tub and carefully opens the door to see the Team.

The gothic punchinello looked a lot shorter and petite than usual. Miss Martian watched the younger girl put all of her weapons down and unload her pair of white platinum guns from their silver bullet ammo. Punchline shocked all of them by raising her hands and arms in surrender while going on her knees to let one of them arrest her.

Robin went behind the clown princess and puts a pair of handcuffs on her wrists before doing so to her ankles for safety precautions. The Boy Wonder gets her up and she flinches in response to the severe wound she made from a golden kitchen knife last night. Punchline stumbles trying to get her backpack up until she collapses and passes out cold from the pain in her stomach.

Wonder Girl saw it instantly and caught the child in time before she hits her head hard on the floor. She searches for a pulse, freezing to feel how faint and slow it was. Punchline kept the room cold as ice, hard as stone, and clean as slate contrast to her motionless body that was damaged.

"We need Punchline to med bay quick, she's barely responding." The female demigod carries Punchline bridal style, cringing when she held her and can tell she was sickeningly light as a feather.

The Team ran off to the Bio-Ship and flew back to their base with a dying child in their custody. Once the ship landed, Wonder Girl took Punchline in her arms and rushed to med bay with a panicked look on her face. Black Canary saw that the female demigod was on high alert and helped her keep the gothic punchinello breathing while the rest of the Team waited for their teammate to fix Punchline.

After a two hours of tests and exams, Wonder Girl was trying not to cry and rage when she saw everything that a child shouldn't experience for the first time. Punchline was the reason why heroes and innocents were still alive with their families, but this was personal...that journal was the last resort. The Sonic Screamer kept a sharp eye on the child as she breathe through her oxygen mask and rest peacefully.

Black Canary found the results and was terrified. Cracked ribs, dark circles around her eyes, bite marks on shoulders, pale skin, appetite loss, wounds on ankles, busted lips, broken nose, a minor concussion, burns on hands and feet, handprints on neck, lacerations on the back and chest, cuts on wrists and thighs, slashes on stomach and neck, and many more. This girl literally went through hell and back at a very young age.

"Canary, I told the Team already what's wrong and the signs that Punchline was constantly abused. We have to keep her under immediate watch and make sure she doesn't hurt herself. This was in her pockets," the female demigod explained before pulling the pill bottles.

'Happy pills, one pill a day makes the pain go away.' Black Canary thought.

"Not only that, Batman looked through her bags and saw a lot of disturbing things in it. Those files Robin attained from her car are real, the boys found more stuff and I told them to hand them over to y'all till further notice." Wonder Girl stated while checking on the IV fluids and blood transfusion she has from Catwoman. "She's selectively mute too, so we have to make her talk willingly...not by force. Punchline went through enough and was beaten every 24/7 for her right doings. She's not safe from the Joker, Harley, or Andrew, this little girl has to stay and be put under our custody."

Recognize: Catwoman; 00, Recognize: Superman; 01, Recognize: Batman; 02; Recognize: Wonder Woman; 03

Catwoman storms into med bay and sees Punchline being treated with care by the Amazonian demigoddess. The Core Four looked at the files and the blood sample they got from her a few months ago. This girl was a missing child and it matched with the blood of Bruce's honorary niece.

Robin saw his adopted father's girlfriend and knew that look. The black cat was worried for the clown princess and see the symptoms playing its roles into Punchline's health problems. The Team stayed by med bay and took turns of watching over her, only to see her sleep for hours.

A day later at med bay, Punchline wakes up and saw herself in a different room. She begins panicking that caused her heart rate to skyrocket and alert the Team. Wonder Girl got a painkiller ready for the gothic punchinello, who's having an anxiety attack and tearing up in pain.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh, it's okay sweetie, we're not gonna hurt you. Deep breaths...in and out." Punchline copied her and slowly calmed down before falling asleep. "There you go, that's a good girl."

The female demigod sighs in relief as Punchline slept and snore softly. Without the mask and hoodie, she looks like a fragile porcelain doll made from spun glass and fine china. The clown princess didn't hear the Team walking, who knew that they have to stay careful and not trigger her into going to panic mode.

'Is she okay?' Superboy asked her.

'No. This will take more than a few years to get Punchline recovered and sobered from abuse. We can't set off anything that'll make her have flashbacks and cause her discomfort. For now, we have to let the League decide what they have to do with Punchline. Let's pray that she doesn't go to prison, because this child's mind is too frail and broken apart from everything.' The Boy of Steel pats her shoulder while Wonder Girl writes down some healthy diet recommendations and tips.

"Bellatrix, she trusts you and Catwoman more than others. Here's my Golden Lasso of Truth," the Defender of Justice said, handling her rope to her daughter.

"Isn't this lasso way too far Mum? I get that all of us want answers, but this is a child who went through a living and breathing hell with two psychos as her "parents"." The Team nodded in agreement and stood beside the female demigod. "What's wrong with you and the League's minds? Are y'all really doing this to her, especially when I got what kinds of problems wrote down...please don't tell me the journal has all the proof in it."

Wonder Woman nodded with a saddened look and Wonder Girl turns livid. She begins calming down when she looks at Punchline's resting body and understood what her mother wants her to do, but she has a similar way. The teenage demigoddess carefully pulls the wires and cords, though kept a few on her for signs of conflict.

It took ten minutes to let Miss Martian link the older girl up and let their boyfriends hold them close. Kid Flash and Arrowette (Artemis Crock) were sitting side by side while Robin got another painkiller prepared for Punchline if she starts feeling any types of pain. The clown princess hums softly and opens her dull eyes to see the Team, who stares down at her bedridden form for answers.

"Alright Punchline, you got two choices to make. You can either tell us the truth or I'll have to let this golden magic rope do its work. Simple as that sweetheart, I'm not threatening to hurt you or make you feel scared. You're still a child that needs help and we can help you if you tell us." Punchline was hesitant and shivers as she tries to back away, but sees handcuffs on her bandaged wrists and ankles.

"Long story, the League found a lot of things and took your stuff out of your home from Manhattan. That's why you're stuck handcuffed and bedridden till we get the truth. All you have to do is talk and let us hear." Punchline said nothing and kept a horrified look on her face.

'She's not talking,' the female archer said to the teenage demigoddess.

'I'm not using this damn lasso to force an abused child into speaking Artemis, I refuse to let Batman interrogate her if it comes down to that option.' Wonder Girl responded to the blond-haired teenage girl.

"Or we'll get Batman and send you back to Arkham." Punchline begins tearing up in seconds and shaking her head no while whimpering, trying to get free while she got her to remember how Batman could see the genuine sadness written on her bruised face whenever she gets placed in Arkham.

Kid Flash smacks Robin in the back of the head and the Boy Wonder rubs it while frowning at his best friend. The rest glared at his blunt choice of words and the acrobat now understands why he needs to learn some respect. The clown princess sees the shot and begs silently to make it vanish from her teary green eyes.

"Sorry about this idiot, he tends to show no mercy on criminals." Kid Flash apologized as he drags him with the help of Arrowette out of med bay.

"Wait," the Team froze to hear her voice...so quiet and very timid. "Please don't leave, I'll talk."

The trio sat back down and their four older comrades asked her questions that led to her being truthful. Each answer she gave them were from ones about the Light and Cadmus, not herself...her life. Robin walks over to Punchline with a deep frown after he sees that she doesn't care for herself and living in a world of disaster.

"Next question, what did Joker, Harley, and Andrew do to you for years?" Punchline gulped nervously and knew this will cost her breathing soul.

The Team does know that she's twelve years old and going to thirteen next year. She was shivering and shaking, but Superboy shockingly held her hand and Miss Martian did the same to keep her at ease. Punchline begun telling the truth as the League hears everything and grew enraged, the clowns tried to break her apart by selling her off to Lex Luthor as a slave to teach her some manners.

After saying everything while Wonder Girl silently kept the lasso hidden away, the Team storms out of med bay and left the teenage demigoddess with the clown princess. She pulls the lasso from the child's foot and lets Wonder Woman take it from her hands. Her mother nods at her and pats her shoulder while trying to keep her relaxed.

"It's not your faults, it's always been mine." That was the last straw and Wonder Girl whips her head angrily at Punchline with a hardened glare, which got the Team backing away.

"YOUR FAULT?!! NO NO NO HONEY, IT'S THE FAULTS OF THE PEOPLE WHO HURT YOU, STARVE YOU, PUNISH YOU, SELL YOU, AND BREAK YOU!!" The Team froze to hear Wonder Girl snap and lash the truth out at Punchline. "YOU DON'T GIVE TWO FUCKS ABOUT YOUR OWN LIFE, THEY NEVER CARED AND LOVED YOU CAUSE YOU SAW WHAT WAS TRULY RIGHT!! THEY'RE BLAMING YOU FOR THOSE HEISTS AND DEATHS CAUSE THEY KNEW THAT YOU'LL NEVER BE LIKE THEM!!"

Aqualad tries to get his girlfriend to calm down, but she snaps at him in warning with glowing silver eyes and went back to his spot. Wonder Woman knew that her daughter has the right to snap, though stand her ground and went over to the teenage demigoddess. Punchline was wide-eyed with tears streaming down her face, trying to get away from Wonder Girl and get free from the cuffs.

"Bella, you're scaring her." Wonder Woman warned her.

"DIANA, SHE HAS TO HEAR THIS WHENEVER SHE LIKES IT OR NOT!! IF THEY WERE YOUR PARENTS, WILL THEY SELL YOU TO SOME RICH MAN WHO WILL MAKE YOU INTO A MONSTER?!! IF THAT WAS YOUR FUCKING BOYFRIEND...YOU'RE A GODDAMN TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL FOR ZEUS'S SAKE!! HE SHOULDN'T BE CHEATING ON YOU WITH SOME DUMB WHORE, YOU'RE BETTER THAN ALL OF THEM AND YOU CAN'T SEE THAT SHIT YOUR OWN SELF!!" Wonder Girl yelled out angrily, facing Punchline while trying not to go full Light Avatar State and turning serious with a deepened alpha tone. "We wanna help you if you let us, I'm sorry for snapping, but you have to hear the truth of what I think and I believe all of us agree that you're safe here. We're a close pack, we've decided to watch over after somebody won the glaring contest with his mentor, and we'll keep you safe and sound from others. Please, we want you to trust us...we won't hurt you."

Punchline was set free by Black Canary, the small girl slowly begins walking to Wonder Girl and starts hugging her tight. The League was shocked like the Team, who were relieved that the clown princess was complying and was actually content. The teenage demigoddess picks her up and carries the petite child to the rolling chair.

"Your real parents were special indeed, they both died protecting you from Joker when he got Harley to take you years ago. You look just like your mother and father, his hair and eyes, your mother's looks and personality...Kent and Inza did mention about their deceased granddaughter having a stuffed animal named Koneko. Don't worry, I got your friend safe...right here." Punchline's dull eyes gleamed as she gently takes Koneko from her hands and hugs it close to her, closing her eyes that went back to green after the happy pills were flushed out of her entire system. "Catwoman's willing to take you under her wing and Black Canary will be there to give you therapy sessions. Batman will tell you about your parents cause the League were very close to them and were honored to have a cute little niece. She was smart, brave, adorable, and nice unlike this fool who tried to use his mentor as a weapon. They know who you really are, the League broke the case that you wanted to know and got you home. We'll get you a room fixed and find something comfy for you to wear. Okay?"

Punchline nodded shyly and kept holding her friend with a small smile. Wonder Girl went to the kitchen and takes out some fruit yogurt with a protein shake to the side. The Team watches the teenage demigoddess went back to med bay and present the clown princess with those chosen items.

"Slow and steady steps," the clown princess gulps and begins eating slowly, earning smiles and relieved looks that meant Punchline was getting really hungry.

'How do you know that she was hungry Bella? I didn't hear her stomach making noise,' the clone said to her.

'She was fidgeting and holding her stomach. We have to find her official rank first, then the girls and I have to find some clothes for her to wear at the mall.' Wonder Girl answered while shaking the bottle and opening it for Punchline. "It's milk chocolate, I know this won't taste good...I slipped something helpful in it for you."

Punchline sips the shake, humming in delight and drank the liquid as she starts enjoying what was in it. She puts the empty bottle down and licks her lips at the sweet flavor of it. Wonder Girl was told by Kent's widow Jolene that she was an alien, which means that Punchline was half alien and could be healed by a few months if they slipped some magic-based healing potions in everything she wants to devour or chug down her throat.

'My love, what did you put in her food and drink?' Aqualad asked the teenage demigoddess.

'Jolene's healing potions mixed with my nectar, I have to Kaldur...she's malnourished.' Wonder Girl replied. 'Besides, she likes it and seems to be peaceful for now. M'gann, Artemis, we're going shopping later on when it reaches noon and taking Evie with us.'

The teenage demigoddess saw Eva hold her arms out and complies, lifting her up and setting her to latch on her front like a koala. Wonder Girl smells her unmarked scent glands, it was hidden from others and seems to be sweet. Eva hums and enjoyed the comfort from this strong female who was willing to cradle her like a little baby, which was ironic cause the clown princess was somehow the youngest out of the youngsters in this room.

M'gann and Artemis took off the makeup inside the large bathtub to see that Eva was completely healed. The female trio begun getting rid of the dyes and paints on her body while checking for more bruises. Wonder Girl did an amazing job finding some worthy products that will wash away paints, dyes, makeup, and other things as they gave her a nice bath.

The girls saw that she was a natural ginger with green eyes and ivory skin, Eva was blushing in embarrassment with closed eyes as she covers her body with a large towel. M'gann saw her insecurities through a telepathic link and hugged her while the small girl pouts up at the female Martian with teary eyes. Wonder Girl somehow found an outfit she was doing and got something for Eva, a cute one that'll make her stand out and look elegant.

"This will work for now, she'll love this." Artemis saw a casual attire with a nod of approval and got Eva out of the tub with M'gann's help.

M'gann and Artemis left for a bit, so that Opal can fix Eva up with her attire till they reached the mall. The teenage demigoddess removed the hair extensions and begun styling it in a way that makes the young red-headed girl look graceful. After doing that, she places some natural makeup and use her chi-bending to heal up everything till it was permanently removed.

"And here's what Eva Nelson should be looking like," the girl's green eyes opened to see the real version without any paint and dyes, smiling softly at the features and how Opal captured everything. "Your family will be so happy and amazed that you took their genes. They'll always forever stay in your heart, be bold and always keep your loved ones safe."

The boys were waiting as M'gann and Artemis went to check on Eva. They immediately squealed and were cooing at the cuteness of this outfit. She wore a scarlet red shirt with the black cat logo, long white thigh-high socks, crimson red and black sneakers, a gray plaid miniskirt, her short hair was in a high ponytail, and her face was done very well with natural makeup and a bit of rosy blush on it.

Eva was dragged into the living room by Artemis who lifts her off her seat and the boys froze to see what Opal did to her. She looks so matured and elegant. Eva held her hands together and tilts her head at the four young men's wide-eyed expression with a nervous look.

Opal places Kaldur's jacket to cover Eva and make the young magic-user comfy before putting her white beanie hat on her head. The little girl sighs and nuzzles into the clothing when she gets Koneko from M'gann. Opal picks her up and smiles when the boys can see how Eva likes to be carried around within her consent.

"We got a news update, the Joker, Harley Quinn, and Andrew Merry have been officially charged with multiple crimes including child kidnapping and attempted rape. The victim was shockingly Punchline, she has left proof and details of what they've done to her in police custody. She's currently being put under the Justice League's supervision and all her charges have been dropped after multiple people came forward with evidence that she never kills innocents." Eva gave the Team a questioning look of confusion over the teenage demigoddess's right shoulder and they all responded with reassuring expressions.

"Evie, we're going to the mall with the girls and get a few things for you. M'gann and Artemis will hold you if I need to do something important. That's good with you kiddo?" Eva nodded and clung onto Opal's front in response. "Keep that hat over your head and make sure you tell us whenever you want something. Kaldur, Conner, I know you two will turn that empty guest room into her bedroom, so I trust both of you men to watch over the mountain. Wally, Dick, you boys better not doing anything stupid and go fix us a nest in the heat room."

The girls left through the garage, Opal drives them through the road and kept a close eye on Eva. She was resting in Artemis's lap and was hugging Koneko close to her. M'gann took a quick photo till Opal parks at a good spot and the three women got the youngest girl out.

"Aww, she's so cute!/She looks so beautiful!/Such an adorable little angel!/Those girls are lucky to scent mark her!" Eva blushed as the comments and praises she's getting from random people when Opal pulls her hood down.

"See what I meant Artie, she'll be getting admirers by the time we leave here cause she's unclaimed and has to be constantly watched over. Not only that...smell her scent." Artemis complied and gently smelt her unmarked scent glands...it smells like cherry blossoms and wild strawberries.

"Strawberries and blossoms. Evie, are you...an omega?" Eva nodded and went behind M'gann out of instinct. "It's okay sweet girl, I've been marked by Wally. M'gann is bonded to Conner like Kaldur is with Opal, you're still unclaimed and have to find your soulmates. You're just the only omega in the Team for now Evie, though Dick will probably court you soon and mark you for your safety."

Eva giggles softly, blushing hard when all three girls heard it and smile down at her. Artemis cradles the omega in her arms, nuzzling her nose into her scent gland and smiling at the small omega. M'gann and Opal got the right sizes for Eva to wear around everyday till she gets better once she begins growing up.

The four girls left the stores and made sure Eva was content after feeding her some mixed berry yogurt with a side of sugar-coated fruit. She was waiting patiently for their stop at the mountain and was hoisted up by M'gann. Eva releases her scent and the three girls hummed in appreciation as they got out of the car.

"How's your trip ladies?" Wally asked them, kissing Artemis and nuzzling Eva's scent gland.

"We found out her rank was an omega, then she decides to mark us with her scent along the way back here...now my car smells like blossoms and strawberries." Dick got the whiff of the scent and was truly into the smell.

"We smelt that far away, she's a pure fecund omega." Conner stated until Eva's sixth senses and future vision read his aura, it was red as a ruby.

Eva hops down and hugs the clone tight while Wolf licks her hand, earning a giggle from her. Conner gave Dick the "I told you so" look and hugs her back, knowing that she loves animals. Kaldur finishes reading the book and understood what alien race Inza came from to what the spark is...Eva's half Magen and Anodite.

'I found out what planet Jolene came from, Anodyne.' Kaldur told the Team, picking the omega up and kissing her cheek. 'Eva's spark is still active, but she hasn't awakened her mana yet.'

Eva smiles at him and leans her head on his left shoulder. Kaldur carries the small girl to her room and hears her purr softly in content. He lay her on her new bed after carefully takes his jacket back and removing those black shoes from the half-Anodite.

The small girl wiped the makeup from her face and put her hair down. Eva takes her stuffed animal and closes her eyes when Kaldur pulls a blanket to cover her. The half-Atlantean kisses her forehead and leaves the room after hearing her soft breaths.

"Eva's now resting, it looks like you ladies tired her out." Opal smiled before kissing him and parting away to watch the omega. "She's going to fit in with the Team very well."

•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞••∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•∞•

It was five years since Eva came home, though her pack seems to be feeling a bit worried and were skeptical about getting near her. As a fecund omega female who learned how to control all of her cosmic phoenix and pure magic energy, her final transformation has surprised them a lot cause they didn't expect Anodites to be...some beautiful glowing aliens. Eva was healthy enough to do missions and help innocents, but this time was a conflict between herself due to her rank...she was in heat.

The omega went into hiding at her bedroom and kept herself "busy" with some "friends". Eva already contacted the League about her situation and was mentally praying that her mates help her. Out of everything in the world...her first heat has to be right on when she finally becomes legal to drink alcohol and buy a gun.

Suddenly, her phone starts ringing as she finishes off her recent climax and grabs it with her glowing mana tendril. Eva freezes to see that her pack wanted a group chat and chose to video call her. She has no choice but to do the right thing...answer and put it on speaker.

Eva Nelson {scared}: Hello?

Dick Grayson {serious}: Evie, where are you?

Eva Nelson {nervous}: I'm reading in the Bludhaven Library with Jason.

Wally West {skeptical}: Don't lie babygirl, Jason told us you were there to get him some books at Gotham and came back home.

Artemis Crock {solemn}: Roy also mentioned you went somewhere last night before your birthday.

Eva Nelson {timid}: I was at Anodyne getting some wine from my grandma Jolene.

M'gann M'orzz/Megan Morse {suspicious}: Evie, you're lying to us. Please tell us what you're doing, it can't be that bad.

Eva Nelson {panicking}: I'm not telling all of you my business. Please leave me alone!

Kon-El/Conner Kent {agitated}: Evelina...

Eva Nelson {anxious}: WHAT THE HELL DO YOU PEOPLE WANT FROM ME?!!

Bellatrix/Ophelia Trevor {aggravated}: You're hiding something Omega.

Kaldur'ahm/Jackson Hyde {displeased}: Omega, just tell us or else.

Eva Nelson {irritated}: Or else what Alpha? You and our pack got no damn right to make me listen. Y'all know what, I'm spending this heat all by myself and have some fun afterwards. Goodbye.

Eva froze when she typed that and grew scared cause she knew Kaldur was known to be very calm, but can be provoked like the others as an apex alpha. She gulps and sets the phone down until she heard it vibrate again. Eva looks at the text from Opal, shivering and panting while trying to stay calm.

Bellatrix/Ophelia Trevor {enraged}: That's it Evelina, we're going over to your home. Don't even try escaping, Dick shut down all the Boom Tubes.

Eva Nelson {blunt}: BITE ME. Do y'all realize I can teleport you idiots?

Eva shuts down her phone and puts it away before going invisible. She hears banging on the door and went under the bed. The half-Anodite slowly opens the hatch to her tunnels and crawled into them.

"EVELINA GWENDOLYN NELSON, YOU BETTER BE FUCKING HERE!!" Opal shouted angrily as her inner alpha took over.

Eva tried her best keeping her scent hidden from her pack after noticing the matching marks on them. She found the same mark on the small of her back and grew frightened...she just pissed off all of her soulmates. The magic-user's inner omega begun whimpering in her mind and she shivers, accidentally letting out her pheromones by mistake.

'NO, NO, NO...' Eva thought while silently whining underneath her breath. 'WHY NOW?!!'

Conner picks up the damiliar scent and looked under the bed to see a hatch to the tunnels. He hears the half-Anodite's sounds of fear and pain through them, which made the clone realize where she's going...to random rooms till she was safe from them. Eva locks the hatches on every dorm and went to her private place...her meditation room to get some pure mana.

"Eva's attempting to make us chase her around the mountain, looks like we'll have to hunt her down...again." The Team split up and went their own ways.

The Lucky Girl was getting tired and decided to head towards the heat room after absorbing tons of mana from her meditation room. The magic-user shifts to her hybrid form; her mana hair was pink like her glowing eyes, her skin tone turns purple, and everything else stays the same. Eva was a bit happy that she was wearing something old and comfy, though little does she know is that her seven soulmates found her in a deep sleep.

'Found her, she's sleeping in our nest at the heat room.' The Team followed where Artemis told them where Eva was, pausing to see the half-Anodite snoozing peacefully.

'We got enough time to punish Eva,' Opal disrobing the omega out of her clothes and letting Dick tie her up.

Wally was brave enough to gag her and put a blindfold over her closed eyes. The rest knew she'll break free quick, so they let Kaldur put an enchanted collar Eva's neck and wrap some tape tightly around where she can't cut herself loose. Conner kept a sharp eye on the beating sounds of her heart while she was somewhat lifeless and unresponsive through her sleep.

Dick heard a muffled hum and turned to look down at the omega while Artemis fondled her breast. M'gann moved her fingers to her sacred spot and rubbed that sensitive pearl, earning more muffled sounds of pleasure from the omega underneath them. Eva whimpers and mewls through the ball gag while arching her back from the sensation she was experiencing.

"She's in heat," the Romanian acrobat told his pack mates after picking up the scent and saw her slicking up.

"No wonder Evie was trying to avoid us, she didn't want anybody worrying about her." Wally said, freezing when Eva somehow came by M'gann messing with her clit.

"She got our full attention now, that soul mark wasn't that easy to hide from us. I'm somewhat thankful that we made her put on that dress from last time," the rest of the Team chuckled while nodding at the memory and kept focusing on preparing Eva for this mating season.

The half-Anodite shockingly got out of the ropes and tapes the Team tied on her. Eva got the blindfold off from her eyes and pulls the ball gag out of her mouth. Her pack heard her panting and surrounded their fecund omega within seconds, marking her as theirs as she starts mewling in pleasure.

"Please...I don't care, choke me, fuck me, give me all y'all have...now!" The Team's eyes turned different colors as they growled and she was taken any way possible since she was incredibly flexible.

Eva squealed and cried out whenever she got filled up to the brim. Their claim marks painted on her body while she took everything they gave her and accepted herself as their omega. The red marks and love bites were part of the whole ordeal, though breeding Eva was another thing coming from today to next week since her heat lasts 7 to 14 days.

They took turns and knew that the Lucky Girl want it to be rough. Eva got bred full of their seeds by each member, pumping her full with a large load of cum and letting her swallow their spit. The Lucky Girl felt each of them call for her to let herself be caught in the euphoria, submitting herself to her mates and taking what they got for this omega.

Dick was the first person to mate on Sunday with her since they anonymously voted to go by their age range and let Kaldur be last on Saturday. The half-Atlantean have the most patience, but knew that he'll break Eva in half and wanted his younger pack mates to stretch her open first for him to fit. They stuffed her full of cock and made the half-Anodite speechless.

The Team moved in together at Happy Harbor and kept the mountain as their base. Whenever they left to take breaks, Eva tends to stay in the nest and purring while being full of cum. It amazes them that she can still speak and move, but they would question where their cum will go since they always plugged her afterwards with their knots...she would answer by rubbing where her womb was or...she'll say that her body was absorbing it since it contains mana.

Kaldur pulls out after his knot went down and couldn't see his cum leaking out as usual. He kisses her stomach and rubs it tenderly when Eva got her last shot. The half-Anodite found out secretly that her pack wants a family and knew they'll breed her, but doesn't know that she recently got off of induced heat suppressants and birth control pills.

It was a day after her heat was over to do tests...they got her pregnant after last night, Eva was blushing madly as the Team grins down at her rosy cheeks and reddened face when she found what they've left on her body to how they somehow got her pregnant that quick. Dick was carrying her in his arms after she couldn't move from the nest and let Wally know that their omega was sore. Artemis takes Eva and puts her on her lap, purring softly in order to comfort the omega.

"We're not slacking little girl...we took turns and gave you what we got. You didn't realize that there's three apex primes in this pack with three pure alphas and one true beta. Next time you sweet fecund omega, you should never underestimate us and this won't happen to you." Opal lectured her.

"I get that Opal, but why y'all have to gang up on me like that last week?!! I can't stand straight and move normal anymore!" Wally busted out laughing hard with Dick and they fist-bumped each other in response.

"But I'll be surprised you're still wonderfully tight after we've been splitting you in half, fucking you in any way necessary, and opening you wide to take us down your tiny little throat." the half-Anodite turned redder than ever and gave the Team a horrified look. "Don't act scared Eva, we still got more left and I think we should appreciate you carrying our pups."

What a pleasing yet sore way to start the morning after a heat indeed.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Loving you was damnation

Pairing: Raven Scientist (Victoria Van Gale/The Raven Leader)

Summary: Victoria knew she'd have one chance. One chance at continuing her research. One chance at fulfilling her dream. So she'd have to grab it even if she didn't know what it would mean for her relationship if she did so.

Birgitta would come to understand her point of view... wouldn't she?

Notes: Can you tell that the "you've no idea what I had to do to get it" line in The Storm haunts me to this day. Can you.

Read it on ao3 or read the previous fics in this verse

Victoria drank tea now. It was one of the many things that had changed in her life in the months during which she’d been dating Birgitta Bloom.

It had been during a quiet night in, in the very beginning of their relationship, that she had shared how she hated not being able to take more than one cup of coffee, even on chilly nights like that during which warm drinks felt like three hundred millilitres of concentrated paradise. Were she alone, she wouldn’t have given a care and would have gladly turned herself into a hyperactive child in order to get her hands on the liquid warmth, but she didn’t want to submit her brand new girlfriend to that. Even though it had only been an off-handed remark, Birgitta had paused the movie they were watching and lifted the side of the blanket she was under, so she could go to her kitchen cabinets to see what she could help with.

The steaming cup that Victoria was presented with five minutes later was nothing like the vile drinks she’d tasted under the same name before. Where the little bags of black tea left a bitter taste in her mouth, a breathful of the herbal scent in the mixture she’d been given was enough to make her feel like she’d filled her lungs with sunshine. When she sipped it, fearing she wouldn’t like it and Birgitta would feel offended, it tasted like a flowery field on a summer day.

Proud of herself and happy to have found a solution to her girlfriend’s problem, Birgitta had snuggled close to her on the couch again and given her tips on how to find actually good tea. They had made a date out of it, in the end, and she’d taken Victoria to a small shop on the outskirts of town that sold an assortment of blends in metal boxes. The store saleswoman had helped Victoria find the ones that fit her tastes the best, allowing her to sniff her options before putting the selected ones in small brown paper bags for her to brew at home.

“See?” Birgitta had said when they were leaving the store. “You don’t have to push through things and end up feeling bad when you can just… choose an option that does you well.”

In hindsight, the quote now sounded like a metaphor for what Victoria’s life had become with her in it. She’d been so caught up in her projects, pushing through eternally and pretending she wasn’t human, that it had caught her by surprise to realize all she had been missing. She’d come into her life like a personification of all that had been lacking from it: the warmth, the laughter, the ready ear and kind mouth. 

She’d become acquainted with the city in a whole different light since then. Had been introduced to nooks and corners hiding the most fascinating places, from old bookshops and cafes to parks that no one seemed to have been to in years. Birgitta seemed to be an expert in finding and loving things that were hidden to anyone who didn’t take the time to really look around. Victoria, she’d come to understand, was one of those things as well. And she was so glad to have been found.

They’d ride bicycles around beautiful parks on the weekends, or stay in and order food from nice places. They’d talk about everything and nothing, and act like they weren’t well into their middle age and were experiencing love for the first time. And Victoria thought that, at least for herself, that was the case. She’d had relationships before, but nothing like this. No one had ever made her feel as seen. Her heart had never been so completely not her own.

Even on weekdays, during which they mostly weren’t able to meet due to the distance between them and their jobs, they never sacrificed their daily phone calls. Falling asleep with Birgitta’s goodnight still ringing in her ears had soothed her enough to succumb to slumber on more nights than she could count.

Mere months ago, she’d forget there were other humans in the universe for days at a time. Now there was a mug with flower paintings sitting next to her plain one on the lab’s coffee machine.

In that morning, however, she gulped down her tea not because of how it felt to appreciate it, but because she’d be needing all the help she could get with soothing her nerves.

Victoria had wanted to share everything with Birgitta, she really had. More than once when she’d make a casual remark about how the weather had been lovely, how the vegetation was thriving, how it felt like they had gotten much less extreme weather events lately, it would be on the tip of Victoria’s tongue to let her know that most of it was her doing. She’d feel so tempted, whenever they were talking about work, to share what it really was she dedicated her time to. To avoid the metaphors and omissions and white lies and lay it all out in the open.

But Birgitta had fallen in love with a lie, and Victoria was terrified of her not being as kind to a truth.

Now, the day that had hung over their relationship like a storm cloud finally came. In her quest to lure a weather spirit, Victoria had done much research on them, and none of it hidden. It wasn’t suspicious, she thought, to be interested in the beings that controlled the very thing she worked with. And so she shared it with Birgitta, like she did with everything she felt she could.

At first, her girlfriend had only helped her by allowing her to talk her ear off about them, and getting her all the books she could get her hands on on the topic. Then, when she had felt she could keep the secret no longer, she revealed that inside the Sparrow Scouts camping grounds there was an area where such spirits came to rest. She had known she probably shouldn’t - Victoria had seen it in the hesitation in her eyes - but it had taken very little poking to get an invitation out of her. Though her respect for every sort of natural spirit and creature was big, and she would never want to treat them like a zoo exposition, being able to fulfil a dream of Victoria’s had been enough to make her budge.

This wasn’t something Victoria should be doing alongside her girlfriend. It wasn’t something she should reveal at all. During her months of research, she had, in fact, found a couple of weather spirits. But none would let her get close enough. Each one of her sources agreed on that point: weather spirits only allowed trusted humans close, and Victoria was, understandably, not on anyone’s list.

But Birgitta was.

Birgitta, who took care of the grounds. Birgitta, who kept their secret. Birgitta, who only took people there when it was to teach children to appreciate nature. Who wouldn’t trust her? And if Victoria was with her… maybe she’d be able to get what she needed.

And then, once her task was finished, she’d explain everything. She’d make her see all the good she could do when the power of weather spirits were within her control. The crops were thriving now? Imagine how much more they would when even the percentage of humidity was in her grasp. Climate change? That would be all but unheard of wherever her science could reach. No one would ever lose their homes or be afraid of a catastrophe again, and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Yes, Birgitta would understand, she told herself. She’d have to.

“Ready?” Her voice resonated in the main room of the cottage which served as headquarters and storage for the Sparrow Scouts’ camping ground. She had a bag filled with whatever they could need for their hike on her back and an inviting smile on her lips, one that Victoria did her best to retribute even if her heart was screaming that this was a terrible idea. 

After having washed the cup she’d been drinking the chamomile tea from, Victoria joined her girlfriend on the front porch. She’d insisted on carrying the backpack for Birgitta, since she was already going to be the guide, but got a ‘no way’ look in response. 

That was fair enough. She’d never really lived down their first meeting.

The only concession that was made was Birgitta allowing her to take their sunscreen and bug repellent bottles and putting them in her own bag; which was a relief, because Victoria really needed an excuse to bring her bag along. Somewhy saying ‘I need to take this device I built for capturing weather spirits, for no specific reason’ didn’t sound too safe.

They set off when the sun had barely finished rising, which had been Birgitta’s suggestion so that they could already be back home when the sun was at its peak. The air was humid and still foggy and droplets of dew slid from the leaves at the treetops and fell on their heads every now and then. Birgitta was kind enough to not comment on how nervous Victoria seemed throughout their hike, dismissing it as being anxious to actually see the beings she’d been obsessed with for so long. She helped her through the tricky parts of the trail and held her hand through the tranquil ones.

After what to Victoria seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a little less than two hours, they arrived at a meandering part of a creek, with rocky margins and clear water. Victoria’s mouth hung open at the first sight of it. True to Birgitta’s word, the area seemed to be a small haven for weather spirits, in all of their three forms. The more common ones, which were cloud shaped, either floated around in the air nonchalantly or rested in the small caves that the force of the creek’s water over the years had sculpted in the rocks. The water vibrated with a second type of weather spirit, those in liquid form, swirling happily around and perfectly merging with the creek; human eyes could not see where the creatures ended and where the water began. Much more subtle were the spirits of the third type. They crystalized in transparent shards on top of the rocks, and the smallest ones could be taken for simple ice if not for the fact that the temperature would most certainly not allow for that.

Essentially gods, laying right there in front of Victoria’s eyes. It should have given her pause, to look at them all like that, at ease and at peace with each other and the nature around them. It should have made her question if she really wanted to put an end to this tranquillity, both in the creek and in her own life. It didn’t. All that the scene accomplished was to make her even more sure of how much she wanted, needed to study them. They weren’t gods, living their lives undisturbed and undisturbing to her. They were gods hogging all their power to themselves when she could do so much better if it were all in her hands.

All evidence she had read about (and collected herself) had indicated that each type of weather spirit controlled one aspect of the climate, so she knew she’d only have everything she needed once a spirit of each type was at her station. But she was also realistic, and knew there was no way she’d manage to capture more than one of them at the same time, let alone keep them all in the containment station she’d built.

“So? What do you think?” Birgitta asked after Victoria did nothing but stare at the image before them for a whole minute, unaware of the strategies and calculations running through her girlfriend’s head at that very moment. Instead of answering, Victoria took a step forward with as much caution as she could.

All the spirits turned to face them. As long as they had sensed that a person they trusted was the closest, they hadn’t minded. But even the small step alerted them to Victoria’s presence.

“Careful.” Birgitta whispered reverently. “They don’t really trust humans, and have good reasons for that too. You don’t want to unsettle them.”

Another step forward. Now, they were all staring straight at the scientist, who gave them the same treatment.

“Victoria.” Birgitta’s voice was cautioning, but Victoria wasn’t listening. Her mind was filled with strategies, trying to decide which of the spirits would be the easiest to capture. Her gaze landed on the smallest one of the vaporous type, which had floated a couple of metres away from the bigger ones of its sort. It looked at her not with jugement, but with open curiosity.

A child. Victoria had never really thought she’d stoop this low. But she had always known she’d do whatever it took to bring her plans to fruition.

Noticing that she was going to walk even closer to the spirits, Birgitta reached out to grab Victoria’s arm and stop her, but not quickly enough. With an agility she’d never demonstrated before, the woman reached inside her backpack for a device Birgitta had never seen before, and leapt forward. The gadget looked like a gun, but with a mechanical claw at the end. Her jump took her closer to the child spirit, and it gasped as Victoria extended her arm and pulled the trigger, making the claw open and close and capturing the spirit. Not only that, but once it was safely inside the claws they spread out and the metal was rearranged in a sphere around the cloud, through which an electrical current was sent by the device, in order to pacify the being inside. 

All of the creatures turned their wrathful faces to Victoria, and there was screaming and threatening from their part and crying out from Birgitta’s. Victoria looked back as the Raven Leader screamed after her, running at her direction and telling her to let it go, confusion and betrayal stamped on her face. 

So she ran away. Further into the forest whose map she’d studied beforehand and away from the woman who took her there and from the enraged gods, but not before she made sure she wouldn’t be followed. From her pocket, she took a special grenade she’d built for the occasion. Throwing it against the creek’s rocks released a mixture of aerosols, acid molecules and dust particles into the air, which would stop any spirit from running after her. It would be a wonder if they could move at all for the next half an hour, at least. 

Birgitta wouldn’t follow her, either. She’d be too worried about the remaining weather spirits to leave their side, and she knew where she would be able to find Victoria later, either way, so there was no need to worry about her at the moment. This was the only thing Victoria hadn’t prepared logically for. And yet, she knew it. Her heart told her so.

Just like it told her, as it pumped to the best of its ability oxygenated blood to a body so unused to running, that she would regret the past two minutes for as long as she had breath in her.

                                                      .........

The day dawned gloomily, but it took Victoria a while to notice it, since she hadn’t even gone to sleep that night. Since arriving home, exhausted from coming on foot straight from the camping grounds, she’d stayed up making sure that the containment station was suitable for the creature that would now inhabit it. She’d tried talking to it, of course. She told it not to worry, that she only wanted to study it and run some experiments and then she’d release it again. It hadn’t trusted her, naturally. At that point, it would be surprising if anyone did ever again.

Her mind felt torn; half of it dazzling with her newest conquest, half of it as tempestuous as the weather outside. The spirits were gathering up to attack the Bureau, she was sure of it, and all the possible protections were already in place. The only other thing she could think of doing was distracting them, and that she would do soon enough. There was another matter she needed to tend to first, however.

Picking up her phone, she saw that there were no texts. The only notifications were the same missed calls from Birgitta from when she’d been running home, but when Victoria had failed to pick any of them up, she’d apparently given up. Which wasn’t a comforting thought at all.

Her finger hovered above the “call” button, but after a couple of seconds of debating her options, she sighed and stored her phone away in her pocket. Even she could see that her actions had been too serious to be explained over a phone call; she’d have to do it in person.

More times than necessary, she certified herself that the containment station was in full order, and that the child couldn’t escape. After doing so, she put on a raincoat and left the Bureau.

The streets were empty when she left the weather station’s van; it was still too early in the day for most people to be out and about. With her hoodie covering part of her face, not many people greeted her along the way, both because she wasn’t recognizable and because she probably looked a little insane like that. Truly, she’d decided to wear it so that the spirits couldn’t identify her from above, but it seemed to have the added bonus of not having to fake smiles for strangers.

When she arrived at Birgitta’s building, she climbed the - now very familiar - three flights of stairs and placed herself at her door. She knocked, and was just considering knocking again when Birgitta’s voice came from the other side.

“What do you want?”

She’d been wondering how mad her girlfriend would be at her. Apparently it was ‘won’t even open the door’ mad. Understandable, truly.

“I want to give you an explanation.” She tried not to sound like she could feel her drumming heart in her ears, and her skin itchy with the effort of retaining all the tension in her body. Her only hope was that Birgitta’s peephole wasn’t so good as to allow her to notice all of her discomfort through the lens. “I’m sorry for tricking you, and for running away without a word. I have reasons for doing what I did.”

“For kidnapping a child?” She snapped, making Victoria flinch back. “For breaching the trust those creatures had in me? For using me to get what you wanted? Do you, Victoria? Do you really have a good reason for using me all along to get what you wanted?”

“I wasn’t using you all along! I wasn’t using you at all!” Victoria gasped, hoping it was the truth. “I love you! I really do. This was just something that I had to do.”

Her laugh was dark and ironic, too unlike the usual melodious sound that always made Victoria’s heart pick up pace. It was awful; the noise didn’t fit Birgitta at all. And the worst thing was that Victoria knew it was her own fault, even if she didn’t see it the way her girlfriend did.

“Why?”

“Think of everything we could do!” Her brain scrambled to remember all the justifications she’d made for herself over the years of working on that project. “Potentialize agriculture, prevent damage, upgrade the fishing industry-”

“Those aren’t yours to change! They aren’t yours to control!” Birgitta groaned from the other side of the door. “Nature takes care of those things herself for a reason. If you want to play God, there's nothing more I can do to stop you. But I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Who would have guessed that the sound of a heart breaking resembled thunder. Victoria could have sworn it would have felt more like delicate machinery short circuiting, or something more subtle, but she’d apparently underestimated the power it had.

“I thought you supported me!” She begged, foolishly holding on to the hope that she’d fallen asleep during her vigil and this was just a bad dream. Never before had she allowed herself to believe that this conversation would go this badly. “I- I thought you loved me too!”

“Yeah? Well, there’s a reason for that.” Birgitta chuckled, even though Victoria could hear that her voice was strained with the effort she was doing not to cry even with inches of wood between them. Her own voice wavered when she answered, fearful of what blow would come next.

“Which is?”

“I thought I knew you. Guess we were both wrong.”

                                                    …......

No more phone calls. No more sharing how their days went. No more looking forward to the weekends because she knew something lovely and exciting would be waiting for her, even if it was just staying over at each other’s houses. There would be nothing more of any of that in Victoria’s life.

When she left the building, there were no tears streaming down her face. She didn’t feel like she had the energy for that. But there was a new, resolute set to her shoulders, and an eerie silence in her chest. 

She would fulfil her research. She’d see it to the end if it was the last thing she did; after all, it was the only thing she had to live for anymore, and there was nothing that could stop her. 

Especially not a silly heart.

As she walked back to the van, she rolled her eyes at the weather spirits gathering above the town. As powerful as they were, if her theories were correct they shouldn’t be able to sense the child, not from inside the containment station. Victoria was ready, either way, and she’d keep her focus, scattering substances similar to those in her grenade every now and then so that they remained disoriented. She hadn’t more than a thought to spare for them; her own mind felt a lot darker than the sky at that moment. Unless something happened, they would eventually lose the scent they were after and scatter, only to pick it up again if they gathered nearby again for too long. It was already unlikely, and if the powers that be had any love for her in their hearts, the spirits wouldn’t do something of the sort.

And if they did, she could distract them by sending a probe to their midst to incite an argument. Spirits loved to debate, surely that would take them off of their track, if needs be.

She was out of the town as quickly as she was in. There was nothing holding her back anymore.

She didn’t understand why that fact hurt so much.

[21witnokidz]

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 25

“And then maybe I should add a love triangle somewhere in the middle right?”

“Oh I don’t know. Those are outdated and cliche if you ask me”

Mary-Beth was telling you about this new love story she was planning to write and she needed your input.

When you told her that love triangles were played out nowadays she looked a little disappointed in your answer.

“Oh but it’s your story Mary-Beth you put whatever you want. Just don’t expect me to take a liking to it” you put your arms up

Mary-Beth slapped your arm and went back to her writing.

“Oooh Y/n have I got some news for you” Lenny approached and he looked excited. Then again, he was pretty young and had his whole life ahead of him. It was normal for him to be excited about many things.

“So I was talk in’ around with the colored folk of Rhodes and there was talk of a place with lots weapons”

You raised your eyebrow and sipped your coffee.“Don’t we already got enough of that?”

“And money” Lenny added rubbing his fingers together.

You immediately shot up upon hearing that.

“Arthur let’s go!”

Arthur had just came back from a fishing trip but you were sure he wouldn’t back down on some money.

“Huh where we goin’?”

“I don’t really know myself but Lenny hear said there’s talk of money and weapons somewhere ain’t that right Leonard?”

“That’s right Arthur we better hurry before someone else gets it” Lenny said racing to his horse.

“Now hold on. You said there was TALK of there being money. How you know them folks wasn’t just gossiping?”

“What’s gossip worth if it’s free?” you asked.

Arthur just sighed and shook his head “She’s got a point” he whispered to himself, climbing back up on his horse after tying it up not even 5 minutes ago.

-

After a good ride and a witty conversation you guys finally made it to a place called Shady Belle. Lenny suspected those were where the guns were especially since there people guarding the place despite it looking abandoned.

“Well Lenny looks like someone did make it here before us”

“Well we can take care of this easy peasy” Arthur said pulling out his Bolt Action from his horse pouch.

You guys were able to take out the guards no problem just like Arthur said. Your main concern though is if the merchandise got caught within the gunfire.

You were searching beyond the dead bodies for the guns. Or the money. Or both. Before coming across a wagon with a box. You lifted up the lid and found a pile of brand new rifles.

“Thank god for black people” you whispered shaking your head.

“What was that? You found the guns?” Arthur came behind you.

“Yup. Anybody order a dozen fresh rifles?” You said holding the gun up.

“Perfect let’s take these back to Dutch!” Lenny clapped his hands.

-

“Arthur, Y/n, you’ve done it again” Hossa chuckled looking at the guns “and of course you did a fine job Lenny”

“Arthur come on let’s go. Me and Micah are on our way to this O’Driscoll hide out, you need to come with us” dutch came around already ordering Arthur as soon as he can me back”

“Uh ok. You comin Y/n?”

“Nah I think I’ll just stay here. Been a long day”

Arthur squeezed your hand and went off with dutch and Micah.

-

Arthur had gone to the hideout several hours ago. The sun was already down.

“I swear to god Hosea if something doesn’t come up soon I’m gonna lose my mind”

“Just calm down. Come on. This Arthur we’re talking about. The boy’s too damn stubborn to get himself killed” The older man tried to calm you. “now he might fuck around and fall off a cliff but someone actually taking Arthur Morgan’s life? They’d have to be Hercules”

Hosea rubbed your shoulders to try and calm you down.

But then you saw Dutch.

“Where is he? You better tell me something I swear to god”

“Now just listen-“ he began.

“Don’t tell me to just listen where’s Arthur?”

“Well.. they got him”

Your immediately dropped to your ankles.

“Now when he says that. He doesn’t mean death. It’s just that they literally have him… like hostage” Micah explained.

“Oh my god” you said in disbelief but quickly turned to anger. “And where were you huh!?” You started hitting Dutch’s chest while tears were spilling from your eyes.

“Y/n I promise we’ll look for him later it’s just too risky now” he tried to calm you.

You were feeling a little weak from all the stress so you just had to sit down. But that did not mean that you caught any rest.

You had no idea how late it was in the night but you were sure the sun would be coming up anytime soon.

That’s when you heard the sound of a horse in the distance. You looked off into the trees a silhouette. Just from his shadow alone you could tell it was Arthur.

“Arthur!”

He came into camp and as soon as he got off the horse he collapsed.

“Arthur came back! He needs help!”

Everyone came rushing out to help you get him up onto his bed.

“God I’m sorry dear boy. I’m so sorry”

“It’s too late for apologies Dutch, look at him!”

You rubbed the side of Arthur’s face lovingly “are you ok? Please tell me didn’t hurt you too bad”

He just nodded his head and leaned into your touch, too tired to speak.

-

Arthur had recovered from his injuries and the gang was back to normal.

You saw him looking off to the distance with some coffee in his hand when you approached him.

“Arthur?”

“Hey there darlin’. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed your cheek”

“You feel better?”

“Yea. I really appreciate you staying by my side during my healing process. Meant a lot to me”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just- you’ve always cared so much for me. I’ve known you almost my whole life and we’ve always looked out for each other. I guess what I’m tryna say is.. I appreciate you”

“Yea you just said that you fool” you slapped his chest.

“No i- shit..”

Arthur put the journal back in his satchel and pulled out something else. It was a ring. And it had a beautiful diamond on it.

“I wasn’t sure how I was gonna do this but here I am. Y/n, will you make me the happiest man ever by being my wife so that I can have you for the rest of my life?”

“Arthur..” you couldn’t believe this is happening. I mean you always knew you were gonna marry Arthur but this was just so surreal to you. You looked into his eyes to see if he was being for real. And he was.

“Yes Arthur I’ll be your wife”

[fighterkimburgess]

Breathe Easy

Summary: When Kim gets devastating news she decides the best thing to do is hide it. But when things go wrong, hiding it could cost her everything. Day Five of Burzek appreciation week.

Words: 2k

Warnings: major chronic illness diagnosis, cystic fibrosis, surgery mention, transplant mention, collapsing, medical procedures, angst with ambiguous ending.

—

Kim had always thought that life changing events should happen on a Monday or a Friday. At the start or end of the week. Wednesdays just didn’t feel right for them to happen.

In her defence, she’d been shot on the Monday. And that had started the whirl of changes and battery of tests, culminating in fear in Will Halstead’s eyes as he watched her O2 sats hit 78 while she was sitting up talking to him fine. So she was rushed to pulmonology and they ran tests. Lots of them.

This was not the news she’d thought she’d receive.

“Officer Burgess, we’re still waiting on the genetic testing. But based on the sweat tests and the biopsy results we’re confident that you have cystic fibrosis.”

“Cyst…Sixty five roses? What is it?” The words were unfamiliar in her mouth, automatically changing them to familiar ones.

“Cystic fibrosis. It’s a disease that means the mucus in the body doesn’t drain properly. It explains why you feel run down a lot, why you said you’ve always had digestive issues. We need to put you on the transplant list right now, Kim. You need a lung transplant and you’ll be going in on a high status.”

The day was a whirlwind of information and patient packets, the new diet she had to stick to religiously with more salt than she’d have ever thought normal. The way she was officially forever on desk work and could probably just retire. But finally she was discharged with a mountain of prescriptions and a new pill regime she could never forget, and the crushing knowledge that she was dying.

Actually dying. And if she didn’t get a lung transplant in the next few months, she’d be dead. Kim Burgess wasn’t even thirty yet, but according to the specialists she should already be dead anyway.

Thursday morning dawned too early, Kim taking her tablets and eating her breakfast before getting to the district before anyone else. Her previous multiple cups a day coffee habit was a thing of the past, caffeine one of her numerous enemies. Along with alcohol, too much fat and protein, and anything that had a possibility of making her sick. If she’d known the last time she’d get to have a rare steak with a beer was last week, she’d have had it every day. But she needed to talk to Voight, knocking on her Sergeant’s office door and entering when he called.

“How’re you feeling? How long are you going to be on the desk for?”

Kim took a deep breath, sitting down and looking up before speaking.

“I think I need to retire, Sarge. I’ll be riding the desk for life. They found an underlying issue when I went in for the graze. I have cystic fibrosis.”

It was the first time she’d said the words out loud, and out of everyone she knew Hank Voight was not the person she wanted to say it to first. She’d been a cop for less than six years, and she’d loved every single moment of it. But now it was going to be over.

“You can stay here on the desk. Do you want to let people know?”

It took a few minutes to fill him in on everything, the transplant list, her brand new transplant beeper that she had to wear at all times, how different things would be. Instead of her immediate worry of getting kicked to retirement Voight surprised her.

“We need a new liaison, you can do it. It’ll keep you up here, and once you get your new lungs you can decide if that’s what you want to do, or if you want to retire then. What are you going to tell the team?”

“I don’t know.” She hadn’t even considered it. “If I tell them just how sick I am then I’ll never get any peace. I just want to get to be normal for a little while. Maybe that I’m waiting for surgery? They don’t need details.”

“If you’re sure.”

She wasn’t, not nearly. But this meant no awkward questions, nobody wondering where she was on the list, what it was like. Getting them from Kevin would be bad enough, but the looks from Al and Antonio, Hailey and Jay. And Adam worrying about her. She couldn’t deal with him being afraid for her. So she would lie and claim it was nothing serious.

Kim stayed behind, smiling at everyone leaving, turning down the dates Adam asked her on because she couldn’t bear to go out with him and tell him the truth.

The jokes were actually funny, people guessing what she had. Kevin had guessed pregnancy and she immediately shut it down, pointing out the surgical aspect. The other guesses were mostly to do with her joints, apart from Adam asking if she was getting her appendix out electively. But she smiled and shook her head, every time they said anything fingering the pager in her pocket and praying it would go off.

The hope that it would was strange. She was essentially waiting for someone to die so she could live, and it left a foul taste in her mouth that she was literally waiting for death. It felt ghoulish.

The worst part, apart from regular therapy sessions to come to terms with her impending mortality, was that nobody even noticed. She knew she was always good at hiding her issues, she could keep herself together whenever she needed. But that nobody had notice wounded her in a weird way. Even though she knew it was what she wanted.

The afternoon her pager went off she’d nearly forgotten it. She was in the car, about to leave, and the thought of trekking up to the apartment was too much. But she needed it, she needed to make sure she had it.

The rest of the unit were on the way back when it went off, the blue see through plastic nearly vibrating off the desk. She stood, preparing to make the phone call to confirm and then ask Trudy to bring her to Med. But before she could call downstairs her head went light and she fell to the floor, breaths growing more ragged as she struggled to yell for someone to hear. The cacophony from downstairs continued as her vision grew blurry, the cable from her monitor just out of reach before the world went black.

—

The lobby of the 21st was pandemonium when Adam arrived back. Kim’s research had yet again paid off for them, revealing a stash house with a hundred grand worth of pure heroin. By the time it was processed it could have been worth a million, and it was off the streets. Everyone else was clearing up red tape, but Voight had told him to go back and check on Kim.

Shift change for patrol was happening, so he dodged around officers and gave Platt a nod in promise to come down and talk to her later, before keying in his code and taking the stairs two at a time. But once he was nearly at the top his heart stopped.

“PLATT! WE NEED AN AMBULANCE!” His radio was still on his hip, pulling it out to make the call. “50-21 Ida, we need an ambo to the 21st district, officer collapsed. She’s barely breathing, we need someone now.”

Dispatch confirmed but he didn’t notice, too focused on Kim on the ground. She was breathing so shallowly that if it wasn’t for the wheezing he didn’t know if he’d realise. Her pulse was thready, and something was buzzing wildly that he couldn’t recognise. Trudy was upstairs in seconds, looking stricken. There was more noise up the stairs as the rest of the unit came in, Kevin dropping to his knees on Kim’s other side.

“What happened?”

“I came in and she was like this. I dunno how long. There’s something on her desk going off.”

Voight went across and grabbed something plastic, holding it up as the paramedics arrived. He stepped back to let them work on Kim, watching her be intubated and getting awful memories from when she was shot years before.

“It’s her beeper.”

“Why does Kim have a beeper? It’s not like she’s a drug dealer.”

“We can let one person come with us. Does she have any health issues?”

“She’s on the transplant list for new lungs thanks to cystic fibrosis.” Adam would have turned to stare, but he was being pushed forward with Kim’s gurney.

“What do you mean she’s on the transplant list? And you didn’t say?” Platt’s voice faded as Adam followed the gurney down, watching as the purple ambubag was squeezed every few seconds.

If you asked him how he got to Med, he had no idea. Adam couldn’t remember the journey, just the way Will Halstead had pushed him aside to let them do their jobs. He was brought to a waiting room, sitting in silence as the almost forgotten prayers of his childhood ran through his mind in a desperate attempt to somehow help Kim. She needed to be ok. Whatever it was, they'd do it. Together.

Kevin was first, quickly followed by Al, Antonio, Jay, and Hailey. He nodded at each of them, still staring at the glass walls.

“She’s gonna be ok,” Al whispered, Adam wanting to take comfort from the words.

“She was so pale. If I…”

“You won’t.”

When Voight and Trudy came through the door he couldn’t make himself look at either of them. Trudy because she hadn’t heard, even though he knew it wasn’t her fault. And Voight had known. He knew she was dying and didn’t say anything to anyone. Not even a heads up to keep an eye on her. It was irrational and he knew Kim wouldn’t have wanted people to know but when were feelings ever rational?

“Kim Burgess?” Rhodes walked in, looking at the group who stood up. He’d had drinks with Rhodes, seen him on good and bad days. Watched him save Herrmann’s life. And he was walking straight towards him.

“Kim put you down as her next of kin. Do you know what’s going on?” He shook his head in awe. She’d put him down? Him? Even when they were fighting and not getting along she trusted him with this. He’d never understand why.

“She’s got cystic fibrosis, it affects how you take in oxygen. Kim was on the transplant list, and we’ve got lungs on the way from Detroit in a couple of hours. But there’s a catch.”

Connor explained that Kim couldn’t keep her oxygen levels up on her own, that they’d put her on a form of life support to make sure the oxygen got into her blood. There was so much to think about but he just nodded.

“Will the new lungs help?”

“Yes. But we need to keep her alive till they’re here. You can sit with her until we’re ready to move her to the OR, if you want?”

It didn’t take more than a second for the nods to start. He ignored the huffing from around him, instead focusing on what he needed to do for Kim. Be there for her. Support her. Make sure she knew she wasn’t alone.

The pump Kim was hooked up to was terrifying. She was unconscious, skin pale and eyes closed. Adam sat beside her, taking the uncanulated hand and squeezing lightly.

“You could have told me, you know. I’d have kept it secret. I didn’t even notice that you were dying.” The dull beep of her heart rhythm helped him, the solid reminder that she was still alive.

“I’m gonna be here when you wake up. Because I love you and I can’t lose you. And I’ll tell you this over and over again until you believe me.”

It was silent between them until Rhodes came back to take Kim to the OR, leaving Adam in an empty ED bay praying to a God he’d stopped believing in that Kim would be ok.

Burzek Taglist: @aruzlover @haiileyshalstead @morganupstead @adamruz @fullwattpadmusictree @redpoodlern @everythingaddictxx @write4life13 @jeanjacketjesus @tuxieboy101-blog @thelittlepterophyllum @planecrazylex @sophiatellerrhodes @ossypooh @kimburgess-ruzek @thestarrynightslover @reidskitty13 @etamne @torreshalstead @itsnotpersonalbut @kellykidd @dedlund82 @pinkwhitebrown @mmacke3613 @upsteadlovingheart @ittybitty-tittycommittee @takemetooneverlanddd @oracle23 @thedefinitionofendgame @headlightsatmidnight @butterflylies @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @withakindheartx @bebataylor84 @whoiamwhoistrivetobe @multicouple-lover @keenmarvellover @daniellexoc3

[fandomsaligninstories]

You Left Me

Prompt: Being suicidal, because a hunters life is anything but pleasant, especially after the man you love, Gabriel, died. Song Rec: Dancing With Your Ghost (acoustic) by Sasha Alex Sloan TW: Suicidal thoughts and actions, depression, abandonment  Word Count: 1.6k Pairing: Gabriel x Reader A/N: This is short and crappy and depressing, but I wrote it years ago while going through some shit to make myself feel better.

Allyanna's POV:

I looked down at the gun in my hands, thinking back to when I first got it...

"Hey, Ally! Get your ass over here!" Claire yelled across the school parking lot, nodding at me.

"Hey Claire, what's up?" I threw my bag in the backseat, settling into the passenger seat.

"I found a hunt, you want to come? It's just a wolf from the looks of it," She pulled out of the lot, heading towards Jody's house.

"Sure, yeah. Where at, and when do we leave?" I starred out the window, attempting to not let my mind wander.

"It's a few hours out of town, figured we'd leave tonight."

"Cool, okay."

------

"Winchesters. What are you doing here?" Claire snapped, glaring at each of them, particularly the one in a trench coat. He looked sad, desperate even.

"Hello to you too, Claire." He sighed, eyes glancing at me for a split second before disregarding me.

"Jody called us, and we just happened to be in the area," The tall one with long hair said, leaning against their black car. It looked to be old, maybe from the 60's or 70's, but it was clean enough to be brand new.

"Of course she did," Claire growled, turning towards me and glaring, "did you tell her we were leaving? Because I sure as hell didn't."

"I... I did, yeah. She deserved to know where we were going, she would've-" She cut me off with a low scream.

"You did the right thing, um..." The tall one said, looking at me.

"Oh, I'm Allyanna." I gave a small smile.

"I'm Sam, this is Castiel and Dean." He pointed to the other two men with him, neither acknowledging me, "anyway's, what are we hunting?"

"A wolf, hiding out in a cabin a few miles down the road. I can handle it on my own, just take her with you, since she can't seem to handle herself without counting on mommy." Claire glared at me, heading towards her car. Dean said something to Sam before jogging to the other side of Claire's car, getting in with her. They pulled off soon after.

"Well, I guess we're giving you a ride home." Sam smiled sadly, nodding towards the car. We were currently a few miles outside of town, in the woods where the wolf was hiding out. We started the drive back to town, but soon stopped when something hit the car and we almost swerved off the road.

"What was that?" Castiel asked, turning in his seat to look out the window.

"I don't know, stay here." Sam started getting out, but I shouted a quick 'no'. He turned around to look at me, "what is it?"

"Give me a weapon, mine was in Claire's car, and I might need one." I made up an excuse to hide my nerves of what might be out in the shadows. He nodded warily and pulled a small, pearlescent handgun out of a bag, handing it to me.

A few minutes later he got back in the car, blood on his hands, "it was just a deer..." He sighed.

-------

Sometimes I wonder what would've happened had I not gone with Claire on that hunt all those years ago. I never would've met the Winchesters or Castiel, which meant I never would've gotten dragged into the fight between angels and demons. I never would've allowed myself to trust them, to trust myself. Maybe I would've gotten better, or much worse.

I smiled at the thought of the good, what little of it there was. Sam, Dean, Cass, they're such amazing hunters and even better friends. Claire, Jody, Alex, they never would've become my family. I never would've met Gabriel, the only light in the darkness. None of them understand, and I pray they never do. They don't deserve the darkness that floods my mind at all hours of the day.

I sighed, setting the gun beside me on the desk. I grabbed my pen and paper, finally deciding on how to explain myself to everyone.

To whoever finds this,

First of all, I'm sorry. To have found this letter means to have found me, and that in turn means having to inform everyone listed below. It's a lot to ask, and to be frank, I can't blame you if you never shared this letter with them.

To my mom and sisters, I'm sorry. I love you guys. Jody, thank you for taking me in and taking care of me as if I were your own. Alex, thank you for helping me when I needed someone to be there. Claire, we were never close, hell, I'm sure you hate me, but I always looked up to you- your strength, you're admirable. You're all my family, and I thank you for all you did for me.

To Sam, Dean, and Castiel. I'm not sure what I can say. You three have singlehandedly saved the world more times than anyone will ever know. You're insanely strong and brave. I thank you all everything. Sam, thank you for teaching me so much stuff- from hunting, to knowledge I'd only ever dreamed of. Dean, thank you for taking care of me when I needed it, and every time you came to my aid. Castiel... Thank you for everything you'd ever done for me. You taught me so much, and you introduced me to Gabriel, and I'll forever be grateful for that. Try to get me into heaven, will you? Maybe he'll be there, and I'd like to see him...

To Gabe... I know you'll never read this. You're dead now. Lucifer killed you. I'm so, so sorry. I wasn't there for you, I wasn't there to help you. You helped me more than you can imagine, you kept me sane. You were the only light in all of this darkness. And now you're gone. I love you, dear. Forever and always.

To any other friends, acquaintances, and family I haven't mentioned by name, thank you for just simply being you, and for teaching me everything you did.

I know you guys will be hurting by my decision, and I'm sorry for that. I tried to get help, and I tried to move past this, but nothing worked. Sometimes the darkness becomes too much, and you just know the light will never come back. I know you'll blame yourselves, that's just how this goes, but promise me something. None of you are to blame. You're all the reasons I've made it this far, but I'm just too tired to keep fighting. I'm sorry. I love you all.

Goodbye, Allyanna Mills.

I placed my pen back into its holder, centering the paper on my desk. I spun around in my chair, making sure my room was clean. I had already packed everything in boxes, hoping that'd make it easier to get rid of it all and move on. I stood up and straightened my shirt, pushed my chair in, and pointed the lamp at the letter. I picked up the gun and walked towards my bathroom, laid in the empty tub.

I stilled for a moment, listening to the noises around me. Someone was watching tv, another was walking through the hall. The dogs in the neighborhood were barking, and the birds were still up chirping. The front door slammed shut. My breathing was oddly slow, and I felt calm. My hands shook, and tears slid down my cheeks, but none of that mattered. Not now, not before, not ever. I wasn’t meant for this life.

I turned the gun in my hands a few times, thinking this over. It wouldn't be the first time I backed out, but it didn't take long for my mind to settle on my answer. I knew what I wanted, and there was only one way to achieve it.

I lifted the gun to below my chin, flipping the safety off. I took a deep breath, one two three, death is coming for me. Before I could pull the trigger, the gun was flying out of my hands.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice rang out. My eyes shot open, staring at my lost love.

"Gabe... Gabe? How are you-?" My breathing picked up, truly I had to be seeing things.

"It's a long story, but it doesn't matter right now. I read the letter on your desk, and now I need you to come here and talk to me." He set the gun down on the sink, walking over and kneeling by the tub. I wrapped my arms around his neck, breathing in his scent. Caramel and scotch. He picked me up and carried me out to my bed, laying with me in his lap, cradled in his arms. We sat in the silence awhile, him waiting for me to speak, and me waiting to find my words.

"I... It's too much. It hurts too much, Gabriel. I'm always tired, always in pain. I can't even leave the house anymore. You... you died... And everything got worse. I couldn't do it anymore, I just- I couldn't-" I buried my face back in his neck, pressing myself against him, terrified of him leaving again, of this being a dream.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm here now, okay? And I promise to never leave you again, I swear on my life. I'm here, everyone's here for you. We love you, I love you.  Please, if you ever feel like suicide is the only answer, call me. Call someone, anyone. I can't lose you, you’re the only thing that kept me going these few months." He kissed the top of my head, sighing heavily.

I leaned back, looking over him. His hair was long and messy, his normal scruff a full beard, and his normally light eyes dark and glossed over. I nodded, placing my hands on either side of his face, pulling his lips to mine. His grip on me tightened, pulling me tighter against him. I pulled back and rested my forehead against his, mesmerized by his very existence.